#Sasada x Taki

[goodlucktai]

soft ground, claiming moon

fear the fall and where we’ll land

@natsumeweek 2023 day 3; kindness/cruelty read on ao3

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x

For a moment, no one moves or speaks or even breathes. Takashi himself is frozen, mind completely blank. This is so far from anything he could have expected that his body doesn’t know how to react. 

Then Taki blurts, “Is that Natori Shuuichi?”

“Wait, the guy from that dumb show Satchan and Sasada argue about every week?” Kitamoto says dubiously. 

Their resident witch twitches, offended, and Nishimura says, “It’s not dumb, it’s really good! There’s nuance! You just have to give it a chance.”

Unmoved, Kitamoto says, “Okay but isn’t he, like, famous? What’s he doing here?”

Their voices are a static wash of sound. Takashi doesn’t hear a word. He’s hyper-focused on the man in front of them. Natori’s expression is still smiling, but that’s his T.V. smile. There’s no warmth to it at all. Takashi can tell the difference. 

Maybe Tanuma can, too, or maybe he just knows how to read Takashi better than most people, because Tanuma shifts to the side until he has a shoulder in front of Nishimura. He dips a hand into the pocket he keeps his prayer beads in. There’s not much he can do against another human person, but if it came down to it, he would be able to guard against the shiki at least.

Here. In his home. While his father is away and his friend is in pain. 

Takashi realizes that his heart is racing, but not with fear. It feels more like anger. 

How dare Natori show up here? How dare he look at Nishimura like he’s some sort of monster? He doesn’t even know the whole story. He didn’t see Nishimura in that hospital room. 

“Um,” Nishimura says, overly loud, not passing for normal at all, “um, not to sound lame or anything, but can I get your autograph?”

He’s excited. Just for a second, the moon is the last thing on his mind. 

But the shiki react to his question like Nishimura just threw a knife at them, in Sasago and Urihime’s case, baring their teeth and reaching for their weapons. Hiiragi tilts her head an inch to the left and otherwise doesn’t move at all. 

They’re visible here, where Taki has laid dozens of circles in the earth. Nishimura flinches back and the shining expression on his face goes shuttered, a window closing against the cold. 

At the same time Tanuma pulls the rosary out of his pocket, and Taki lifts chalk dust-covered fingers, and Kitamoto yanks Nishimura a whole two steps back behind everyone else, Nyanko-sensei disappears in a thick screen of smoke. 

When it clears, he towers above them all in his true form. The fluffy cloud tail of his lashes a few times, knocking a few small boughs from a nearby tree, before he settles down in a half-moon curl around his kids. 

Natori’s shiki stiffen. They would fight sensei unflinchingly if they were ordered to, but they’re outclassed and they know it. Natori’s smile has tapered off but he still has that silver stake in his hand.

“Good grief,” Nyanko-sensei rumbles. “I hate fleas.”

“Sensei?” Nishimura says. He’s squished between Kitamoto and Taki and half-buried in downy white fur, looking torn between bewildered and offended. There’s a faint shadow of the wolf looming in his eyes. “Natsume, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Takashi says shortly. “Natori just likes to show up without warning. Or an invitation.”

“And his familiars are poorly trained,” Taki, who was once famously trapped on a tricky mountain ledge for two hours because her kitsune threw a tantrum when she forgot to bring them aburaage as a treat, snaps meanly. 

“Don’t worry about the fleas,” sensei orders. “Go plate that cake already.”

“Sensei,” Nishimura argues, but he’s buffeted forward with a bump from Nyanko-sensei’s great head. 

Kitamoto looks like he’s one more big surprise away from a meltdown, but he uses that momentum to begin dragging Nishimura the rest of the way to the temple, giving Natori a wide berth and a suspicious look. Taki goes with them, glaring over her shoulder with every step. 

Tanuma looks very worried about the standoff occuring in his yard, rubbing one of the beads between his fingers anxiously.

“Should I call Misuzu?” he asks Takashi in a quiet tone. “He always has frogs nearby. There’s usually at least three in the temple somewhere.”

“No need,” Takashi replies. “Sensei and I will handle this.”

Tanuma lingers for another moment, but a glance up at Nyanko-sensei seems to convince him. He passes by Natori with a skittish sidelong look. Natori’s expression turns pained at the way Tanuma hurries out of his proximity. 

When the doors of the temple have shut, Natori says very gently, “Natsume. You know I had to come.”

Takashi says, “But you didn’t.”

“You are in over your head. There is absolutely no way you could be prepared to deal with—what must be dealt with. There’s hardly any text about it anywhere.”

“And if humans don’t have the knowledge recorded, it doesn’t exist?” sensei asks sardonically. “Spare me your self-importance, exorcist. It was your kind that caused this mess in the first place.” 

Normally, Takashi would play mediator between the two, try to check their frankly ridiculous egos, but he can feel his own temper fraying apart and doesn’t have the mental fortitude to spare.  

He can’t remember ever being angrier than this. He can feel the spirits in Yatsuhara becoming agitated, all stirred up because of him. 

“Playing the blame game is a waste of everyone’s time,” Natori says harshly. He’s disquieted by sensei’s remark; it’s obvious in the way he hustles past it. “I’m here to help, whether you believe me or not.”

“Then help,” Takashi says. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “Don’t hunt. Throw that weapon away.” The way the silver shines in the low light is making him sick. 

“I can’t do that,” Natori says. “You know I can’t do that. He’s going to turn.”

“It doesn’t mean he has to die.”

“He’s a monster. He’ll hurt you, he won’t have a choice.”

“And you think I would just stand there and let it happen?” 

“I think you have a history of doing exactly that.”

It hurts because Natori says it softly.

With a deep breath, Takashi says, “If he’s a monster, so am I. You came here to kill me, too, a year ago. What stopped you then?”

He’ll regret it later because of the way Natori’s whole body seems to crumple at his words. He knows the older man regrets the nature of their first meeting, for all that he was acting on the best information he had at the time. 

For now, he presses on, “You met me. You made an exception. I didn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn’t.” 

Takashi presses his hands together, half in pleading, half to keep a solid grip on his cognizance, because the wilderness inside him is beckoning him ever deeper. It wants him to let go and tear asunder, the way of earthquakes and tsunamis. 

But he won’t. That’s the whole point. 

“Nishimura wouldn’t either,” he goes on. “He would never. If you would just meet him I know you’d understand.”

Natori doesn’t say anything right away. Dusk is upon them, the sky vivid with sunset colors. They are inching ever closer to nightfall. Soon they’ll be out of time to talk. Takashi needs him to be convinced sooner than later. 

Nyanko-sensei’s tail flicks idly. He would never admit to caring about any of the humans who fill his days, but Takashi knows he has a particular fondness for the colorful, chaotic Nishimura. If it came down to protecting him, he would tear his way through Natori’s shiki with his teeth. 

Takashi would prefer it not to come to that. 

Suddenly, Hiiragi steps between their two parties, and puts Takashi and sensei behind her. Facing her master, she tells him, “I know that you’re kind.”

She draws back her sleeve, revealing the neat bandage wrapped carefully around her arm.

“I know that you want to be kind,” Hiiragi says.

For a handful of seconds that feel more like an hour, Natori stares at her without speaking. Then he grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighs with feeling.

Hope floods Takashi’s heart, but he doesn’t relax until Natori tosses that silver stake down. 

“Alright,” the exorcist says wearily. “We’ll try it your way.”

[natsuyuuimagines]

Can I request hcs about Natsume finding a box full of kittens & being very overprotective of them and his friends reactions to this? (Like Natsume won't let the kittens be adopted/touched just by anyone, unless he's 100% sure the kittens will be safe?He'd do anything to keep the kittens away from potential danger.) Also good luck with your blog! ♥

Headcanons of Natsume with a box of new kittens he just found:

Natsume stumbled upon a stray cardboard box in the woods whilst running away from an ayakashi. It had almost slipped by unnoticed if it weren’t for the purrs he had heard from it. He opened it to see a few abandoned kittens in it. And thus, on a whim, he decided to keep the box of kittens.

He felt as if he would be asking too much if he brought them back to Touko and Shigeru, as he didn’t want to trouble them. However, he also could not find himself leaving defenseless kittens in the wild either. After some thought, Natsume would ultimately ask if he can keep them.

Touko and Shigeru would be glad, but they suggest if Natsume could find some friends or people who would be interested in adopting them.

After receiving permission to care for them, he would be take extreme caution, reading up on how to properly care for them, personally going out to buy everything that may be needed for them.

Even after a while, Madara would even warm up to them, occasionally feeding them scraps of food. Sometimes, the careless bodyguard can even be seen cuddling with the small fluff balls.

Natsume and Madara would find names for each of them, despite both of their lack in naming skills. Things like ‘Fluffy’ for an especially fluffy one, or ‘Golden’ for the ginger furred one.

Nishimura and Kitamoto would noticed Natsume suddenly leaving his classes as soon as the bell rang, and they’d ask what’s been up. When they find out Natsume has kittens, they’d most likely want to see them. Tanuma and Taki, along with Sasada would find out eventually. They too, intend on visiting the kittens.

Natsume reluctantly agrees, not before lecturing them on the proper ways to pet/hold them and the right treats and food to feed them. He may be wary of Taki due to her tight grips on ‘cute things’ but eventually lets loose after a lot of convincing from the said girl. Its not as if he doesn’t trust his friends, he is just worried for the kittens’ well-being.

If Natsume finds someone who intends on adopting them, he wouldn’t exactly be too happy about it. He’d try anything within his power to see if they would be good owners for the kittens. If they seemed slightly off, he’d decline immediately. If they appear to be alright, of course, he’d be happy for the cats, but he’s also sad to see them go. Although soon he’d realize that it’s the best for the cats, and say his goodbyes.

Thank you for requesting this Anon-chan! I apologize for the delay or if it was different from what you wanted. Please, please feel free to send in any constructive criticism! Thank you!~

[rokainne]

I want to kiss you so bad

*whispered Tanuma at Natsume's ear

*Natsume blushes lightly and gives him a judging look, like, "what is he thinking? They're in the middle of a studying section and their friends are right beside them!"

*He thinks for a moment...and then declares:

-I'm kind of hungry, I'm going downstairs to see if Touko-san has something for us to heat.

*He gets up and Tanuma fallows him*

-I'll help you

-No, it's ok

-No, no, I insist – says Tanuma giving him a little smirk

*Natsume blushes lightly, again*

-Ok than, after you.

*And the two leave the room*

*After watching the two, Nishimura states:

-they're really close, huh...

-Too close...

*says Sasada*

-W-what are you two saying, they're normal, normal

*Says Taki

*Meanwhile in the all way...*

[ao3feed-natsume]

by SUGAR_DEMON

su dulce aroma atrae a los youkai trayéndole muchos problemas.

- Eres muy lindo y tu aroma es muy dulce- dijo Nyanko-sensei al chico que tenia delante - seisei!!!- grito Natsume, con su rostro sonrojado por la vergüenza de las palabras que su gato le dijo a su reciente compañero de clase.

Words: 59, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Español

Fandoms: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M, Other

Characters: Natsume Takashi, Natori Shuuichi, Tanuma Kaname, Matoba Seiji, Matoba Clan, Taki Tooru, Madara "Nyanko-sensei", Shibata Katsumi, Kitsune | Fox Boy (Natsume Yuujinchou), Natsume Reiko, Nansen Ichimonji, Hinoe (Natsume Yuujinchou), Fujiwara Touko, Fujiwara Shigeru, Sasada Jun, Kitamoto Atsushi, Nishimura Satoru, Hiiragi (Natsume Yuujinchou)

Relationships: Natsume Takashi/Original Male Character(s), Matoba Seiji/original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Romance, Canon - Anime, chico x chico, bi panic, Yaoi, male reader - Freeform

[goodlucktai]

the sky’s not falling down just yet

@natsumeweek 2022 day 5; whispers/sharing

read on ao3

(previous) (next)

x

Technically, it’s considered an emergency placement. Given Touko and Shigeru’s unilateral success with a case as difficult as Takashi’s, it doesn’t take much for Ono to push the arrangements through. They have a lot of meetings with her, and even Sakamoto makes a few trips out, and slowly but surely the tricky details are hammered down and inexhaustible amounts of paperwork are filed away. 

Meanwhile, Takashi helps Shigeru convert their empty guest bedroom into something warmer and more personal. Touko lovingly prepares for a fourth person in all their shared spaces; another hand-stitched cushion in the sitting room, another chair at the kitchen table, another pair of house slippers in bright purple, because she already knows it’s his favorite color. Kitamoto’s parents get permission from Genta to go to Nishimura’s house and pack up his things. 

It’s looking as though all the adults involved in the process want him to never have any reason to go back to that house ever again, and they’re working long hours to make it happen. Takashi quietly approves. 

Nishimura, for his part, doesn’t want to talk about any of it. He’s still unhappy with these decisions being made over his head. He always looks a little cornered when any of it comes up in conversation, a little vulnerable. It’s easier on Takashi’s heart to just let him change the subject whenever he wants. 

He stays with Kitamoto for the rest of the week. Neither of them come to school, and all Nomiya-sensei will tell his students is that there was a family emergency, and they should respect Nishimura’s privacy. Kitamoto’s homeroom teacher must have said more or less the same thing, because Tanuma approaches Takashi at lunch with Kitamoto’s make-up work in hand and a worried frown on his face. 

“Nishimura isn’t here, either?” he asks, brow furrowed as he passes the homework packet over. “I thought they’d been quiet in the groupchat, but—I didn’t think something was wrong. Do you know anything?”

Takashi is in the unfortunate position of knowing everything, actually. He’s been fending off worried classmates all day. He and Nishimura have been firmly amalgamated from pretty much the very first week they met. Tsuji and Sasada and Suzuki and Adachi all swarmed his desk the second Nomiya-sensei stepped away from the lectern, rightly assuming that if anyone could tell them where Nishimura was, Takashi could. 

And he could. But he won’t. 

Nishimura can barely stand to let his favorite people near him right now. He only grudgingly allows Kitamoto’s hovering because it’s Kitamoto. No one else has that built-in immunity. If one of their well-meaning class presidents showed up to offer their support, it might trigger a nuclear meltdown. Takashi has no idea what the fallout on that scale would look like and he has no desire to find out. 

Still, he can’t just smile blandly at Tanuma until he goes away. Tanuma’s worry is personal and persistent, always carefully toeing the line between concern and outright anxiety. He’s already digging his phone out of a pocket to check his e-mails, probably for the fifteenth time today. 

Takashi can’t just. Stand there and let him worry. 

“He’s okay,” he blurts before he can think better of it. “I mean—something happened, but he’s okay now. Or—mostly. He will be. I promise.”

Tanuma stares at him, phone forgotten in his hand. Visibly unpacking what Takashi just dumped on him, his dark eyes wide and intent and much more clever than he usually gets credit for next to Taki and Shibata. 

“Which ‘he’?” he finally asks. 

Takashi winces, rubbing his mouth. He doesn’t know how much to say. He doesn’t want to betray anyone or leave anyone in the dark and he’s not sure where the gray area is. 

“Nishimura,” he admits. 

Tanuma’s expression turns pained. It’s hard to look at. He glances back down at his phone, at all the messages that have gone unanswered. His voice is a little softer when he adds, “But he’s okay?”

Behind him, Takashi sees Taki approaching them at speed. She doesn’t have class with any of them, and her hopeful eyes sweep the hallway around them eagerly for a sign of their missing friends. Then Takashi has to watch the way disappointment seems to make her shrink a few inches. 

She was so lonely when Takashi first met her, and sometimes it’s easy to see that girl she used to be. When people talk over her, or her friends don’t show up, a glint of uncertainty ices out the usual warmth in her eyes. 

Still, her voice is cheerful when she says, “Looks like half of my boys are accounted for! So where are the other two?”

“Absent again,” Tanuma says, smiling crookedly at her in greeting. “Natsume was just telling me that they’re okay, though.”

Taki perks up, turning beseeching tawny eyes on Takashi the way he’s utterly unequipped to deal with in any way that isn’t just immediately capitulating to her wants. He waffles for a second, uncertain—he’s never been the point of contact for anyone before, never been the middle-man within a group, because he’s never had a group, let alone one as well-tangled and constant as this one is. 

Finally, he makes a decision, and hands Kitamoto’s make-up work back to Tanuma. 

“We can drop it off together,” he says. His friends’ faces light up. Takashi makes a careful mental note to call ahead, just in case. 

By now, Nishimura’s bruises are mostly yellow, laden with splotches of reddish-purple, and he’s stopping wincing when he moves around. He’s sitting on the floor in front in front of Mana, who is sitting on the sofa behind him doing something complicated with his hair and about a hundred brightly colored plastic barrettes. They’re bickering amiably over the TV Guide, while Kitamoto furiously scrolls through IMDb on his laptop, and all three of them glance up when Takashi, Tanuma and Taki step inside. 

“I don’t want it,” Nishimura says fiercely, pointing at the homework packet in Takashi’s hands. “I’m seriously developing a Pavlovian response to seeing you bring me stuff.” 

“I also brought you Chocorooms,” Takashi says pleasantly. They stopped at the combini on the way here specifically for the mushroom-shaped chocolates that are Nishimura’s current favorite snack, because Takashi has recently discovered several new things about himself, and one of those things is that he’s not above bribery. 

Predictably, Nishimura’s defenses crumble. He accepts the homework along with the Chocorooms, pops the candy bag open, and holds it up behind him so Mana can take a handful. 

“Mushroom?” he asks Kitamoto. 

“Just throw one at me,” Kitamoto says without looking up from his computer. Nishimura cheerfully pelts him with one, and Takashi is smiling when he picks his way between the two to sit beside Mana on the sofa. 

It’s around then that he realizes Taki and Tanuma are still hanging back near the entry way. They haven’t moved a step past the kitchen, and Taki has a handful of Tanuma’s sleeve in a white-knuckled grip. 

They’re staring at Nishimura. Nishimura, who looks so much better than he did Saturday night, who’s clearly being well-taken care of and well-looked after. But they don’t have that frame of reference, and his face is still a vivid sunset of colors, and there’s still that torn corner of his mouth that is puffy and scabbed over. 

His friends are horrified. Taki is already crying. 

“Will it hurt if I hug you?” she demands. 

“No,” Nishimura replies, staring at his magazine. The sense of normalcy between him and his siblings doesn’t extend to Taki and Tanuma. There’s tension in his shoulders now, and a stubborn set to his mouth that says he will cause a scene if anyone asks him if he’s okay one more time. 

But Taki just takes him at his word. She flies forward and collapses on him in a hug that looks more like a full-body tackle, wrapping her arms around his shoulders like he’s as solid as he’s always been, more than capable of holding her up and withstanding the force of her affection. 

Nishimura thaws immediately, threading his arms around her middle and hugging back just as tight. It’s exactly what he needs from her; reassurance that the way she cares about him hasn’t changed. 

Tanuma is slower to approach. He needs longer to process, and it’ll probably be days before any of that brand new pain leaves his eyes, but there’s no pity to be found in him. Of course there isn’t. Why would there be, when Nishimura has seen him at his lowest, too.  

Nishimura was the one to kneel in front of him and hold his hands through that awful panic attack, months ago now. Afterwards, he made Tanuma drink cool green tea and eat dark chocolate until he stopped shaking, and stonewalled all of his attempts to apologize for himself, and bumped their shoulders together amicably as they finally made their way to the Fujiwaras’ house. 

Everything about him had been steady, grounding, and familiar. Tanuma is probably remembering that, too, because by the time he sits next to Nishimura, he’s packed all that hurt away, until nothing is left on his face but his usual warm, thoughtful self. 

He bumps his shoulder into Nishimura’s, an echo of that afternoon, and Takashi watches a smile spill across Nishimura’s face. The first real, bright smile he’s seen on his face in days. 

“You don’t have to tell us anything, but we’d like to know,” Taki says. She’s mostly sitting on Nishimura’s folded legs and shows no signs of moving any time soon. Her eyes are on whatever Mana is still doing to Nishimura’s hair, pretending as though all of her formidable attention is focused elsewhere, and not on whatever Nishimura might say. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Nishimura replies noncommittally. “I guess you’d find out sooner or later, considering the number of times we crash at Natsume’s house in a given week.”

“Our house,” Takashi corrects quietly. 

Tanuma darts a quick look at him. Taki hums in what sounds like mild interest, but her eyes, well above Nishimura’s head where he can’t see them, are round and moon-like with surprise. 

“Yeah,” Nishimura goes on, his tone a bit more helpless now. “I guess so.”

“I’ll tell you one thing right now,” Kitamoto interjects, finally looking up from his computer, “Shibata’s gotta hear about all of this from somebody, and it’s not gonna be me.”

“Oh, no,” Tanuma says with feeling, and then he looks mortified to have said it out loud. 

It’s enough to make the rest of them dissolve into laughter. Even Nishimura laughs, and from the look on Kitamoto’s face, Takashi isn’t the only one who’s missed that sound. 

He reaches over to steal a chocolate mushroom out of the discarded bag. He didn’t know what was so special about them the first time he’d tried one, but they’ve grown on him since then. 

[goodlucktai]

If you're still taking requests, could you do Kitanishi please? Maybe Nishimura trying to hide a horrible secret or something really bad that happened with his relatives because Kitamoto is finally getting time with his family or something? Bonus points if Natsume finds out there's trouble, rats him out, and there's gang feels before Kitamoto comes to get him. Or if you had another thought in mind?

me: oops its getting late, i better get to bed *checks inbox* On Second Thought– 

x

The thing is, nothing even happened. 

Satoru got woken up early in the morning, beating the sun by a good margin. Kiyoshi’s frenetic energy was familiar in a dread-inducing way, enough to jolt Satoru wide-awake almost on its own. 

He pulled his school uniform on while his brother shoved workbooks into his bag, heart pounding as he listened for the sound of footsteps in the hall. 

Kiyoshi hustled him down the stairs, into the dark of the kitchen. He gave Satoru a few bills out of his own wallet, told him to buy himself breakfast at the combini when he stopped to get a lunch box.  

Satoru pocketed the money numbly. Something in his face gave his brother pause. 

“He’s only here for the weekend,” Kiyoshi said. It was a moment that felt stolen and daring in this house where their father could appear at any moment. “Just stay with Atsushi, alright? I’ll call you when he’s gone.”

It was their usual arrangement. Most times, mom would tell Kiyoshi when their father had a flight home, but sometimes even she didn’t know. 

Satoru didn’t even sit down to put his sneakers on properly, just crammed them on so the backs were folded under his heels, and eased the door open as quietly as he could. 

“See you,” he said, and took off into the cold morning. 

What he didn’t say was that Atsushi had plans this weekend. His dad was well enough to travel, so the whole family was going away to visit Atsushi’s grandparents. Mana had asked Satoru to water her plants. 

What could he say? Kiyoshi was already worried and frustrated. The absolute last thing Satoru wanted was to give his brother another reason to pick a fight with their dad. The best thing to do was keep your head down.

The lady at the combini was coming off an overnight shift, but she stayed long enough to ring Satoru up. She and the clerk coming in to take over for her chatted with Satoru for awhile, keeping him company while he picked apart a melon bread and the sky turned rosy and bright outside. 

When the bell above the door rang, Satoru looked round to see Tsuji gaping at him. 

“Masa-chan!” he said brightly, spreading his arms for a big hug. 

The class president sputtered, but there was an involuntary smile starting on his face, and already Satoru’s horrible morning was edging a little bit closer to okay. 

“It is way too early to deal with you,” Tsuji said, but the way he bumped Satoru’s shoulder on his way past said he didn’t mean it. 

Satoru heckled him while he picked out a lunch box, and then endured a lecture about healthy eating that had him picking out the same one. The clerks were smiling as they checked out, and didn’t charge Satoru for his breakfast, since, the first clerk pointed out in a kindly way, he didn’t seem to enjoy it. 

Tsuji was giving him a sidelong look as they walked to school together. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. “I stop by that store all the time this early in the morning, and I never see you there.”

“My phone died last night, so I ended up going to bed super early,” Satoru lied cheerfully, swinging the plastic shopping bag back and forth. “Couldn’t get back to sleep! At least I had extra time to finish my homework.”

Tsuji rolled his eyes, placated by an on-brand excuse. There was a hollow pit in Satoru’s chest, and it was a miracle his hands weren’t shaking, but it did help having a friend to talk to about an upcoming school trip and the latest chapter of a manga they both follow and whether or not Suzuki from class three is going to muster up the courage to ask Adachi on a date.

By the time Natsume steps into homeroom, Satoru feels mostly okay. He greets Natsume cheerfully, leaning forward over his desk on his elbows, and invites himself over for the weekend. Natsume smiles at him as he sets his bag down, and tells him sure, of course he can come over, Shigeru is away for a work conference and Touko would love to have someone else to cook for. 

Having a solid plan settles some of Satoru’s jangling nerves. He can’t focus during class, his mind darting away like a startled bird at every other second, but somehow he isn’t called on even once. He’s worried about Kiyoshi, he’s worried that dad might take umbrage with Satoru avoiding him, he’s worried that he’ll have to face dad before he leaves again. 

Natsume turns around in his seat, tapping Satoru’s desk with his fingers to get his attention. He looks fondly amused when Satoru jerks back to the present.

“We’re meeting the others on the roof, right?”

Satoru grins woodenly. “That’s the plan! You go ahead, I’m gonna stay here and finish my maths homework.”

Natsume tilts his head. “Tsuji told me you finished your homework this morning.”

When had that conversation happened? A glance around the room proves Tsuji has already bustled off somewhere. Satoru says, “I got most of it done. I managed to forget my maths workbook though.”

“Why didn’t you just ask to see mine?” Natsume asks, reasonably enough.

“‘Cause I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.” He sniffs haughtily, digging through his bag for the appropriate workbook so he doesn’t have to look at Natsume’s thoughtful expression. “I can’t believe you want me to cheat. I’m telling Sasada.”

“A new leaf,” his friend says dryly. He seems to buy it, though, and settles back in his chair. “Well, I’ll just wait for you to finish.”

Panic shoots through him, white-hot, like electricity. Satoru’s fingers seize, bending the cover of his book. He gives himself a second to try to tamp it down. 

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Satoru says, hoping it sounds casual. 

It must not. Natsume frowns. “It’s not a big deal.”

Of course it’s not. But if they don’t go up to the roof, then their friends are going to find them here instead, and Satoru doesn’t think– he doesn’t want– it won’t be good. Natsume is still looking at him, and his frown is reaching into his eyes now, so Satoru pushes himself out of his chair with a grin.

“You’re right! I’m just gonna go get a drink real quick. Be right back.”

“Nishimura– “

Natsume’s bewildered voice follows him out the door. Satoru tries to convince himself he isn’t actively running away, and he doesn’t really manage it; he’s a pretty bad liar, as it so happens. He weaves through the busy hall and wracks his mind for somewhere he can go and be left alone. Not the vending machines on the first floor, not the roof– the library? The bathroom?

Wait. Tsuji mentioned an empty classroom, he was going to use it for a club meeting after school. 

Satoru can barely get the door shut behind him, fumbling at the recessed handle so badly that it takes both hands. He’s dizzy, like he can’t get enough air in. He lurches over to the nearest chair, buries his face in his arms, and tells himself to stop. 

Nothing even happened. 

Kiyoshi got him out of the house, Natsume is going to let him stay over, everything is going to be fine. 

The door rattles open and Satoru doesn’t hear it. Chairs are moving around, and the door closes again, but it takes a hand on his wrist to alert Satoru to the presence of others in the room. He jerks his head up, and Kitamoto’s worried eyes meet his. 

Satoru quickly finds someone else to look at. Taki is right behind him, her arms folded tightly against her middle as if she needs the physical reminder not to reach out and snatch Satoru up in a hug. 

“You’re missing lunch,” he says dumbly. 

“Lunch has been over for five minutes,” Taki tells him in a gentle tone. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Tanuma and Natsume are here, too, looking anxious. They’ve pulled in chairs as close as they can, their knees and shoulders smushed together. Satoru is craning his neck to look around at them instead of Kitamoto. He’s quickly losing his grip on this situation, he can feel it getting away from him.

Satoru’s heart is still pounding. It feels like it’s going to give out at any moment. He’s senselessly, intensely afraid. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Satoru starts, and to his horror, his voice loses strength and sort of tapers off. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “I’m being stupid. Let’s go back to class before we get detention.”

None of them budge an inch. Kitamoto says, “Satchan.”

Satoru bursts into tears. 

It’s an ugly, gasping thing. Mostly silent, a trick he learned early on. He’s always been quick to cry, ever since he was a kid. Kiyoshi’s been protecting him for a long time. Satoru tries to make it easy when he can. 

Kitamoto lets go of his wrist and wraps both arms around him instead. Taki makes a wounded noise and presses against Satoru’s back. The weight of them, the warmth of them, is grounding. It gives him something to focus on, something that pushes the lingering dread far away, then farther, until it finally falls off the edge of some precipice and Satoru can’t reach it anymore. 

For the first time since Kiyoshi woke him up this morning, Satoru’s heart begins to settle. He’s breathing slow and deep and even, buried in the familiar smell of Kitamoto’s laundry detergent and shampoo. It’s what Kitamoto’s bed smells like on the nights Satoru sleeps over. It’s an instant comfort. 

Kitamoto squeezes him tighter when the last little bit of tension in Satoru’s body finally goes away. 

“Okay,” he says evenly. “Talk to me.”

It really is that simple. With Kitamoto, it’s always that simple. That’s the whole reason Satoru was trying to avoid him. They’ve known each other forever; no one loves Satoru better. All it takes is one word from his best friend and Satoru is spilling his guts. He doesn’t want Kitamoto to feel torn in two directions; Satoru knows he’ll feel bad about being gone for the weekend while Satoru’s father is in town, but Satoru doesn’t want him to miss a trip he’s been looking forward to. 

“It’s only for the weekend,” Satoru says. “Natsume said I could stay at his house.”

“Of course you can,” Natsume says fiercely. “Touko would let you move in if you asked. One of us would probably try to smother the other with a pillow within one week of sharing a bedroom, but I’m sure we could work something out.”

“You could stay with me, too, Nishimura,” Tanuma interjects. “My dad loves having you around.”

“We haven’t had a sleepover in ages.” Taki is still nestled against Satoru like a barnacle, her voice a pleasant hum. “Isamu likes arguing about movies with you. You know my parents are overseas, there’s no one I have to ask for permission. You can just come over, any time.”

Kitamoto scoops the hair back off of Satoru’s forehead and plants a kiss there instead. He doesn’t care that Satoru is all sweaty and gross, or that their friends are watching. 

“See? Even if I wasn’t going to take you with me this weekend, you would have plenty of other places to go,” Kitamoto says. He messes up Satoru’s hair, his grin crooked and affectionate. “But I am. You and my grandma are gonna get along like a house on fire. Text Kiyoshi and let him know, okay?”

Taki makes an annoyed sound. Satoru smiles a lot sooner than he thought he’d be able to. 

When they get back to class, Nomiya-sensei just waves them to their desks. Tsuji is turned around in his seat to watch them cross the room, concern writ large across his face. He probably told Satoru’s friends where to find him. He probably let their teachers know they’d be a little late returning to class. He didn’t say anything, but he must have been worried since this morning.

“Alright?” Tsuji asks in a whisper as they sit down.

“All good, Masa-chan,” Satoru whispers back. The nickname makes Tsuji’s face wrinkle in that reluctant, can’t-help-himself smile; it makes Satoru feel a little more like himself. “Thank you.”

[goodlucktai]

put your empty hands in mine

chapter nine: family

natsume yuujinchou pairing: kitanishinatsu word count: 2145 summary: Kitamoto and Nishimura are soulmates, to absolutely no one’s surprise. But they’re also soulmates with a very shy boy who lives somewhere far away, who writes to them in tiny, careful letters right before bed, who apologizes when the mimicry of bruises pop up on their arms and backs because of him. And that’s a surprise to a lot of people. read on ao3

x

The marks and messages a soulmate leaves always fade within a day or two. Mom makes him wait three before Satoru is allowed to pull the bandages off his arms, just in case.

And in that time, Takashi wakes up, he’s cleared to leave the hospital, and they go back home to Hitoyoshi.

The detective pulled a lot of strings, and now Auntie has temporary guardianship of Takashi. It isn’t permanent, but it’s good enough while they figure out the next arrangement.

She made it pretty clear she wasn’t leaving the city without him. The detective looked one part cowed and two parts impressed, and in the end he was happy to arrange a rental van for them, so they wouldn’t have to take Takashi onto a crowded train.

The doctor said to allow at least six weeks for Takashi’s ribs to heal, and to take him to a clinic immediately if he has trouble breathing because that would increase the risk of pneumonia. Mostly he has to stay propped up in Atsushi’s bed with hot tea or soup on hand at all times, but that’s okay.

As much fun as it is to run through the lotus fields, and go fishing in the river, and climb the steps in the woods to visit Takashi’s favorite shrine, Satoru likes having Takashi right here where they can keep an eye on him all the time. He gets nervous when Takashi is gone.

The worst part is that his soulmates can’t crawl into bed with him at night, because they might roll over on him or something and he’s still so sore. It’s weird to sleep with him three feet away. Satoru is used to being miles and miles apart, or not apart at all.

Tsuji and Adachi come by with their classwork, the way they’ve done every day for the past week. Tsuji is determined not to let them fall behind, and Adachi likes the easy excuse to visit Takashi.

Shibata’s school had a teacher institute right before the weekend, so he’s here for three days and can hardly be pried from his best friend’s side long enough to take a bath or go to sleep. His eyes are red-rimmed from crying and he doesn’t look even a little bit self-conscious about it, clutching Takashi’s hand like he could make up for not being there when he was really needed if he holds on tight enough now.

Takashi, for his part, naps most of the time. Nyanko-sensei is his silent sentry, eating far less than a real cat would and watching everything with his dark intelligent eyes. The therapist who comes to talk to them every now and then said she was surprised the cat wasn’t certified already, and helped them get the paperwork filed. Satoru didn’t understand all of it, but basically Nyanko-sensei will be allowed to go wherever Takashi does, no matter what his next guardians will have to say about it. That’s a relief, even if nothing else about the uncertainty of Takashi’s future is.

“Hey,” Satoru says. “You have a house, don’t you?”

It’s Sunday night, and he has to go back to school tomorrow while Takashi stays home without him. It’s hard to fall asleep, knowing that. It’s hard to fall asleep for lots of reasons these days, and he’d rather be up late thinking about stuff than up late because a bad dream chased him awake.

He can almost hear Takashi’s surprised blink. In the futon next to Satoru’s, Atsushi shifts closer to wakefulness than sleep.

Takashi asks, “My parent’s house?”

“That one,” Satoru says. It’s very dark and his quiet voice cuts through the still room easily. “You know where it is?”

“I have directions written down. I keep them in my book. Why?”

“Because when I kidnap you, it would be a good place to go.” Satoru smiles at the noise of disbelief Atsushi makes, and tilts his head over to look up at Takashi, peering down at him with wide eyes over the side of the bed. “The three of us could stay there together forever and I’d never have to say goodbye to you again.”

Takashi doesn’t answer for a long time, but Satoru is used to his silences. He lets his eyes drift away, following the slant of moonlight spilling into the room from a crack in the shutters, but then Atsushi says, “Okashi, what are you doing? Hey, don’t get up-- “ and it snaps his attention back.

Takashi’s still moving, tugging back his blanket with deliberate, ginger slowness, like every move makes him ache. Nyanko-sensei grumbles in the back of his throat, displeased, as Takashi swings one leg over the side of the bed, and then the other. There’s a stubborn set to his mouth, even as his soulmates scramble to their feet and rush to him.

“Quit it, Bakashi,” Satoru snaps, pressing Takashi down by the shoulders. “If you have to go to the bathroom or something you’re supposed to let us know before you-- “

But then Takashi’s bruised hands are folding in the front of Satoru’s shirt, slowly and surely. It’s not so sudden as to be startling, the careful way he pulls Satoru down. Satoru doesn’t even realize what’s happening, keeps right on talking, up until the exact moment Takashi kisses him.

It’s just a brief press of their lips together, a touch as soft as a flower petal feels. It has absolutely no business making Satoru feel as dizzy as it does. He stands there stupidly when Takashi reaches for Atsushi in turn, and Atsushi is grinning almost too wide to kiss properly, a grin that very clearly is making fun of Satoru’s expression. Even Takashi looks like he’s about to laugh.

“I forgot to tell you,” their soulmate says, so sweetly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to say thank you,” Atsushi says, sitting on the bed beside him. His arm snakes around Takashi’s waist, and Satoru’s heart aches with joy when the two of them are together. “Nice kiss, though.”

Takashi turns faintly pink, like he’s just caught up to himself. “You kissed me first.”

“That was years ago! And it was a kiss on the cheek.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m the opposite of complaining.” Satoru has finally found his voice again and he crowds in closer, all but crawling onto Takashi’s lap, even though it makes Atsushi give him a pointed look to be careful. So Satoru minds his sore chest, even as he tugs Takashi’s hands down from where they’re hiding his face. “Pumpkin. I want one more.”

Of course, he’s not actually satisfied with one. And he has to kiss Atsushi, too, because he can’t live in a world where someone else has kissed Acchan and he hasn’t. And they’re awake a lot, lot longer than they should be, totally preoccupied with this newfound way to express all their impossible affection, so happy that sleep is just impossible.

Morning comes obscenely early and it feels like they only slept for about five minutes each. Takashi is sleeping peacefully when Atsushi and Satoru drag themselves around getting ready for school. Auntie gives them knowing looks over breakfast table in the morning, but mercifully doesn’t comment.

Their classmates are relieved to see them, but Sasada and Tsuji must have passed around pretty convincing threats beforehand, because Satoru and Atsushi aren’t mobbed on their way inside. Taki pulls them aside for a tight hug, squeezing the life out of both of them in turn, and a few other kids get away with murmured condolences and welcomes, but otherwise it’s easy to slip back into routine.

Satoru folds his hands together and watches the clock. His sleeves are rolled up so he’ll see a note the second Takashi leaves one, and his phone is on vibrate in his pocket. At his desk on the other side of the room, Atsushi is equally as tense.

Nyanko-sensei is home with Takashi, and no one in this entire town means him any harm, but Satoru has nightmares about what happened the last time they left him alone. It’s stupid, even though the therapist says it’s not stupid. She says it will take a lot of time to stop being scared.

Color appears from the corner of his eye. Satoru glances down at his hands in time to watch familiar handwriting fill the empty space, those neatly drawn characters that Satoru would be able to pick out of a thousand, a shade of orange that makes his heart beat a little faster.

You didn’t wake me up before you left, so I didn’t get to tell you, Takashi writes. Have a good day!

And just a tiny little bit of that senseless fear goes away. With every new day, it goes away a bit more. 

Ogata sneaks away from home to visit on the weekends, even though it gets her in trouble with her mom more than once. Shibata gets on the train to Hitoyoshi on any afternoon he doesn't have extra-curriculars, and on some afternoons that he does, and stubbornly weathers phone calls from his exasperated parents who say things like "just tell us when you're going so we don't have to find out from your teacher" followed by "and give Takashi our love" which takes any sting out of the scolding.

Takashi has had years to get used to his friends and how much they love him, but he still brightens when Ogata or Shibata texts to say they're coming over.

“Are you guys gonna be around after school?” Suzuki asks about a month later, while Satoru is snatching up his books and his bag. “There’s a new game at the arcade you should check out.”

“Next time, maybe,” Atsushi says, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. “Takashi has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

“Hey, no worries,” Suzuki says with a wave, probably sensing the dark stare Tsuji is directing at the back of his head. “Bring him along when he’s feeling better.”

Takashi has been feeling a lot better recently, but it'll still be a few weeks before he's allowed to do more than walk around the house. Today they're taking him to the general hospital for x-rays, to make sure his ribs are healing like they should. Nyanko-sensei comes along, riding on Atsushi's shoulder since Takashi can't carry him yet, and Satoru holds Takashi's hand because the hospital gives him an uneasy feeling. The doctor is very nice, and tells Takashi he's doing well. There's a rattle in his lungs she doesn't like, so he gets a prescription for antibiotics just in case, but otherwise his progress is right where it should be. In another month, he should be good as new.

"Well, since we have to go out and fill Takashi's prescription, I don't see why we shouldn't stop and get donuts on our way home," Auntie says brightly, leading the way out. "We'll get one for Mana, too. Don't tell dad."

"Thanks, Aunt Mikako," Takashi says, smiling up at her. "For everything. Sorry I've been so much trouble."

"Natsume Takashi, if you say 'sorry' one more time, I'm gonna lose it," Satoru informs him with a scowl. "This is what family is supposed to do. Get it through your head already."

But he squeezes his hand so Takashi doesn't feel truly scolded, and Atsushi rolls his eyes at either what Satoru said or the way he immediately backtracked. Auntie looks amused by the three of them and starts to open the door to the lobby, when a sudden voice calls out, "Excuse me!"

Satoru turns, surprised. He recognizes the woman who hurries across the hall to them. She lives in the big house on the very edge of town, and the one time Satoru accidentally kicked a ball into her yard, she sent him on his way with a snack. She presses a flustered hand to her mouth when she reaches them, and beside her, the man that must be her husband smiles at them pleasantly.

"I'm so sorry for butting in," she says. "We're here to visit a friend, and we happened to overhear. Natsume?"

"It's no trouble," Auntie assures her. She puts a hand on Takashi's shoulder. "I don't think you've had the chance to meet my son's second soulmate. This is Natsume Takashi, and he's staying with us for a little while."

Takashi ducks in a quick bow. The woman claps her hands together, looking delighted. "Is that so? Shigeru-san, you were right!"

Her husband laughs, a kind sound. "It's nice to meet you, Takashi. I've heard your name before from a cousin of mine." When Shigeru smiles, the lines on his face fit it perfectly, worn into place from a long life of smiling. "I'm Fujiwara Shigeru, and this is my wife, Touko-san. As it so happens, you and I are family."

[goodlucktai]

put your empty hands in mine

chapter five: something unbelievable 

natsume yuujinchou pairing: kitanishinatsu word count: 1961 summary: Kitamoto and Nishimura are soulmates, to absolutely no one’s surprise. But they’re also soulmates with a very shy boy who lives somewhere far away, who writes to them in tiny, careful letters right before bed, who apologizes when the mimicry of bruises pop up on their arms and backs because of him. And that’s a surprise to a lot of people. read on ao3

x

Leaving him is hard, hard, hard. It feels like Satoru’s trying to leave behind one of his lungs, or half of his heart.

They hug one last time at the station, and Takashi’s fingers dig into the back of Satoru’s shirt-- he’s too shy to make demands, but that desperate grip is enough of one, and Satoru wishes for the one millionth time that they could just take Takashi with them. He thinks Takashi wishes it, too.

“It’s time to go, boys,” auntie says in a gentle voice. But she has a hug ready for Takashi despite herself, squeezing him tight and close with a hand against his hair. “It was wonderful to meet you, Takashi. We’ll see you again soon. Do you still have the present I gave you?”

He nods without pulling away, face buried in her stomach.

“I told your guardians that it’s yours, to keep with you all the time,” she says. “I told them I would be calling to check on you every week. I want you to keep it with you even at school, and make sure you keep the battery charged. You can send as many emails and make as many calls as you’d like, but keep it charged. Can you do all that for me, sweetheart?”

At first Satoru was a little jealous that auntie bought Takashi one of those cool prepaid flip phones when Atsushi’s been asking for one for ages, but he thinks he gets it now. It’s another way she’s taking care of them.

Takashi looks up at her like he’s never seen anyone like her before, which is just more proof. He always looks like that when someone does something nice for him.

Satoru and Atsushi steal another hug, because the risk of missing their train is more than worth it, then auntie ushers them both on board. The doors hiss closed and Satoru wastes no time in clambering onto his seat and plastering himself to the window.

Takashi stands there looking small and unhappy, almost swallowed up by the bustling crowd, hands clutched in the front of his own shirt like he’s afraid his heart might jump out to follow his soulmates home.

But he smiles when he sees Satoru looking. He lifts a hand as the train starts to move, and Satoru loses sight of him almost immediately.

Not everyone loves their other halves. Sometimes they don’t even seem to get along. Tsuji and his soulmate bicker every single day of their lives, like it’s a competition to see who can get the most hits in, but--

Tsuji gets upset when one of his classmates calls the other boy mean. “He’s not,” Tsuji will say, frustrated and a little bit hurt by their complete misunderstanding. “He’s my best friend. I’m going to marry him forever when we get older and argue with him about everything. ”

Satoru’s only eight, and he’s never once thought about getting married, but he’s familiar with love. He loves his brother, and his auntie, and his two best friends, so much it sometimes feels like a balloon inflating in his chest to the point of pain. He loves mom most of the time, and uncle Hakaru and little baby Mana, and Tsuji and Taki and Sasada. He’s never been without love, not really. Neither has Atsushi.

Takashi has.

Takashi doesn’t have parents or a house or even a bedroom that’s his. He moves around a lot, and lives with people that don’t seem to want him, and it takes an effort to get him talking, as though he’s used to being hushed or ignored. He wanted Satoru and Atsushi to stay and had no idea how to ask.

Satoru’s second soulmate is like a ghost with good intentions. One that wants to stick around but knows better than to break the rules. One that watches them leave like he’s used to watching people leave.

It’s hard. It hurts. It feels like they’re not supposed to be so far apart. But it’s not goodbye, Satoru reminds himself, repeating in his head what auntie had reminded them over and over. It’s never ever going to be goodbye.

And now he has a phone of his very own! And he promised to call when they got home tonight!

Atsushi already has his felt-tip pen out, writing onto the back of his hand, Miss you already.

Satoru grabs for it when he’s done and scrawls his own, much messier, Talk to you soon!

The phone comes more in handy than Satoru ever thought it would.

Auntie is strict about calling, never missing a single agreed-upon check-in, and that’s on top of all the countless hours Atsushi and Satoru spend talking to him after school and on lazy Sunday afternoons. Kiyoshi checks his arms and his back for new bruises during baths and looks relieved when there’s nothing but the fading yellows and greens of old ones.

Sometimes Atsushi gives the phone to baby Mana and lets her babble solemnly into the receiver. Sometimes they put it on speaker and pour over homework together and try to lure Tsuji or Sasada over to correct their bumbling attempts at English.

Slowly, during all those endless days, Takashi’s voice gets brighter and louder. He picks up on the first or second ring with a happy, “Hi!” that makes Satoru want to roll around and smile at everything.

And then one day, a stranger answers the phone.

“So you do exist!” an unfamiliar voice says by way of greeting.

“Who’s this?” Atsushi asks, confused. After nearly a year, no one’s ever answered Takashi’s phone for him before. Satoru crawls closer and presses his ear to the phone, too, in time to hear a group of kids share a laugh in the background.

“My name’s Shibata. Natsume’s in my class,” the boy with Takashi’s phone says. “Me and my friends wanted to know what kind of person his soulmate was, that’s all.”

“Stop it!” Takashi’s voice comes from somewhere behind him. The distress in his voice makes Satoru’s hands bunch into fists all on their own. “Give it back!”

“What’s your problem?” Satoru snaps. “Give his phone back or you’ll be sorry!”

“Hey, I’m not hurting anything,” Shibata says. Now he sounds a little surprised, like he wasn’t expecting their anger. “I’ll give it back. We just wanted proof he wasn’t lying about you like he lies about everything else.”

“He doesn’t have to prove anything to you.” Atsushi’s never glared like this before at anybody, and Satoru wishes these bullies could see it. “You just told me your name like an idiot, and my mom will call the school and get you in trouble if you mess with him anymore. Give him back the phone and go away.”

There’s a brief pause, and then a quiet shuffle, and then Shibata’s voice in the distance leading his stupid pack of friends away. There’s soft, shuddering breaths on the line next, and Satoru says, “It’s okay, pumpkin. Let’s go someplace you like to be, okay? Is there anyplace like that around?”

“There’s a-- an abandoned shrine,” Takashi whispers, and he’s crying, and Satoru feels his eyes burn with sympathetic tears almost immediately. “That I like to go to sometimes. I’ll go there.”

As he walks, they keep him company. They talk about stuff that doesn’t really matter, just to fill up the silence. Atsushi taps his fingers on his knee to count Takashi’s breaths until they start to slow down.

Then they hear a low creak of wood, and the distinct groan of an old door easing open on tired hinges, and Takashi murmurs, “I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” Satoru presses. “Do those guys bother you a lot?”

“Not really. They just say stuff. This is the first time they took my bag.”

Atsushi’s still got that scary look on his face. Satoru half wants to take a picture because no one will ever believe him that his Acchan could look like that. He definitely gets it from auntie, Uncle Hakaru is too nice. Hopefully Mana takes after her dad.

“I should still tell mom. She’ll come all the way to your school if your guardian won’t.”

“And we could come with her and visit!” Satoru adds brightly, always an opportunist.

It works in earning them a little laugh. “I probably won’t live here for very much longer. I don’t want to start any trouble.”

Satoru pouts, but Atsushi’s tapping his fingers again. He looks troubled by something.

“Takashi, what did he mean?” he asks carefully. “When he said you lied?”

"I can't tell you," comes the quiet reply, hurt and heartfelt. "You won't believe me either."

"Nope, we definitely would," Satoru says right away. "If anybody'd believe you, it'd be me and Acchan. Right, Acchan?"

"Right. We know you're not a liar, but it's just like I told that guy, Shibata. You don't have to prove anything, okay? You can keep all the secrets you want, and we'll help you keep them."

"And when we come visit, I'm gonna beat up Shibata!" Satoru adds. He waves a fist for emphasis. "Teach him to mess with my Takashi."

"Our Takashi," Atsushi corrects, giving him a not very gentle push.

"You'd believe me no matter what?" Takashi asks cautiously. There's hope in his voice, this tentative burdened hope. They've never given him any reason to doubt them, but it's still so hard. "Even if it was something unbelievable?"

"Takashi, you're-- a part of us. We love you. We're not gonna stop coming to visit or writing notes to you during class or calling you all the time, no matter what you tell us."

"Even if," he whispers, shaky, "even if I told you I could see ghosts?"

Which-- huh.

That doesn't sound as crazy as Satoru was bracing himself for. Maybe things are different in the city, but everyone in Satoru's quiet country hometown is pretty superstitious. Even mom won't hang out any laundry to dry at night, and the only time Tsuji was ever late to class was when his shoelace broke on his way out the door and his mother made him change it.

And maybe there's a right way to respond to this big secret of Takashi's that he's revealed-- a better, more mature, thoughtful way than Satoru jumping up and down and smacking Atsushi on the arm, forgetting himself in his sudden excitement.

"Hey, so can Yula! Remember?"

Atsushi still looks a little thrown, but he nods along. "Your brother’s soulmate? Oh-- oh yeah!"

"Her last apartment was super haunted," Satoru says into the phone, bringing Takashi back up to speed. "Apparently there are lots of ghosts in St. Petersburg. She and her moms moved to a new apartment, though, and she hasn't seen anything creepy in ages."

"Isn't there a priest here in town who does cleansings? Over at Yatsuhara Temple?" Atsushi asks, more to himself than Satoru, who they both know has no clue what priests are here in town. "I'm pretty sure one of our neighbors called him in to place ofuda in the house because her grandma kept getting sick. They must've thought it was a spirit."

"If Takashi sees them all the time, it must be scary. You should get an omamori to carry with you, just in case," Satoru insists, leaning in to monopolize the phone again. "Next time you visit, we'll go to Yatsuhara and get you a good one, okay? Promise."

It sounds like Takashi is crying again, muffled like he took the phone away and buried his face in his hands. It takes forever to coax him back out, and Satoru is worried they said something wrong until he realizes the tears are mixed with laughter, and it's not an unhappy sound at all.

"Okay, Satchan," Takashi says, each word shaped like a smile. "It's a promise."

[goodlucktai]

Could you do 7+5 for nishinatsu?

two-part drabble game7: the anniversary of something+ 5: “you’re one of the most important things in my life.”

x

It’s been a year since Natsume came to this town. Satoru knows for sure, ‘cause he asked Tsuji, and Tsuji pulled the student records to check, and his first day at their school will have been a year ago tomorrow. 

So maybe not a year since he’s moved here, but a year since the day Satoru met him. And really, that’s the important thing. 

It’s already been a year, and it’s only been a year, and Satoru can’t believe how important Natsume is to him now. How much space in Satoru’s heart that he takes up. How much time in Satoru’s day that belongs to him, and his self-conscious smiles, and thousand yard stares, and the way his whole face lights up when someone surprises him into laughter. 

He’s already been here for a year, and he’s only been here for a year, and Satoru is torn between wondering how time could have gone by so quickly, and wondering how it feels like he’s known him his whole life at the same time. 

He asks Kitamoto, the way he asks Kitamoto all the hard questions, and Kitamoto shoves his shoulder amiably. “You love him, obviously,” his best friend says without even taking a minute to think about it. “You’re not an idiot, Satchan. You knew that already. Think it over.” 

Satoru rubs his shoulder with a wounded expression and thinks it over. 

His heart doesn’t start swooping around dizzily, and the world doesn’t fall out from under his feet, like it should at some grand revelation – he just feels warm, and full, like someone poured a can of hot coffee into his soul. It’s a feeling that should burn or scald him, but it doesn’t. It just sits there, and it’s heavy, and it’s familiar, and it’s warm.

“I guess I do,” Satoru says, surprised. “I love him like I love you. But I mean – how?” 

Kitamoto shrugs, and doesn’t get a chance to answer before his mom is opening the apartment door and welcoming the two of them inside. Mana has more of those donuts she loves from that store nearby, and she picked one out for Satoru, too, and while Kitamoto’s mother despairs of the rest of them spoiling their dinner, and Kitamoto’s father laughs even as he reaches over to ruffle Satoru’s hair in welcome, Satoru feels that – that hot coffee feeling again. 

Kitamoto catches Satoru’s eye and nods back towards his bedroom. They end up on Kitamoto’s bed, cross-legged and getting crumbs everywhere. They have homework to do, but Satoru slumps over on his friend’s shoulder when his donut is gone and doesn’t make a single move toward his bookbag. 

“I love them, too,” Satoru says, since it seems like something he should say. “Your parents and your sister.”

“Obviously,” Kitamoto says again, not unkindly. “Why are you thinking about this, anyway?”

“‘Cause it’s been a year,” Satoru tells him emphatically, but he still doesn’t know what he means by that. 

Natsume just got here, and he’s already – really special. He moved around so much before, Satoru knows that from all the rumors that followed him here, but the thought of him leaving Hitoyoshi and moving somewhere else fills Satoru with ice. So quickly after the warm feeling, it’s more than a little uncomfortable. 

“I guess,” Satoru hazards, “I just really wanna keep him.” 

“So tell him that,” Kitamoto says simply, the voice of someone who knows Satoru better than he knows himself most days. “Don’t just think about it over and over until you get sick. He’s probably at Tanuma’s, right? Call him.” 

“Do I have time before dinner?” Satoru asks, even as he’s pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket. 

Kitamoto rolls his eyes. “Mom would let the rest of us starve before she started the meal without you.” 

Heartened by that, Satoru dials Tanuma’s cell. Natsume still doesn’t have one, even though the Fujiwaras keep trying to insist he should carry one, and Satoru’s pretty sure it’s because of how often he seems to fall into rivers and out of trees. A cellphone probably wouldn’t last long with him. 

He’s so weird, Satoru thinks fondly. 

“Hey, Nishimura,” Tanuma picks up after a few rings. “What’s up?”

“Would you be mad if I said I just wanted to talk to Natsume?” Satoru asks gibly, still half-sprawled on Kitamoto. Satoru’s mom has said it’s rude to take phone calls with someone else in the room, but Kitamoto doesn’t care. He’s never sent Satoru away for anything he could do next to him. 

“Of course not,” Tanuma says dryly. “Then I’d just have to be mad at Natsume for not having a phone, and we both know that’s next to impossible.”

Satoru laughs. Tanuma’s even newer than Natsume is, but he’s important, too. As important as Taki and Tsuji and Sasada and Adachi and Shibata are. How in the hell did all these people creep up on Satoru and take up so much of his life?

Tanuma must pass the phone over at that point, because Natsume’s soft voice fills Satoru’s ear in the next moment. “Nishimura?” he asks, always concerned first and amused second. “Is everything okay?”

“’Course it is,” Satoru says, “I just realized something and I had to tell you right away.” 

“Oh,” Natsume says, “well, okay. Tell me.”

“Did you know it’s been a year since you’ve moved here?” Satoru blurts. “A whole year. I made Tsuji check. It’s been – that long! Already!” 

There’s a brief pause, and Satoru worries for a moment that the point he’s trying to make has been lost on his friend, but then Natsume is breathing out slowly and saying, “Wow. I can’t believe it. It – doesn’t feel like it’s been that long? But – at the same time – “ 

“I know right?” Satoru grins. “It feels like you’ve been here forever.”

“Yeah,” Natsume says, by way of agreement. His voice is quiet and careful. Kitamoto is silent, and Satoru holds his breath, because sometimes when Natsume talks it feels like the rest of the world is impolite just for making any noise that could drown him out. “It’s – the first time I’ve really felt at home anywhere. I hope I can stay here forever.” 

That’s not something Natsume should have to worry about. Satoru knows the Fujiwaras well enough at this point to know – they would fight hard to keep Natsume, harder than Satoru thinks his mom would fight to keep him. He may not have had home to start with, but he has one now. 

It’s been a year, Satoru thinks, and there’s still a measure of wonder, of hope, of doubt in Natsume’s voice. It shouldn’t be there. This should be something Natsume doesn’t have to wonder about.

“You’ll stay here for as long as you want to,” Satoru says decisively, “‘cause this is your home now. So you better want to stay for a long time, ‘cause I don’t want you going anywhere. You’re one of the most important things in my life, and it’s only been a year. Just think how much I’ll love you when it’s been two.”

Natsume catches his breath. Beside him, Kitamoto sighs, but when Satoru sneaks a glance at him, he doesn’t look annoyed. He just looks sort of amused, and shakes his head at the question in Satoru’s eyes. 

“That’s one more good reason to stick around, then,” Natsume says, his voice oddly thick. “Not that I need another one, when I already have all of you.”

“Nishimura,” Tanuma says when he takes back the phone, “thank you.” 

“Huh? What for?” 

But Tanuma just says goodbye after that, and the line goes dead, and Kitamoto is grinning at his laptop when Satoru lowers the phone. “You’re so dumb,” Kitamoto says, nothing but fondness in his face. “I love you so much.”

“There’s a lot of that going around tonight,” Satoru says, and can’t help grinning right back. 

[goodlucktai]

Natsume with #84?

writing prompts84. “i can’t believe you talked me into this.”

companion to this prompt

x

As far as Kaname knows, Natsume and Nishimura aren’t actually allowed to have this many people in their apartment at any one time. Natsume explained much earlier in the night that their landlord is pretty strict about her no parties rule for someone who runs a student housing unit. 

But Nishimura is a whirlwind when there’s something that he wants.

“What better way to celebrate your twentieth birthday than with drinking games,” he said, with the same winning smile that always gets him out of trouble, and Kaname watched Natsume sigh and roll his eyes but ultimately relent. 

“You’re impossible,” Natsume told him, but it was fond. 

And now Nishimura is waving a few bottles grandly while a resigned Natsume passes out mismatched cups, having won both the battle and the war.

“Many thanks to my big bro, and also Natsume’s, for supplying the high-quality liquor!” he declares.

Natsume gives him a dirty look, because he’s the only person in the room who thinks Natori wouldn’t be happy to hear they all call him that, but the rest of their friends cheer. 

“Time for games! Who’s got a good one?”

Shibata – of course it’s Shibata – insists they should play Osama. “I’ll be King, of course,” he adds importantly, and Sasada trades a look with Taki that speaks volumes. 

“Shouldn’t Natsume be King?” Sasada says dryly. “It’s his birthday.”

“The point of a party is to loosen up and have a good time,” Shibata replies without missing a beat. “If he’s King, he won’t do anything fun.”

Natsume protests that but the rest of them trade nods, conceding to the logic. Kaname bites his lip so he won’t smile at his best friend’s wounded expression.

“Rules?” Satoru says, eager to get started. He settles on the sofa in between Kitamoto and Natsume, even though there’s three people sitting there already and it’s not built to hold more than two. 

“The way my classmates and I played at our zemi konpa last month was pretty fun,” Shibata says. “The King will give someone a dare, and that person can either take the dare or take a drink. If you take the dare, you get to be King next. The former King stays King until someone takes their dare.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Natsume grumbles, and Nishimura leans over to pat his arm in a commiserating way. 

“You make it way too easy.”

The dares are harmless – “Sing the theme song of your favorite childhood cartoon,” or “Tell us the name of your first crush” – and Natsume seems willing to go along with it for the most part. The rest of them certainly are, comfortable at home and in safe company.

Nishimura laughs until he cries when Kitamoto dares Kaname to dance with Ponta. He takes a dare from Sasada to post a long and misleading poem about summer love on his Facebook page. Most of them are drinking anyway, with or without an attached challenge, just enough to find a happy buzz. 

And then at about two o’clock in the morning, when the party level has dropped to a murmur and most of them dozing off, a tipsy Adachi dares Natsume to kiss his favorite person in the room.

Natsume blushes red to the roots of his hair. 

“Someone pour me something, please,” he mumbles, pushing his cup across the table. Shibata takes mercy and fills the cup about halfway with lukewarm beer when there was definitely still some whiskey on hand. 

Nishimura looks intrigued, gazing at Natsume with bright eyes from the other side of the couch.

“What? Lame,” Adachi says without bite. “Okay, fine. Uhh, Kitamoto – you’re still awake right? I dare you to –” 

The game goes around a few more times. Eventually Shibata is asleep against Kaname’s shoulder, and Kaname is pretty sure it’s just the three of them left awake. At the very end Nishimura is king, and he says, “Last one goes to the birthday boy.”

His eyes are still bright. He stopped drinking awhile ago. Natsume, equally sober and resigned to whatever fate lays ahead, says easily, “Go ahead.”

It’s quiet and the apartment is dark, save the dim glow of clock-faces and the city lights outside the windows. It’s all so peaceful and still that Nishimura’s soft voice carries clearly when he speaks.

“Come here.”

Natsume sits very still, staring across the space between them, and says, “Is that a dare?”

“Does it need to be?”

“You’re impossible,” Natsume informs him sternly, even as he stands. “You always get your way, don’t you?” 

“You make it way too easy,” Nishimura replies, in a voice shaped like that winning smile – and despite his best efforts, Natsume is pleased pink and thoroughly charmed as he leans in for a kiss.  

Well, there are worse ways for that to have happened, Kaname thinks, hiding his own smile in Shibata’s hair. 

[goodlucktai]

we’re the lucky ones

@natsumeweek 2017 (Bonus) Day 7; Favorite headcanon

Headcanon: Everyone loves Natsume. Everyone.

Continuation of this fic because I have no control over my life :')

x

When Natsume and Nishimura finally show up, almost two hours later than they said they'd be, they're soaking wet and smiling sheepishly and—

Holding hands.

Katsumi freezes, watching them amble carelessly in from the light rain. Nishimura's jacket is draped over Natsume's head, and Natsume's jacket is wrapped around a disgruntled-looking Nyanko-sensei, and they only seem to have eyes for each other.

“Sorry we're late,” Natsume says, accepting the towels Katsumi hands him. “We missed our bus.”

“No thanks to Nyanko-sensei,” Nishimura adds smartly, and pretends not to hear the cat's annoyed reply. He reaches for Natsume's hand as they follow Katsumi down the hall, as casually as anything, and adds, “D'you think we could order some food? I'm starving.”

Katsumi says sure, and let him just go find the house phone, he'll be right back and they can just make themselves comfortable.

Two rooms away, he yanks his cellphone out of his pocket and stabs viciously at the screen.

What the hell is this?? Since when are Nishimura and Natsume a THING??

His reply comes fifteen seconds later.

Since now, apparently! It's about time!!

Taki you TRAITOR

Hey, we all agreed to be fair to each other! Don't be all sour because you didn’t get what you wanted!

Easy for you to say, he sends back bitterly. You have *Sasada*

A string of heart emojis is all he gets back, and he puts his phone away with a scowl. Snatching up a handful of takeout menus from the table in the hall, Katsumi follows the sound of conversation back to where he left his friends in the family room.

Great. Now he's gonna have to deal with this all night.

They're sitting on the same side of the low table, watching a video on Nishimura's phone. Natsume's head is resting comfortably on Nishimura's shoulder, and the look on his face is far too affectionate to be for anything that he could possibly be watching in a video. 

He looks happy, though. Really happy. 

Shoving a mess of complicated and painfully unrequited feelings to the back of his mind, Katsumi steps into the room with a bright grin and a flourish of the takeout menus.

“You guys are hungry, right? Let's eat. Well, first let’s get you some dry clothes. And then we’re cramming for your mock exam tomorrow, because something tells me you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Nishimura groans and sets his phone aside, and Natsume says warmly, “Thank you again, Shibata.” 

And it's wildly unfair that his smile should still be allowed to do melty things to Katsumi’s heart. There’s no justice in this world. Katsumi is calling Tanuma tonight in formal protest. 

But for now, for Natsume, he waves it off and says, “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

“Poor Shibata,” Tooru says sympathetically, laying back on her bed. “He's been really unlucky in love so far, hasn't he?”

She knows about the yokai he fell for—he told her about it himself, with a nostalgic ache in his eyes. She can't share as much with Jun, but she feels for him, for the way he constantly reaches for things that can't be touched.

“From what I've heard of him, I'm sure he'll bounce back,” is Jun's dry reply. “Guys like Shibata don't stay single for long.”

She tucks a long lock of hair behind her ear, warm and lovely in the low lighting of her bedroom, and Tooru's heart flutters. She's glad they're only Skyping, because she isn't quite sure yet how not to blush when Jun does something pretty, and that would probably be a lot more embarrassing in real life where she can't blame it on poor camera quality.

“What about you?” Jun asks suddenly, the wry humor in her eyes fading into something warmer. “You're okay, too?”

“Oh, I'm fine,” she says, too fast. “Don't worry about me!”

Maybe there is a tiny ache in her chest where a what-if used to sit, but it's a good little hurt. She'll look back on the feeling fondly, she knows, and maybe tease Natsume about it in the years to come—when they're all happy and they're all settled, and they're all comfortable with where the future found them. 

She rolls onto her side, and tucks her knees up by her chest, and changes the subject to the friends Jun has made at her new school.

They've been dancing around the idea of Tooru coming to visit—Jun will bring it up in a hypothetical, “There's an ice cream soda that you just have to try if you're ever here,” and Tooru will say, “Oh, that sounds so good! It's a date!” and they'll giggle and Tooru's heart will weight fifty pounds by the time they say goodnight.

But that's okay. If Jun doesn't invite her soon, Tooru will just have to invent reason enough to cross all these miles between them, to talk to Jun again without a screen in the way.

Tooru cradles her phone close and smiles—and feels something beautiful bloom to life inside her chest when Jun stills, as though stunned by what she sees, and then smiles sweetly right back.

Kitamoto thinks he handles it pretty well, when his name is yelled from the opposite side of the hall and someone slams at full-speed into his side. He nearly falls over, and has to grab his assailant by the arm to keep himself upright, but he doesn't scream or anything.

“We gotta talk!” Adachi says hotly, bright eyes snapping. He grabs Kitamoto by a fistful of his sleeve, and hauls him away.

Kitamoto tucks his diploma into his pocket, and weaves after him through the tight crowd, bemused. Adachi stops short around a corner, and then turns to Kitamoto and points behind him with a wounded look of outrage on his face.

“What is that!” he hisses. Kitamoto blinks at him, steps past him, and leans around the corner warily.

And whatever he expected, it wasn't to see most of his immediate friends. So this is where they went. Tanuma is holding Natsume’s cat and having a complicated one-sided conversation with it—of course he is—and Taki is giggling behind her hands at Nishimura and Natsume, who are—

Ah.

“That, Kei-chan, is what us grown-ups like to call a kiss,” Kitamoto says mildly, looking down the four inches he has on Adachi as obviously as he can. “What's your problem?”

If Adachi is trying to start something, he picked the wrong people to mess with. Natsume and Nishimura, two of Kitamoto's favorite people in the world, aren't ones he'll stand by and let someone cause problems for. And considering how hard a time Adachi had when he transferred into this school—trying to drag up Natsume's past and make his life difficult and only alienating himself in the process—Kitamoto is surprised he hasn't learned his lesson by now.

Adachi's glower, if anything, only darkens.

“I thought you liked him,” he says, fists folding tight. “What's Nishimura doing with him if you like him?”

After a moment or two of initial shock, Kitamoto can't help but laugh. He muffles it behind a hand, trying not to give their position away, but it's enough to annoy Adachi regardless.

“What's so funny!”

“You have no idea,” Kitamoto says. He reaches over to mess up Adachi's hair, grinning when he squawks and shoves his hand away, and says, “You've kinda got the wrong idea, Adachi. I don't like Natsume like that. I mean, I love him, don't get me wrong—but not like that.”

The anger in Adachi's face is slowly fading. If Kitamoto knows him as well as he thinks he does, something flustered and mortified will very quickly take its place.

So he ropes Adachi in with an arm around his shoulders before he can make his panicked escape, hauling him in close against his side and parading around the corner with a “So here you guys are!”

“Acchan!” Nishimura scolds him immediately, spinning away from Natsume to jab a finger at him. “We texted you, like, a hundred times! Where have you been!”

Kitamoto rubs his head sheepishly. “Oh. My phone died.”

“Ugh,” Nishimura says with feeling, and Taki giggles again.

“Hi, Adachi,” she says brightly, and Adachi says “hi” back in a tiny voice. He's bright red, and Kitamoto notices his friends noticing—Tanuma has that worried wrinkle in his brow that always precedes a concerned are you okay?—and abruptly realizes that the actual last thing he wants is for Adachi to be made miserable.

So before anyone else has a chance to say a word, Kitamoto blurts, “Natsume, your parents wouldn't mind if Adachi came with us to dinner tonight, would they?”

Natsume looks surprised, but he recovers with barely a pause and says, “Of course they wouldn't. You're more than welcome, Adachi, if you don't have other plans.”

“Oh, uh. My parents are working,” Adachi says, more to the floor than anyone else. “If you don't mind, then—”

“Then it's settled,” Kitamoto says, and his arm stays around Adachi's shoulders when their group heads for the door. Nishimura mutters something to Natsume along the lines of “oh, great, the last one he adopted was you, and look how long you've been around.”

Taki smacks him, Tanuma and Natsume trade a long-suffering look in perfect unison, and Adachi buries his face in his hands.

Kitamoto grins at everything and nothing in particular, keeps a firm hold on Adachi so he can't scamper away to preserve the remaining tatters of his dignity, and meets the sunlight and the future both brightly as he steps outside. 

“Please? I promised Katsumi,” Kaname says, with just the right amount of earnest in his voice to break past his friend's stubborn defenses.

Sure enough, Takashi sighs in defeat a moment later, and Kaname hides a smile as he gets the camera on his phone ready. Impossible fondness folds like fingers around his heart as Takashi opens his arms for Susumu, and Susumu climbs into them right away.

With his son tucked under his chin, Takashi says, “Alright, take your picture.”

Kaname starts to record a video instead. Satoru reaches over to tuck a long piece of Takashi's hair behind his ear, and Kaname says, “So when are you two gonna make this official anyway?”

Takashi splutters, blushing red to the roots of his hair. 

“What—Tanuma! We live together, we have Susumu! Satoru was adopted into my family, so they even have my name. How much more official can you get?”

“Way more official,” Satoru says, never one to let an opportunity pass him by. He's looking Takashi dead in the eye as he leans in and says, not for the first time, “I want to marry you.”

Takashi, with nowhere to run, hides his face in Susumu’s hair. Susumu, a solemn and thoughtful child when company is present, turns very fierce brown eyes up to meet Kaname’s and then Satoru’s in turn. He’s frowning at them both and clinging protectively to the front of Takashi’s shirt. 

“He's my papa,” little Susumu says severely, to Takashi’s continued embarrassment and Satoru’s utter delight, “and if anyone's gonna marry him it's gonna be me.”

Kaname doesn’t wait a second to send the video to everyone in their group chat. Two phones in the living room chime, and Takashi shoots him a knowing glare even as Satoru snatches his phone up eagerly. 

The first, immediate reply is Katsumi’s: 

Kaname you went ABOVE AND BEYOND!! I owe you dinner a dozen times!!  ゝ◡╹)ノ♡

“Dude, Shibata is so in love with you it’s sad,” Satoru says, shaking his head with a put-upon sigh. “Make that guy’s life easier and just move in with him already.”

“And what would you know about making someone’s life easier?”

As the Natsumes bicker on the other side of the low table, and Ponta comes in from the bedroom to see what all the noise is about, Kaname sends Katsumi a private message that says 

I’ll see you tonight. 

He gets a string of heart emojis in return. 

There’s a rolling, stretching happiness inside him that only yawns wider and wider with every day that goes by that he can spend with these people; and there aren’t words big enough to contain how much Kaname loves Takashi for being the one, albeit unintentionally, who brought them all together in the first place.

[goodlucktai]

So few come and don’t go

summary: Natsume is happy. Tanuma doesn't know why he doesn't feel satisfied with that.

title borrowed from look after you by the fray. 

x

Natsume doesn't flinch.

When the store clerk grabs his arm, holding out a bag they forgot at the checkout before they can leave it behind, Natsume's whole body goes still. It's only for a second, just for that brief moment of sudden contact, but something heavy settles in his face, something almost expectant.

As though he's been braced this whole time for what's coming next.

And maybe, Tanuma thinks, watching his friend smile his thanks and take the bag with a thousand yards of distance in his eyes, flinching would have been a little easier to watch.

Touko is so warm and so kind. Her smile is a perfect match to Natsume's at his most content, and she comes to meet them at the door when they return with the groceries.

“It's really no trouble,” Tanuma says, when she thanks him for the second time. “Shopping with Natsume is hardly a chore.”

Natsume's face turns a faint pink, and Touko looks pleased at them both. Her hand moves as they talk, threading gentle fingers through Natsume's fringe and pushing long bangs out of his eyes, and Tanuma expects – something. Natsume colors and brightens and blushes so easily at praise, a gesture should strike something beautiful to life in his face.

But Natsume just keeps smiling, if only a touch wider, and helps Touko carry her groceries into the kitchen without a single flustered stutter in his steps. Tanuma lags a step behind, a little surprised.

And then surprised at himself, for expecting Natsume to recognize a mother's gesture when he sees it.

Nishimura makes a strangled sound, and throws both arms around Natsume's shoulders in an over-exuberant hug. It makes Natsume laugh, soft and warm, and pat Nishimura's arm in a genial way.

“Happy birthday,” he says, and Nishimura peels himself away with a sniffle.

“You even got it signed!” And it looks like he really might cry, fingers flattened over the glossy promo poster of Natori Shuichi's upcoming drama where it's spread reverently across his desk. “Natsume, I love you, okay? You're – shut up, Atsushi – you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, I just – ”

Even Taki is giggling at this point, muffled behind her fingers, while Sasada rolls her eyes with unmistakable, if recalcitrant, affection. And Tanuma is watching, now, but Natsume's expression doesn't shift into anything it would hurt to look at. He doesn't go still under his friends' hands, has stopped looking so surprised to be included. He's happy.

Tanuma doesn't know why he doesn't feel satisfied with that.

Rumors spread easily in a small town. To hear Kitamoto tell it, most of the school knew that Natsume was an orphan within his first week as a student there. Somehow, it was common knowledge even in the very beginning that Natsume moved around a lot, from relative to relative, and Tanuma wondered how.

How Natsume could bring himself to walk into his classroom in those early days, under the weight of a whispered reputation. How Natsume could bring himself to reach out and be reached out to in turn, when so far nothing in his life had proved itself to be permanent.

There was a quiet courage in that – in letting himself be vulnerable to hurt, again and again, for the simple sake of being kind.

It's probably easier now than it was in the beginning. The Fujiwaras love Natsume with all their hearts – it's obvious after spending five minutes with them that Touko and Shigeru would give up everything they own to keep him. Even Natsume is learning – slowly, but steadily – that they mean it when they welcome him home.

And it's like watching him unpack boxes, one by one. Taking off a coat and hanging it by the door. Planning to stay awhile.

One night, when Tanuma's father is gone again on business and Touko refuses to let him go back to an empty house and a meal of instant ramen, he joins them for dinner. The conversation is easy and companionable, talk about Touko's day at home and Shigeru's day at work and Natsume's day at school. They ask Tanuma how his father is doing, ask about their friends, including him so seamlessly and so kindly that he wonders how it's even possible for people like the Fujiwaras to exist.

He's glad that they do.

At one point, Natsume makes a face at something Touko puts on his plate, nose scrunching delicately. Tanuma almost chokes in surprise, and Touko is quick to pick up a lecture about healthy eating, one that sounds practiced and repeated. Natsume nods in all the right places, looking appropriately chastised, but he hides a playful grin behind his bowl of rice.

Tanuma catches it, though. And across the table, Shigeru's eyes are impossibly warm and impossibly fond, so he must have caught it, too.

Natsume doesn’t flinch when a man they pass in the street raises his voice. He’s a large person, heavy in the chest and broad-shouldered, and he bellows so suddenly into his phone that Tanuma’s heart leaps in his chest, that Kitamoto trips a little and swears. 

“Jeez,” Nishimura mumbles when they’re out of earshot. He has a hand pressed to his chest, his heart probably pounding as wildly as Tanuma’s had. “That scared me!”

But Natsume is calm and unruffled, not a hair out of place. His eyes are weighted again, but his smile is the same as always. 

His smile doesn’t mean very much. 

“Takashi!” a young man calls, and Natsume stops dead in his tracks. “Wow, it’s been -- how are you?”

Natsume moves a few steps ahead, and they talk for a few minutes, and his voice is pleasant and his expression is kind. The man is in a hurry, and assures Natsume it was great to see him before rushing off as quickly as he’d come, and Natsume rejoins them looking no worse for wear.

“Who was that?” Nishimura asks, inevitably. 

“Before the Fujiwaras took me in, I lived with him and his parents,” Natsume explains simply enough. “Not far from here, actually. He must work in this area now.”

It’s later, when it’s just the two of them walking home, that Tanuma says, very carefully, “Touko-san mentioned once that you came home to them from the hospital.”

Natsume blinks, but he doesn’t look upset. “Oh. I did. When did she say that?”

“It was just in passing, it was a long time ago.” Tanuma’s heart is in his throat. “So you were hurt? Did they -- did those people -- “

“No,” Natsume replies quickly. “No, it was never -- it wasn’t like that with them. Around that time, I sealed a yokai on the mountain and got injured, that’s all.”

Tanuma shouldn’t ask, he knows he shouldn’t. But his mouth opens anyway, spilling out, “’With them’?”

It opens a yawning pit between them, the inches separating their arms stretching into what feels like miles. Natsume’s grip on Ponta, where the cat curls in his arms, tightens almost imperceptibly. 

“Everyone was kind to me,” is what he finally replies. “But the kindness didn’t last for quite as long in some places. I was a hard child to care for.”

Tanuma swallows down something hot in his throat, blinks past a sudden sting in his eyes. Too old now to wail against unfairness, but he wants to. 

He wants to tell Natsume not to justify those people in his past who might have hurt him. Tanuma wants to sit him down and open him up and pry all those sad secrets out of his head, no matter how they might stain his hands. He wants, more than he’s ever wanted anything, to help Natsume carry the weight of them. 

Natsume’s face is flushed red with the biting wind. The rain is still coming down in solid sheets, a curtain of rushing gray that they watch from the relative safety of the store awning they had ducked under. 

The store is closed. It would have been warmer inside. 

“Maybe it’ll let up soon,” Natsume says, voice wavering in the chilly air. He gets sick so easily. Tanuma turns to face him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let Ponta down for a minute. I want to try something.”

Natsume agreeably unbundles the fat cat from his coat, and the disgruntled calico jumps from his arms to settle with a huff by his feet. His fingers are clumsy with cold, fumbling to rebutton his jacket, and Tanuma folds his hands over Natsume’s smaller ones. 

“You should have brought gloves,” he mutters, and Natsume huffs out a quiet laugh, letting Tanuma take over. An amused, sideways smile overtakes his face at the particular way Tanuma straightens his collar and fixes his scarf. 

“Well?” he says, patiently. It’s not like either of them are in a hurry, trapped as they are in this small dry pocket of dark, stormy evening. “What did you want to try?”

Ponta eyes Tanuma a little too knowingly, and then turns his back on them to primly wash a paw. “It’s about time, you brat. I thought you must have been waiting for a blue moon.”

And with that, Tanuma takes Natsume’s face in both hands, telegraphing every inch of the move before he makes it. They’re close enough now that Tanuma’s bangs hang into Natsume’s, black and tawny blond shifting together.

Natsume’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t step away. 

Tanuma moves closer still, carefully folding Natsume into his arms. The smaller boy fits tucked against him like a missing piece coming home, thin shoulders stiff with shock, breath hitching quietly against Tanuma’s throat.

There’s a moment of stillness, of caution and wonder, and then Natsume sighs slowly. His hands creep up, his arms settling around Tanuma in turn, as gingerly as if he’s never held a human like this before. 

“Oh,” Natsume says, soft and surprised. “It’s warm.”

Natsume doesn’t flinch, because he didn’t want people to look at him. He couldn’t react to invisible monsters, he wouldn’t react to heavy hands and cruel voices. He taught himself stillness and silence instead. 

But there are times when Natsume has to steel himself. When Tanuma can see him trying. 

When Taki lays her head on his shoulder on the train; when Touko frames the side of his face in one warm, worn hand; when Natori pushes affectionate fingers through his hair; when Ponta purrs against his cheek; when Tanuma pulls him close enough to kiss, soft and slow. 

Natsume doesn’t flinch, but it’s more out of love these days than anything else.

[goodlucktai]

are you still accepting natsume prompts? you're writing is amazing holy cow thank you so much for posting these and blessing us all with these wonderful fics Prompt: one of the guardians natsume used to live with run into natsume and some of his friends in a store/mall and try making him look bad, but his friends step in and defend him (and then they all go have a good day together)

x

“Natsume listen. Listen. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Natsume is grinning widely, amused and affectionate and maybe pleased, too, if the pink in his cheeks has anything to say about it. Nishimura is holding him by the shoulders with both hands, hopefully impressing upon him just how big of a deal this is.

“I can’t believe you got us into a private screening of Natori Shuichi’s new drama. How do – I mean – what kind of connections do you have?”

“It’s nothing impressive, really. Natori is a – friend,” Natsume says, and stumbles over the word. More like he’s not used to saying it than because it doesn’t truly apply, and that makes Nishimura want to drop his shoulders and wrap him up in a hug instead. “He was happy to have us here.”

‘Happy’ seems like too mild a word.

“Natsume! Thank you for coming!” Natori beams, as though Natsume was doing him a favor, instead of the more obvious other way around. He’s a pretty great actor, but his delight seems sincere as he looks over them all. “And you brought your friends, after all. Did you all enjoy the show?”

Tanuma coughs delicately into his fist, and Kitamoto quickly finds something else in the room to look at. That’s okay, though—Sasada and Taki and Nishimura himself are way more than enough to make up for the wet blankets’ lack of interest.

Natori indulges them warmly, answering their dozens of questions with equal enthusiasm, and patiently signing posters they thrust up at him, and posing for selfie after selfie. The girls are absolutely besotted, and so is Nishimura honestly, and he glances over his shoulder to find Natsume to thank him again, because wow.

Except Natsume isn’t where they left him. Nishimura blinks, and forgets Natori exists, just a little bit; turning to take in the rest of the room in search of a familiar head of dusty blond.

“Man,” he mutters to himself, frowning when he doesn’t spot his wayward friend right away. “How does he do that?”

Tanuma and Kitamoto are coming back from the refreshments bar, carefully balancing drinks for the whole group in their hands, and Nishimura says, “Hey, did Natsume go with you?”

“What? No,” Kitamoto says, pausing in passing out cans of cold tea. “Wasn’t he just here?”

They all take a moment to appreciate the Natsume-shaped absence in their party. Tanuma’s expression does something bizarre, shifting slowly from confusion to alarm, and he trades a weighted glance with Taki that Nishimura can’t make heads or tails of. Natori’s perfect smile fades.

“Oh, there he is,” Sasada says suddenly, pointing Natsume out of the crowd.

He’s been sequestered into a corner by two women who look about Touko’s age. They’re well-dressed and only slightly taller than him but they seem to loom, and Nishimura can’t make out what they’re saying or what their faces look like, but he doesn’t like the tight way Natsume’s shoulders are curved.

He shoves his canned tea back towards Kitamoto without looking. “I’m gonna go, uh – “ Rescue him wouldn’t sound right, but Nishimura is moving forward automatically to do exactly that anyway, without second-guessing himself for a second. “ – I mean. I’ll be right back.”

Someone says his name, but he’s already halfway across the room at that point, and he doesn’t want to hear whatever the women are saying to make Natsume look so small, so he pointedly doesn’t listen. 

(Still, he makes out a “–can’t believe this, what are you thinking coming here–” and feels ice gather in the pit of his stomach.)

“Natsume!” Nishimura says sternly, interrupting as obnoxiously as he knows how. The women frown at him, but he has loads of scary aunts and older cousins – these people don’t phase him in the slightest. “What the heck? You can’t just wander off like that. This isn’t a supermarket with a service desk where I can make a lost child announcement, you know.” 

He doesn’t know what’s going on here, he doesn’t know if he’s maybe misreading the situation, but he knows Natsume. And Natsume blinks round eyes at him, and Nishimura hates – really, hates – how dark those eyes are, like it’s the beginning of their friendship all over again. It took lots of hard work and dedication to brighten this guy up, and one conversation is enough to tarnish that? 

Something swells in Nishimura’s chest, something white-hot and toothed, ballooning under his ribcage with what feels like enough force to crack bone. The arm he slings around Natsume’s shoulders is less of a tease and more of a guard. 

“So who are you talking to over here?” he says, as if noticing Natsume’s company for the first time; and he can’t help the acid turn his voice takes. “Do you know them?”

“They’re,” Natsume says, and his voice is so small. “Um. Relatives. I stayed with once.”

Pieces come together with all the force of tectonic plates colliding, and Nishimura’s eyes narrow. He can’t help it. 

The last time he remembers feeling this protective was probably back on the day he and Kitamoto taught Natsume how to ride a bicycle, those pleasant hours of late afternoon that swept by so fast. He had been unprepared for how thin Natsume’s shoulders would be, how fragile his back would feel under Nishimura’s hands. This quiet, gentle ghost of a boy, who laid in the grass with them under a darkening sky and laughed, eyes bright with happy wonder – like he had never laid in the grass and laughed with friends before.

His fingers curl into Natsume’s shirt. He opens his mouth, and he’s not sure what’s going to come out but he knows the words are shaped like something he’d get smacked for saying at home, something mean for the sake of being mean.

“My, my,” a familiar voice says, from behind and above Nishimura’s shoulder. He turns, and finds himself looking up into Natori’s smiling face. “What have we here?”

If there’s anything Natsume’s relatives were expecting, it wasn’t for the actor of the hour to appear out of thin air next to their former charge. Their eyes widen, and the disdain drips out of their faces like a leaky faucet.

“Nothing,” Natsume says quickly. There’s color rising in his face, and the dart of his eyes is ashamed. “I was just – talking. To my cousins.” 

“Your cousins?” The chill in Natori’s pleasant tone of voice brings the temperature of the room down whole degrees. “Wonderful. You know how pleased I am to meet your relatives, Natsume – the Fujiwaras were absolutely charming, after all.” 

The tables have turned. Two against one turns into two against seven, as the rest of their group is only steps behind Natori. Taki slips her arm through Natsume’s, hugging close to his side, and Tanuma’s hand finds a home on the small of Natsume’s back. Kitamoto and Sasada are an unflinching presence on Nishimura’s other side, and Nishimura thinks, Ha. 

He’s not as easy to bully anymore, is he?

“You don’t have to introduce us, Natsume,” Natori says, with that same cold kindness, and his hand lands lightly on Natsume’s hair. “Why don’t you go meet my co-stars, I’ve told them all about you. I’ll be along in a minute.”

It’s a dismissal if Nishimura’s ever heard one, and Tanuma and Taki are already tugging Natsume away. Loathe to lose his prime spot at Natsume’s side, Nishimura scuttles along, only casting a single glance over his shoulder. Kitamoto hasn’t budged, dark eyes bright with the same protective fury Nishimura felt before, and Natori doesn’t send him away. 

“What was all that about?” Sasada asks quietly. She’s not a usual fixture in their group, she isn’t sure of the dynamics. Nishimura can feel Natsume go tense under his arm, so he shrugs, even though this is the least shrug-appropriate situation that he can think of. 

“I dunno. Just sounded like Natori wanted to have a talk with them, that’s all.”

“Sorry,” Natsume offers softly, when Natori rejoins them minutes later. Natori’s face does something gentle, and his smile is warm again, without any sharp edges. 

“Don’t be,” the man replies. “If anything, I’m sorry. I’ll make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah,” Kitamoto says, sounding impressed. “He blacklisted them. Indefinitely. From like, everything. I think they’ll have a hard time buying one of his CDs from now on.”

“Natori,” Natsume starts, in some surprise and some protest. Natori waves it away, cutting him off without any cruelty. 

“Good,” Taki says decisively, and Sasada nods, but Natsume looks stunned. 

Color comes slowly back into his pale face after that, the shadows in his eyes burned slowly away by that brighter something Nishimura missed so much. He manages a smile, and it’s small and limping but it’s sincere, and Nishimura likes to think it’s because of them. At least a little bit. For being there, for standing like a wall between him and potential hurt, even though he never asked them to.

He asks Kitamoto about it later on, when both of them are sitting on theriverbank near home in the early dusk, with convenience store icecream melting in their hands and no real need to rush in for the night. 

“It just seems kinda obvious Natori would do something like that, you know? I mean, he loves Natsume, and he doesn’t care about those other people, so it just – makes sense? But Natsume looked totally blindsided by it.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s used to it,” Kitamotosays slowly. “That – pettiness. Pettiness for a friend.”

At Nishimura’s blank stare, Kitamoto rolls his eyes and resigns himself to further explanation.

“It’s like– imagine you saw someone throw my bookbag into the river.Then later on in the day, it starts raining really heavily, andthat person asks you if they can borrow your umbrella. What would yousay?”

Hackles rising at the hypothetical, Nishimura scowls. “’Drown.’”

It makes Kitamoto laugh, warm and fond. He’s grinning as he says, “See? It’s petty,but it’s for my sake. Getting back at them for me, in thesmallest way you can. And it’ssomething good friends just do. AndI just – don’t think that Natsume has ever – y'know. Had good friends to do that for him.”

Nishimura thinks about that, and finds himself nodding. “Yeah,” he says, warming to the idea, “okay. I can do petty.”

Kitamoto leans back in the grass, and his expression is a familiar blend of amusement and affection that Nishimura can trace back all the way to their preschool days. 

“You do plenty already, Satchan. You just don’t see it.”