#me @ everyone: do u have a moment to talk about my son shibata

[goodlucktai]

Takashi gets into some kind of trouble and shibata finds himself a part of the natsume protection squad (which he didn't know existed, but he's all for it). Takashi is oblivious.

this got heavier than i anticipated

x

Katsumi can count on both hands the number of actual, physical fights he’s been in, and still have several fingers left over. He was a bully growing up, and maybe he still is one a little bit, but he would sooner use words to hurt than fists. He’s always held himself just above sinking to that low, that ‘stupid, belligerent guy’ low. Smart people aren’t into stupid guys, after all, and Katsumi likes dating smart people. 

But today, as the shadows stretch across the ground and the skyline burns dark orange in the dusk, the knuckles on his right hand are bruised. There’s blood in his mouth, dripping from a split lip. 

Today, he threw the first punch. And the second, and the third. Outnumbered, and angry enough not to care, seething with it to the point that no words were heavy enough to hurt the way he wanted those strangers to hurt. 

His fingers are folded tight around Natsume’s and he refuses to let go, even when Natsume’s friends catch up, and the odds go from three on two to three on six. Even when Tanuma and Kitamoto and fearless Taki move into the middle of the conflict and refuse to give ground, diffusing the tension with steely eyes and steadfast voices until those unfamiliar high schoolers turn around and leave. 

Nishimura is tipping Natsume’s face to one side, looking over the impressive bruise forming along his cheekbone. His eyes are wide and worried but the words that spill out of his mouth are, “It’s not that bad, Natsume. It’s barely even noticeable. We’ll get you some ice and you’ll be good as new.”

His gaze darts to Katsumi, down to the broken skin on his hand. Katsumi’s fist aches when he clenches it. “I’m fine,” he bites out. Tension is strumming hotly through his whole body. “Who the hell were those guys? Do you know them?”

He’s not sure who the question is for. Natsume tugs him silently toward a bench by their joined hands, and he sits down mechanically next to the shorter boy. 

“I know one of them,” Natsume replies. His voice is quiet, almost swallowed up by the chatter of insects and the wind brushing through the leaves. “He’s a – cousin, I think. I lived with him and his mother once. The other two must have been friends of his.” 

Kitamoto, Taki and Tanuma join them when they’re sure the strangers are gone. Kitamoto taps Nishimura on the arm and gestures over his shoulder, in the direction of the convenience store they passed earlier. Nishimura surrenders his seat to Taki, and she takes Natsume’s free hand in both of hers and scoots over until there isn’t an inch of empty space between them, and puts her head on his shoulder. 

“Let me see your hand,” Tanuma says, and it takes Katsumi a minute to work out that he means him. He offers it without thinking, too busy trying to wrap his mind around what Natsume considered an explanation to argue the point. 

“Wait, so – he’s related to you? He’s a member of your family. And he – and you – and that’s, what, that’s normal?” 

Natsume doesn’t answer but Taki says “Shibata” in a low voice, warning Katsumi away from this off-limits door he’s trying to pry open. Tanuma sits back when he’s certain nothing is broken in Katsumi’s hand, and meets his incredulous gaze unflinchingly. 

His eyes are dark and cool and his voice is mild when he says, “You’re smarter than this. You can put one and two together.”

Natsume’s breath hitches, and Tanuma touches his knee in something like apology. Taki’s expression burns with empathy and love and a wounded sense of fairness, and a pit forms in the bottom of Katsumi’s stomach when he finally gets it. 

Little Natsume, who came to school in the morning with the same ugly marks he left the playground with. Who never lifted his head when his caretaker came to get him, quiet and unobtrusive and always a conscious arm’s length away. Who moved to Katsumi’s neighborhood in the middle of the school year, and moved away again before the term had finished.

He swallows hard. The rage from earlier has cooled rapidly into something else, something that makes him want to be sick. 

Katsumi is no better than Natsume’s cousin, at the end of the day. He’s no better than anybody. Because Katsumi, brazen idiot that he is, has been holding himself above a low he’s reached already. A low he sank beneath as a child, that very first time his voice reached across the schoolyard to Natsume with the sole intent to hurt him. 

He tips his head forward into his bruised hand, hiding burning eyes behind a sweaty palm and biting his broken lip so he won’t do something awful, like cry. The hand still holding Natsume’s tightens, curling so hard around his slender fingers that it probably hurts.

“I’m an idiot,” he manages, voice wobbling dangerously. “I’m such an idiot, Natsume, I’m sorry.”

He has no idea why he’s allowed to be here. No idea why Natsume let Katsumi anywhere near him, that day Katsumi hunted him down to this small town. 

“You’re an idiot, all right,” Natsume says without missing a beat. His voice is hoarse, but it isn’t harsh. He nudges Katsumi’s shoulder amiably, as easily as if he’s never been hurt by him. “Taking on three guys, all way bigger than you, is the stupidest thing I’ve seen you do yet.”

“Yet,” Taki agrees with a smile Katsumi can hear. 

“Looks like I attract your type. I have no idea what that says about me.”

“You don’t want to know,” Tanuma assures him kindly, and Natsume huffs out a quiet laugh. “Shibata fits in with the rest of us just fine, doesn’t he?”

“I’d say he does,” Kitamoto says at that point, and when Katsumi lifts his head, it’s to find the missing two of their party grinning at him from where they’re sitting in the grass beside the bench. “Shibata’s the first one of us who’s actually picked a fight, but – “

“Only cause you wouldn’t let me that one time!” Nishimura says hotly, rooting through one of the plastic bags they brought back from the convenience store. “I could totally have taken that guy. And I totally will if I ever see him again. Waltzing into our town, talking trash about our friend…”

There’s a shifting of bodies, and Shibata is tugged off the bench onto the ground with the rest of them, and finally lets go of Natsume’s hand to catch the cold compress Kitamoto tosses at him. It’s followed by a can of tea and then a package of ice cream, both brands he doesn’t recognize. 

He blinks down at them, and then up at his friends. Taki rolls her eyes and reaches over Natsume to direct the compress up to his sore mouth. “You’re smarter than that,” she says, taking the sting out of Tanuma’s earlier words. She follows it up with a sincere smile, and only moves her hand away when Katsumi lifts his own to hold the compress in place. 

Nishimura is passing Natsume a candy bar, and Katsumi catches the middle of something like “–was awesome by the way. I mean, not awesome that it happened, and your cousin is a huge jerk, but Shibata really knows how to throw a punch and that was cool – “

“You’re one of us,” Kitamoto says, toasting Katsumi with his own canned drink.

“Is this some sort of weird club I’m not aware of?” Natsume says dryly. 

“Yes,” everyone else says in perfect unison, followed by Tanuma’s helpful, “Just drink your tea.”

Katsumi’s first thought is, I don’t deserve this. 

His next one is, But I could. 

He can count on both hands the number of fights he’s been in, and still have a few fingers left over. He’s always held himself to a certain standard, has always held himself above a certain low, but after tonight he doesn’t really care what people think of him.

Maybe he doesn’t have to earn Natsume’s forgiveness, because he has it already, but he wants to. 

He wants to be good enough, he wants to be better. He wants to deserve it.