Disclaimer: I do not own Spirited Away.
The brakes squealed loudly, and the old yellow school bus came to a rumbling halt in front of the construction site. The children inside the bus, all of them around seven or eight years old, clustered to the windows, their noses leaving marks on the glass. Their excited chattering grew to a loud crescendo, completely unaware that their teacher was trying to get their attention.
A few short blasts from a whistle solved that.
The talking died down almost immediately as the students reluctantly returned to their seats. Their teacher returned the silver whistle to her pocket as she waited for them to settle down. Once the last of the whispering had ceased, and every pair of eyes rested on her, she began to speak.
“I know that you are all excited,” she began in a stern tone. “But that does not give you a reason to act like animals. You are all young ladies and gentlemen, and I expect you to act as such.”
A few students rolled their eyes and slumped down in their seats. They had heard this lecture before; they heard it every time that they went on a field trip.
“You will be respectful and on your best behavior,” the teacher continued. “Remember, you are representing your school, and we want to make a good impression. Are we clear?”
She looked around again to make sure that everyone was listening.
“Good. Now, we are going to line up quietly, and then we will go into the construction site.”
The murmuring started up again, but not nearly as loud as before. The students filed out of the bus quietly, their shoes crunching on the gravel underfoot. A man gave them hardhats at the entrance, and a construction worker gave them a tour of the area.
“Mr.… Brice, is that it?” the teacher asked the construction worker tentatively. He was a bulky, muscled man who looked as if he would be more at home in a wrestling ring. “Could you… explain to the students why this construction is taking place?”
Mr. Brice snorted. “Sure.”
He turned to face the students. “See this?” he said, gesturing to the cluster of half built buildings around them. “By the time y’all are in junior high, these apartment buildings will be full of people. There’s a lot of people moving into this town, kiddies, and it ain’t Kansas anymore.”
He laughed at his own joke, but the teacher looked strained.
“I…I’m sorry, but I don’t think that I quite follow you,” she said.
“Oh, the Kansas thing? I dunno what that has to do with anything either… I just like saying it!”
He laughed again, slapping the teacher on the shoulder and nearly knocking her over.
“Yes… Well…” The teacher dusted herself off as though dirt was a disease. “We really should be—”
A short scream cut her off, and everyone turned towards the sound.
One of the students, a young girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail, was standing at the edge of what appeared to be a deep trench, her hand over her mouth.
“Miss Ogino! Get away from there!” the teacher snapped, grabbing the girl’s hands and pulling her away from the edge.
“No!” the girl cried, pulling away from her. “The river—!”
“What in the world are you talking about?” the teacher half shouted. She was beginning to become extremely frustrated with her students. “There is no river there!”
“That’s the point!” the girl shouted back. Huge tears began to roll down her cheeks. “There was a river there! What did they do to it?!”
“Drained it,” Mr. Brice said bluntly.
“You WHAT?” the girl shouted hysterically.
“Mr. Brice! You are not helping the situation!” the teacher said angrily, stooping down to the girl’s height.
“…The river…” The girl once again lapsed into tears.
“Is it really all that bad?” the teacher asked the sobbing child. “If you think about it, a river is only just water after all—“
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, miss.”
The teacher looked over to see a young man, probably in his twenties, climb out of the trench, dirt and a concerned expression on his face.
“Get back to work, boy,” Mr. Brice growled.
The worker made a face at him, and then turned back to the teacher and the girl.
“I agree with the girl,” he said. “Nothing good ever comes out of messing with nature.”
“Shut up, boy,” Mr. Brice continued, making the children gasp.
“He said the ‘S’ word!”
“Please, Mr. Brice,” the teacher said. “Let’s hear him out.”
“Thank you, miss,” the worker said, tipping the brim of his construction hat. “As I was saying… Nothing good ever comes of messing with nature. If I didn’t have to pay for my grandmother’s hospital bills, then I wouldn’t be here myself. You see, the thing is, people say that there is a dragon guarding this river.”
A short silence followed this statement which was quickly broken by the excited chattering of the students.
“Here we go again,” Mr. Brice said, throwing his hands in the air. “You and your damn fairy tales…”
“Teacher, he said the ‘D’ word! Wash his mouth out with soap!”
The teacher was about to say something to the young worker, but then she noticed that her student had stopped crying. She was gazing at the young worker with bright astonishment and hope in her eyes.
“…Please continue.”
The worker tipped his hat again. “Well, I used to come to this river a lot when I was a little kid, y’know? Throwing rocks and such. After a while, it was like… I had a sort of bond with the river, like…”
“…Something always draws you back,” the girl finished.
A brief connection ran between them.
“Yes,” the worker said softly. “That was exactly what it was like."
“My mother said that it meant that the river spirit had a hold on me. I considered myself too old to believe in spirits, but then…”
He paused.
“I saw something at the bottom of the river. I was swimming along the bank and it passed right by me. It looked exactly how the dragon are described in the old stories… only… it’s much better to see one in person.”
The children were truly excited by now, although Mr. Brice looked like he was about to explode with rage.
“The dragon won’t be happy that we took his home away from him,” the worker finished. “…And I’m truly sorry to say that I hand a hand in it.”
“GET BACK TO WORK!” Mr. Brice bellowed. “OR MAYBE YOUR DRAGON CAN PROTECT YOU FROM GETTING FIRED?”
The worker smiled a little at this outburst, but tipped his hard hat once again and disappeared into the trench.
“Stupid…” Mr. Brice pulled a dirty rag out of his pocket and wiped his face with it, leaving smudges of dirt on his forehead.
“…All right, it’s time to move on, everyone,” the teacher said, still looking at the place where the worker had disappeared.
“Aww…”
“But I wanna see the dragon!”
Reluctantly, the students moved away from the trench and on to look at the tractors.
The teacher put a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Will you be okay?”
The girl nodded.
“I’ll give you a minute.” The weight of her hand disappeared from her shoulder, and the girl heard the crunch of the gravel as she walked a few steps away.
She gazed down into the trench, trying to remember what it had looked like when water had flowed through the banks, clear and pure, but ever so fast…
She closed her eyes and tried to remember…
A pink shoe that was swept up by the current…
