She returned to her village, only to find it burned to the ground along with her mother's now vacant shrine.
Broken and alone, unsure of what to do, Chihiro sat at the shrine and wailed. This caught the attention of a small group of tanuki, who set off to find the source of the sound. They took her in upon hearing her story and nursed her back to health.
Broken, alone, and at a loss for what to do, Chihiro sat at her mother's shrine and wailed. This led to a small group of tanuki setting off to find the source of the sound. Upon hearing her story, they promptly took her in and nursed her back to health.
They also helped her hone her magic, but they could not anticipate how strong she would become in such a short time.
They also helped her hone her magic, but they couldn't anticipate how strong she would become in such a short time.
During one fateful session, she created a dream reality that enveloped their town. In it, she recreated her village. Her friends' faces, though skewed and distorted, brought her to tears. Her mother, now a dramatically more hollow figure, hugged her for the first time in a long time. She was overcome with relief.
The tanuki, concerned and a bit frightened, attempted to pull her from the dream, but they were ignored. They decided to wait until she fell asleep to try to talk to her, but they were too late.
She did not sleep. She pretended to lay her head down, but the desperation to keep everything the same was too great.
Eventually, however, the dream began to falter. Things started to warp and some of the tanuki were beginning to go mad. All they could do was migrate away from Chihiro, which only further broke her down and led her to escape deeper into her dream.
Now, she is stuck wandering the landscape in her bubble. Any settlement she enters is swept away into her increasingly maddening dream. Some residents are unaffected, some get lost temporarily, and some even lose their lives. When she finally departs, the settlement is left in disarray, with remnants of the dream causing havoc.
