Warning: Spoilers through volume 15 (particularly through Chapter 62).

Warning 2: The few places that contain translations from the manga are my own translation, and thus may differ (hopefully only subtly) from the official translation if any. I'm too stubborn to go read the English language manga and find out.

Disclaimer: I wish I was half as good at writing loneliness, isolation, and the frustration of feeling unable to connect with people you care about as Midorikawa Yuki is. Needless to say, Natsume Yuujincho is not mine.

# # # Connection # # #

Since I was very young, I sometimes see strange things. Things that most other people can't see. I asked my father about them once, and he told me that they were called ayakashi, that most people could not see them, that to associate with them was to bring down nothing but misfortune and disaster on both yourself and everyone you know, and that if I knew what was good for me I would ignore them, hope they would do the same to me, and never speak of this again.

When I was not much older than that, I discovered a birthmark in the shape of a gecko on my ankle. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, spending hours the day I discovered it just staring and poking at it. I was perhaps a bit confused that I had never noticed such a striking birthmark before, but it was so cool that I paid that sense of disquiet no mind. Until the next day, when I noticed that I no longer had a birthmark on my ankle – but had one that looked almost identical in size and shape, but in a different position, on my left arm, which I knew for a fact had been bare the day before.

In obedience to my father, I told no one about it; when around other people I pretended it did not exist as well as I could, though I would sometimes start if I saw it crawl down one of my arms out of the corner of my eyes. But of course, I had by then developed a reputation as a sensitive and high-strung child, prone to jumping at shadows. This, I'm sure most people assumed, was simply more of the same.

Still, I could not bring myself to obey my father completely. While I saw the sense in pretending ignorance in front of other people who could not see what was so clear to me, neither could I leave alone the fact that one of these ayakashi – for a moving birthmark could hardly be anything else – had somehow crawled inside my skin.

It was around then that I began to truly internalize my father's other words. My mother had died – not long after the gecko appeared under my skin, due to one of those ill-defined illnesses that seemed to have had no source and just caused her to slowly weaken further (I'd heard the rumors that she'd never quite recovered from bearing me) and eventually fade away. One of those illnesses that had the adults of our clan whisper about curses, and about high-strung children who saw more than they should (I was perhaps good at keeping secrets for a child, but I was also surrounded by perceptive adults who knew the signs to look for), when they thought I wasn't around to hear.

My father seemed, to my young eyes, to be visited with far more misfortune than the fathers of most of the other children I knew, though I had never seen any ayakashi overtly causing it. And I? I had trouble making and keeping friends, partly due to my standoffishness, partly due to the other children also thinking of me as high-strung. I knew better than to tell them about the ayakashi I saw, so I avoided being branded a liar, but I couldn't entirely avoid being startled when they popped out of nowhere in front of me. And now to top that off, I had one of those same ayakashi living inside my skin.

Was all this misfortune, I started to wonder, truly due to ayakashi? Father had told me not to involve myself with them, but how I could avoid involving myself with them – and bringing down on the heads of myself and my family even more inevitable misfortune – when one was with me at all times?

So I studied, using any means I could think of to acquire any materials I could find that might tell me more about the ayakashi – more about the gecko that crawled across every inch of my skin except my left foot – thinking, foolishly I now know, that if I could somehow get rid of this sign of misfortune that crawled all over me, I could somehow get rid of the misfortune that afflicted our family as well.

It was during that period that I met Hiiragi for the first time – though she was of course not called 'Hiiragi' back then – and despite my promises to my father and myself, found myself drawn to her, this quiet, kind woman in a horned mask with a bloody hand that I bandaged because I could not bear to see her hurt. Almost despite myself I found myself confessing one of the thoughts I'd never shared with anyone before or since – that if I was such a harbinger of misfortune, I wished I too had been exorcised before I could do any harm. She called me 'just a normal child', and told me that humans did not have the power to bring down misfortune on others. She called me 'kind'. Even then, I wondered. Now, I know for a fact that if ever I was once 'kind', I have certainly long since left that trait behind me.

I never did discover a way to exorcise that gecko, and my preoccupation with my esoteric studies (and my irrational need to hide them from everyone lest my father find out that I was disobeying him) caused me to drift away from and eventually lose the few friends I had made in the first place. But I did learn a great many other very interesting things in the process.

Such as the fact that the Natori name was in fact very well known in the exorcism community – had once been a great house, perhaps not quite on par with the Matoba (another name I learned then and had more than ample cause, later, to remember), but not that far off.

Such as the fact that the Natori had stopped being exorcists some time ago because those who could see stopped being born into the family.

Such as the fact that, historically, ayakashi tended to pay special attention to those who used to be able to see and now could not, their lives often so long that they could not properly distinguish between one member of a family and another, such that it seemed to many of them like someone they had known suddenly stopping paying attention to them.

Such as the fact that exorcists, as a group, existed at all.

And it was then, at the tender age of – was I six, perhaps? Maybe seven? The years tend to run together more than they really ought, given my still comparatively small span of years – that I decided what I was going to become when I grew up. Or really, what I was going to start working on becoming right then, and become as soon as I possibly could, whether I was grown up by then or not.

Father might wish for me to simply ignore what frequently appeared in front of my eyes – the only way he could protect his only son from a threat that he could not see – to hide myself away and hope that that would be enough to avoid the misfortune that had been visited upon our family ever since we stopped being able to see. Even then, I suppose I probably recognized that that was probably the safer route to take.

But I've always been a bit stubborn and had a bit of a temper. Far better, I decided, to confront these monsters who had nothing better to do than cause problems for my family, and confront them on their own terms – on exorcist terms – than to simply hide and hope they go away. At last, another Natori had been born who could see. I'd resurrect the family name, and spend my life protecting people from the sort of misfortune that I was so familiar with. Make it so that no one else had to live with the constant uncertainty that struck me – early on, almost cripplingly strong – whenever I caught sight of the gecko that was a constant companion whose intentions, whose effect on me, I had no way of knowing.

Father, of course, was not happy, once he learned. But of course, there was little he could do to dissuade me, and even if he forbade me outright, we both knew that my mind was set. I'd find ways around any restrictions he set. So he reluctantly gave his blessing and gave me access to a cache of Natori books that I had never realized existed. Set aside, he explained, in case there ever was a scion of the Natori family who could see.

Years passed, days occupied with school, nights with studying and practice.

Around the time I reached high school, I had pointed out to me that my standoffishness was now being seen as 'cool', the jumpiness of my childhood now little more than a fading memory, and that that and my looks had generated quite a following from the female half of the student body. I additionally realized that somewhere along the lines, I had become quite good at acting – not in big ways, but in pretending I didn't see things, that I wasn't startled when the ayakashi jumped out at me, that I didn't notice where the gecko roamed on my body – and decided to try an experiment. I began acting the way I had noticed that other popular boys tended to act: typically laid-back, serious when the situation warranted it, a little bit arrogant (but always deservedly so), a little bit vain. Instead of avoiding the spotlight, I started actively seeking it out.

My experiment succeeded far beyond my expectations. From no friends, I suddenly had far too many. I had always thought that having one's shoe locker overflowing with love letters was one of those exaggerations for comedic effect that only happened in anime until it happened to me one day – my locker was not completely packed, but certainly full enough that when I first opened it up enough letters came pouring out to give that impression. For a little while it seemed I had a new girlfriend every other week, though none of them ever lasted – I was always, in the end, far more interested in my studies and my slowly progressing entry into the exorcists' world than in any individual girl, and in the end none of them were interested in a boyfriend who had no time for them – especially one who refused to tell them what was taking up all his free time, because, of course, none of them could see, either.

This, then, was the solution I'd been looking for, to solve the one problem I'd discovered with my plan to become an exorcist: although it did pay sometimes, it rarely paid well (at least monetarily – favors and gratitude are a currency of their own, but one less measurable and far less predictable). Probably not enough to live off, and even if it was, I was lazy and selfish: I did not want to have to worry about where my next meal was coming from, or feel pressured to decide which jobs to take based on how much they would pay as a result. I could probably have stayed at home and lived off the family money – the Natori family is not precisely poor – but I was too prideful (and too sick of the constant arguments with my father, who may have bowed to my wishes but went out of his way to make sure I knew he wasn't happy about it).

But if I became an actor as well – I could to a certain extent set my own schedule (at least once I became well-known, I never had any doubt in my mind that I would be), and although acting was not the steadiest or largest of paychecks, I'd be able to make do reasonably well. Add in the occasional windfall from exorcism and I'd definitely be set.

Besides, I found that I really liked acting. I liked pulling on a new personality, wrapping myself in it like a blanket on a chilly day – this fictional character with his own fictional worries and cares, who never had to worry about whether that balloon he saw drifting off in the distance was really a balloon or simply a balloon-shaped ayakashi, one which if pointed out would cause people to look at him funnily, unable to see what was so clear as to be indistinguishable from reality to him.

(This is not, of course, to say that I suddenly stopped being able to see ayakashi when I stepped on set. The balloon-shaped ayakashi; the many varied other ayakashi that sometimes came to gawk but thankfully rarely to cause trouble; the gecko still crawling around underneath my skin; they all still existed. But an actor is expected to follow a script; anything not in the script is probably ignorable. There is no such script for real life.)

I liked the feeling of having many adoring eyes on me. Liked also the fact that none of them could see the sign of my difference, crawling around as plain as daylight. I will freely admit that the 'a little bit vain' part of my outward-facing personality is not an act, but for a vain man I spend surprisingly little time in front of a mirror. I have no desire to see what I know is there any more often than I'm forced to, and it always seems to sense when I am looking in a mirror and head straight for my face.

So I became an exorcist while still in high school – young, though not the youngest I've met – did a number of exorcisms, collected a couple of shiki, began taking larger and more complex jobs. Became fairly well-known in the exorcist community, initially more because of my name than because of anything I myself had done, but I was happy to take that and convert it into yet more opportunities to prove myself – to prove that I had the skills and power to back up my name.

So I became an actor, friendly and thoughtful and a little bit vain; occasionally made the odd request for a break or for a shift in filming schedule, but on the whole a pleasure to work with. And just look how he draws in the female demographic, it's almost like magic. (For the record, I investigated – if my attractiveness is in any way changed or magnified by my … other powers, it's not in a way that anything I found can tell. It appears to simply be another of my inborn talents.)

And then I met Natsume.

It had not been a good day, honestly. A human-looking ayakashi – indistinguishable from human at the distance I was standing – had been wandering around fiddling with things, and I'd finally lost my temper and yelled at him to get off the set … only to find everyone staring at the rare sight of me yelling – and apparently having lost my mind, too, since there was no one there. (In hindsight, the fact that no one else had gotten angry at him for messing with their stuff should have been my first clue.) So I had begged overtiredness and wandered off into the grass to take a nap and hopefully cool my head.

Then Natsume tripped over me.

I still don't know how I managed to regain my feet in time to catch him – at the time, I was too busy cursing myself for a fool, for now to compound my shouting at nothing, if anyone was looking my direction (which, the downside of popularity, usually at least a few people were) they'd now see me clutching at nothing (fairly heavy nothing, as well – my shoulder was a bit sore for a couple days after) in the bargain. For there was something about him – the feeling of power around him was strong enough and wild enough that I initially had no doubt in my mind that this was yet another ayakashi.

And yet. As I set him on his feet and uttered some vague pleasantries – I no longer really remember what I said, either, just that it was quite thoroughly forgettable – I couldn't help but think that while there was something about his eyes that made them look too old for his face (another point in the ayakashi column), his stuttered response seemed … human. Perhaps.

It was as I turned away that he said the one word that almost completely convinced me that he was just another ayakashi, if perhaps seemingly more harmless than most I met: "Tattoo." That he was another ayakashi seemed infinitely more likely than that I had by chance, literally run into another human who could see, one I had never met before (and by then, what with one thing and another, I'd probably met the majority of the well-known exorcists in Japan). And yet. If he was another ayakashi, wouldn't he recognize that it was no ordinary tattoo, but another of his kind that had made its home in my skin?

… On balance, I am very glad that I decided to give in to curiosity and find out just who, and what, this mysterious boy was. I am glad to have met Natsume, though I don't know that he can always (or ever) say the same of me.

"Master?"

"Yes, Hiiragi?" I look up, to see her peering off into the distance.

"It appears that break time is almost over. You should probably head back to the set."

"Ah. Thanks." I lever myself to my feet, shading my eyes as I look in that direction as well, though it only takes a brief glance at my watch to see that Hiiragi is, as usual, correct. I smile at her, already pulling my actor persona back around myself like a second skin. (This one, hopefully, without a second gecko birthmark-that-isn't.) "Whatever would I do without you?"

I cannot see her face – never have, except for that one brief glimpse of an eye and a small wedge of pale forehead that day that she became my third shiki – but familiarity and the tone to her voice clue me into the fact that she is about as impressed with my act as Natsume – and honestly, probably buys into it even less. "Hire a real secretary, perhaps?"

# # # # #

I get home and collapse on the couch, left arm flung over the back of the couch, right arm shading my eyes. So tired …

This latest director is – well, if I was not who I am, I might call him a 'monster' or a 'demon', but I prefer to reserve that sort of language for those who actually are. I am sure the end result he turns out will be worth the trouble – among his more annoying qualities is a level of perfectionism that leaves the rest of us striving to keep up. Well. I, of course, am always perfect. … But the same cannot be said of the people I am working with, so the number of re-takes (endless) required ends up the same regardless.

This couch was an excellent purchase. I am very glad that I decided to buy it. It's so much more convenient to have a nice comfortable place to collapse without having to go all the way back to my room. And it's good for entertaining guests, too.

For a moment, Natsume's form floats into my mind's eye, sitting here on this couch looking uncomfortable and embarrassed, afraid that he is imposing where he is unwanted, so clearly that for a moment I wonder if I open my eyes, if he will still be here.

Then light tapping distracts me from my daydreams. Probably just as well. So I focus my attention instead on the sounds of Hiiragi puttering around the room, doing her usual checks of the area.

"Everything seems clean." Hiiragi says few minutes later, sounding ever so slightly disgruntled and closer by than I had expected.

I lower my arm and crack open one eye. She's sitting on the coffee table, legs daintily crossed, mask turned towards me. I consider telling her to stop sitting on the coffee table – but then, it's not like I haven't put my feet up on it many times before (which, given it's Hiiragi, I'm sure she wouldn't hesitate to point out to me). And it's also not like I really care. "You sound almost like you're disappointed that no one is attempting to curse me."

"Well, I am bored." She replies – as though that's a good reason. "You've been so preoccupied with this current show of yours that you haven't taken any new jobs in weeks. And it's not like the sort of halfwit greenhorn exorcists that think trying to curse you through your answering machine or mailbox is a good idea would be any challenge to either you or to me."

"Haha … you have a point, I suppose. Though you're usually more cautious. I find myself wondering if you've been hanging around with Natsume's –" as always, I struggle with what to call him. Pet? Bodyguard? Friend? None of them quite fit. "—companion a bit too much recently."

"I may not be at the level of the great Madara," Hiiragi huffs, sounding vaguely insulted, "But I'm certainly more than capable of handling anything those idiots try and throw at you."

"… Madara?" The question slips out before I fully consider whether I want to ask it or not, and I close my eye again briefly; I'm clearly more tired than I thought. Still, it's not a name I've heard before, I don't think.

Hiiragi pauses, and not for the first time I wonder what's going on behind her mask. Maybe if I could see her face, I'd have less of a hard time understanding her. On the other hand, even though neither of us typically wears a physical mask, I can never seem to make myself properly understood when I talk to Natsume – we always seem to be talking past each other. So perhaps in the end it wouldn't matter.

Whatever is going on behind her mask, she eventually shrugs. "You didn't think that 'Nyanko-sensei' was that cat-bun's real name, did you?" Another pause. "… Madara likely isn't either. But it's the name by which he's known in these parts."

"I see." Not for the first time, I wonder about Natsume and his – companion. For all their arguments, for all that they don't act much like bodyguard and guarded, the pig-cat usually comes through when he's really needed. But they don't seem to have formed any sort of pact – certainly I cannot see Natsume forming the shiki pact, nor can I honestly see his companion willingly becoming a servant. Yet with no pact, what is it that holds them together? I can't see Natsume being the sort to promise things that he doesn't think he can fulfill, but neither can I see his companion being willing to work for free.

For a moment, I am reminded of the one time I saw Natsume's companion in a form other than his typical pig-cat form or his huge beast form – the human girl he called 'Reiko'. For some reason, the name seemed familiar to me at the time, and it still niggles at me oddly. I feel like I remember hearing it somewhere.

… Ah, that was it – that first exorcist party that I brought Natsume to (the only one that I, personally, have involved him in, and regret even now, curse the Matoba clan for curious, interfering bastards anyway), when he encountered Nanase-san. She had asked him if he knew a Natsume Reiko, and he had said that she was his grandmother.

And when I think of it, there really is a quite striking resemblance between Natsume and the teenage girl that his companion briefly disguised himself as. They could easily pass as brother and sister; grandson and shadow of his departed grandmother – if I recall correctly, he also said that she was no longer around, that he didn't know precisely how she'd passed – if she could see as well, it may very well have been the doing of some ayakashi.

So, then. Knew Natsume's grandmother well enough to be able to take her form at will, even decades later. Perhaps this, then, was the reason – ayakashi did sometimes attach themselves to humans, after all. Nor was it unknown for them to pass positive feelings for one person on to their descendants as well as the negative feelings that were often the source of trouble for the more venerable exorcist clans.

"Master?"

I crack my eye open again. Hiiragi is leaning slightly forward now, as though peering at my face, and her voice sounds ever so slightly concerned. I make an interrogative noise to acknowledge that I heard her, but cannot be bothered to form a complete sentence.

"You're exhausted." She sounds vaguely accusatory. "You shouldn't let that director treat you this way. Not if it starts interfering with your ability to work."

I huff a laugh and remind her. "Acting is my job, too. And it pays the bills far better than exorcism does."

"I suppose." She says, gracelessly. "Particularly recently." Then falls abruptly silent, as though feeling like she has said too much. Perhaps she has; certainly Urihime and Sasago would not talk back to me this way except, perhaps, on the subject of my dignity (which all three of them share entirely too high a respect for) – though it's nothing more or less than the truth.

"… Do you mind?" I ask. And wonder if I would have even thought to ask, before I met Natsume, or cared about the answer. I wonder if I care about the answer even now – Hiiragi seems just as determined as Natsume to think of me as 'kind', but she especially should know by now that to think that is to doom herself to disappointment.

She pauses again, tilting her head as she considers. "No … and yes." She finally replies.

"… Well that was enlightening."

"I wasn't done yet." She sounds chiding. I wonder if other exorcists' shiki talk back to them like this. I wonder if I should be sterner with my own – with Hiiragi especially, given how more frequently she takes liberties than the other two. But it's kind of nice, to be talked back to. I can close my eyes and pretend that she's just another human friend, one who can see the same view as I can.

I wonder if this means that I'm lonely.

"I don't mind that you've stopped taking as many jobs that are a bit on the dubious side. I may be your shiki and I may be bound – and gladly so – to do as you will, but it is … easier, to target those of my kind who are clearly beyond the pale.

"I do worry, though, that you are perhaps letting Natsume have too much control over the jobs you take, even when he is not there – when there is no chance that he will be there – to approve or disapprove. It is … not like you, to be so swayed by what another person thinks – or even just what you think he will think."

"I don't –" I start to reflexively reply, but then sense catches up with me. When she feels strongly enough about something to actually say something, Hiiragi is rarely wrong. The least I can do is give her words the attention they deserve. And when I really start to think about it … when was the last time that I took an exorcism job without at least at the back of my mind considering – how close is this to where Natsume lives? If I left it alone, could it grow into a problem that would involve Natsume or those he cares about? Would Natsume approve? (Or at least be willing to help, which is about as close to approval as I've ever seen him get when it comes to the work of an exorcist.)

I would theatrically slump lower in my seat, but that's made difficult by the fact that I am already lying down. So I simply sigh instead. "… You may have a point."

"I know you don't have many friends, and I know that he in particular is important to you." She says, quietly. I consider retorting that I have plenty of friends, and plenty more admirers – but true friends? She and I would both know I was being disingenuous. "I just don't want you to lose yourself."

I remain silent. She's more right than I care to admit. I wonder when it was that worrying about Natsume became such a core part of my life. I wonder why it doesn't bother me more, that I treat this child (and though only a handful of years separate us, he truly seems so very young) with such regard and consideration, I who long ago backed away from forming strong bonds with others – partly through circumstance, because it's difficult to be truly honest with someone who cannot see, and difficult among exorcists to leave behind the baggage that the Natori name carries along with it; but partly also because it's troublesome, to care so much about another person.

If you were to become an exorcist, my heart would explode with worry. I told Natsume … but really, that was just avoiding the point. What he is now – the way he tries to mediate between humans and ayakashi as though he truly does not see a difference between them – is infinitely more dangerous than mere exorcism would be. At least if he were an exorcist he'd have a larger body of tools, and perhaps he'd be more willing to use the ones he does have to protect himself.

"I don't understand him." I admit. "I'd like to know what brought him to this point. How he could have remained so … convinced of the goodness in ayakashi and humans alike, when I'm sure he hasn't been treated terribly well by either."

Hiiragi is silent for a long moment. "Perhaps it is that kindness has been so rare in his life that he clings to it wherever – and from whomever – he finds it. We ayakashi can be kind, sometimes, when it suits us to be. And perhaps he has had misfortune visited on him equally by humans and ayakashi as well, so he sees no reason to distinguish between in that way, either."

"Perhaps."

"… Or perhaps he is simply far too good-natured and easy to take advantage of." She finishes, again sounding disgruntled.

"Haha. Now of that, there's no doubt."

"A bit too much like another person I can think of."

If I could be bothered to gather the motivation, I would glare. "Don't start with the 'kind' thing again, please."

"Your wish is my desire, Master." She makes a seated bow with a flourish nearly as good as I myself could do, voice empty of sarcasm though I suspect if I could see behind her mask, she would be smirking. Of my three shiki, Hiiragi is by far the best actress when she puts her mind to it.

… I wonder what it says about me, that a part of me wishes I could see her on stage in truth, acting alongside me. I suspect she'd be good at it – far better than many other actresses I've shared the silver screen with, to be sure.

… Silly, pointless dreaming. This is what comes of being too attached. At least I am not as bad off as that one girl Natsume and I stopped (again, it all seems to come back around to Natsume) – trying to wake an ayakashi far beyond her ability to control in some sort of futile attempt to get back at Matoba. I put her in the care of the people back at the main house – none of them can see, either, but they're all well-acquainted with the concept of ayakashi and know some basic forms of protection. She, and they, should be safe enough. I should go see how she's doing now that she's had some time to recover. It's been a while since I've been back to the main house, in general.

I am not terribly good at being the head of a clan, particularly not one with as venerable a name as Natori. But in terms of those who can see – which, rightly or wrongly, trumps just about every other qualification in our clan – I am all my clan has, so they – and I – make do.

I try to imagine, for a moment, what I would do if I were in that poor girl's place – if one of Matoba's half-trained, too powerful for him to properly control shiki took a bite out of Urihime or Sasago. Or Hiiragi. Or Natsume. And while I knew I would not be particularly happy, I am surprised by the depths of white-hot rage that flashes through my entire body, as though every cell is screaming "This cannot be forgiven."

And yet. Even so. I do not think I would do as that girl did, resorting to … if not forbidden, then certainly rather frowned upon arts to release something with just the hope that it would choose to go after my enemy instead of myself. That's just … stupid. And unsatisfying, to be honest. If I were to go after Matoba with murder in mind I would want the pleasure of strangling him myself.

Haha. Speaking of things of which Natsume would not approve.

I close my eyes again and drift for a while, thinking of nothing in particular. Eventually, soft sounds to my right – Hiiragi again, standing – attract some portion of my wandering attention. I crack an eye open again, to see her hovering over me, mask perhaps two feet above my head, no more. "Am I going to be able to get you to move to your proper bed?" She asks, again with the chiding. (And why, when I was first starting out, did no one think to warn me that some ayakashi are terrible mother hens?) "Or should I just bring you a blanket to protect you from the chill and just let you get an awful crick in your back and neck sleeping out here?"

"I'm not going to catch a chill." I protest, irritated. "I don't have such a weak constitution as that, nor am I prone to over-exerting myself like some others we could name."

Not just Natsume, but also that friend of his – Tanuma, was his name? – who rushed to Natsume's aid with no thought for himself, even when his constitution is so weak that the youki filling Omibashira's mansion (which was certainly fairly concentrated, but not an unusual quantity for a gathering of that size) was enough to overcome him. Stubborn, no sense of self-preservation – Natsume seemed to think that it was somehow his fault that Tanuma was acting that way, but I wonder. I honestly do. They seemed a lot alike, those two.

"That's what you said last time." Hiiragi says, voice a mixture of irritation and amusement, then moves out of my immediate field of vision. I could sit up to watch her go, but honestly I can't be bothered to expend the energy.

I wonder if I would have done as much for him, had I known Natsume back when I was his age.

I sometimes wish – though never seriously and never aloud, because although I do not believe that there are any ayakashi truly capable of granting wishes, I wouldn't put it past some of them to use that as a hook to pull me into trouble I don't need – that I had known Natsume back in high school.

Perhaps then I could have been a true help to him, rather than bumbling around the way I am now, probably doing him more harm than good the way I seem to always drag him farther into the world of exorcists whenever we meet, despite the fact that he does not wish to become one nor, on sober reflection, would I ever wish that of him. Perhaps I, too, would be different – I admit I cannot really see how, as set as I was in my planned path in life even at that age, but it's certainly also true that knowing him now has changed me, for better or for worse, even though I am older, I like to think wiser, and certainly far more set in my ways than I was at that age.

A comfortable weight settles across my body; I realize my eyes have at some point slipped closed again without my noticing and re-open them. The comforter from my bed – probably the most comfortable blanket I own – is spread across my body, Hiiragi once again standing over me.

Satisfied that all is well, I allow my eyes to slip back closed. "Thanks, Hiiragi."

She huffs. "Thank me in the morning when you can hardly move from the pain in your back and neck."

"… I'm not that old."

"That's what you said last time, too. I reserve the right to tell you 'I told you so'."

"… … Good night, Hiiragi."

A pause, and then gently, "… Good night, Master."

# # # # #

"Hiiragi?"

"Hm?" She asked, turning to give me her full attention.

Even if Urihime learns anything about this dangerous thing that Natsume owns – or that the ayakashi seem to think he does – assuming she don't already know about it, given the way Sasago seemed to be trying to deflect me from the topic – will she actually tell me?

Would you?

The shiki bond … encourages honesty, though as with all such things there are ways to get around it for the truly determined. About the only absolute guarantee of truth would be to write the ayakashi's true name into the bond. And even if it were not a forbidden art, I would not do that to any ayakashi I formed a pact with. The benefits are just not worth the price.

… The way Natsume's face turned pale when I mentioned that using an ayakashi's true name in a pact is forbidden worries me. I do not think he had done so himself – I simply cannot see him associating with any ayakashi in so restrictive away as even a standard shiki pact, much less the forbidden art – but perhaps he has inherited or in some other way had something fall into his hands that contains some of those forbidden true names. He's certainly strong enough to use even something that he himself did not create.

For some reason, I am reminded of that potentially disastrous hot springs trip – as though I had any right to tell Natsume he wouldn't have to lie, when I lie as easy as I breathe – and that one brief glimpse of Natsume, shining with the power he normally chains inside. That strange comment of his, that I dismissed as just him trying to shoulder too much as usual, that it was his fault that that ayakashi had gone on a rampage.

… Perhaps, having had this incredibly dangerous object fall into his hands (for just the thought of that much potential power concentrated in a single place makes me shiver), Natsume is giving their names back to the ayakashi contained within. The thought is almost completely foreign to me – I almost can't think it, it seems so fantastical – and yet. And yet. It seems like a very Natsume thing to do.

Stop speculating and jumping to conclusions. Wait and watch, to hear what information Urihime comes back with. Decide then what you'll do with it. There's no point in leaping in with only wild guesses to back yourself up. … Whatever it is, he's lived with it this long. Try to have some faith in your friend, even if faith is almost as foreign to you as friendship is.

"Master?" Hiiragi is still waiting patiently to hear why I called her name.

… In the end, I suppose I'm too much of a coward.

"Nothing."

"Ah." She turns back to whatever she was doing, and I turn back to the book I have been pretending to read – though I cannot honestly recall where on the page I had been or the contents of the last several pages.

"… Master?" This time it is Hiiragi calling out to me, and I turn to her and raise an eyebrow. She knows me well enough to understand this is permission to speak, yet hesitates for a moment more. "Why …" She clears her throat. "When you sent Urihime out to search for information about this thing that Natsume may hold that may be dangerous, why did you not send me?" Another brief silence, weighted by her question, and then she adds more quietly, "… Do you not trust me?"

I trust you too much.

I fear it would break my heart if you lied to me.

… I don't want to know if I really do care that much.

"I didn't send Sasago, either." I say, deliberately lightly. "And I wanted to keep at least one of you near me, even if I ended up having other errands that needed running. I'd hardly be a proper exorcist if I didn't have at least one shiki to order around, would I? Appearances must be maintained."

"… You're sparkling again." She says dryly, but does not press further, for which I am thankful.

I will protect Natsume. With my own hands, if necessary. With my own investigations, if necessary. I want to trust you. I wonder if that, too, is due to Natsume's influence. … I wonder if I would have you in my life at all, if not for Natsume.

I want to trust you, and Urihime, and Sasago. I want to trust that you will help me to protect Natsume from whatever trouble he's gotten into this time. But in the end, I will do it whether you help me or not.

Movement out of the corner of my eye. Because I am alone – except Hiiragi, of course – I allow myself to look down, to see what the gecko is doing now. It crawls down my left arm, spiraling, then settles itself around my wrist, head and tail touching. A small smile tugs at my mouth despite myself, as I think back on that first time Natsume and I met; that first time he smiled.

I will protect that smile of his.

Even if in the end, it means I must lose his friendship to do it.

# # # # #

… Using writing this story as an excuse to re-read some of my favorite chapters of Natsume Yuujincho taught me a couple things I hadn't really realized before: (a) No matter how many times I see it, the juxtaposition of sparkle-and-roses Natori and seriously-why-am-I-still-friends-with-him Natsume is always hilarious. Always. (b) Natori really does have all the pieces he needs to put together just what it is that Natsume holds. At the end of the arc with Kai, it's even implied that he might have seen the yuujincho outright.

Given the fallible memory of both people and authors, I suspect the actual reveal will be more dramatic than him just putting the pieces together. (Because what would be the fun in that?) I am very interested to see where things will go now that he's no longer content to sit back and wait for Natsume to be willing to tell him.

… Whyyyyyyyyy doesn't volume 16 come out until July?

29 January 2013