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goodlucktai · 7 years ago

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for a moment i was warm

natsume yuujinchou genfic word count: 4211 title borrowed from the day i lost my voice by copeland: “for a moment i was warm and the world made sense for a moment this storm had no consequence”

written for @natsume-ss !! this is a gift fic for @werewolves-are-real, happy happy holidays and i hope you like it !

It’s a cold day in Yatsuhara. Nyanko-sensei scoffs when Natsume says as much.

“You’re too human if the weather still bothers you.”

Natsume frowns. That’s a strange thing to joke about.

“I didn’t say it bothered me,” he says in token protest. The great yokai flicks a derisive ear and closes his eyes. A moment later, his head moves off the ground and into Natsume’s lap instead.

A heavy weight, but it’s warm. Takashi smiles as he winds his fingers into the thick white hide.

His earliest memory is of this fur; clinging to the beast yokai’s side as it led him through the dark wood, up the mountain, to a large gathering of ayakashi who seemed to be waiting for them both. A scattering of spirits of varying ranks, with nothing in common that Natsume could tell, whose faces lit up when he arrived.

“Don’t be afraid,” one of them said. Clad in a rich purple kimono, extending an elegant hand to him through a curl of cigarette smoke. “Come and drink with us.”

His friends are powerful and protective and always smile when they see him. Sometimes, after too many bottles of wine, their smiles turn sad, and they touch his hair or his face wistfully. But they’ve always been kind to him, and Natsume is fond of each of them in turn.

A crashing through the brush brings his eyes up to the edge of the clearing, where a legless ayakashi with a single round, bright eye is lurching towards them. It draws up short at the sight of Nyanko-sensei’s large, looming figure and wrings its hands.

It isn’t the first time an ayakashi has come to seek Natsume out, though he still doesn’t understand why they do. He feels a longing he doesn’t quite understand to help them, to give them something, but he doesn’t have anything to give.

“What do you want, runt?” Sensei bares his teeth. “You’re ruining our nap.”

“We aren’t napping, sensei,” Natsume says mildly. To the unfamiliar spirit, he adds, “Is there something you need?”

It stares at him, quivering with uncertainty.

“My name,” it begins to say, but then Nyanko-sensei is climbing to his feet with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and the unfamiliar spirit turns tail and flees.

Natsume watches it go with a pang of sympathy, then turns a narrow-eyed look on his companion as Nyanko-sensei settles back down.

“Don’t encourage them,” Nyanko-sensei says shortly, sounding put-upon. “They’re after something they’ll go great lengths to get their hands on, and you’re just a brat; you’ll get torn apart by them as easily as a spider’s web.”

Natsume leans against him, curious despite himself. “What is it they’re after?”

“A book,” his guardian says with a huff. “A book of contracts. Years ago a human collected all the true names of the yokai she bested, and bound them to a book.”

“Oh,” he says. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You look like her,” sensei says plainly, and turns his head away to sleep.

Natsume stays awake a little while longer, turning those words around in his head. He can’t help the smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth, hiding it behind the press of cold fingers.

He looks like someone. Natsume wonders what kind of person she was.

The distant buzz of activity pulls Natsume out of his head and directs his eyes to the east. Going still and silent in attention, he can just make out a presence nearby stirring the little low-level spirits into a frenzy. Their voices are too small for Natsume to make out from this far away, but they seem distressed.

Nyanko-sensei tells him not to cater to them, but catering to and caring about aren’t the same thing, in his opinion.

With a sidelong look at Nyanko-sensei, Natsume eases himself upright and takes a few careful steps away. Sensei doesn’t wake up, and Natsume heads into the trees alone.

The closer he gets to wherever he’s going, the more tiny hands and tiny voices reach out to him from the branches of trees and leafy underbrush.

“There are strange humans here,” a spirit the size of a field mouse whispers hotly. “Don’t go this way!”

Humans, this far up the mountain? Strange ones?

Natsume feels more curious than cautious as the trees open up into another bright clearing and the voices of his neighbors fade away. There are two young humans here, grouped like guards next to a strange diagram drawn in the dirt. Maybe the drawing should have been what drew his eyes, but Natsume finds himself drawn to the humans instead.

They’re both pale, maybe paler than they should be, with unhealthy shadows under their eyes and something desperate in the way they’re looking back and forth through the trees. They’re dressed for the weather in jackets and scarves, wound tightly with either cold or anxiety, and seem to be waiting for something, or hoping for something, or both.

Natsume steps out of the forest shadow, watching the humans with interest. Maybe he would have moved closer still, but a little green frog chooses that moment to cross his path with a throaty chirp.

They look at each other for a handful of seconds.

“You look familiar,” Natsume says suspiciously.

Almost instantly, the clearing fills with heavy swirls of dark smoke and a white light that gives him flash-blindness. The trees bend as an immense figure looms overhead, as if summoned there by Natsume’s dubiety.

Scowling, doing the best to blink sunspots out of his eyes, Natsume says loudly, “I don’t need a babysitter, Misuzu.”

“Agree to disagree, Natsume-dono,” the horse-headed yokai refutes in his voice like a force nature. He turns his face to study Natsume with one large eye, mountainous and immovable and somehow, entirely, at Natsume’s beck and call. “Where has that useless bodyguard of yours gone off to?”

“He’s napping,” Natsume says. Feeling a little defensive despite himself, he adds, “Sensei isn’t useless. Where would I be without him?”

“Better off, I’m sure.” Misuzu sounds unbothered. “Just say the word, and I’ll take his place.”

Natsume huffs, and might have said something about how many times he’s heard that tired offer, but the humans move quickly out of the corner of his eye and distract him. Turning, he finds them clustered a few steps closer together, scanning the clearing with paranoid wariness.

The girl’s eyes pass over them easily, but the boy’s are narrowed, as if he’s trying to focus on something far away and out of focus.

“Something’s here,” he says slowly. “Something – big.”

Natsume’s breath catches.

“He can see you?” he asks. Misuzu snorts.

“Not quite.”

“Um, hello,” the girl says, to what’s nothing but empty air as far as she can tell. Her voice wavers, even as she steels herself to go on, and Natsume feels an ache deep in the middle of everything he is. “If you – if you’re able, could you help us? We’re looking for someone.”

“What are they doing?” Natsume asks of the towering yokai behind him. “It’s dangerous for them to be out here, trying to make contact of whatever spirit happens by.”

“And what does this have to do with you?” Misuzu replies, but there’s no heat in his voice. “Just leave them alone, Natsume-dono. They’ll get discouraged and go home soon enough.”

That’s the safest thing to do. Natsume draws away, but he can’t make himself leave.

There’s a stirring of fondness in his chest that only gets bigger the longer he stands there. It’s the same feeling he gets when the Chuukyuu cajole him into a sip of wine, or when the kappa crawls into his lap with an armful of wriggling fish to share, or when Hinoe lets him in on a playful secret she’s keeping from everyone else. A combination of affection and familiarity that Natsume can’t say he understands, now – not when it’s rearing its head for a couple of humans he doesn’t even know.

Still. He wishes he could be of help to them.

“You won’t say anything?” an unfamiliar voice questions.

It’s not so sudden as to be startling, and he’s confident that nothing harmful could have snuck up on him under Misuzu’s watchful eyes, so Natsume doesn’t react except to look around curiously for the speaker.

It steps forward helpfully into his line of sight. An ayakashi in kimono and haori, with dusty blonde hair hanging to its shoulders. Its mask is horned and one-eyed and painted with a distinct smile. Perfectly silent and still, head turned just enough in his direction that Natsume can tell it’s watching him closely.

“What would I say?” Natsume asks. “Do you know these humans?”

It takes her a moment to answer. Her voice is feminine and deadpan, giving nothing away with her words. “I’ve met the boy.”

“He could see you?” Burning with interest, Natsume adds, “And speak to you?”

“It was only once, under certain conditions,” the ayakashi says. “On an average day, he’s sensitive to my kind, but only enough that he can tell when one of us is near.”

Natsume can’t help but think that would be frustrating. He glances back at the humans, unable to help himself.

While most spirits in this wood are happy to terrorize or torment the local townspeople, his friends aren’t that way. They don’t chase humans through the dark to hurt or scare them, don’t go out of their way to cause trouble. Once he watched Benio turn herself into a delicate butterfly and turn a lost child around, setting them back on the right path home.

Natsume knows it isn’t his place to be proud of them for those gestures of kindness that go against their nature, but he can’t help it. And if anything, they seem to light up when he says as much.

As he watches, the girl’s face begins to crumple in disappointment. The boy rubs his dark eyes roughly, as though they burn.

“We can try again tomorrow,” he says quietly.

“Oh, can you?”

The masked ayakashi turns her head. Natsume looks that way, too, in time to watch a third human join the small party by their drawing in the dirt.

This one is older, disheveled and somehow more tired-looking than the first two. He’s touched by something dark and ugly, a curse that moves across his face in the shape of a little lizard, disappearing under the collar of his jacket, but otherwise nothing about him seems particularly dangerous.

But from the way the kids cow under his glare, he may as well be a dragon.

“I told you to stay away from here,” he tells them sharply, eyes bright behind a pair of glasses. He casts a sharp, distrustful look at Misuzu, and Natsume feels a thrill of a surprise. “This isn’t a game. Until I seal the yokai that attacked him, you can’t just wander around looking for trouble. And I must have said it a hundred times now – that circle is taboo. I don’t want to catch you using it again.”

“But Natori-san, Ponta said –”

“I don’t care what that thing said, listen to what I’m saying.” But his ire drains away the longer he looks at the two shamed faces in front of him, and finally he rubs a hand through tousled hair with a sigh. “Just – get your things. Tanuma, is your father home?”

“He’s away for work,” the boy mutters, dispirited as he moves away to pick up a bag. “I’ve been staying with Taki.”

“My parents are away, too,” the girl supplies with a smile that doesn’t sit right on her face. “And it’s been – it’s nice to have him there with me. It’s been hard to sleep. Ever since – “

“I see.” Natori’s voice gentles. “In that case, let me walk the two of you home.”

He says it with another hard look at the horse-headed yokai looming over the rest of them, protective of the children that seem to be in his care as he herds them away, and Natsume says, wondering, “That man can see spirits, can’t he?”

His voice draws everything to a sudden halt.

Unnecessarily, the masked spirit says, “He can hear them, too.”

The man called Natori is looking at him, eyes wide and startled. His hands fall away from Taki and Tanuma’s shoulders, leaving him staring across the clearing at something they can’t see.

Natsume isn’t sure he likes this. Attention is very rarely a good thing. He stoops to pick up Misuzu’s treefrog, taking a wary step backwards toward the trees.

“No!” Natori bursts a few steps forward, stricken. “Please, don’t go. Stay here.”

“He won’t hurt you,” the masked ayakashi says quietly.

“I will crush him if he tries,” Misuzu adds from above. “Let my little one go, Natsume-dono. I’ll have it fetch your wayward guardian.”

Heartened at the idea of Nyanko-sensei coming, Natsume does as he’s told. The frog hops away past his feet, and Natori watches the proceedings with an odd expression on his face. A moment later, he smiles past it. Natsume doesn’t know enough about humans to be sure, but it seems like he’s about to faint.

“I suppose you don’t know who I am?”

Natsume shakes his head no. Something pained happens to the man’s smile, prompting Natsume to supply a rushed, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no,” the man says wearily. “Please don’t be. Like so much else, this isn’t your fault, Natsume.”

Taki and Tanuma catch their breath so sharply Natsume’s surprised they don’t choke. Taki’s hands fly up to cover her mouth. Both of them look close to tears.

“Natsume’s there?” Tanuma asks hoarsely. “He can hear us?”

Uncomfortably, half-wishing he had something to hold in front of his body like a shield, Natsume says slowly, “I don’t understand. I don’t know who they are, either. I only came because something was scaring the small spirits that live here. I don’t – “

“That’s okay,” Natori says calmly. “Don’t be afraid. There’s a lot here that I don’t understand, either.”

“That’s nothing new, brat.”

That, finally, is a voice that Natsume knows. He would know Nyanko-sensei’s sleep-scratchy grumbles anywhere, and whirls around to face him. It’s such a relief to reach out and feel that familiar fur under his hands, pressing himself safely into the beastly yokai’s side.

And sensei allows it, because as much as the low-level spirits seem to annoy him universally, he’s never sent Natsume away.

“I can’t believe you would let this happen without telling me,” Natori says viciously, gesturing widely at the clearing and everyone in it. Nyanko-sensei huffs, his breath ruffling Natsume’s hair. “And what in god’s name are you doing out here? It would have been much safer for him back in town.”

“He kept wandering off,” sensei says passively. “I decided to take him somewhere I’d have help keeping an eye on him.”

“Are you talking about me?” Natsume asks, frowning. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

“He did tell you,” the masked ayakashi says abruptly, mask angled pointedly in Natori’s direction. “Or, he told Natsume’s friends to tell you. You were more preoccupied with finding the creature that hurt him to listen, and they were too eager to help to wait for you. None of you were wrong. Fighting about it now is a waste of time.”

Natori doesn’t speak for several long seconds, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His face is weary and angry and hurting, and that aching sympathy in Natsume’s chest stretches to include him.

Finally, the fight goes out of him. He lifts a hand to rub his forehead and says, “So that’s why you just left Taki and Tanuma to their own devices, instead of doing the appropriate thing and telling me about this mess immediately. You’re getting soft, Hiiragi.”

She doesn’t dignify that with a response.

“Natsume,” he says in a kinder tone. “Would you come over here, please? You can bring that monster of yours with you. I’d like you to step inside this circle, just for a moment.”

“Monster?” Nyanko-sensei snarls. “This splendid form of mine is anything but monstrous!”

And since that was the only issue he had with everything Natori just said, Natsume puts his reservations on a shelf somewhere behind him and approaches the circle drawn in the ground. It’s large enough that he could stand in the center with his arms outstretched without touching the edge on either side.

It seems harmless enough. Misuzu and Nyanko-sensei wouldn’t let him touch it otherwise.

He steps inside.

Nothing happens – he doesn’t feel any different, doesn’t notice any change – and he’s so busy looking down at the diagram around his feet, waiting for something, that by the time he looks up again Taki and Tanuma are already upon him.

They’re crying, pressing close to him, arms wrapped around his waist and shoulders so tightly that it’s a blessing he doesn’t need to breathe.

“Don’t go away again,” Taki sobs, muffled against his shirt. “Please don’t go away. Stay and let us help you.”

He puts his arms around them gingerly in turn, uncertain what to do and equally as unwilling to hurt them. He was fond of these two humans from the moment he laid eyes on them, for whatever reason, and he doesn’t have the words to deny them.

“Okay,” he says, helplessly, “I’ll stay. I’m here.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say, but he thinks it might be. Tanuma buries his face against Natsume’s hair, and Taki leans up to kiss his cheek. Behind them, Natori is talking to Nyanko-sensei in a low voice, while Misuzu listens in ostentatiously. Hiiragi, standing at Natori’s shoulder, looks over as if she can feel Natsume’s eyes.

Her face is hidden behind that mask, but Natsume gets the distinct impression that she’s smiling at him.

It’s a cold day in Yatsuhara. Taki’s hand is warm in his as they walk the long road into town.

The hospital is a quiet place, white walls and tile floors painted gold with the afternoon sun. Tanuma leads the way down a few empty hallways, finally pausing outside an open door. Taki only lets go of Natsume’s hand when they’re inside.

The room is – full. There are books and magazines stacked haphazardly on the table under the window, flowers and handwritten cards and charms crowding the nightstand and windowsill. There are two boys in the chairs on the far side of the hospital bed, brunet and russet heads tilted together where they’ve slumped against each other in their sleep. The mess seems to be mostly theirs.

“They hardly leave,” Taki says with a soft laugh.

Natsume swallows a wave of pain he doesn’t understand and moves past them, taking careful steps toward the bed. There’s a body there, under the soft white sheets. Pale and waifish, with silvery hair and a bruised face.

That’s me, he thinks in a daze. I look like someone again.

He wonders what kind of person he is.

“Whatever attacked you,” Tanuma says behind him, breaking the silence to speak to a person he can’t see, “it – grabbed you, from the top of the stairs, and you fell. The doctors said – they said you must have hit your head pretty hard. It’s the only excuse they could find for why you won’t wake up.”

With a soft thump, and a pattering of paws, Nyanko-sensei hops down from Tanuma’s arms and crosses the room. His lucky cat form is an unfamiliar weight against Natsume’s ankles, but the warmth of him is the same.

“The bastard tried to possess you,” his guardian says gruffly. “My light got rid of it, but not before it knocked you loose.”

Natsume remembers cold mountain air and the pervasive sense that he didn’t belong, walking back and forth looking for home, looking for a hole in the world that was his to slip into and fill.

And he remembers Nyanko-sensei finding him, and herding him bossily up a hill, where smiling spirits waited for him and greeted him by a name that must have been his.

But he doesn’t remember any of what they’re telling him now. He wants to – he wants to be this person they came looking for, this person they care so much about. He turns their story around and around in his mind, hoping to make sense of it, to adopt it as a sudden truth, to realize or recall a moment lost to him before, but –

His eyes burn, and he swipes at them, frustrated.

“I don’t remember any of it,” Natsume says fiercely, and Nyanko-sensei snorts at him.

“Well, you wouldn’t,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re an ikiryō, a living ghost. All your memories and feelings and stupid reckless idiot thoughts are still here,” he says, with a nod to the sleeping figure on the bed, “with your body, and your brain, and your heart. You’re just – the part of you that’s awake.”

He looks around at the room, full of its good-natured clutter, and the kids asleep by the bed, and the two lingering back by the door. He wants it to be his. But –

“Oh, my,” says a sudden voice at the door, “what a crowd!”

Natsume whirls around, all but tripping over Nyanko-sensei in his haste to see. A woman with smoky brown hair and laugh-lines steps inside, overcoat folded neatly over her arm. Taki and Tanuma move aside to give her room, and Tanuma says, “I’m sorry if we’re in the way, Touko-san.”

“Don’t be silly,” the woman called Touko says with an airy laugh. “It’s nice to have all these visitors.”

She sets her bag and her coat in an empty chair, and casts a fond look at the two boys sleeping on the opposite side of the bed.

Natsume watches with wide eyes as she comes closer, comes right past him, and leans over his likeness in the bed. She adjusts the pillows, and smooths down the blankets, fussing idly as she talks. From beside her, he can see how wan her face is, the tired shadows under her eyes.

“You’ve all been so good to him. I’m sure he’s grateful. When he wakes up, he’ll tell you so.”

When she touches his face, the softest press of her fingers against his forehead, it all but breaks his heart. It’s warm, and it’s home, and it’s his. He doesn’t know anything else, but he knows that. He knows her.

“We’re all missing you dearly, Takashi,” she says gently. “Come back to us soon.”

So he does.

The doctor finally decides to keep him overnight for observation, but doesn’t see any reason why he can’t go home tomorrow.

Shigeru-san leaves work in the middle of the day, and Natsume has never felt safer than in the moment he can bury his face in his father’s shoulder and let himself be held there. Touko strokes his hair with unending care and says “Welcome back, sleepyhead” so fondly he wants to cry.

None of the hospital staff’s attempts to remove his friends seem to stick, since the room stays full and lively despite the nurses’ best efforts. Taki and Tanuma keep drifting close, as though they have a burning question to ask him, but they never get a private moment to talk.

When visiting hours are over, everyone leaves full of promises to see him first thing in the morning. Nyanko-sensei waits until the room is empty to crawl up from the foot of the bed and make himself comfortable on Natsume’s stomach.

“The Natori brat caught the ayakashi that attacked you and exorcised it,” he says. “His shiki just stopped by to tell me earlier. He tired himself out, because he’s an idiot, but he promised to come see you tomorrow.”

Natsume lifts a hand, stroking fingers through sensei’s soft fur. “I’ll have to thank him for all his help,” he says thoughtfully. Then he can’t help but smile, adding, “Thank you, too, sensei.”

Nyanko-sensei grumbles, kneading the blanket a few times. “You’d be hopeless without me. I’m glad you can admit that.” After a moment, he says, “That brat also wanted me to tell you not to wander off anymore. He said to tell you ‘stick around for awhile.’”

“What does that mean?” Natsume asks, frowning. “I didn’t go anywhere, did I? I’ve been here asleep the whole time.”

The cat is quiet for a long minute, eyes glinting brightly in the dark. Then he huffs, tucking his paws in and settling down for a nap. “No, you didn’t go anywhere. I kept an eye on you.”

Natsume nods drowsily. That makes sense. He knows where he belongs. This place is where his home and his family and his friends are. Where on earth would he have gone from here?

He’s on the cusp of sleep when another thought occurs to him. Pushing himself up on one elbow, Natsume whispers, “Sensei? Where’s the book?”

“Someplace safe,” his guardian says. “Now go to sleep. You’ve been awake for too long.”

#natsumess2017 #natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natsumess #werewolves-are-real #natsume takashi #nyanko sensei #taki tooru #tanuma kanume #natori shuuichi #my writing #natsuyuu fic #i really hope this is enjoyable to read #this took so long to finish and im not sure how i feel about it anymore dgklajjdgha

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shxdowofclarines · 7 years ago

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Tanuma and Natsume-You will never be alone.

Merry Christmas @akaname-tanuma! I was your secret santa for @natsume-ss!! I hope you will enjoy this small amv!! Happy holidays!

#natsume yuujinchou #natsumess2017 #natsume takashi #tanuma kaname #akaname-tanuma #tanunatsu #nyanko-sensei #natsume's book of friends

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kinosternon · 7 years ago

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Here’s my @natsume-ss gift for @swankitty!

(Ugh, I’m sorry this is so late and also such a mess. And I hope it isn’t too gory or two angsty, because honestly I did try, but I apologize if it is)

Word count: 5,506 TanuNatsu, hanahaki AU with a happy ending, confession, hurt/comfort Summary: Tanuma takes on a curse that exploits people’s secrets in Natsume’s place, because he has much less to hide...but he may have been overlooking something in that assessment.

It starts as a curse spreading from spirit to spirit, from an ancient, bitter, withered old tree that has finally fallen, releasing a curse that is difficult to contain, and even more difficult to purge.

Natsume first hears about it from Tanuma himself, who heard it from Matoba, who goes to Tanuma's father, of all people, to ask him to purify the area. Tanuma's grateful that he cautioned his father to wait until he could ask Natsume about it, after seeing the look on Natsume's face when he explained who, exactly, came to visit.

Tanuma insists on coming along, despite Natsume's protests.

"We'll be careful," he promises, instead of arguing about how he'd feel if he put Natsume in harm's way and left him to face it alone. It's easier that way.

The spirits all cleared out of the area long since, when Natsume and Tanuma and Ponta go to investigate. They find the tree, ultimately, at the base of a mountain, well off the beaten path, a ring of dead grass all around it.

"I don't sense much of anything," Tanuma says, eyeing the tree. "It seems pretty creepy, though."

"Me neither," Natsume admits. "But...there's definitely something strange about it."

"No, it smells like trouble." Ponta waddles between them and the tree, hackles raised.

"The tree?" Natsume asks, skeptical.

"There's something inside, fool," he says. "It's strong enough to try hiding its aura, but it's there."

Suddenly, Natsume jumps as if stung and turns behind them, looking at something over his shoulder. Even Ponta twitches, his stance shifting so he can keep the tree and the spot Natsume's staring at in his sight at the same time.

"Why?" Natsume asks the trees, and Tanuma settles himself to wait for someone to explain to him what's going on.

"It's a curse left over from a spirit that's long gone," Natsume says, finally, after a conversation that's left him pale, shaken. "It's been attacking the spirits in the area. All of them have left, or are hiding."

"They're the smart ones," Ponta says, nose in the air, still glancing occasionally over his shoulder. "Don't underestimate that thing just because it looks like a plant. It's pretty powerful. Just being around it is making my nose itch."

"What does it do?" Tanuma asks, when the clearing falls into an uneasy silence after that. "The curse."

"It latches onto people's secrets," Ponta says grimly, "and eats away at them from the inside out."

"Oh."

Tanuma wants to say something more, wants to have something to add, but he can't think of anything. The two of them are the experts here, not him.

Still, he can't help but notice that suddenly, Natsume looks afraid, and that, more than anything else, puts him on his guard.

It keeps him two steps behind Natsume, and when his eyes widen and he's able to make out a shadowy presence from a hollow in the tree, it has him stepping forward.

Natsume suddenly jumps back and screams and starts clawing at his chest, and Ponta disappears just before the clearing is shook by a huge gust of wind and the old withered tree simply evaporates in a bright burst of light.

Tanuma's on the ground beside Natsume in a second. He's not unconscious, but his hands are pressing against his chest and his eyes are so, so wide.

He starts having a conversation with someone right beside his head, and then with Ponta, judging by the angry huffs ruffling Tanuma's hair. But as he's only privy to half of the conversation, Tanuma can only wait and watch, and gather what he can from Natsume's side of the conversation.

The curse that they'd found—that the Matoba's were too frightened to face themselves, that they'd tried to send Tanuma's father to encounter—is the last remnant of a youkai grown bitter in its final moments, a parasite that has so far proven impossible to destroy.

Natsume looks so afraid, talking to Ponta and whatever spirits are watching them. And Tanuma, though he can only follow part of the conversation, thinks he knows why.

Natsume isn't a liar, Tanuma knows. He's just been trapped by a world that refused to accept his view of the world, his suffering, the dangers he faces, so he learned to hide it all. Even a handful of good years with people who care about him aren't enough to erase the fear of rejection that his childhood forced into him.

Because of that, it's hard to imagine a spirit more dangerous to him than one that finds and exploits what you don't want to say.

"Natsume," he says finally, when the conversation seems to have stopped. "I'm not following everything they said, but is it possible to transfer the curse? It only just started, so there has to be a way, right?"

Natsume looks more frightened than ever. "Tanuma, no. Even if there is..."

"You don't have to do this on your own," Tanuma says, right over him, because this is no time to let him sacrifice himself. "You have to keep your secrets. You live with the Fujiwaras, and you're always seeing things nobody else can. There's no way this thing won't be incredibly dangerous for you. Right?"

Natsume looks like he wants to argue, and then stops, biting his lip. There's sweat at his temples, and he's looking a little bit like he regrets everything he's ever done.

(Tanuma wonders if the curse has started already, and the thought only redoubles his resolve.)

He turns to the side, his best guess at the spirit Natsume was talking to before, then glances over at Ponta, who's transformed back and is looking at him with that eerie, knowing gaze he gets. "Is there a way to transfer the curse?" he asks them.

There's silence, and then Natsume says, voice grim, "She thinks there is. She isn't sure."

"What do we need to do?"

Natsume shakes his head. "It's pointless. Who would I even pass it to?"

"Well, it's a truth curse, right? Ideally, someone like Nishimura," Tanuma says, smiling humorlessly. "I don't think he could keep a secret even if he wanted to, which he usually doesn't."

Natsume glares at him. "I couldn't possibly—"

"You can't do that to someone who doesn't know," Tanuma says. "I know. It'd be wrong, and if you could explain it to them first, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place."

Natsume's hands are shaking at his sides, but he's still smiling, trying to be brave.

"So it's me or Taki, then," Tanuma continues, and Natsume's smile crumbles. "I'm the better choice. Taki doesn't talk about these kinds of things with her parents, either."

Natsume looks ready to shut down the conversation altogether, so Tanuma presses on. "I don't have to lie to the people in my life," he says, voice and face hard, direct. He's trying not to be unkind, but he isn't sure it's working. "I'm very, very lucky in that. I'm the safest person to bear the curse, until we can find a way to deal with it. Maybe it won't even take at all."

Natsume shakes his head. "I can't..."

"You can't take this curse, Natsume," Tanuma says. "It would really, really hurt you."

"But—"

"You aren't listening to me," Tanuma says. "You can't say things even when you should, even when you seem to want to. I know that you keep secrets for good reasons. Do you really want to choose between frightening your friends and family by telling the truth, and worrying them when the curse takes effect?"

Natsume falls silent, then, but in his eyes Tanuma thinks he can see indecision.

"Taki survived a worse curse than this one," Tanuma says. "Let me take this much on."

"All right," Natsume says. "But if it causes any problems, we're putting it back. And we'll find a cure, somehow."

"Sure," Tanuma says, smile tight. "Think of it as a way to buy time."

The process for transferring the curse doesn't take very long at all. Half of it is invisible to Tanuma's eyes, but he can see the ritual circles easily enough, and he knows the moment the ritual is finished because something catches, ever so briefly, in his throat. He coughs, and falls to his knees.

"It's all right," he says a second later, as Natsume half-falls beside him and starts looking him over. His face is twisted in concern and guilt, and instinctively, Tanuma reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

"Are you sure?" Natsume asks. He searches Tanuma's face so, so carefully, looking for concealed pain or fear.

For a second, Tanuma feels lighter than air, and can't keep a faint smile from moving across his face. Natsume is so close and so open, where normally he's guarded, his kindness couching itself in a thoughtful distance.

"Yes," he says, the words floating out of him, effortless. "I'm okay. It doesn't even hurt."

"Okay," Natsume says. "Then we should get home. I need to call Natori, and probably Taki..."

They talk about the curse on the way home, but Tanuma can't help but feel that Natsume's worried over nothing. He's blessed with family and friends he doesn't need to hide from, not any part of himself; what would the spirit even have to work with?

It isn't until that evening, thinking over the events of the day and how it'd felt to be fussed over, that he feels the faint sensation, like a pinprick, in his chest, just under his ribs. He dismisses it as a phantom sensation and turns over, going to sleep.

Natsume talks to Natori that weekend, and gives Tanuma a charm to wear. He hangs it on a cord and wears it under his shirt, below his heart. He trusts Natsume enough to forget the matter there, though the occasional worried glance Natsume throws his way tells him that he might be the only one that's comfortable forgetting.

A few weeks later, as winter drags its bitter way along into the first hints of spring, it takes weeks of a cold getting progressively worse for Tanuma to even begin to wonder whether spirits are involved. Natsume's suspicions come first, of course, and he ends up soothing them before his own even really start.

For a little while, it seemed that every time Tanuma so much as came down with a cold, Natsume would give him that certain wide-eyed, wary look, like he was trying to figure out if something was going after him. After a while, he'd started to grow accustomed to the way Tanuma was out of class more frequently than the rest of their classmates, how everyone accepted this as more or less normal for him.

It takes longer, now, for an illness of his to raise red flags for Natsume, as long as there are no sudden headaches or other telling signs.

"Are you all right?" he asks, with that one specific concern in his voice, the third or fourth day that his persistent cough just won't settle.

"I'm fine," he says, with a fond smile, because a week or so to shake off the tail end of a cold is still well within a normal period of time, and Natsume hasn't adjusted that much, it seems. Tanuma doesn't like to worry Natsume, but it's nice, when it's something small and harmless and easy to reassure him of, to be reminded how much he cares.

When, a week later, it's still not great—when the coughing is more violent and more painful, he still doesn't think it's any more than a nasty cold. He switches to a different kind of medicine, starts carrying cough drops in his bag, and still doesn't suspect it's anything supernatural.

Until, of course, he realizes that breathing hurts a bit more when Natsume's around, and the pain lingers till a little while after.

It's like claws digging into his chest, tightening ever so slightly every time he breathes. It's like something rising up in his throat, occasionally choking him when he tries to brush off Natsume's concerned questions. It's a flutter in his heartbeat when Natsume stands by his elbow with an arm around him on the stairs, because he's been a little shaky lately and sudden coughing fits throw him off-balance.

(Come to think of it, that last one could be caused by something else entirely. Tanuma isn't sure whether that's better or worse.)

It doesn't even feel like he has words for it, for the crest of emotion that comes over him when Natsume leaves and all the things he can't say, can only feel, come crashing over him like waves.

What if he is lying, and it's the curse after all? How can he tell the truth if he can't find the words?

The next week, Tanuma starts staying home from school. Natsume goes over from the first day to go check on him, and though he wasn't expecting it, Nishimura and Kitamoto and Taki all come along.

Tanuma sounds awful—he's definitely got a nasty cold—but he seems pretty energetic otherwise. Kitamoto tells Nishimura off for trying to bring him a bouquet, talking about allergies and spring fever. Tanuma says cheerfully that he's never had much of anything like that, and rushes off to find a makeshift vase. They play card games and pretend they're going to work on their homework, and when Nishimura has to leave for cram school and Kitamoto to make dinner, Natsume and Taki linger behind briefly.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Taki asks him this time, quietly. "It's not the curse from before, is it?"

Tanuma just shrugs, looking between them. "If I figure anything out, you'll be the first to know. Probably I just need to sleep it off."

"Okay," Natsume says, but he doesn't look terribly happy about it.

Natsume comes by every day after that, sometimes bringing others with him, sometimes arriving alone. Tanuma would be lying if he said that he didn't appreciate the company.

The flowers Nishimura brought seem perfectly healthy, a welcome spot of color in the room, but petals keep appearing in odd corners of the room. One morning, Tanuma thinks he sees some on his pillow when he wakes up, but then he blinks and they're gone.

He sits up, coughs, takes some more medicine, and stumbles downstairs for breakfast.

By the time Natsume comes over that afternoon, the coughing has gotten worse. They make a half-hearted attempt at covering what they did in class—Natsume's grades might go up a little after all this, Tanuma teases him between coughing fits—and then try to play some shogi, but Tanuma can't concentrate, and they put that aside, too.

Suddenly, a coughing fit starts and doesn't stop. The tearing noise in his throat is painful just to listen to; Natsume doesn't want to imagine what it feels like. His hands rise of their own volition, but he isn't sure what to do with them.

The sensation of something slightly wet and oddly soft, cool even, lands on one of his palms. He lifts it to his face and sees that a flower petal has landed there. It's stained with blood at the corner.

Natsume feels a completely different kind of sick from Tanuma in that moment, dizzy and terrified.

"It's okay," Tanuma gasps, breathless, when this fit is over. "I've had worse than this. Really."

Natsume holds the petal to his face, examining it closely. The edges are ragged.

Tanuma blinks at him. "What is it?"

Natsume looks at him seriously. "Are you sure you're not hiding something?"

"...Ugh," Tanuma says, and rubs his face, sounding resigned. "Yes, I'm pretty sure." Still, he doesn't look surprised when he adds, "Why? What are you looking at?"

"Flower petals," Natsume says. "I think it's the curse from before."

"But..." Tanuma shakes his head. "It's not like I've been lying to anyone."

"I believe you," Natsume says, frustrated. "Have you told your dad...what's going on? Would it help if I talked to him?'

"Maybe," Tanuma says. He's leaning against the pillow, face gray. "Actually, yes. I guess. You could invite him up here, and we could do it now."

They try. Natsume is intensely uncomfortable about talking about spirits with an adult who isn't Natori. He pushes through it anyway, and Tanuma's father, though he seems a bit lost, is also very grave.

At the end of the conversation, Tanuma has another coughing fit. The only thing that changes is that Natsume can double-check that Tanuma's father can't see the flower petals, either.

Tanuma's father takes him to the doctor the next day. They aren't sure what the problem is, but there seems to be something in Tanuma's lungs.

"It's liquid," Tanuma said. "They think the tissue there is getting weaker, or something."

Natsume isn't used to things like this having tangible effects, not like this. He is very, very scared.

"This is all my fault," he confesses, running his hands through his hair.

"It isn't," Tanuma says seriously, and how can he still have such an even keel about this? How can he still be looking at it logically when his life is in danger and Natsume is the one to blame? "I made a mistake. I thought I knew myself better than I did. It was hubris. Like we talked about in literature class, remember?"

Natsume smiles, but he knows the expression is pained. "Not really."

"Maybe you were sleeping through that part," Tanuma says, and it's so gentle that it doesn't even sound like a reprimand, barely like teasing. "I shouldn't have been so proud. I guess...I guess I was a little mad, too."

"Mad?" Natsume asks. He is not used to Tanuma being quite this honest, but he's remembered of raised arms on a hillside, terror abating slowly into relief and deep, deep regret as Tanuma bares his soul to him without meeting his eyes.

"I guess I was a little mad at you," Tanuma says in a tiny voice. It's a steady one, though, and not as breathless as Natsume has gotten used to. "You...I know you have good reasons for hiding things, Natsume. I know you do. Even when they're old reasons that aren't true anymore, they were still good ones, once. But...I wished you didn't have them. I thought that...that I wouldn't be like that. That I could show you that some people weren't like that, and maybe..." He pauses. "This is stupid," he says, frustrated. "I was stupid about this."

"No, keep going," Natsume insists. "Please."

Maybe this will help, he doesn't say, but the hope hangs between them anyway. Natsume is pretty sure that secrets that are open between the people talking about them don't count as secrets anymore.

"I thought...if I could show you, encourage you...then maybe you could change, too." Tanuma's shoulders hunch in on themselves. He looks miserable. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't work like that. I should have been more patient."

"Tanuma..." Natsume puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay to be frustrated with me. I get frustrated with me, too, sometimes."

"I'm mostly frustrated with myself at the moment," Tanuma admits, voice tight.

"That's okay," Natsume says, because he isn't sure what else there is to say.

He rubs Tanuma's back when the next fit comes, and brushes the fresh petals off the covers.

When Natsume comes back a few days later covered in dirt, with twigs in his hair and a cut across one cheek, he tries to blow it off as no big deal.

Tanuma's feverish and weak, but even so, he's having absolutely none of that.

"Did they hurt you anywhere else?" he asks. He's still mobile enough to shuffle to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit under the sink.

"I'm fine," Natsume says, looking alarmed. "You should stay in bed—”

"Please don't be like this," Tanuma says, sitting back on the bed and patting the space beside him. "Over here. It would hurt if that got infected."

Natsume looks very sad as he sits beside Tanuma, but something else creeps into his face as Tanuma starts to brush at the wound on his cheek, doing his best to be gentle.

Tanuma doesn't let himself look. He's trying to focus on doing a good job at this, and the pain in his chest is already distracting enough as it is.

"I don't want you to leave me out of the loop about things like this," he says. "I want to know what's happening to you."

He sees the corner of Natsume's mouth turn down in a frown. "I don't want to worry you when—”

"I'm going to worry anyway," Tanuma rasps out. "Please, don't keep me in the dark. Tell me when you're having trouble. At least let me be someone you can talk to. Let me do that much."

He pulls back, and sees that Natsume is shaking. It's hard to hide, when there's only a few inches of space between them.

"I don't...I can't..." he says, but stops like the words are sticking in his throat.

"What?" he asks, softly. He squeezes Natsume's arm, hoping to get him to lose that thousand-mile stare.

"You...if something happens to you...then..." Natsume finally manages to look at him. "I couldn't stand it," he says quietly. "I would rather have never...I can't let the world of youkai harm you because of me. No matter what happens."

It takes more than words for Tanuma to really understand, but some careful thinking. He imagines being Natsume, and having only three people in the world he can talk to. (Tanuma only has three people, too, but they're all human and they're his three most important people, and it's enough.) He remembers the bits and pieces of the stories Natsume's told, about spirits, and how so few of his friends aside from Ponta ever seem to stay.

Natsume's not seeing him as lesser, not the way Natori did even when he was being (barely) polite about it. He's afraid of being alone again, and the fear of Tanuma not being there to protest someday in the future weighs more heavily than his fear of hurting Tanuma's feelings in the present.

Tanuma almost thinks, in that moment, that he's pinned down what it is he has to say. There's something on the tip of his tongue, and yet...

He can feel the vines sink in deeper as he makes an exasperated face and musses Natsume's hair, but it doesn't matter. Natsume's shocked expression is almost worth it anyway.

"Silly," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."

When he comes upstairs to visit the next day, Tanuma's eyes seem glued to his lap.

"I went to the doctor again today," he said. "They're thinking about putting me in a hospital."

Natsume just stares at him, fear freezing the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sorr—" Tanuma starts, and then starts coughing again.

Helplessly, Natsume bends down to help him, rubbing his back and hoping against hope for the fit to pass.

"Natsu...me..."

They're barely even words anymore. Natsume's lucky he can recognize his own name from Tanuma's lips. There are petals clogging his mouth that Tanuma can't even see, can only half-feel, choking his every breath. This has gone altogether too far, and he's scared that if Natori isn't able to come up with the exorcism soon, there won't be enough left of Tanuma's lungs—of Tanuma's life—to save.

Then Tanuma's shaking hands reach up, and Natsume takes one of them, and feels them pushing weakly upwards. He guides them up till they're...on his face? But from the way they cling there, he hasn't interpreted Tanuma's gesture incorrectly. They pull slowly down, and Natsume brings is face down. He tries to turn his head, thinking that maybe Tanuma wants to whisper in his ear, but Tanuma's hands, weak as they are, resist the movement.

"Sorry," Tanuma mouths, when their mouths are bare inches apart, "just...once," and then he keeps pulling down and lunges upwards at the same time, and the soft bitterness of flower petals fills Natsume's mouth, the taste of blood coppery on his tongue.

And then Tanuma falls back, and Natsume reels, and then realizes, and there's a whirlwind of cherry blossoms.

There's no flashback, this time. No compilation of images to comprise a secret. No glimpse at what it was Tanuma saw, the first time the shy golden-haired boy arrived at their school, the first time they talked, the suspicious skulking as Natsume tried to get the measure of him.

There's only a warm body in his arms and Tanuma's gasping breaths, deep whooping, hacking coughs that are stronger than he's been able to manage in weeks. Petals and blood and other, worse things come up, and Natsume pulls himself behind Tanuma, rubbing his back as the boy wheezes, bent almost double.

There are tears streaming down his face by the time he's finished, and tears in Natsume's eyes, too, of sympathetic pain. He's trying to think through the panic, but his eyes keep being drawn to the bloody roots that only he can see, torn from the inside of Tanuma's ribcage as the spirit-seed finally gives up its claim there.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" is what he says first. It's impossible for it not to, looking at the evidence of all that pain and fear. "Why did you take the curse, if it was something you wanted to hide?"

"I didn't realize," Tanuma says. His voice is a haggard disaster of a shadow of itself, much like he is. "I didn't know."

"How can it be a secret if you didn't know?" Natsume asks, suddenly angry on his behalf.

Tanuma stares down at his hands. "I guess it was a secret I was keeping from myself, too."

"Well, just to be safe," Natsume says. He climbs out from behind Tanuma and half-sits, half-kneels on the chair beside him. He takes Tanuma's hands, blood-speckled as they are, and squeezes them, looking seriously straight into Tanuma's eyes. "Tell me everything."

So Tanuma does.

They can't stay in that position for long; soon enough, Tanuma is hiding his face again, the embarrassment and the intensity of it all getting to him. Still, he keeps talking.

Natsume almost wishes he could turn away, too, but he doesn't dare miss a single word. Not when it's Tanuma's safety they're talking about.

Not when he didn't expect to have this conversation with Tanuma, ever, in either of their lives.

When it's said out loud...it's not as much as Natsume's expecting. It's still a lot—it's incredible, it feels out of nowhere, it's terrifying—but it's really just a bunch of feelings. Very strong ones, but not so overwhelming that it didn't take Tanuma months to track them down.

It's a bunch of hopes for the future, but that's just what they are—hopes. And the more of them Tanuma says out loud, the clearer they get, the more manageable.

It's like a spirit. Shadows twitching at the corners of his vision will frighten Natsume every time—they can overwhelm him with fear, even when what's causing them turns out to be something small, or relatively harmless.

But hearing Tanuma's words out in the open like this...it's different. It has Natsume thinking about things that he's felt, and the longer he hears where Tanuma is coming from, the more the feelings inside him become less ambiguous, too.

As he listens, too, an answer starts to grow inside him, like a plant unfurling new leaves. He can feel it changing into something very different from what he would have expected even a few hours ago, when they both thought that Tanuma was dying.

"I." He stalls, realizing he doesn't even know how to start.

"Tanuma," he says, looking for the words that are true, because after what he's gone through to bring the truth out, Tanuma deserves Natsume's very best effort, "I care about you, so much. I haven't really thought about...the rest of it. It's difficult. I know more about youkai than people, and the way youkai love is...complicated. I don't know what's different and what's the same. But..."

He chokes, and isn't expecting it. He's terrified, for a second, of flower petals...but no, this is just plain old tears.

Tanuma's scrubbing at the few drying flecks of blood on his hands, looking self-conscious. Natsume fetches the rag from where it's lying over the edge of the basin on the bedside table and helps him start to clean them off on something that won't stain the sheets worse than they've already been stained.

"I'm so...so glad that you're not dying," he says, finally, voice tight, knowing that it's not enough. Waiting for the prickle of vines and leaves and roots, and feeling awful, because this is about Tanuma, not him. "I'm so sorry that I made you go through all of that. I don't...I don't understand why you're even still here," and here's the truth, because it's coming out faster than he can control it. "I don't know how you can feel any of that, and not hate me for what I did to you."

"I don't hate you," Tanuma says simply, and if he's irritated by how basic that is, how far behind Natsume is in understanding him, he doesn't show any sign. "I've never hated you. I've always been curious, and then I've admired you, and been scared for you, and angry I couldn't help you, and...I want to be here for you, Natsume. Always."

When Tanuma puts it like that—less of the hearts and star-crossing and more of the simple, steady practicality of it—Natsume thinks of how little he wants to leave now, how little he wants to leave ever, and smiles.

"I think," he says, and has to take a breath against tears in his throat. "I think I'm okay with that. I want to, to help you, instead of hurting you and making you worry all the time, and I'm not sure I can, but..."

"You're...already telling me so much more than you used to," Tanuma says, and there's a quiet peace in his voice. "I must have...wow. This feels really, really good. I must have really wanted you to know."

Something in Natsume's chest warms at the thought. "I definitely know," he says. "I'm not...I don't know how...ugh, I wish I was better at this."

"You don't have to be," Tanuma says. "I don't want you to fell like you have to be anything you're not. I just want to help you. And have fun with you." He bites his lip with a tiny twinge of what looks like guilt. "And...uh, maybe..."

His fingers find their way into Natsume's. He's blushing, Natsume realizes, and it's more than the leftover flush of fever, if his eyes aren't deceiving him. Then again, he's pretty sure his face is giving him away, too.

He's no good, for someone who's an expert at life-threatening situations, at responding to sudden displays of emotion like this. But he twines Tanuma's fingers in his own, and thinks about what he might do later, when Tanuma is feeling better...and for now scoots forward and sits behind Tanuma again, bracing himself so the boy can lie against him.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs in Tanuma's ear, and Tanuma shivers, and nods.

"Good," Natsume says. "Lean back. You need to rest, after all that. We'll clean up in a little bit, and you can ask your dad to set up a doctor's appointment in a day or two, so you can be sure you're really okay, and we can start looking at homework..."

"Ack, stop it," Tanuma says, half-laughing as he slumps against Natsume's chest. "I'm feeling half-dead already, quit killing my will to live."

Natsume chuckles, breathy and afraid of dislodging him, and strokes one hand absently against Tanuma's hair before wrapping a reassuring arm around his shoulders.

They wake up two hours later, covered in small spots of drying blood and a mess of plant life only Natsume can see, and Tanuma turns and smiles at Natsume, and they feel a flutter in both their chests.

They don't say anything about it, not yet, truth or no, because this growing thing is still fragile, needs to be nurtured, not uprooted. It will take time, and care, and it could grow into something very dangerous indeed.

But none of that stops them from quiet smiles, and getting caught looking at each other for a moment too long. It doesn't stop the lingering goodbye hugs, or cuddling the next two afternoons. And, when Tanuma's deemed well enough to go to school the third day after, it doesn't stop them from walking half the way there holding hands.

#natsumess2017 #natsume-ss #swankitty #natsume yuujinchou #tanunatsu #hanahaki au #h/c #blood cw

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raichana-artblog · 7 years ago

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Merry Christmas!

This is my @natsume-ss for @kinrikumatsu (aka star!)

I wanted to do a super festive secret santa piece and i hope you enjoy!

#natsume yuujinchou #natsumess2017 #Natsume Takashi #Natsume Reiko #nyanko #happy holidays!#merry christmas!#natsumess

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renkocchi · 7 years ago

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The difference someone makes.

My Secret Santa gift for @hakuzo-k ! It’s short cause I didn’t have much time, and there are still things I think need fixing, but i think I like the outcome, and I hope you do too!!

Thanks @natsume-ss for hosting this event!!

Also thanks to @kou-is-sketchy for helping me even though she was so busy. Lots of love! Natsume Takashi could say with confidence that Christmas was not his favorite holiday. He never received presents; he was always excluded from family diners, eating alone in a corner of a room. Happenings like these were but minor examples.

Just recently taken in by the Matoba clan, he wasn’t sure what to expect that year.

Takashi passed by the Clan Head’s office just in time. The man was about to call him.

Taking a sip off his tea, Matoba Seiji signaled the boy to come inside. Takashi closed the door behind him, and, following Matoba’s gestures, he sat on the wooden chair, never raising his head enough to look the most important person in the manor in the eyes.

“Tomorrow is Saturday so you don’t have any homework to do, right?” he asked. The boy nodded. “Good. We have a job. Go get the tools ready, it’s getting dark soon.”

“Uh, yes, Matoba-san.” With a slight, rushed bow, Takashi was out of the room.

To Takashi, Matoba was truly a weird person. Whimsical, too serious or too relaxed –it was as if there was no in between. Sometimes he would speak formally and dress in yukatas and kimonos and suits, but others he’d also joke around and wear sweatshirts and jeans. He showed up suddenly, taking him away from the family he used to stay in. Strict and sometimes even manipulating, but still a kind young man with values… Takashi often found himself wondering what was really going through the Clan Head’s mind.

As the sun was beginning to set, the two entered a black car. The ride was silent. It didn’t take them long to reach their destination, they could have gone on foot too. However, going by car did earn them some time. Plus, it would be hard to walk on mountain paths wearing a kimono.

They got out of the car. While Matoba was talking with the driver, Takashi turned to look around. His breath turned visible as he let out a sigh. His eyes caught a Christmas festival happening below the cliff, in the town. From what he could see, the people seemed to be having fun. There was a big ice rink for teens and adults and a smaller one for children, both of which were surrounded by stalls. He had never been to a Christmas festival before. He was always left behind to watch the house, whichever one he was staying at. He narrowed his eyes. It would be nice to go once…

“What are you looking at, Natsume-kun?”

“Eh? Ah, no, nothing…” stepping back, startled, he lost his balance. Just as he was about to fall down, Matoba managed to catch his arm, pulling him back into place. “I’m, um, I’m sorry. Thank you.”

“No need, you’re a valuable member of our Clan now, aren’t you.” Takashi lowered his head and nodded.

Suddenly, an unknown voice was heard from the entrance of the forest, some steps behind them.

“Who are you bullying this time, Matoba?” the two turned around, one of them wearing a crooked smile, and the other lowering his head even more.

“Natori!” He sounded unexpectedly happy. “Perfect timing.”

“Huh?” The blond man stopped in his tracks, taking off his glasses.

“We’ve got a job up ahead but I just got a call from a client in a more serious situation. Can’t you take care of it for me?”

“Why should I?” he got a bit closer. “I’m not free either, you know. I came here for a job too.”

“Oh come on. A man with powers as yours could surely take two jobs on easily. Or perhaps you’ve gotten weak? One simple exorcism is too much for you?” Matoba’s smile was unfaltering and Takashi was beginning to worry. Matoba was lying to that man but he wasn’t going to give that away. He mustered up as much courage as possible before he spoke up.

“Uh, Matoba-san, shouldn’t we hurry?”

“Where are your manners, Matoba? Won’t you introduce me?”

The Clan Head stayed silent for some moments, before resuming to his ironic, manipulative smile.

“Of course, excuse me. This is Natsume Takashi, a new member of my clan.” Before Takashi could react and greet the man, Natori had already began approaching him.

“Why hello there. I’m Natori Shuuichi. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Full of hesitation, the boy shook his hand.

“Pay him no attention, he’s always like that.” Matoba shrugged as Takashi nodded, slightly amused. It had been a lively couple of minutes and that didn’t bother him at all. “Well, now that you know each other, Natori. Will you do what I asked?”

“Fine, I will. But you’ll owe me one.”

“Sure.” Matoba passed Natori the piece of paper with the information and walked back into the car. Takashi followed after he greeted the man.

“Matoba-san, why did you cancel the job?” he asked with a low voice.

“You will understand soon, Natsume-kun.”

The car pulled over next to a truck and the both of them got off. The street was illuminated by Christmas lights and the boy’s ears were filled with cheerful voices and laughter. He moved behind the truck and let an unintentional gasp escape from his mouth.

“Won’t you come?” without him noticing, Matoba had already gotten a few steps closer to the festival’s gates than he was.

“Uh, but, Matoba-san, the job was more important than this… we should go.”

“And let the newest member of my Clan look at such a simple setting with eyes full of longing? I don’t think so.” Takashi was at a loss of words. “Now come, this ice rink is the biggest in this area.” He almost froze in his steps when Matoba actually took his hand and dragged him through the gates of the festival.

“But, uh, Matoba-san, I don’t know how to skate…” he did his best to protest, even though he had to admit to himself that he was pretty happy with the fact that he was in a festival like that.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

Without any other words, they got to the center of the festival and put on the ice skating shoes they were offered.

“How are we going to do this with kimonos on?” Takashi expressed his hesitation before entering the ice rink, hiding a bit of exitement and agony.

“Ah, well, easy peasy.” Matoba didn’t sound too confident. He clinged on the wooden railings, his legs shaking, trying to keep his balance. The worst thing was, Takashi was in the same sorry state.

But, he didn’t really mind. He did want to expirience something like that for once and… well, he imagined it wouldn’t be that bad to try and do something he wanted, for once. Laughing, he tried to catch up to Matoba.

“Didn’t… didn’t you say you knew how to ska-” he slipped and landed on the ice, pulling Matoba’s kimono and dragging him down with him.

“I, uh… sorry.” without him realizing it, Takashi was smiling. Matoba could see it though, and what the man felt at the time was pure satisfaction. maybe a bit of joy, too. the people skating around them all kept staring at them, a few tried to help them up.

“Turns out I didn’t know how to skate.” Matoba smiled, not ironically or sarcastically, for once. “But wasn’t this more fun than actually skating?” Takashi smiled back and gave the man a deep nod.

“I guess it was, Matoba-san.”

…Maybe… he thought, …Christmas won’t be such a terible expirience from now on…

With a warmness of hope in his chest and a constant smile on his face, one he didn’t even realize he had, he continued on enjoying the fesival with Matoba.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsumess2017 #matonatsu #natsume takashi #matoba seiji #mine #my writing

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