A Tiny Visitor

Satsuki's fingers twitched awkwardly, the cat's cradle slipping off of them for the fourth time. The string lay there on her pillow, along with her head. She sighed softly. The book of fairytales they had read had said that the forest creatures only showed themselves to young children. Was she really all that young anymore? Each day she could feel herself growing up. She was already so much taller than her little sister Mei.

"...We'll be friends forever, won't we, Totoro?" Satsuki had asked the big, magical creature, the last time she and Mei had been allowed into the secret tree-tunnel. "...Will you still let me visit you here in the forest, when I'm as big as Mom an' Dad?" her voice had weakened to a whisper. The Totoro had smiled his usual broad, toothy smile, and picked up the older of the two girls in a hug, but had said nothing as she slipped back down his furry chest.

"They're growin', Satsuki! They're growin'!" Mei's happy voice came shouting at the sliding door.

"I know the acorns are growin', Mei," Satsuki looked over to her sibling, gently, but didn't rise. "We were both there when they sprouted up, remember? The morning after Totoro took us flying...."

"I mean dey're growin' taller! I *know* they've grown more since yesterday, surely, surely! Come see, please Satsuki?" Mei started tugging at her sister's blankets.

Satsuki sighed and got up, as Mei put her cute straw bonnet on and skipped happily back outside, barely pausing to slip her sandals back on. They'd monitored the garden bed of tree-shoots every day, just as they had before the small sticks of green had broken the ground. But Mei was always sure they were inches taller each time. ...Perhaps she was right--they did seem to be making good progress. Maybe someday, when Mei and Satsuki were old, they really would all grow together into one tremendous camphor tree, just like they had, temporarily, for that one magical night.

"Look at how *big* she is now!" Mei crowed happily, patting one of the shoots. "She's my fav'rite one," the tiny girl turned and beamed up at her sister with a huge, open-mouthed grin. Satsuki had to smile and chuckle softly at her little sibling, both at her cuteness and at her anthropomorphizing the young plants in her speech.

Then another of the plants stirred. Mei spun around and stared at the trembling leaves, as did Satsuki. The younger girl eventually laughed aloud, while Satsuki stayed puzzled and silent. "The baby tree! It's a-wavin' at us!" Mei crowed again, tumbling closer. Satsuki ran behind and caught her, hoping Mei wouldn't fall into the garden and damage the small shoots. She also couldn't understand why this one single sprig of leaves was shaking, while the others were completely still--it was not the wind.

*Pop, pop.* Two tiny, fuzzy ears appeared, and then a snowball-like body. The shiny, blinky round eyes were next, forming at the surface. The little creature sneezed, shaking the leaves again.

Mei sucked in a great gasp of air before squealing out loud. "It's th' baby totoro!!"

Satsuki giggled--they had seen the tiniest member of Totoro's family in the garden once or twice since its first appearance to Mei, but it had been a little while, that was true. It still carried its favorite leaf-capped twig, though, mimicking the umbrella Satsuki had given to the giant Totoro.

"Hi, Baby Totoro," the older child cooed quietly, bending down to see it closer. She almost reached out to pet it, but stopped when she noticed it shrinking back. The tiny, white totoro monster was always so skittish. Right now, though, it sneezed again, rather feebly, and curled into a ball, under the growing seedling.

Mei took a step closer, leaving a little sandal-print in the fresh garden dirt. "Aww, what's wrong, 'ittle Baby?" she whined with concern. The baby totoro whined back, and huddled close to the ground. It gave a painful little cough, and curled more tightly into its ball, shuddering.

Satsuki's brow creased with worry beneath her short bangs. "Mei... I think Baby Totoro is sick."

"It's sick??" Mei cried. "Oh no, Baby can't be sick! Not right after Mommy got better!" The young child's face started wrinkling up with pain, in her case emotional.

Satsuki was inching closer to the little creature again, her concern overriding her fear of it running away. After all, the poor little puffball didn't seem to feel like running anywhere at the moment. She scooped it up with both hands, very carefully.

"Maybe Baby came here to the garden to try to find help, to feel better," the older girl answered her sibling, cradling the tiny totoro monster closer to her. "Like when we had to take Mom to the hospital. But there aren't any hospitals for totoros." If it weren't for the fact that the baby totoro seemed so sad and uncomfortable, and her heart went out to it, Satsuki would have enjoyed the feeling of its incredibly soft fur so much. It was even softer than some bunnies she had touched.

"...We gotta make it better," Mei nodded, seriously. "We gotta make it better, Satsuki. Do you think Granny will have some veg'tables for it?" She remembered how their honorary grandmother neighbor had given them lots of cucumbers and corn to feed their ailing mother earlier. Mei was still convinced that the special ear of corn she had carried to the hospital was what had helped her mommy finally get over her sickness. She may very well have been right.

"Yes, I'm sure Granny will give us something to feed poor Baby Totoro. And maybe I'll cook something too," Satsuki nodded, carrying the little creature back to the porch. It clutched its umbrella-leaf tightly and leaned against the older girl's dress, not complaining.

"Mei, you run to the linen cabinet and grab a towel for us to make it a bed, okay?" Satsuki told her little sister as they entered the house. Mei did as she was told, feeling quite a grownup with this solemn duty.

"Satsuki? What is it?" The girls' father, Tatsuo, asked with concern as he leaned across one of the sliding doorframes.

Satsuki gasped, noticing the little white totoro in her arms suddenly becoming invisible, despite the fact that she could still feel its light, fuzzy weight pressing against her. She winced inside, knowing that it had done this to hide from her father, an adult. ...Would the totoro monsters all suddenly react that way to her, too, one day?

This thought and her worry for the small creature both made it hard for Satsuki to fight the tears. "...Th' baby totoro's sick," Satsuki answered him, her voice taking on a younger, peeping quality more like Mei's, in her sadness. "We're takin' it upstairs t' th' hospital." Why had she put it like that? It almost sounded like make-believe; her carrying this invisible bundle upstairs to the makeshift "play hospital" she and her sister were about to make.

Tatsuo opened his mouth, then shut it again, his eyes creasing worriedly. It wasn't that he didn't believe her, apparently--their kind father looked more like a man sizing up an important situation, wanting to give advice, but then realizing he had none. "Okay, girls," he finally said, softly; "you two take good care of it." He nodded down to Mei, who was scurrying around his side, soft towels bundled into her arms like a proper little nurse. She nodded back, her little face determined and serious.

The attic was very much like it had been when the Kusakabes moved in--a mostly bare room, small and dim, with a slitted window at one side, and close wooden rafters. It had a table with a lamp on it now, though, and Satsuki thought it the perfect place to set up a miniature bed for their baby visitor, away from any noise and bustle downstairs.

Mei watched, her button nose and stubby fingers clamped down on the table edge, while her big sister arranged the hand-towels into a makeshift bedroll. Then she lay the wheezing baby totoro on its reasonably cushioned center.

"There now," Satsuki told it soothingly, while clicking on the light; "we're going downstairs to try to find something to help you feel better. You just rest here and lie still, okay, Baby Totoro?"

She had almost gotten back up, but then the fluffy little creature started whining keenly. "--Oh! Your umbrella!" the older girl realized, but Mei had already beaten her to it, grasping the twig-and-leaf they'd lain further away on the table edge.

"Thank you, Mei," Satsuki whispered sweetly to her sister, as she took the twig between her own fingers and pressed it into Baby Totoro's almost-nonexistant paws. It hugged the object tightly to itself, almost like a cherished doll, and closed its eyes peacefully.

The girls had almost left the room when their father poked his head up from the stairwell. "Have you gotten our little visitor tucked in?" he asked gently.

Satsuki nodded, she and Mei parting to make room for him to step in. The older girl indicated the table, with its tiny bed of rolled-up towels. It appeared vacant now, the tiny monster having made itself and even its umbrella-twig invisible again.

Tatsuo walked softly over to it, his socks making as little shuffling noise as they could. "Please don't be afraid, Baby Totoro," he smiled slightly, his kind face as earnest as ever. "You're very welcome in our house. The girls are going to do what they can to help you feel better."

Satsuki almost cried at the sight of her father kneeling so trustingly towards the "empty" bedroll. He was not treating this as a playtime charade at all--he took the fact that the baby totoro was indeed there, entirely on faith. Even though he was all grown up.

"Thank you, Daddy," she suddenly announced, her voice squeaky as the tears finally rolled out, and muffled as she buried her face in her parent's shirt, hugging him. "For always believin' us."

"Thank you, Daddy," Mei followed her sister's example and peeped, pressing herself against Tatsuo too. He hugged them both tight.

That evening, Satsuki wandered into the kitchen, where her mother, Yasuko, was preparing supper.

"Did Granny bring a bale of rice over this morning?" the older girl asked, thinking she remembered.

"Yes--I wasn't going to use it until tomorrow, though. The rest of this bag will be enough for the vegetables tonight," Yasuko smiled gently at her daughter, indicating the meal already in the skillet. There were chopped tofu pieces and green onion slices on top, and an empty rice bag sitting next to the pantry.

"...C'n I go ahead and boil some of Granny's rice, though? To make little balls? It's for Baby Totoro," Satsuki requested timidly. "I thought... it might help make it feel better."

"Oh, your father told me about that!" Yasuko nodded, smiling almost proudly at her caring daughter. She took the forest creatures' existence on almost as much faith as her husband, never doubting her girls either. "Of course you may. I'm sure the baby totoro will love that. Granny always harvests the rice with such love and care. And you yourself are becoming quite a good cook, Satuski," she brushed the top of the child's head fondly as she reached for a utensil. That was true too--Satsuki had always helped Yasuko in the kitchen, and had even learned to make complete meals on her own when Yasuko had been in the hospital, and Tatsuo had been busy working. Everyone loved her creations, including Mei--the little girl was always so tickled whenever her big sister made a dish for her, especially if it included sakura denbu, or anything else pink.

Tonight, it was cherries. The little girl came toddling in as Satsuki was pouring a few teacups of Granny's rice into the pot. She held a cluster of bright red cherries up in her pudgy hands--apparently she had gotten them out of the pantry too. "Give these t' Baby Totoro?" she asked, her face as worried and serious as ever. "Cherries make it feel better. They always make me feel better. Cherries'll help make Baby well, Satsuki."

Satsuki smiled fondly down at her little sister, just as her mother had smiled at her. "Awww, of course we will, Mei. I'm making rice balls for dessert, and one for Baby Totoro too. We'll stick a big cherry in the middle and roll it up together, okay?"

"Yay! Yay!" Mei (and her fuzzy pigtails) bounced happily, oh so proud of what she saw as her idea.

"Heehee. We have to wait for the rice to boil first, though, Mei! Just be patient," Satsuki managed a giggle.

When the rice was done, it came out extra-fluffy and white, just like their tiny guest itself. Satsuki packed it into a smooth layer on a clean wooden cutting-board, and let her tiny sister (standing on tip-toes) place the very largest, reddest, now-pitted cherry she'd found in the middle. Then Satsuki cupped the edges of the sticky rice up over it, and patted them into an imperfect ball. She and Mei passed it back and forth, two small and two even smaller hands mushing and packing it until the rice ball became an absolutely perfect sphere.

Though supper was delicious, the girls barely tasted their own food, they were so anxious to go up and feed the special dessert to the ailing baby totoro. Their parents had barely excused them from the meal before they heard the pitter-patter of feet making their way upstairs, one napkin and one very special rice ball now missing from the table.

"We're back, Baby! Here's a rice ball me an' Satsuki maked for you! Come on, eat it all up!" Mei chirped kindly to their tiny patient. As the white fluffball made itself visible once more, it stared cautiously at the other, edible white ball of fluff before it. Mei pushed it forward. Satsuki nodded at it.

Still clutching its cherished "umbrella," the baby totoro inched closer, coughing a miserable little "kitchoo" before leaning into the ball. It was hard to see where its fur ended and its mouth began, but somehow or other, a few flecks of rice disappeared with a tiny, mushy noise.

The tiny creature's eyes grew wide, even sparkly. It was hard to tell, but somehow Satsuki sensed that, though still feeling quite unwell, it was smiling. *Arigato,* those sparkles seemed to say. The older girl smiled quietly again, and petted their little guest's soft fur. "Good little totoro. I hope it helps. We made it just for you."

The baby totoro nodded slowly, then leaned further into the rice ball, chewing steadily, its nonexistant nose already apparently twitching towards the faint smell of the cherry. When it reached it, it gave another sick, bubbly cough, but then it actually giggled with delight. "Roooooooooo!" Munch, munch, munch! That little red fruit the humans had prepared was delicious!

The girls giggled too, and watched patiently as their patient ate every last grain of rice and scrap of cherry. The rice ball had been nearly as big as itself, but somehow it managed to fit it all inside its (rather poochy) little tummy. Satsuki had to wonder to herself how much food their largest friend, the big gray totoro, could fit inside *his* giant belly!

"Eeeeeee..." Baby Totoro fell backwards now, sounding sleepy, but, if Mei was any judge, just a tiny bit better. Its button eyes closed, and Satsuki reached over to the hand-towel bedroll and adjusted its makeshift pillow. "Sleep good, Baby Totoro," she whispered, turning out the light. "We love you."

Satsuki retired to sleep downstairs, but Mei gathered her own bedroll up in her tiny arms, and laid it out next to the small totoro's table, keeping watch all the night.

The next morning, the whole house was awakened to Mei's happy shout. "Baby's better now! Baby's better!! Satsuki, come look!!"

Tatsuo came running up, followed by Satsuki, while Yasuko walked calmly and peered up the stairwell, still in her nightrobe.

"Satsuki, lookit, lookit. Baby feels well now," Mei smiled almost proudly, beaming up from the little hand-towel bed they'd made. The tiny white creature indeed seemed much better, its closed eyes upturned in a smile; it was even making some sort of giggling noise, waving its cherished leaf-twig back and forth.

"Hi, Baby," Satsuki's own mouth spread into a warm smile too. It faded a bit, though, as the smallest totoro itself visually faded, to the sound of Tatsuo's footsteps coming closer.

"Is our little guest on its feet again?" he asked sweetly, untroubled by the, as usual, apparently blank bed.

"Yep, he's all better now! Not sick 't all!" Mei nodded cheerily, her head bobbing up and down vigorously.

"That's wonderful!" Tatsuo beamed proudly at both his girls, an arm around each. "You two did such a good job nursing it back to health. I bet the big Totoro is proud of you too, and very thankful."

Satsuki cocked her head and asked a somewhat strange question then. "Daddy... we get medicine from camphor trees, right?"

"That's right," Tatsuo nodded after a second, wondering why his older daughter had asked. "Some parts of the tree are poisonous, but others are used in salves and ointments. Like that cream we buy to put on our feet and chests at night, whenever we have colds. You girls remember."

"Then maybe... maybe human food is like medicine to them? Like the totoros' tree makes some medicines for us?"

Tatsuo suddenly smiled again, chuckling very softly, amused but not at all skeptical of his daughter's theory. "You know, Satsuki, I think you may be right. Or maybe it was because you and Mei specifically made that rice ball for it. Maybe the baby totoro needed food-medicine that was prepared by its human friends with love." His smile grew even deeper and more sincere now.

Satsuki smiled too, but suddenly sighed again as she faced the invisible creature on the table. "Baby Totoro... will you always hide from grownups? We love Daddy so much, and he won't hurt you... why do you always hide whenever he comes close?"

Something rustled in the arranged towel. Very slowly, the baby totoro's eyes opened out of the thin air. Then its body, at first ghostly and filmy, then round and full with its completed fuzz. It made a cautious, cooing sound. Then a more comfortable one.

Satsuki breathed out, her eyes starting to well with happy tears.

Tatsuo inhaled sharply at the same time Satsuki was exhaling, his eyes growing very large and round behind their glasses. He had always believed in the totoro creatures his children had found, but never in all of his dreams had he imagined he would get to see one himself. Quietly, gently, almost unthinkingly, he lifted his index finger closer to the dust-bunny-like monster, scarcely risking to breathe, lest he interrupt the magic of the moment.

The baby totoro inched closer, no longer afraid. This man was nice; this man was good. He was the grownup who had raised Mei and Satsuki; he was the grownup who had taught them how to care for it and all the woodland creatures. It took the giant finger in its two tiny stump-paws, hugging it close. "Coooooooo!"

Tatsuo's tears came leaking out then too, trickling softly on their way down to meet the deepening edges of his smile. "...Thank you!" he whispered in wonder, to his tiny new friend.

*Thank you,* Satsuki whispered mentally too, to the baby totoro and to all of Heaven above. A great weight had been lifted from her heart that day.

~~~

I absolutely fell in love with this movie, which I probably should have watched a long time ago. It almost seemed specially made for me. I've honestly never seen a movie that's made up almost entirely of just these cute, peaceful, everyday moments all strung together. I've heard one of the few criticisms of Totoro is its overall lack of plot, but honestly I had no problem with that whatsoever--I think its gentle pace may have been a big part of what made it so charming.

I had always worried about the one detail of the story I'd always heard, that the totoro creatures "can only be seen by children"--I thought the story would be about the girls having to say goodbye to Totoro in the end, which is one of the reasons I kind of avoided this movie for so long. I was extremely grateful that the story included no such thing! All we got was a line in the ending song saying "you only see him when you're very young," and Granny saying she could see soot sprites "when I was your age." So in my own mind, I decided that it's not that the forest creatures won't reveal themselves to adults, period, it's just that they're very cautious, and have to know an adult very well before they trust them, even more so than they do a child (who would be less likely to harm their habitat, and less likely to be believed when talking about them to strangers). And maybe Granny just can't see the soot sprites because she stopped looking for them, and/or they deliberately avoid her because she cleans up their messes so much.

Anyways, though, the worry about them having to say goodbye someday still itched at the back of my mind enough, I guess I decided to write it into this fanfic to give it a good "kicking out" of my head-canon once and for all. And to give a reward to Tatsuo (found out his and Yasuko's personal names online; they were never spoken in the movie)--he deserved it. Most of the father-figure characters I've featured in my gallery are ones I started seeing in a paternal role, and made up OC/FC children for, but Tatsuo is already literally a parent in his source material, and he does a splendid job of it. And I think it's pretty cool how he wholeheartedly believes everything about the magical creatures and takes his children's word about Totoro at face-value, instead of being skeptical like one would expect from an adult in this type of story. So again, I just thought it would be nice to see him having that faith rewarded, both for his own sake and so Satsuki wouldn't worry anymore.

I also wanted to give some more spotlight to the smallest, white totoro--it was so cute!