Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tanuma Kaname winced as he exited the art museum. The mild headache he had been struggling to ignore for the last hour spiked as he squinted into the early afternoon sun. I wonder if there are any youkai around here. It feels a bit like one of those headaches. He sighed and rubbed at his temples. They’d been getting a lot better lately, his headaches, barring the sort of overexposure he’d experienced at Omibashira’s mansion. He’d started to hope that maybe he really was building up a tolerance to the sort of low level youkai activity that seemed so common at home.

I wish Natsume was here to ask. He bit back another sigh. This trip would have been more fun in general, with Natsume. Unfortunately, his friend was somewhere else in the city with his own class, visiting a completely different museum.

“You all right?” Kaname blinked and looked up. Kitamoto lingered halfway down the stairs, looking up at him, as the rest of their class gathered around their homeroom teacher at the base.

Kaname smiled, dropping his hands. “Yes, I’m fine. The sun was just a bit … unexpected.”

Kitamoto didn’t look like he entirely believed him, but he just nodded and fell silently into step as Kaname caught up.

The instructor shot them a look as they finally rejoined the class – he had always been a bit on the strict side – and cleared his throat. “Don’t forget that your worksheets are due by tonight. I’ll be collecting them after dinner. Does everyone have their materials for the next museum?”

Kaname quickly double-checked his bag, and was relieved to see everything where it should be. He had thought he remembered packing everything that morning, but his headache was making it increasingly hard to think.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Kitamoto asked, and Kaname guiltily tucked the hand that had snuck back up to rub at his forehead again into his pocket.

“Fine.” He said shortly, and immediately regretted it. He stopped, closed his eyes, then tried for a properly apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just a bit of a headache. I get them sometimes.”

“Well, say something if it gets worse.” Kitamoto said. “If you’re going to faint in front of me again, I’d like a little forewarning.”

“I’ll be sure to aim for your arms.” He said dryly, reflexively stepping out of range of Kitamoto’s playful retaliatory punch. “It’s not anywhere near that bad, though. Just irritating.”

“If you’re sure.” Kaname threw him a look that bordered on a glare, and Kitamoto backed off, grinning. “Just a question!”

Their instructor finished speaking – somehow having missed their exchange – and they started walking again. Kaname hoped he hadn’t said anything else important.

I really wish Natsume was here. Although the initial stab of pain from the sun had subsided back into the previous dull background pounding from before, either said pounding was getting steadily worse or it was getting harder to ignore. If there is something around here, it must be really big. Even Omibashira’s mansion didn’t affect me this badly at first. And while he doubted he’d be any help against something that large, he’d at least like to know that someone who might was around.

… Though I wouldn’t want to wish that sort of confrontation on Natsume. He turned his eyes away from the class; their bobbing heads were beginning to make him feel a bit sick to his stomach. Maybe I’m glad that he’s not here, after all.

Kitamoto nudged him, and the suddenness of the motion almost threw him off-balance. “Hey. Think a drink would help?” His friend asked, and Kaname followed his gaze to a vending machine on the other side of the street.

“Maybe.” Kaname pursed his lips. If it really was youkai-induced, the chances of drinking something having any impact at all were slight. But … “It couldn’t hurt.” He raised a hand. “Sensei?”

Their teacher stopped and turned around, and the class as a whole ground to a halt, turning to look at him as well. “Yes, Tanuma-kun?”

With all those eyes on him, he was having a hard time remembering what he had wanted to say, or why he had thought saying it was a good idea. Thankfully – though he hated admitting it – Kitamoto spoke up. “Could we go get something to drink?” He gestured at the vending machine. “Tanuma’s feeling a bit sick.”

Their instructor looked irritated at the interruption, but waved them off. “Go on.”

“Thank you.” Kaname said quietly. They backtracked a short distance to the nearest cross-walk. Happily, it wasn’t long before the light turned. “Sorry about that.” He said to Kitamoto – quietly, as he noticed that a couple of their classmates had followed the two of them, apparently deciding that getting something to drink sounded like a good idea.

“Don’t worry about it.” The other boy said dismissively. He flashed a smile. “I’m getting thirsty, too. Lunch was quite a while ago.”

Kaname eyed his friend, but decided against saying anything else. For all that Kitamoto often faded into the background when Nishimura was around, he could be surprisingly stubborn.

He did, however, make a point of buying two cans – mixed fruit juice for himself, and a can coffee of a brand that he’d seen Kitamoto drinking once or twice. He tossed the second to Kitamoto, then cleared out of the way for the next person in line, a girl with shoulder-length black hair held back by a red headband, who sat halfway across the room from him and whose name he couldn’t quite remember. Yama … something?

Kitamoto caught the can coffee, looked between it and Kaname, rolled his eyes, opened it, and started to drink. Kaname smiled and followed suit. The mixed sweet and tanginess struck his tongue with nearly the same force as those first rays of sun before, though far more pleasantly. Surprisingly, his headache actually did seem to be letting up slightly. Maybe just because the taste is a pleasant distrac –

Pain.

He crumpled to the ground, holding his head. Dimly, as though through a long tunnel, he heard the clatter of the half-empty can as it bounced across the ground, and the sound of a concerned male voice – Kitamoto’s? It would have to be, but even voice recognition was beyond him, when it felt like something was driving nails through his skull.

All he could do was curl, pressing his forehead against his knees in the hopes that the pressure and the dark would reduce the pain.

It didn’t.

Then, as suddenly as it had descended, the pain disappeared. Completely. Even the headache that had been following him around most of the day was gone. He felt almost dizzy at its lack, and attempting to stand did make him dizzy.

A warm hand caught him under the arm as he staggered, and he looked over to see Kitamoto standing there, looking paler than he’d ever seen his friend. The hand holding his arm gripped with a force that bordered on painful. “Kitamoto?”

He didn’t reply. Just kept staring across the street with the sort of fixed stare that made unease blossom in Kaname’s stomach. He wished that he had a reasonable excuse to not look at whatever had Kitamoto’s attention.

At first, what he was seeing didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Their class representative stood towards the front of where their class had been standing, looking around slowly. A blond boy and a girl with long black hair stood several feet away from him; two girls – one with shoulder-length dark brown hair and glasses, the other with a pair of medium-brown braids that framed her face – clung to each other a bit further back; another girl with short dirty-blonde hair who wore a bright blue scarf stood near where he and Kitamoto had been; and a boy with black hair tied back in a stub of a ponytail had stopped about halfway across the street. Of the rest of the students in the class, and of their teacher, there was no sign. Did he take the rest on? It looked like he was going to wait, but … Or did everyone else decide to come get something to drink, too, and pass us without me noticing?

He turned to look back toward the vending machine, but saw no one. He and Kitamoto were the only people on this side of the street as far as he could see in either direction.

“Where is everyone?” He asked.

Kitamoto’s attention snapped to him, looking more than a little bit wild-eyed. “They just – disappeared.”

Kaname blinked.

Across the street, the girl in braids started screaming.

“By disappeared, you mean –”

The sound of a rapidly approaching car distracted him. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the boy in the middle of the crosswalk scrambling backwards, but most of his attention had been captured by the vehicle, a four-door Yokota with a car seat strapped in the back seat.

An empty car. No one sat in the front or passenger seat, or even in the car seat, which a dazed part of his mind noted was buckled together as though a child had been in that seat until just moments before. It was almost as though they had just …

… Disappeared?

Then his self-preservation instinct caught up with the part where the car was coming straight at him, and clearly – with no one at the wheel – unlikely to stop any time soon. He shoved Kitamoto as hard as he could, the world snapping crystal clear. “Move!”

Kitamoto stumbled, and Kaname followed after, continuing to shove him until he started moving on his own. They finally stumbled to a stop just as the car sped past, close enough that Kaname could feel the breeze of its passage ruffling his hair. He winced as it reached its ultimate destination, smashing into the vending machine with enough force to almost drive it through the side of the building.

“Good thing we didn’t want another can of soda.” Kaname said, not even sure where the sudden flippancy had come from.

At his side, Kitamoto snorted suddenly. Started chuckling, then laughing outright.

I didn’t think it was that funny. He eyed his friend with concern. “Are you all right?”

Kitamoto kept laughing, forcing the words out in between. “Sensei and most of our class just disappeared, we just almost got run over by an empty car, I don’t even know –”

“… Do you think they disappeared, too?” Kaname asked. It seemed like the most reasonable conclusion to draw. … Which says a lot about the last couple of minutes.

Kitamoto sobered. “Yes.” He said quietly. “I’m not sure what’s going on. But whatever it is, I think it’s affected a lot more than just us.” He looked around, meaningfully, at the street that was far more empty than a street at this time of afternoon had any right to be. Another loud crash sounded off to the right, maybe a couple of blocks away, and Kaname winced. Another empty car? Hopefully empty, not just missing the driver. Aside from that, the only sounds were the girl in his class, still screaming, and her friend, babbling in a voice that was only a few shades away from hysteria herself.

“You mean … it might have affected the entire city?” Kaname asked. Could any youkai have that much of an effect? Instantaneously?

“… I hope it’s just the city.” Kitamoto said, eyes still wild. “What if it’s more than that? What if it’s all of Japan? What if it’s the entire world?”

“That’s not –” Kaname started, then paused. What if it’s not a youkai? I can’t think of any youkai I’ve ever heard of who could affect the entire world. But if it’s not, then … Subdued, he continued, “I hope it’s not that bad.”

Kitamoto looked at him sharply. “Do you know something?”

Kaname looked away. “No.” Just guesses. Certainly nothing he wanted to share with anyone other than Natsume or Taki. I don’t want him to think I’m crazy.

Though with the world apparently also going crazy …

Kitamoto sighed and ran his hand through his hair, spiking it more than usual. “Fine.” He said, a bit more of an edge to his voice than usual. He sighed again, and repeated in a more normal tone. “Fine. Let’s – let’s just get back to the others.”

Kaname nodded, feeling guiltier than he expected about his silence. He followed his friend across the street, head flashing back and forth as he watched for more cars. Or. He wasn’t entirely sure what the ‘or’ could be, and only hoped that he would recognize it if he saw it. The world around him still maintained that odd feeling of clarity, so clear he felt almost as though he was looking at it through a sheet of glass. And he couldn’t remember the last time his head had felt so clear.

It felt like he was noticing everything at once; things he almost never noticed normally. The purple-ish blue of a small sprig of flowers that had pushed its way stubbornly up through the cracks in the concrete. The way the flag for a nearby ramen shop, such bright white on red that it almost had to be new, flapped in the slight breeze. The crisp quality to everyone’s shadows in the afternoon sun. The branches of a nearby tree, bowing low enough to brush the heads of unwary passersby, covered in vibrantly green leaves.

He almost made it back to the remnants of their class before the illusion broke and he had to face the fact that the reason everything else seemed so clear was because it was easier to pay attention to those things than the handful of other crashes in both directions down the street. Or the way the sidewalks were completely bare of people, their small handful of classmates aside. Or the shrill, rhythmic honking near the edge of hearing that he suspected was a sign of yet another crash. Or the open windows and shop-fronts that were so clearly meant to have people standing in front of or behind them that he almost thought he could see them there still. Or the muffled sobbing in the wake of the other girl’s screams.

Or the sudden feeling of emptiness, where before he hadn’t paid enough attention to the area around him to have even thought to think of it as full.

Kaname shuddered, then did his best to push everything out of his mind as they finally drew even with the remnants of their class.

He recognized all their faces – he wasn’t that oblivious – but would not be able to swear to the name of anyone but Kitamoto and Furuya, their class representative, whose sister he and Natsume (mostly Natsume) had helped with a youkai-related problem not that long ago. Maybe he’d – but no, it was pretty clear he thought everything was a dream. He could see no sign of the other boy’s normally cheerful demeanor now.

Furuya looked at them as they approached. “Oh, good, you two are okay.” He looked past them, and his initially hopeful face fell. “Were you the only …?”

Kitamoto nodded. “Was Sensei one of the ones who … disappeared?”

The braided girl choked back another sob and buried her face in her hands. Her friend rubbed her back, leaning in and murmuring something soothing, though Kaname had no idea what. He couldn’t think of a single reassuring thing to say, not when so many people were just … gone.

Furuya shuddered, then plastered a smile on that even Kaname could tell was fake and spread his hands. “What you see is what you get, I’m afraid. Just us and the pigeons.”

Kaname blinked and looked around. The pigeons were indeed still around. A handful sprung into sudden flight as he watched, and he spotted another couple perched on nearby power lines and awnings. So whatever happened, it didn’t affect the birds. Probably? Maybe there were a lot more birds around before, too, but … I don’t think so …

The girl comforting her friend looked up, eyes wide behind her round glasses. “What’s going on?” She asked, biting her lip. “Why is everyone else just –?”

And, unspoken but still clear, the thought that Kaname suspected was on everyone else’s mind, too. Why didn’t we disappear, too?

Kitamoto shook his head. “I don’t know.” He glanced at Kaname, sending another thread of guilt through him, even though he truly didn’t know any more about what was going on than anyone else. He just shrugged.

The braided girl wiped away her tears, straightened, and swallowed. Her face was clearly paler than it had any right to be, and when she spoke, her voice still quavered. “What do we do now?”

Find Natsume.

Kaname suppressed his initial knee-jerk response, knowing that it was the wrong thing to say. Knowing that he’d never forgive himself if he ended up being the one to turn Natsume into a pariah at this school, after all he’d been through up to this point. (Kaname might not be good at speaking, at pushing boundaries and asking pointed questions, but he was good at listening. And the rumors that had followed Natsume around, even by the time Kaname transferred in, had been pretty clear.)

(He knew, too, what life had been like for him in certain of the schools he’d attended growing up – the ones where his tendency towards illness had made him an object of pity and occasional suspicion that he was just faking it; where his occasional habit of starting at shadows gave him a reputation for being a bit strange and overly nervous. He thought he could extrapolate pretty well what things had been like for Natsume, who hadn’t just seen shadows.)

“We should meet back up with everyone else.” Kitamoto said. Kaname blinked, but lost no additional time nodding his agreement.

Furuya nodded too. “Do any of you know where the other classes are supposed to be now?” Everyone shook their heads. He pursed his lips briefly. “The hotel, then. It’s a lot earlier than we were supposed to return there, but, well …”

The girl with a scarf opened her bag and, after a few moments of digging around, pulled out a cellphone with a sound of satisfaction, flipped it open, typed furiously, paused for a moment, punched one last button, and shut it. When she noticed that she had become the center of everyone’s attention, she flushed. “I thought I’d let Mio-chan know we’re heading back to the hotel.” She said, defensively. “She’s in Class 5.”

“That’s actually a really good idea.” Furuya said. “Does anyone else have a phone? Or know anyone’s numbers?”

All but one of the girls turned out to have a cell phone, as did both of the guys who Kaname didn’t know. He, personally, regretted for the first time that he’d turned down his father’s offer to get him one for his birthday the previous year. It hadn’t really made sense to him at the time to spend all that extra money when none of his friends had one, and he spent practically all his time either at school, at home, or with them, anyway.

... Dad.

He froze. If this really was wide-spread. If home had been affected. His father was away on business trips a lot of the time – was, in fact, away on one at the moment, and not due back until that evening – and even when at home, they didn’t always really know how to talk to each other. But he’d never doubted for a moment that his dad loved him, and the thought that he might have just disappeared, with no forewarning and no chance for Kaname to say more of a goodbye than the “See you in a couple of days” that he’d called on his way out the door …

He forced the fingers clutching his bag to loosen their white-knuckled grip, and wished that it was as easy to get rid of the panic that clawed at his throat. Stop it. You know he’s not at home today, so even if one of the others lent you their phone, calling home wouldn’t prove anything.

It didn’t make it any easier to just stand there. Especially as none of the texts sent or calls made appeared to be connecting. Fear bit deeper. What if we really are the only ones left?

He shook his head. Stop it. We’re in too much trouble already to start borrowing it.

The car alarm from before must have shut off at some point, he realized, as he started really noticing just how quiet the street was apart from their group. No cars driving past. No people out and about – shopping, chatting, manning store fronts, the thousand little things that people did over the course of their day. He thought he saw the shadow of something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was gone. I wonder if the youkai are all gone, too? Or if they’re more like the birds, unaffected by … this. That might explain why my headache is completely gone now.

… If so, I’d rather have kept the headache.

“Tanuma.” Kitamoto said, quietly enough that even standing right next to him, Kaname barely heard him.

“What?” He didn’t manage to keep his voice quite as quiet, but close enough that none of the others, increasingly frantically trying to figure out someone, anyone who would pick up the phone, paid him any mind.

“You’re really sure you don’t know anything? Even wild guesses?” He asked, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s just … you collapsed at the same time everyone else disappeared. Exactly the same time. So if there’s anything you noticed, anything that might explain why everyone else disappeared and we didn’t … like maybe it was trying to take you away and didn’t quite manage it, and maybe that’s why you collapsed?”

Kaname shook his head. “It didn’t feel like anything was pulling at me.” He offered. “It didn’t really feel like anything in particular, other than pain.” He grimaced, just remembering. “I can’t remember ever having a headache that bad.”

“Oh.” Kitamoto seemed to wilt slightly. “Wait, do you get headaches often? I thought you were just …” he looked uncomfortable. “A bit delicate, you know? Depressed immune system or something. Are the headaches triggered by anything?”

“My immune system’s mostly fine, I just take longer than usual to get better, a lot of the time.” Kaname said. “Headaches are … not uncommon.” He bit his lip. He did know what caused his headaches – at least, most of them. Should he tell Kitamoto? Once again, the fear of scorn or disbelief (he wasn’t sure which would be worse) held him back.

Luckily, before his silence became too obvious, Furuya cleared his throat, and Kaname used that as an excuse to turn his full attention towards their class representative.

“So if I've gotten everything straight, it sounds like things are like this where classes 4 and 5 are, too.” The upset girl – he really needed to learn her name; it wasn’t like the rest of them weren’t also upset – shuddered and curled further in on herself.

“Rika-chan and Yamada-san are the only ones left in Class 4.” The girl in glasses said; voice steady, but grip on her phone tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

“And still nothing from 2 or 3.” The black-haired guy said, lowering his phone from his ear and giving it a black look. “That idiot Takaya never remembers to charge his phone, though, so maybe it’s just out of battery.”

Kaname couldn’t help his flinch. He’d never really connected with most of his class; they all got along well enough, but aside from a couple of the most memorable-looking of his classmates, most of the ones who had disappeared were already fading from his mind. And he hated that he wouldn’t even be able to keep their memory alive.

But hearing someone mention one of the probable-missing by name … it made things feel more concrete. If this Takaya person was missing … what about Natsume and Nishimura? What about Taki? There weren’t many people at this school he truly cared about, but he wasn’t sure what he’d do if any of them were actually gone.

“Is Taki –” He started to ask, but quickly found his voice drowned out by his other classmates, all with their own variations on the same query. He looked down, letting his bangs fall into his eyes as he fought his impatience. It wouldn’t accomplish anything for him to barge his way in and start yelling with the rest. Besides, they had made contact with class 5, so they’d know to meet back at the hotel. He’d see her again then.

Or if not …

He clenched his fists. No. I will see her later. I refuse to accept the possibility that she might – that –

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up. “I’m sure they’re fine.” Kitamoto said, clearly doing his best to sound reassuring.

It didn’t work too well when even Kaname could see how strained he was with worry. But he appreciated the thought. “Yeah.” He agreed, wishing he could manage to sound a little bit less empty. “I’m sure you’re right.”

"Guys.” Furuya was saying. “Guys.” No one seemed to be paying attention. “GUYS!” He shouted, sounding even louder in the comparative quiet that surrounded them.

Once he had everyone’s attention, he raised his hands. “Guys, I know you’re worried. We all are. But pestering each other isn’t going to accomplish anything but distracting those of you with phones from continuing to try to get through to classes 2 and 3. So just … be patient, please. You’ll see your friends once we meet back up.” He opened his mouth as though to continue the thought, then bit his lip instead, looking away.

Or if you don’t, you’ll never see them again, anyway.

“So what do we do?” The girl with the scarf asked, just shy of belligerently.

Furuya jerked his head in the direction they had been heading before everything happened. “Let’s start walking.” With a ghost of his usual levity, he added, “The hotel’s not going to come to us after all.”

No one laughed, but Kaname could see a few other weak smiles like the one that had surfaced on his own face, in appreciation for the attempt if nothing else. And when Furuya turned and started walking quickly away, the rest of them fell into some semblance of order behind him. Though Kaname was not the only one who turned and gave their little patch of sidewalk a look before they left.

It just looked so … ordinary. An ordinary little patch of sidewalk in an ordinary little corner of a town that was quite a bit larger than their own, but still not Tokyo or anything like that. I always thought that if something crazy happened to my life, it would be in a crazier way. Not just … standing in the middle of an ordinary street, in the middle of an ordinary school field trip.

… I also figured it would be because of Natsume.

Kaname snorted, quietly amused for a few moments before the worry crowded its way back in.

Natsume … you had better be all right, or I’ll come rescue you again, whether you want me to or not.

He didn’t know how he’d effect said rescue – whether a rescue was even possible, or if there was actually anything left anywhere to rescue – if Natsume turned out to be one of the ones who had disappeared. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened. But he’d figure something out, because he knew Natsume would do the same if it was him – or Taki, or any of his friends, human or youkai – in danger.

“Care to share?” Kitamoto asked. “I could do with a laugh.”

Kaname shook his head. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

Kitamoto’s shoulders fell, and he looked away. “Oh. All right.”

Guilt bit again, and Kaname looked away as well. Kitamoto was probably just trying to make conversation, and it was Kaname’s fault that he wasn’t nearly as good at it as Nishimura. Hah. I wish Nishimura was here, too, at that. Amusement tugged at his expression again, and then he realized with a bit of a start that even though Natsume wasn’t a subject he wanted to broach, Nishimura was completely fair game.

“I was just thinking … wishing the others were here, too.” He said. “Nishimura’d probably be going off about something by now.”

Kitamoto cracked a smile. “He would, wouldn’t he. Joking even at the end of the world.” His face fell again. “If he’s even …”

“He’s alive.” Kaname said flatly. Maybe if he said it with enough force, he’d convince himself. “He’s alive, Natsume’s alive, Taki’s alive. My dad’s alive. Your –” he trailed off, suddenly realizing that he couldn’t remember ever talking to Kitamoto about his family before. He didn’t even know if he had any siblings. “Your family’s alive.”

Kitamoto peered at him, eyes narrowed with something that seemed unable to quite decide whether it was suspicion or hope. “How do you know?”

Kaname resisted the urge to hide behind his bangs again. “I don’t.” He admitted. “But … I’m not going to give up hope until I know for sure.” And maybe if he said that enough times, he’d believe it too.

“I agree.” Furuya said. Kaname blinked. Last he’d noticed, the class representative had been up at the front of the group, leading the way in what he assumed was the general direction of either the hotel or the nearest subway station. This being their third museum of the day, he’d really lost track of their location, so he was glad someone seemed to know where they were going. But apparently, sometime between setting their direction and now, Furuya had decided to fall back towards the tail end of the group, falling easily into step on Kaname’s other side. He resisted the urge to feel trapped. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Tanuma?”

He blinked again. “Sure?” Furuya’s eyes slid past him to Kitamoto, and he started looking uncomfortable.

“I’ll go see if there’s been any more luck contacting 2 or 3.” Kitamoto said abruptly. Kaname whipped his head around, but after a significant look whose meaning completely escaped him, his friend sped up, falling into step next to the black-haired boy. He turned his attention back to their class rep.

Furuya still looked a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t really know how to say this, but … you don’t know anything about what just happened, do you?”

First Kitamoto, now Furuya? Do they really think I’d hide something of this magnitude if I did? “No more than you do.” Kaname said. “Why?”

Furuya shrugged. “You just … seem like you’d know, if anyone in our class would. And didn’t Kitamoto say something about you collapsing just as everyone started disappearing? It seems connected, don’t you think?”

“It was just a really bad headache. I get them sometimes.” Kaname said. “… The timing does make it seem connected, but even if it is, I still don’t know any more than the rest of you. I was a bit busy trying to deal with the blinding pain to pay much attention.”

Furuya laughed. “That would be distracting. What about your friend, Natsume?” Another flash of discomfort. “He seemed to know … things.”

Kaname stared at him. “He’s in Class 2. I have no more idea where they are or what they’re doing” or if they’re okay, please let them be okay “than the rest of you.”

“… Right.” The class representative looked briefly chagrined. “I don’t suppose you know his phone number?”

“Neither of us have cell phones.” Kaname said. “So, no.” He looked around at the still-empty street. So far, they still had yet to see anyone else. It was beginning to go from merely creepy to outright disturbing. “And … I’m afraid that whatever this is, it’s probably beyond Natsume, too.”

Furuya pursed his lips. “You may be right. But …” He shook his head and offered a thin smile. “Never mind. Concentrate on what we can do, and hope for the best for the rest, yeah?”

Kaname nodded. Feeling like he ought to say something else, he tentatively offered, “You seem to be doing a good job of keeping everyone in line so far.”

Furuya grinned, though it rang a bit false. “Not even the end of the world can get me down.” Their group started slowing, as voices rose near the beginning of the line. He rolled his eyes. “And apparently my job is never done.” He raised a hand in absent farewell as he jogged back towards the front of the line, already demanding to know what the fuss was all about.

Kaname watched him go. I hope his sister is also okay. He’s already almost lost her once. He shoved that thought out of the way, too. No point in dwelling on things he couldn’t do anything about. First, we need to get home.

Not long after Furuya ran forward, Kitamoto drifted back into his former position. He gave Kaname another look that left him with no doubts that the other boy was curious, but he seemed to be willing to hold his peace.

Maybe that was why Kaname decided to speak. Or maybe it was just his irritation, as justified as it arguably was. “He also wanted to know if I knew anything about what had happened.”

Kitamoto looked momentarily surprised, turning his head to stare forward for a long moment before turning back to Kaname. “Huh. Because of your collapse?”

Kaname nodded. “That and,” he hesitated, knowing this was opening a door he didn’t particularly want to, “well, I do have a bit of a reputation for … you know.”

Kitamoto huffed. “You and Natsume both. When anyone who actually gets to know you can tell that you’re both totally fine.” An expression flashed across his face, but before Kaname could figure out what it was, it disappeared. “I really wonder if everyone else’s lives are really that boring, that they feel the need to gossip about people they don’t know.”

Warmth suffused Kaname, even as he couldn’t entirely suppress the guilt that accompanied it. He wished, sometimes, that Kitamoto and Nishimura weren’t quite so normal. He knew Natsume reveled in it; would protect that normalcy with all he had because some part of him wished he could be that normal. But even what little Kaname could see of the world that was so clear to Natsume … it was scary, sometimes, but it was fascinating, too. And it hurt, now that he actually had friends, not to be able to share it with them.

“… I don’t think anyone’s life is going to be precisely boring for a while yet.” He finally said.

Kitamoto huffed a laugh that contained very little, if any, actual amusement. “There is that.”

Kaname stepped around a large purse that just sat in the middle of the sidewalk, as though someone has put it down and walked off, forgetting it. Except probably she didn’t walk off. Probably it’ll just … stay there, unless someone else comes along and takes it.

He frowned and rubbed at his temples. Stop it. Even if it’s true, that’s not helpful. … I wish I knew if we really are the only ones left. Was there an age limit or something? But in that case, you’d think we’d have heard at least a few babies screaming for parents who will never be there for them again.

… Wow. Maybe I should just stop thinking altogether.

“Headache coming back?” Kitamoto asked, looking more worried than Kaname thought the questions really warranted.

… Unless he thinks my headaches are a sign that something’s going to happen.

And put that way, Kaname found himself getting worried, too. “A mild one.” He said reluctantly. “Not even as bad as it was this morning. But …”

“You’ve had a headache all day? Tanuma …” Kitamoto drew the final syllable out with a very well done admonishing tone.

He rolled his eyes. “I get headaches all the time. Usually they’re just” signs that there are youkai with nontrivial amounts of power and malicious or mischievous intentions nearby “that, just headaches. Not signs of an impending … whatever just happened.”

“… I didn’t realize it was so bad.” Kitamoto looked away. “Guess I’m not as observant a friend as I thought I was, huh?”

Tanuma shook his head. “They’ve been happening all my life. It’s annoying, but usually not debilitating.” Anymore. Moving to their new home had been one of the best things to happen to him in a long time, and he still wasn’t sure what caused that, whether it was Natsume’s influence, or a tendency towards friendlier youkai in the area – for some reason, they didn’t tend to affect him nearly as badly – or simply that the country air really did help. Most of the time he tried not to think about it too hard, and just be thankful for what he now had.

He waved a hand dismissively. “I just don’t talk about it much because it’s not like there’s anything that can be done.” A pause. “… Hopefully, it’s just a normal one.” He added, reluctantly. “Although I’m not sure what else could happen, after who knows how many people just … disappeared.”

Kitamoto shuddered. “I’d rather not find out.”

… Kaname could definitely agree with that.

Chapter Text

The other black-haired guy in their class stopped suddenly, and Kaname danced out of the way, just barely avoiding running into him. One hand came up in automatic apology, but aside from a quick, disinterested glance, the other boy paid him no attention at all. His attention seemed to be entirely focused on the phone in his hand, as he flipped it open and shut in a rhythmic fashion, as though doing so would make return texts or calls come any faster.

Kaname looked further forward, and saw that the entire group had stopped, clustered near a flight of stairs leading down to the subway. His headache spiked for a moment as he read the sign, but he was quickly distracted by the brewing argument between two of the girls.

“We should just keep going.” The girl with the scarf said. “Why bother going downstairs when I’m sure the ticket counters will be empty? And there’s no way the trains will still be running.”

“You don’t know that.” The girl with braids said.

“Have you seen the same things I have?” The girl with a scarf demanded, flinging her hand out. “Have you seen anyone but us? Or heard anything but car alarms and TVs that don’t have anyone left to turn them off?”

“No, but that just because we haven’t seen anyone yet doesn’t mean that everyone’s gone. Maybe it only affected people aboveground.”

The girl with the scarf pursed her lips. “I suppose that’s possible.” She allowed grudgingly. “Would make as much sense as anything else. I still think this is a waste of time, though.”

“Well, if we don’t go down and take a look, we’ll never know for sure.” Furuya pointed out. “Sanada-san, you’re welcome to stay up here if you’d rather.”

“Alone?” The girl with the scarf asked incredulously. “I don’t think so.” She sighed. “Besides, if – if – the trains really are still running, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to make someone come all the way back up just to pick me up.”

Kaname edged his way to the front of the group and looked down the stairs. See? Perfectly normal. The headache’s probably just because you’re getting tired or something.

It spiked again, and he winced. Sure, it’s a bit odd that maintenance didn’t notice that one of the lights over the first landing had burnt out, but maybe it just happened …

He looked up, blinked, and stared. The light hadn’t burnt out. So then … why is the ground so dark?

He took a couple of steps down the stairs, dimly aware that his classmates had begun to do the same, when it hit him. He didn’t know what it was, exactly; it didn’t feel quite like a youkai, though he didn’t know what else it could possibly be.

But what he did know was that it felt malevolent, and very hungry.

“Wait.” He whispered, head throbbing in time to the beat of his frightened heart.

And that while the darkness had started out pooled on the far side of the landing, even as he watched he could see it stretching to cover the entire area. As though it was reaching towards him.

He licked his suddenly dry lips and tried again, hardly aware that he had backed up against the far wall, hands in a death grip on the railing. “Wait!”

Everyone stopped, turning to look at him. “What is it, Tanuma?” Furuya asked.

Kaname faltered in the face of all that attention. He wasn’t like Natsume. He didn’t call attention to the things he saw. He rarely saw them at all. To be honest, he’d always been more inclined to believe that he really was just seeing things.

Normally he’d never say anything. Maybe to Natsume, who’d be able to tell for sure. Possibly to Taki, because at least she understood. But not to his classmates. He didn’t want to be branded as crazy as well as weak.

Even though he knew, now, that he wasn’t crazy. Even though he knew that the shadows he saw sometimes really did exist. He wasn’t brave enough to face the rumors and scorn like Natsume.

But.

That shadow was dark, and malevolent, and hungry, and Kaname realized – with a soaring feeling that made him feel like he’d broken free of chains he’d never realized existed – that he’d rather be branded as crazy than let his classmates walk into that. Whatever that was.

“I don’t think it’s safe, down there.” He said.

The blond guy edged his way between Sanada-san and Furuya, took several steps further, and peered downwards. “I don’t see anything.” And stomped. “It feels perfectly safe to me.”

Furuya looked between Kaname and the other guy, clearly torn. “Inoue, maybe you should –”

“Oh come on. He’s just freaking out over nothing. It’s fine!” Inoue took a couple more steps down, and Kaname suddenly got a sense of intent from the shadow, as it started thickening in the part of the landing in front of which Inoue stood.

“Please stop, I think it’s noticed you.” Kaname said, throat tight.

“What is ‘it’?” Inoue stopped to ask, turning to face Kaname. “If you can see something the rest of us don’t, surely you can tell us that much?”

Kaname shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know. It just looks like a shadow. And it feels hungry.” He held out his hand. “I don’t know what it is or what it’ll do, but … I don’t think it’s good. So can we just … leave it alone? Please?”

“A hungry shadow.” Inoue snorted. “Well, even if a shadow’s hungry, it's not like there’s much it can do about it.” He took several steps further, putting him now only three steps above the landing. The shadow had almost completely abandoned Kaname’s side of the landing, pooling so darkly in front of Inoue that Kaname could hardly believe no one else could see it; it had also started creeping up onto the lowest step.

“Inoue …” Furuya said, still looking at Kaname. “I’m not sure this is such a –”

“I don’t see any weird shadows, and unlike some people I wouldn’t be afraid of them even if I did.” He jumped the last three steps to the landing. For a brief, surreal moment, Kaname thought he saw ripples in the shadow that pooled around Inoue's feet, and jerked forward several steps himself before uncertainty and fear forced him to halt.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

“See?” Inoue said. The shadow crept over the toes of his shoes, working its way up to his ankles, before it paused. Kaname watched, heart in his throat. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe –

“No weird shadows. And definitely nothing hun –”

The shadow raced up Inoue’s body, enveloping him in less than a heartbeat. Kaname stumbled backwards, tripping over a step and falling, striking his lower back against another step hard enough that he knew he’d feel it later. His headache stabbed at him, still not as bad as when everyone else had disappeared, but worse than any time since.

A second, maybe two, he just sat there, looking at the human-shaped shadow. If Natsume was here, maybe he’d know how to fight it somehow. Maybe he’d know a way to get Inoue back out. Whatever had happened, he hadn’t even had the chance to shout.

But Natsume wasn’t here. And Kaname didn’t know what to do, other than sit and watch.

Behind him, silence.

Then, between one heartbeat and the next, the shadow collapsed, leaving no sign that Inoue had ever been there at all.

“Jiro!” The black-haired girl he’d seen sticking close to Inoue ever since it happened stumbled down several stairs, hand outstretched. “Jiro, come back!”

“Stop!” Kaname sprung to his feet; almost overbalanced, but managed to catch himself on the central railing. Tried to reach her, but the stairway was just wide enough that his hand couldn’t quite reach. “It’s still there!”

She jerked to a stop, arrested by Kitamoto’s hand around her upper arm, and turned on him. “What are you doing, let me go! Maybe I can still save him!”

“You heard Tanuma. Whatever it is, it’s still there.” Kitamoto said, looking as pale as when the disappearances had first started.

“There’s nothing –” Kaname started. “He’s gone. The shadow’s still there, but Inoue just … disappeared.”

She rounded on him. “Why didn’t you stop it? If you can see so much, why didn’t you –”

Kaname felt like he had been punched in the gut. I’m not Natsume! He wanted to cry. I can’t do anything on my own! “I –”

“He tried.” Kitamoto interrupted, looking angrier than Kaname had seen him in a long time. “You all heard him try. Inoue just refused to listen.”

“Then he should have tried harder!” She yelled back, voice breaking. “Jiro –”

Kaname swallowed, knowing it was true. He could have – he should have – done something to prevent this. They were few enough as it is. They had to watch out for each other. And he’d been crippled by his uncertainty. He hadn’t known … but he’d been pretty sure, and that should have been enough. I’m sorry.

“You really think Inoue would have listened?” Kitamoto asked bitingly. “Even if Tanuma had physically tried to drag him away, do you really think he wouldn’t have ignored him and insisted on continuing down?”

The black-haired girl faltered, looking away and down.

The girl in braids took several slow steps down, entering Kaname’s field of vision. She looked very pale. “That should have been me. If I had – I could have been the one who –”

Kaname met Kitamoto’s eyes helplessly, over the black-haired girl’s head. He didn’t know what to say.

“Tanuma, do you have a headache?” Kitamoto asked. “Because that – it looked almost like –”

Kaname nodded slowly. “Not as bad as before. But …”

Kitamoto swallowed visibly. “Then, I think that might be what …”

Kaname looked back down at the shadow, still restlessly shifting around the landing area. “But, I didn’t – I don’t remember seeing any shadows before. Especially not enough to do …” he trailed off helplessly, waving back up the stairs.

“Regardless.” Furuya interrupted. “I don’t think it really matters whether it’s the same thing as before, or some new and interesting way of making people disappear. Tanuma, you said it’s still there?”

Kaname nodded. “It’s still on the landing. It’s edged up onto the first step there on your side, where –” Inoue was. He swallowed, forced himself to continue. “But for the most part, it seems either reluctant or unable to move beyond that point.”

“All right.” Furuya took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s just – get everyone back up off the stairs. We’re clearly not getting to the subway via this entrance.”

“Is it just on the landing?” The girl with glasses asked. Kaname looked up at the rest of their class to see her twirling several strands of her shoulder-length hair around one finger. “Maybe we could jump over it?”

Kaname hesitated. He couldn’t immediately see a reason to reject the idea, other than his deeply-felt conviction that getting anywhere near the shadow was not a good idea.

“Best not to.” Furuya said, after a moment. “Who knows, maybe it can jump or something.”

Everyone looked at Kaname. He shook his head. “I don’t know. It seemed to take a couple seconds feeling him out before it struck, so it might be fine, but …”

“Have you seen any other … shadows?”

Kaname shook his head.

“Maybe it doesn’t like the sun, then. In which case, we should be fine above-ground, but even if we made it past this one, there might be others downstairs. I don’t suppose you can sense any others?”

Kaname shook his head again, feeling useless. “Sorry, I don’t know.”

Furuya’s face twitched into something resembling a half-smile. “More than the rest of us do.” He waved his hands upwards. “Come on, everyone, back up the stairs. Looks like we’ve got more walking to do than we expected.”

Kaname inched his way back up the stairs, unwilling to take his eyes completely off the shadow. Kitamoto turned to go, but this time his movement ended up arrested by the girl’s unwillingness to leave. “Yukimura-san …”

“I’m not leaving.” She said quietly, face pale and set. “He might come back. I left Kira-chan and Akemi-chan and Rena-chan. I’m not leaving Jiro too.”

“Yukimura-san, he’s not coming back.” Kitamoto said. “None of them are. I know how you feel, but you can’t just –”

“You don’t know how I feel!” She shouted, wrenching her arm away. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. “You can’t know how I – I can’t –” She scrubbed at her eyes. “I don’t care if I have to wait forever. I’m not going to leave anyone again.”

“So instead you’re going to make us leave you?” Kitamoto asked, voice taking on that edge again. “Because we’re not going to. We can’t just – turn around and walk away.”

“And neither can I!”

“He’s gone, Yukimura!”

“You don’t know that!”

Kitamoto grabbed for her arm. She jumped back, misjudged, and tripped. Panic flashed across her face as she fell backwards, barely managing to arrest her downward fall by grabbing the railing. Her left foot touched down on the bottom step. Not a place where the shadow had reached, yet, but Kaname saw it starting to shift. “Yukimura-san, get away from there, right now! It’s coming for you!”

Time seemed to slow as their eyes met. The girl smiled, and said, “No.”

Kitamoto had almost reached her, but before he could grab her again, she took one step up, shoved him backwards, then turned and jumped over the last step onto the landing, near the same place Inoue had stood almost minutes before. She turned back to Kaname and smiled. “Wherever he’s gone, I’ll find it. I’ll bring him – bring everyone back.” She looked up, towards their classmates gathered at the top of the stairs. “I’ll see you later, Keiko-chan. Forgive me?”

Kitamoto recovered; staggered back down the stairs, reaching out to her, but even as the shadow began pooling around her ankles, she stepped back out of reach. He stepped down onto the final step.

“Kitamoto, you can’t!” Kaname’s could barely get the words through his tight throat. He reached, again, helpless to affect anything from where he was, but too afraid to move closer to the shadow. His headache pounded harder. The part of the shadow on the first step began shifting towards Kitamoto’s foot. “It’s coming towards you, get out of there, now!”

Kitamoto leaned, his hand almost in reach. “Come on, Yukimura. Take it. You can still get out!”

She smiled. “No.”

Black erupted.

“Kitamoto!”

His friend looked up towards him, face ravaged. “Why couldn’t I –?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s coming for you, get out of there now!” His friend froze, looking down at his foot. The shadow began licking at it. “Kitamoto!”

He scrambled back up the stairs, taking them as fast as he could backwards, and for a single, heart-stopping moment, Kaname was afraid it hadn’t worked. The bits of shadow seemed to cling to his shoe, leaving shadowy almost-footprints on the steps that it passed. Whatever effect the thing had, though, it appeared to need a critical mass that the amount on his shoe just didn’t have; as Kitamoto drew back even with him, the last fragments of shadow leaked off his shoe, slowly flowing their way back down the steps to rejoin the main mass. Like they knew where it was.

Kaname collapsed, shuddering, and hid his face in his hands. Too close. That was too close. I can’t believe I almost lost – His headache still pounded its angry reminder that the shadow, whatever it was, was nearby, but there were no more spikes of the agony that had heralded it consuming Inoue and Yukimura. I didn’t even know their names until minutes before they – and now they’re – And Kitamoto was almost –

“Tanuma?” He raised his head to find that Kitamoto had crouched just on the other side of the railing, looking at him with a worried expression. “Are you okay?”

The shadow! His head shot up, but he couldn’t see any additional change. He looked back at Kitamoto. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t – I just – I’m sorry.”

Kitamoto tried for a smile. It didn’t really work. “I’m sorry, too. I wish I could have …” He shook his head. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“I couldn’t do anything.” I can never do anything. I can’t even see well enough to see what that shadow thing actually is.

“More than any of us could.” Furuya said quietly. Kaname looked up, and saw him and the rest of the class, still standing there.

Kitamoto stood and held out his hand. “Come on. We should get going.”

His friend’s hand didn’t reach, but Kaname made himself stand anyway. Kitamoto headed back up the stairs; after a last long look at the shadow, Kaname made himself turn away and follow. As he reached the top of the stairs, everyone cleared out of his way, looking at him. The girl in braids clutched at her bag, looking on the verge of tears again. He wondered if she was Keiko.

He wished he could hide from the looks. He’d never been precisely close to his classmates. He’d never really had the courage to bridge the distance, and they’d never really made an effort to come to him. He’d never really cared, either, especially now that he had Natsume and Kitamoto and Nishimura and Taki, and they were already more friendship than he really knew how to deal with sometimes. But now, as everyone looked at him, he felt the distance more keenly than ever before.

“Right.” Furuya said. He, at least, didn’t seem to be acting much different from usual. “Okay. New rule. If Tanuma says he sees something hungry, avoid it.” He met Kaname’s eyes. “Tanuma. We’re in your hands.”

I can’t. He wanted to say. Can’t you see? I’m not Natsume. I can’t do this.

But Natsume wasn’t here. And he was.

He swallowed and nodded. “I’ll try.”

Furuya nodded in return and turned away. “Let’s get going. If we can’t take the subway, we’ve got quite a bit more walking to do. Ogawa, Sanada-san, Watanabe-san, can you call around and warn everyone we’ve managed to get contact with so far?” The black-haired boy, the girl with the scarf, and the girl with glasses nodded. He glanced back at Tanuma. “I don’t know how they’ll be able to tell, but – tell them to avoid indoors, dark places, and just generally be careful, just in case.” He paused. “And if anyone else disappears …”

Ogawa tucked some of the hair too short to fit his ponytail behind his ear and smiled grimly. “Everyone else should run.”

For a while afterwards, everyone walked along in silence, broken only by low-voiced phone conversation. From the frustration in Watanabe-san’s voice as she kept repeating that she didn’t know, it sounded like Class 4 was more than willing to heed the warnings. Although with only have two people left ... 

At least Class 2 should be okay, even though we still haven’t managed to contact them. Better than us, really, since they’ve got Natsume with them. Class 5 … Taki may not be able to see any better than her classmates, but she’ll definitely believe what Sanada-san is saying. She’ll keep her classmates in line somehow. Knowing her, she might even have some sort of ward she’s read about in her grandfather’s books that could come in handy.

He resisted the urge to dig through his bag to find the ward against possession that she’d given him a few months ago. He still carried it around like a good luck charm, if a very … interesting looking one. But whatever that shadow was, whatever it did to the people who it trapped, he didn’t think ‘possession’ was the right word for it.

He ignored, also, the little voice of pessimism that pointed out that all that was assuming that Natsume and Taki were even still around.

They are. They have to be.

He tried to pay attention to their path, to keep his mind off that sort of thoughts, but he’d been lost before and he was just as lost now. He looked around constantly, trying to catch sight of any suspicious shadows, though as the sun started setting, it made things harder. His headaches were the only way he could tell for sure if an innocent-looking shadow really was just a shadow, or if it simply hadn’t bothered to start moving yet, so then he started second-guessing every mild throb, until he could swear he was worsening his headache simply from the sheer tension.

Then there was Kitamoto. No matter how many times he told himself his friend was fine, that he had seen the last of the shadow melt off his shoe before they even reached the top of the stairwell, he couldn’t keep himself from checking again.

The fourth time it happened, Kitamoto said, “You know, if there’s still something on my foot, that’s something I’d really like to know, too.”

Kaname started, gaze transferring from his friend’s foot to his face. Who looked like he was trying very hard to look unconcerned at the idea that his foot might be playing host to a shadow creature he couldn’t see.

“No!” He said immediately. “No, as far as I can tell it’s completely gone. And my headache’s mostly gone, too, which I think is a good sign?” He felt his gaze drifting downwards again, part nerves and part just generally being bad at looking people in the eyes, and forced it back up. “I just.   You scared me.”

Kitamoto looked away. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “I was plenty scared, too, when you started freaking out.” He looked back at Kaname, then away again. After a long moment, he continued, “Tanuma. Do you mind if I ask something sort of, well, sensitive?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Normally I wouldn’t, but, well, nothing’s really normal about this situation anymore, and after that ... You still don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, though.”

Kaname blinked, a bit surprised at the sudden flow of words. Is he nervous? “Sure?”

“That shadow thing, have you …” he hesitated, then shook his head. “Sorry, let me try again. Can you see stuff we can’t? In general, I mean?” Kaname’s insides froze, and he wondered wildly what his face looked like. Probably nothing good. Luckily, Kitamoto didn’t appear to be watching. “Because when I think about it … you were surprised to see that shadow thing, and scared. With good reason! But you didn’t seem to be terribly surprised that no one else could see it.”

He laughed self-deprecatingly. “If I had been the one to see it, I probably would have wasted several minutes on that alone. ‘Can’t you guys see it? It’s right there!’ – you know, that sort of thing. But you …” he waved a hand, as though grasping for the right words. “It was like you assumed no one else would be able to see it. So, well, I got curious. Especially since …” He trailed off. “Never mind.”

“Since?” Kaname asked.

Kitamoto looked chagrined. “Never mind. I was just remembering … it was probably just my imagination, anyway.” He offered a wry smile. “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to call you crazy or anything. I mean, you’re clearly not. If nothing else, that certainly existed.” He didn’t gesture back towards the subway entrance they’d left behind. He didn’t need to.

Kaname swallowed, and this time it was he who looked away. In the face of what he’d already said and done, it seemed somewhere between silly and actively counterproductive, maybe even dangerous, to try to hide anything else. At least about myself.

Still. He’d spent a lot of years, attempting to look and act and be as normal as his condition allowed. It was … unexpectedly hard, admitting the truth in a non-crisis setting. (Natsume had been different. By then, he’d been certain that whatever secrets he was hiding, Natsume was hiding larger ones. Besides, he was Natsume.)

“I can.” He admitted quietly. “See things. Not always, and never very clearly. But there’s a lot out there that most people will never notice, and I can see … at least a little bit of it.” His head throbbed, immediately distracting him as he cast his gaze around, trying to find the source. He thought this was a real one – he thought he was getting that same sense of malevolent hunger as before – but all the shadows he saw just looked … normal.

“Do you see something?” Kitamoto asked.

“I don’t know.” He said, more sharply than he meant to, most of his attention still on looking around. “I think – it feels like there’s something here, something like that thing down in the subway, but I can’t pinpoint it. All the shadows just look like normal shadows.”

“Furuya!” Kitamoto called. The class representative looked back. “We should probably stop. Tanuma thinks he’s found another one of those things.”

The rest of the class stopped immediately, and Kaname once again found himself the center of attention. Maybe if it happens enough I’ll finally get used to it. Enjoy it, even. He was struck with a sudden mental image of himself, giving a Natori-style glittering smile to a group of swooning girls, and had to suppress the entirely inappropriate urge to laugh. Or not.

“Where is it?” Furuya asked. He – like most of the rest of the class – was staring around, as though every shadow was about to leap out and devour them. And for all I or they know, they could very well be. “I thought they didn’t come out in the open? Unless it’s because night’s approaching?”

“I don’t know.” He repeated. He walked forward, to see if there was something that he hadn’t been able to see before because of the bodies in his way. Still nothing. “Something feels evil and hungry nearby, but I can’t just – they look like ordinary shadows to me, too, until they start moving.”

And as though it had been listening, the shadow of a nearby alley decided to do just that, extending out across the sidewalk a few dozen meters ahead, then beginning to ooze slowly in their direction. “There.” He pointed. Everyone looked, and he immediately felt silly. Great job, distracting them with something they can’t see. “That alleyway up ahead. It’s stretched out across the sidewalk next to it. And it’s moving towards us, slowly.”

“Great.” Furuya said. “How far out is it?” His voice took on an almost joking lilt. “And is it coming towards us fast enough that we should just run and hope we make it, or do we have a little bit of time to panic, first?”

“Um, to the edge of the sidewalk.” Kaname took several steps ahead of the front of the group and peered, trying to get a closer look. “Doesn’t look like it’s leaked out into the street yet. And” He hastily rejoined the group as his presence seemed to spur the oozing in their direction towards slightly higher speeds “you’ve got some spare time for panicking, but I wouldn’t use too much.”

“Hah.” Furuya cracked his first nearly-genuine smile since the subway. “Okay, out into the street everyone. Down the center – if these things come from shadows, let’s minimize the number of large ones we’re near, yeah?”

“But what about traffic?” One of the girls asked.

Furuya gestured towards the street. They were within sight of an intersection, where two cars – empty, like they all seemed to be – had swerved and crashed into a head-on collision in the middle of the intersection, while on the other two sides a handful of cars idled, engines still running. A few had rolled forward when the feet holding the brakes down disappeared, but they were generally blocked in well enough that they hadn’t moved much. Kaname found it darkly amusing that the light on one of the idling sides was now green. Presumably it had been red when it happened.

“If there’s anyone left who was driving,” he said, tone of voice indicating how likely he thought that was, “I think they have bigger problems to worry about than a bunch of pedestrians in the middle of the street.”

Kaname eyed the shadow. It had oozed about halfway to them, though it still seemed content to stick to the sidewalk. “Not to hurry you, but we should probably get moving soon.”

“Come on.” Furuya said, then turned back to look at Kaname. “The street is still safe?”

Kaname nodded. “As far as I can tell.”

Furuya nodded sharply back. “Good enough. Let’s go, everyone!”

Kaname didn’t quite hold his breath until they passed the shadow, but he certainly didn’t take a proper deep breath until – after turning and double-checking almost as incessantly as he had been checking Kitamoto’s shoe – he finally reassured himself that it didn’t seem to be following. At least, not at a pace that couldn’t be easily overcome by their current walking speed. His headache, too, finally faded to the point where he was fairly certain that the cause of the remainder was nothing more threatening than stress and eyestrain.

After that, he stayed at the front of the group.

Not too long after he’d settled in near, but not quite beside Furuya, Kitamoto worked his way forward as well. Kaname greeted him with a grateful smile. He’d talked to Furuya before, a bit, but it was still good to have his one real friend in the class nearby.

Kitamoto returned the smile. “I figured you’d appreciate it if I made it easier for you to double-check my shoe.”

Startled, Kaname actually laughed. “Thanks.”

Kitamoto smiled back, strained but real.

His relative lack of headache providing him with at least a small feeling of security, and being at the front allowing him a better vantage point to keep an eye out, Kaname slowly relaxed enough to return to their previous topic of conversation.

He knew, now that he was right there at the front of the group instead of trailing along behind, that there was a good chance that the others (and not just Furuya, who sort of knew already, but all of his classmates) would be listening in. He tried not to care.

What did it matter, anymore?

“The things I see ...” He said suddenly. “Usually they’re not like that. There are some that seem angry or malicious, and they cause trouble sometimes, but I’ve never seen one that just ... consumed people like that.” He considered Omibashira, and what Taki had told him of her first experience with youkai, and the things that Natsume sometimes inadvertently hinted at but always made a point of not mentioning, and frowned. “Well, there might be some that eat people. But I think they usually have reasons, at least.” He shuddered. “Whatever those shadow things are ... they're different.”

“What are they, though?” Kitamoto asked. “And why didn’t you ever –“ He stopped, shook his head. “Never mind.”

“The things I grew up seeing? I think they’re mostly known as youkai. Though for the longest time, all I knew was that they were shadows out of the corner of my eye, voices coming from where no voice should be, and that if I spent too long around them, I’d get debilitating headaches. These things ...” He looked up. The sky appeared so normal, beginning to shade towards orange. “I don’t know.” He said, even more quietly than before. “I wish I did.”

“… I guess there really is a lot more to the world than I ever realized.” Kitamoto finally said.

Kaname nodded.

“… ... Real youkai? Like in the stories? Tengu and kappa and kasaobake?”

Kaname blinked. “I’ve never met a tengu as far as I know. I saw something that looked a bit like a kasaobake when I was younger, but my headache was bad enough that I managed to convince myself that I was just seeing things.” He blushed at the memory. “All I could really see was its foot and a patch of darker shadow that I thought was its eye. It ran away pretty quickly, too. … I might have screamed.”

Kitamoto snickered. “How old were you, five?”

“It was scary.” Kaname retorted, playing up his reaction. “How would you react if you saw a great big shadowy foot out of nowhere?”

There was a cough that sounded a bit like a suppressed laugh behind him, and Kaname realized that those last several exchanges had not been precisely quiet.

“Oh, I’d totally scream.” Kitamoto said blithely. A couple more chuckles. Kaname forced himself to ignore his automatic defensiveness; his inclination to hide this part of his life. The laughter didn’t sound mocking. More relieved than anything else. I guess we could all use a good laugh.

“Or flail around wildly.” Kitamoto added, warming up to the subject. “Like –” he stopped, suddenly, and stared at Kaname, eyes wide. Kaname shook his head, slightly; all he could think of to do, when he had the sinking feeling he knew what Kitamoto had been about to say. Like Natsume.

Change the subject, change the subject …

“I did help a kappa out once, though.” Kaname said. “At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. It was so weak I could barely see it at all.” He rubbed his nose, smiling at the memory. “Not so weak that getting punched in the face didn’t hurt, though.”

On Kitamoto’s other side, Furuya laughed out loud. “You got punched by a kappa? What sort of crazy place did you live before coming to join us?”

Kaname blinked. “This was just last summer, during that heat wave. I ran across it on the way home one day, on the road down near the river.” In truth, he wouldn’t have noticed it or done anything about it if Taki hadn’t pointed it out; she’d thought she’d bumped into something invisible and had been terribly worried that she’d caused someone lasting damage. But he wasn’t going to mention that – if she also became generally known as someone who knew about youkai, the way he suddenly seemed to be shaping up to be, he wanted it to be by her own choice.

“No way.” Ogawa said. “We have kappa in our river? I thought for sure those were just made up!”

“What else have you seen, Tanuma-kun?” A girl, not far behind him. Sanada-san, he thought.

He considered. “I see shadows hanging out in the back courtyard of the school, sometimes. I don’t know what they really are, though. They’re always too far away for me to see properly. Or as properly as I can, at least.” He’d asked Natsume, but his friend had just rolled his eyes and said that they were just a couple of mid-level youkai trying to get his attention and to ignore them, please.

“At school? Creepy …” Another girl – he thought the one with braids? – said.

“I think it’s cool.” Ogawa retorted. “I wish I could see them, too.”

So do I. “It’s not all fun and games.” Kaname said. “The mischievous youkai – which are the worst I’ve ever run into, thankfully –” when Natsume wasn’t around “– always seemed to take particular delight in taunting me, since I could sort of see them. Pulling my hair, jumping out at me from around corners, that sort of thing. I guess once they know they can get your attention, they feel the need to go out of their way to do so.” And that’s just with me unable to see anything but shadows.

“I guess.” Ogawa said reluctantly. “Still sounds like fun, though.”

“Sometimes it is.” Kaname admitted quietly, thinking of time spent with Natsume, trying his hardest to see the world the way his friend did, even though he knew he was doomed to fail. “A lot of the time it’s not.”

“Do they sometimes take an interest in people who can’t see them, too?” Sanada-san asked, sounding hesitant.

He turned to look back at her. Her face was downturned, staring with suspicious levels of fascination at her hands as they fiddled with her scarf’s fringe. “I think so, yes. I’m really not an expert.”

“Yes, they do.” Furuya said unexpectedly. “Why? Do you think you met one?”

She looked up. “It sounds silly, but … when I was younger, I had this hat that I loved more than anything. I wore it around constantly. One day, the wind blew it off my head and I ran after it, crying.” At Ogawa’s snicker, she glared. “I was six, okay? Anyway, after I chased it for a while, it suddenly came flying back and landed right in front of me.” She cleared her throat self-consciously. “I was so glad, I didn’t really think about it at the time. And later, I figured it was just the wind changing direction or something. But I’m not sure it did. So I was wondering …”

“There are kind youkai, too.” Kaname said. “I don’t know whether that was one of them, but … it could have been.”

“That reminds me,” another girl said, “of this one time –”

To Kaname’s surprise, almost everyone had a story.

Watanabe-san remembered a period of several weeks shortly after she started wearing glasses, where every morning she would wake up to find that her glasses had disappeared, and they'd always end up having been hidden in a new place. She finally got so frustrated that she yelled at her empty room to quit it one day, and after that, she never had a problem again.

Ogawa had gotten lost in Nanatsu Forest one day, and was found by a woman with cold hands who led him back out, but when he turned to thank her, she had disappeared.

When they all turned to the girl in braids, she shook her head and looked away. Kaname suspected there was a story behind that, too.

“There’s a mound, on the way from my house to school, that’s said to be cursed.” Furuya said abruptly. The girl shot him a grateful look, and Ogawa nodded. He probably came from that area too; Kaname again realized just how little he knew about his classmates. The only reason he knew about the mound is that he’d been involved in the story he thought Furuya was about to tell.

So had Natsume.

He eyed Furuya, wishing there was a way to pull him to the side and ask him not to tell the whole story. The class representative caught his look and winked. And what does that mean?

“I entered it once, as a kid. There was this immense wind, and this feeling ... I think that was the guardian of the mound, coming after me. If my sister hadn't been there to defend me, I don't know what would have happened.”

“Can your sister see them?” Sanada-san asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not as far as I know.” Furuya replied cheerfully, then grinned back her. “She’s a lot cuter than I am, though.”

“Did anything happen to her?” Ogawa asked. “Hey, is that why you were so out of it for a while?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. She got kind of sick for a while, but it all worked out in the end.”

“You should have said.” Ogawa said. “We could have maybe helped out, somehow.”

“Thanks, guys.” Furuya looked uncommonly serious. “But, you know, it didn’t seem so bad at first. And I didn’t really want to believe that it had to do with that incident when we were kids – who really wants to believe in things like curses, after all?” Kaname slowly started to relax. Whether he’d understood the source of Kaname’s tension or was keeping his own council for his own reasons, it looked like Furuya wasn’t going to mention Natsume either.

The other boy laughed, bitterly. “Do we have a choice?”

No one had a good answer to that. Not even Kaname, who was fairly certain that whatever had happened, it wasn’t caused by something as simple as youkai or a curse. At least, he hoped that there wasn’t anything like that that was powerful enough to affect an entire city, and potentially beyond.

Given how much he worried about Natsume already, he wasn’t sure his heart could stand the idea that his friend might have to face that.

The next shadow they ran across had formed a dark pool around yet another crashed car. The effect was visible and unusual enough, especially combined with the pounding in his head, that Kaname had no trouble spotting it and directing their group to the opposite side of the street.

He breathed a sigh of relief once they were safely past, even though it had done nothing more than shift listlessly in their direction. He wondered who had been in that car, before. If perhaps they had managed to survive the initial disappearances, only to be eaten by something they couldn’t see coming.

Or maybe they could, and just couldn’t get out in time. He couldn’t decide which would have been worse.

The sun had fallen below the surrounding buildings, stretching natural shadows across the road they followed, but it wasn’t yet dark enough for the street lamps to have turned on. Kaname was flagging, exhaustion making him want to just sit down in the middle of the street, his throbbing headache a constant reminder of just why that would be a terrible idea.

I have to keep going.

He could feel Kitamoto’s concerned glances, and hated the fact that he wasn’t strong enough to hide how badly this was affecting him. His headache had slowly grown to the point where he honestly wasn’t sure he would be able to feel one of those creatures.

But there’s no way I can tell everyone that their one protection is hardly any protection at all.

Just a bit longer. I only need to hold out a little bit longer.

He forced his head up, forced himself to keep looking around. Keep watching for signs of unusual shadows, even though with natural shadow stretching everywhere around them, he didn’t know that he’d be able to see them, either.

Malicious hunger struck with the force of a physical blow and he stopped mid-step, suddenly far too awake.

Where is it?

“Tanuma?”

“There’s one here.”

Why can’t I see it?

The shadow thrown by the building in front of them stretched towards them, towards him, and how had he not noticed when it was this close?

“… We should back up. Right now.”

“All right.” Furuya sounded entirely too calm. “Back to the sidewalk, everyone. You know the drill. … I can’t believe I just said that.”

“No!” Kaname protested, even as he kept backing away, dimly aware that everyone else was following his lead. “It’s not – I don’t know if it’s safe.”

“Can’t you see it?” The girl with braids asked, the quaver making her voice unmistakable. “I thought –”

“It’s all shadow.” Kaname made a frustrated gesture. “If it doesn’t move, I can’t tell the difference. The sidewalk looks normal, but so did the building.”

“Let’s find another way around, then.” Furuya said.

They backtracked to the last cross-street, Kaname relaxing only slightly once the feeling of malice eased off. There were still too many shadows, and his headache was still pounding away hard enough to make it difficult to concentrate on anything else, and there was a sick feeling in his stomach that asked What if you fail them again, like you almost did just now?

The next block over, a park bordered the west side of the street; at the comparative lack of visible shadows, people walked a little bit less fearfully. However beautiful the sunset may or may not have been, no one was in a proper state to appreciate it.

“This area is okay, right?”

“I haven’t seen or felt anything else yet.” It was the closest to a reassurance he could give.

The park was far too small, not even stretching the full block. As they reached the next group of buildings – tall enough, of course, to cast the entire street in shadow – the group stalled, no one quite willing to step back into the shadows. Kaname, for all he didn’t sense any malice so thought it was probably safe, most reluctant of all.

Then street lamps started flickering on, and someone laughed, and Kaname felt something in his gut relax. With the light, he ought to be able to see any shadows that moved. Maybe we can make it after all.

“Are you doing all right?” Kitamoto asked quietly, as they reached the end of that block and continued on to the next. “You’re not looking too good.”

This is the worst headache I’ve had in terms of both duration and peak pain levels in a long time. I’m getting kind of queasy from a combination of that and lunch being a long time ago. I’m frankly astonished that I haven’t passed out yet. “I’m fine.” Kaname said. They’re all depending on me. I refuse to be anything but fine.

“All right.” Kitamoto didn’t look like he believed him. Well, that was fine, too. As long as he made it. As long as he got everyone back to the hotel safely.

Everyone who’s left. You’ve already failed twice.

“Hey, I remember this intersection.” Furuya said. “We’re almost there, everyone!”

Kaname brightened, and knew he wasn’t the only one. Those last couple of blocks, there was an extra spring in everyone’s step. Even his headache seemed to have receded in the anticipation of safety, and the hope of reuniting with their scattered year-mates. Perhaps the homeroom teacher for one of the other classes had survived? Or one of the other teachers who’d come along to help supervise? Any adult, who might know better what was going on and be willing to take control?

From the small courtyard it faced out onto, the hotel looked remarkably normal. Light even shone comfortingly down from a small handful of rooms. Briefly, Kaname let himself hope.

Sanada-san took a step forward, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted. “Oiiiii!” Kaname winced. “Heeeey, the hotel! Can anyone hear me?!”

She sagged, and Ogawa patted her shoulder tentatively. “It was worth a try?” He looked around. “It really is deserted, though. Do you think –”

“We won’t know until we look.” Furuya said, with a glance at the convenience store that bordered the courtyard’s other edge. Between the tall windows and the bright lights, they could all clearly see that there was no one there. Unless someone was hiding behind the magazine stands, I suppose. But they’d probably have come out when Sanada-san shouted.

He shook that thought off as they entered the hotel. They could check for sure later. We’ll need to do something about dinner, too, after all.

No one at the reception desk. Past the lobby, the dining room also sat empty, tables and chairs still lined up in neat rows, but no food or dishes of any sort in sight. Of course, if no one’s been here since early afternoon, they wouldn’t have started preparing for dinner yet.

Back out in the lobby, they paused in front of the elevator, then continued on towards the stairs. Kaname knew, logically, that it was probably safe (as long as one of those shadows wasn’t already inside), but it still felt a bit too much like being trapped, and it appeared his classmates agreed.

Halfway up the first flight of stairs, Watanabe-san said, “We’re on the third floor. If I recall correctly, guys were on the fifth?” Kaname nodded, along with the other male members of their group. “Then the lighted windows were on the second, sixth, and seventh floors, right? I assume we’ll check those, too.”

“I’m planning to check them all.” Furuya said.

Eight floors of rooms. Ten rooms per floor. Most of them shut and locked, and the only keys they had were their own. The doors that had been left ajar they opened – never anything more interesting than piles of luggage – and the locked ones they pounded at, shouting. No response.

Kaname took to leaning against whatever wall was nearest whenever he had the opportunity to do so. What little energy he’d regained from making it back to the hotel in one piece seeped out with each fresh disappointment. But he would not become a burden. He could keep going. Just a little bit longer.

No one spoke as they looked at the last room – another neat stack of luggage – then trudged back down the stairs and outside.

Watanabe-san, Sanada-san, and Ogawa clumped about halfway between the hotel and convenience store, heads bowed low over their cell phones. The girl with braids stood a few steps away, clutching her bag and looking like she wanted to join but wasn’t sure of her welcome.

Furuya and Kitamoto stood farther away, also chatting quietly.

He hadn’t quite figured out his sensing range – especially when this exhausted – but Kaname was fairly sure everyone stood within it. The area was more than well enough lit that he could tell the only shadows in the area were apparently natural ones.

Close enough.

He found a patch of wall to lean against, but soon gave up putting up even that much of a front. He slid to the ground, pulled his knees to his chest, curled forward to rest his forehead on them, and just breathed. Grey crept in around the edges of his vision; typically a good sign that he was on the verge of passing out. When his body was actually kind enough to give him that much warning.

He concentrated on the soothing pressure of his arm against his still-pounding head; the indistinct murmur of his classmates talking; the hint of a breeze brushing across his exposed arms. Slowly, the grey receded.

He heard cloth rustling nearby and a quiet grunt as someone sat down next to him. For a long moment more, he stayed in his current position, not quite sure he was up to acting normal. But he had a feeling he knew who it was, and his friend deserved better than that from him. Slowly, he sat back up, then turned just far enough to look. “Kitamoto.”

His friend looked unimpressed. “Fine, huh.”

Kaname managed a tired grin. “We made it here, didn’t we?”

“… If I tell you not to strain yourself, you’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

“Probably not.” Kaname smiled wryly. “Not when lives are at stake.”

Kitamoto looked like he wanted to protest, but after a moment just sighed. “There’s not a whole lot I can say to that, is there? Just … you’re not going to be any good to anyone if you collapse, you know.”

“Don’t worry, I know all about collapsing.” Kaname said. “Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve held up this well.” He leaned his head sideways, looking out across the rapidly darkening street. “Those things … maybe they’re less powerful than most youkai. Except, to be able to completely consume a person like that …” He sighed. “I wish I knew more.”

“So do we all.” Kitamoto said wryly. “I still can’t believe …”

Kaname nodded.

“Watanabe said that Class 4 managed to contact Class 2.” Kitamoto said. “It sounds like they weren’t nearly as decimated as 4 – probably about as bad as us.” He sighed. “Aside from the girls they finally got through to, they didn’t think to ask exactly who survived, though.”

Kaname closed his eyes briefly. “Natsume and Nishimura are okay.”

If Natsume’s with them … they have to be fine.

“I hope so.” Kitamoto said. “Is –?” He started, then cut himself off suddenly. Curious, Kaname looked at his friend, just in time to see an expression that he thought might have been anger cross his face.

“What?”

Kitamoto blew out a slow breath, looked around as though checking whether anyone was within easy listening distance – no one was – then turned back to Kaname. “There was one day I stayed late after school, a while back.” He started. It seemed a non sequitur, but Kaname held his peace – Kitamoto would get to the point when he was ready. “Back when they were having us do the career choice surveys, you remember?”

Kaname nodded. He’d spent a lot of hours worrying over his own. He still had no idea what he really wanted to do with his life. He knew his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps and become a priest, though he’d never push Kaname into it. And it was honestly an appealing option. It would certainly suit his disposition and physical limitations better than he suspected a typical salaryman job would. And now that he knew more about youkai, he selfishly wanted to continue living a life where he could still interact with that world.

After that conversation with Natori-san in Omibashira’s mansion, he’d considered becoming an exorcist, as well. But, seeing the way Natori-san acted …

If I did something like that, it would be to help the youkai as well as the humans. Like Natsume.

… I guess it’s all a moot point now, isn’t it?

“I went to leave school, but all the windows and doors wouldn’t budge, like there was a typhoon outside, even though the sky was clear. I couldn’t find anyone to let me out, but then I heard someone talking.”

Kaname winced. He had the feeling he knew where this was going.

Kitamoto smiled wryly. “Natsume said he was just talking to an acquaintance and implied that he’d slipped out of the room before I came in. But he wasn’t talking that quietly, and I could only hear his side of the conversation.” He sighed again, and ran his hand through his hair. “Then there was the curtain that I swear was trying to strangle Natsume, and a bell I found on the floor that mysteriously disappeared at the same time as a huge gust of wind, and then Natsume was free. It could all be coincidence, and I mostly thought it was, but … after today …”

He blew out a breath. “There have been other strange things, too. Well, you know – you two have been friends almost as long as we have, and I sometimes get the feeling that he tells you a lot more than he does Nishimura and I.”

I wish.

“I wasn’t going to ask, but … is that why you’re so sure that they’re all right? Because Natsume’s like you?”

Kaname forced himself to meet Kitamoto’s eyes, too tired to try to come up with a more effective lie that Kitamoto would probably still see through. And unsure whether he even should. “That’s his secret to tell.”

It was as good as an admission, and both of them knew it.

“… Heh. In a way, it’s a relief. To know that neither of us are crazy.” He looked back out towards the street. “Though I wish it hadn’t taken the world going crazy to find out.”

Kaname sighed. “Growing up, I was always petrified that someone would find out, and simultaneously convinced that everyone already knew. I didn’t want everyone else to think I was crazy for seeing things they didn’t. Especially not since even I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t.” He smiled grimly. “When you're the only one ...”

Kitamoto met his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something, so Kaname raised a hand. “And all I could usually see were shadows, and they usually weren’t all that threatening. Most of the time, I could just ignore them. Plus, though we’ve moved around quite a bit, my dad’s always been there for me.”

Kitamoto raised both hands in surrender, though he wasn’t laughing. “I get it! ... Did you honestly think we’d abandon you?”

You talk like you expect us to have some basis for comparison. He didn’t know about Natsume – though he had pretty strong suspicions – but for Kaname, at least, the friends he’d made here were the best friends he’d ever had. Even with the secrets.

Apparently, he had hesitated too long. Reassuring lies had never been his forte. Kitamoto rolled his eyes, leaned over, and punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Idiot.”

Rubbing his shoulder, Kaname smiled. “... Thanks, Kitamoto.”

He just shook his head. “Both of you.” He looked back towards the street and said more quietly, “I just hope they get here soon, so I can tell him that to his face.”

“They will.” Kaname followed Kitamoto’s gaze out into the too-empty night, speaking with a confidence he didn't actually feel. They have to.

... I hope.

Chapter Text

Kaname leaned his head back against the wall, thoughts swirling idly. The stars look brighter tonight. Or maybe it’s just that the night looks darker.

At his side, Kitamoto yawned. Kaname tried and ultimately failed to suppress a yawn of his own.

We'll have to figure out sleeping arrangements. He thought, gut clenching at the thought of yet another obstacle to overcome. Maybe all bundle up in the lobby or something. Or would a higher floor be better? That shadow didn't seem to deal too well with stairs.

He blinked and looked at Kitamoto. "If that shadow thing was so slow at climbing stairs, what was it doing on that landing in the first place? It must have been at least halfway up.”

Kitamoto blinked back. “What?”

“The shadow creature we first encountered. It looked like it was just on the landing, and it took minutes to inch far enough up onto the first step to be a danger to you.” Reflexively, they both looked at Kitamoto’s feet, then laughed self-consciously. “And the next one we encountered stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, even though all it would have had to do is slide down. So how did the first one end up in the middle of a stairwell?”

“Maybe it was there already?” Kitamoto suggested, then frowned. “No, surely someone would have noticed. Unless it appeared at the same time as everyone else disappeared, and just happened to appear there?”

Kaname nodded slowly. “It would also explain why I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Maybe they are what made everyone disappear.” Kitamoto said. “I don’t know about you, but to me – to the rest of us – it looked like Inoue and Yukimura-san just disappeared, the same way everyone else did.”

“Well, I was otherwise occupied at the time.” Kaname said wryly, suppressing the urge to wince at even the memory of that headache. “But if there had been that many shadows, you’d think that we’d have seen more of them on the way here. To consume an entire city’s worth of people, they’d practically have to be crawling out of every spare corner.”

“True …” Kitamoto rested his chin in his hand. “What about –”

“Masami-chan?” Both their heads shot up at the unfamiliar voice. A girl in their school’s uniform, her longish brown hair in a disarray, stood at the edge of the sidewalk, staring like she had seen a ghost. As Kitamoto helped him to his feet, Kaname suspected that they all had similar expressions on their faces. “Are you … real?”

“Rika-chan!” Watanabe-san ran towards the other girl and hugged her. “I was so worried!”

The other girl crumpled. “He shoved me away and told me to run.” She choked out between sobs. “And I did! I ran! And then I turned around and he was gone, and I was so scared!”

Watanabe-san just hugged her more tightly. She turned her head to look at Kaname, and he looked away, feeling useless.

“… You’re safe now.” She finally said. “I am so, so sorry.”

As safe as any of us are.

“She was Class 4, I think.” Kitamoto said quietly. “I didn’t really know anyone in their class all that well. … I guess now I’ll never get the chance.”

Kaname bumped his shoulder. It was about all the support he knew how to give. “… Did anyone ever manage to contact Class 3?”

Kitamoto shrugged, face tight with frustration. “Not that I’ve heard. Hopefully one of the other classes did.”

Kaname nodded.

Rika-san’s sobs began to slow, but Watanabe-san still held her tightly. Thinking about Yukimura-san from earlier, perhaps? Kaname immediately regretted the thought, feeling more helpless than ever. I don’t think I can do this alone. Can I even risk sleeping, not knowing what the monsters might be up to? … Can I manage to stay awake even if we can’t risk it?

A nudge to his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. “Stop brooding so much.” Kitamoto said quietly. “You’ve gotten us this far. We’ll work something out.”

Kaname smiled weakly. I hope so.

“… Tanuma?”

Kaname turned so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, and barely had time to recognize Taki’s face – fragile hope blooming into a sort of horrified happiness – before he found himself stumbling backwards, arms full of his friend.

“Taki.” He didn’t know how to do physical affection. He really, really didn’t. But here and now, that didn’t seem to matter, as he closed his arms around his friend and rested his cheek on top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He had a vague impression that there had been others with her, who were now joining the rest of his class, but that all paled in importance next to the fact that Taki was here.

“Me too.” She said, voice muffled. “I was so afraid. Especially when –” She stopped, and pulled away just far enough to look up into his face. “That bit about shadows that eat people. Was that you?”

He nodded. “We encountered a few of them. Lost people to the first one. Luckily, they’re enough like youkai that I can see them. Well, as well as I can see anything. So once we realized what they did, I was able to steer us away from the others. We thought everyone else should know, too. Even though –” He stopped. Taki probably didn’t want to listen to him babbling.

She leaned her forehead back against his chest. “We lost people, too.” She admitted, so quietly that Kaname had to strain to hear. “We ran into several of them, and every time we had no idea until someone else had just –” She stopped. “But at least we knew what had happened. Without your warning …” She shuddered. “When I heard it had come from Class 1, I hoped … but I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“So am I.” He closed his eyes. It should have felt uncomfortable, hugging Taki like this. He should have been worried about who might see, or what they might think, or whether Taki herself might misconstrue the gesture.

But at the moment, he was so overwhelmed by friend and here and safe that he couldn’t bring himself to care. And given how tightly Taki clung back, he suspected he wasn’t alone.

Finally, Taki pulled back, smiling tremulously and rubbing at her eyes – though Kaname couldn’t see any actual tears – and Kaname let her go. She caught sight of Kitamoto for the first time, still standing and waiting silently. (And, okay, now that the hug had stopped, now he was kind of worried what other people would think. Not worried enough to regret it, though.) “Oh! You’re Natsume’s friend, um … Kitamoto-kun, right?”

Kitamoto nodded. “And you’re Taki-san, from Class 5.” He threw Kaname a speaking glance that left him no doubt that there would be teasing later, but all he said aloud was, “I hadn’t realized you two were – quite so good of friends.”

Kaname and Taki exchanged glances. He shrugged. “Natsume.”

“Heh. For a guy that hard to approach, he sure has good taste in friends.” Kitamoto said. “Taki-san, can you see youkai, too?”

Taki’s head whipped to stare at Kaname so fast that he was afraid that she’d give herself whiplash. He shrugged sheepishly. “After I freaked out when that shadow started eating people, it was a bit late to worry about people thinking I was crazy. Especially since it was self-evident that at least some of the things I see really are real.” He smiled wryly. “I haven’t talked about Natsume to the rest of the class, but, well … Kitamoto’s his friend, too. And given the way Natsume acts sometimes, it’s not that hard to put two and two together.”

Kitamoto struck his palm with his fist. “That reminds me! That one time, when he was acting like a girl?”

“And his eyes turned blue?” Kaname asked. Kitamoto looked blank. “Huh, maybe that was just me. Yes, he was possessed.”

Taki giggled, then brought both hands up to cover her mouth, looking chagrined. “By a female youkai? He must have been mortified.”

Kaname grinned at the memory. “I never got the full story out of him. Something about a lute?”

“So wait … I thought possession was usually permanent, or at least needed an exorcism to get rid of.” Kitamoto said. “At least, that’s usually how it works in stories. But Natsume was only like that for maybe a day.”

“Closer to a week.” Kaname corrected. “He just got a lot better about keeping her out of the way during school hours after the first day.” He shrugged. “I suspect that whatever she wanted, he helped her with it, and that after she’d achieved what she set out to achieve, she let him go. That’s how my possession worked, at least.”

“Wait, you’ve been possessed?” Kitamoto demanded. “How did I miss this?”  

Kaname smirked. “My youkai wasn’t as girly.”

“Still a girl, though, wasn’t she?” Taki asked.

“… Yes.”

Kitamoto threw his head back and laughed.

Kaname and Taki exchanged smiles of their own. He felt a bit guilty, remembering how worried Natsume had been; how frantic to resolve everything so that Kaname could get his body back. But it hadn’t been so bad, really, once she’d been convinced that they really did mean to help. And it had been oddly satisfying, to take real, material part in one of the crazy adventures that seemed to flock to Natsume.

Plus, it was the first time I’d ever been able to see like he could. And yeah, I saw a lot of scary things. But I saw some pretty wonderful things, too. It was worth it.

“And no, I can’t see youkai.” Taki said, responding to the question that Kaname had almost forgotten Kitamoto had asked. “My grandfather spent most of his life studying them, though, and I’ve read some of his notes, so I know a few things.”

“I’ve still got that charm you made me.” Kaname said. “I’m sure Natsume still has his, too.”

She made a face. “Natsume’s is fine, but yours – it’s so ugly and scary-looking! You should have told me – I could have made you something else, something cuter.”

“Now I want to see this.” Kitamoto leaned in. Kaname dug the charm out of his bag, and Kitamoto reeled back. “Whoa! That really is ugly! Um. No offense, Taki-san.”

She laughed. “None taken. It really is. … You can call me Taki, if you want.” She glanced out towards the empty street.

“Then you might as well call me Kitamoto.” His friend replied. “Hey, I don’t suppose your grandfather’s notes mentioned anything about those shadow creatures?” He glanced towards Kaname, as though asking whether he had any better name for them. Kaname shrugged. “Or ways we could protect against them?”

She wrinkled her nose. “From the description I heard – which I should probably double-check with you, Tanuma; it sounded a bit garbled – I don’t remember anything similar. I’m nowhere near done sorting through them, though. As for protection …”

She stared upward, clearly working through some sort of mental calculation. “I think I’ve got something that ought to work.” She said slowly. “I can’t guarantee it – it’s a protection against youkai malice, not … whatever they are. But it’ll probably be better than nothing?” She half-smiled wryly. “I didn’t go quite as public with my hobbies as it sounds like you did. But you’re right that there’s not a whole lot of point in hiding it anymore. Especially not if it’s something that will improve our chances of survival.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Kaname said. “I’m sure everyone else will, too.”

“Who’s been leading you? I should probably find out where everyone’s going to sleep so that I can start getting to work on the circle, but I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“That would be our class representative. Furuya Kouta – over there, the guy with the mole under his eye and slicked-back hair.”

“Got it.” She said, then hesitated, glancing back towards the street. “Has there been any more news on 4, 3, or – 2?”

“4 only had one survivor.” Kitamoto said quietly, nodding towards where Watanabe-san stood chatting with her friend. “And she’s back with us now. She apparently managed to contact class 2 earlier, so I assume they’re on their way as well. As for 3 …” he shook his head. “Last I heard, no one knows, still.”

“One survivor … and I thought that we had it bad.” She shuddered. “Well, at least 2 should be safe. It’s got Natsume with it, after all.” Kaname exchanged another smile with Taki. It was good to see that someone else shared his faith in Natsume’s survival. It made it easier for him to maintain.

“Come on.” Kitamoto jerked his head towards the rest of the group. “I’ll introduce you.”

Taki smiled. “Thanks.”

Kaname watched them walk away, for the first time scanning the group to see who else from class 5 had made it back to them safely. There was a blonde girl who he thought he vaguely remembered seeing talk to Natsume a couple of times, and two guys and a brown-haired girl with her hair in a high ponytail, none of whom he recognized at all. That was it. He flinched. Only five people?

And with no one who could see, Taki could just as easily have been –

Stop it. She’s here now.

He turned his attention back towards the street, and the relative quiet struck him again. The last couple of days, he’d almost gotten used to the near-constant noise of people and cars in the background. Now if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was back home. With the trees lining the street, he could even hear some of the same gentle rustling, though of course not nearly as loud as home. Especially not when the wind really got going, and it started raining …

Homesickness struck him with sudden, unexpected force. Made unimaginably worse by the fact that he had no idea whether he’d make it home again, or whether it would be anything like what he’d left by the time he did. Please be okay, Dad. I know you can’t see, but you do have power. Please let that be enough to protect you.

Overwhelmed by the need to know, he turned and headed back towards the group, waylaying the first person with a cell phone – Ogawa – that he could find. “Can I borrow that?”

“Sure.” He said, handing it over with a shrug. “Do you know some numbers we don’t? You should have said.”

Kaname shook his head. “No cell phone, so I never bothered to learn any of them.” He forced himself not to grip the phone so hard. “I wanted to call my father.”

Ogawa went white. “You think –”

“It would be great – comparatively speaking – if this phenomenon only affected this city.” Kaname said quietly. “But I feel like if it had, there would have been some sort of sign that something bad was pending, you know? This came out of nowhere, and it’s affected everywhere we’ve been so far. I don’t know that it’s broader, but … I can’t ignore the possibility.”

Ogawa reached out, as though to take his phone back, then hesitated and let his hand fall. “Go ahead. I want to – but it was your idea, so you should get to go first.”

It hadn’t even occurred to him? Kaname shook the thought off and dialed, hoping that he’d remembered the number properly. In the year or so they’d lived there, he could count the number of times he’d called home on one hand. The phone rang, and kept ringing, as he counted the rings under his breath. At ten, it flipped over to the answering machine, and he sighed.

“Hello, Dad? It’s Kaname.” He turned to look back at the street again. “Stuff has happened on the trip. Um, if I’m right, which I hope I’m not, you probably know what I’m talking about already. If so, I wanted you to know that I'm safe. Please stay safe, too.

"It’ll probably take longer than usual to get home, but we will get back. … If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m glad, and I’ll tell you about it when we get home.” He hesitated. “If you want to call me back, you can use this number?” He made the statement a question, and was relieved to see Ogawa’s nod. He held out the phone. “Could you –?”

He took the phone and rattled off his number, then, with a glance at Kaname, said, “This is Ogawa Junichi, whose phone your son borrowed. Um, if you find anything out about my family, could you call me, too? Thanks.”

He shut the phone. “I hope you don’t mind me adding that bit at the end.”

Kaname shook his head. “Not at all. I hope you have better luck with your family.”

Ogawa smiled. “Thanks, Tanuma.”

He managed a return smile, then retreated back to his former position near the wall, not wanting anyone to see while he very quietly panicked. There were plenty of reasons why his dad might not have made it to the phone. He’d been due back in tonight, after all. If the city he'd been in had also been affected, there’s no way he’d be back yet. Or even if it hadn’t been, he could have just missed the train or some other completely mundane delay. Or he could be …

Kaname shook his head violently. No. I’m going to believe he’s okay until I have proof otherwise.

He sat back down, pulling his knees up to his chest and propping his chin on his crossed arms. He’s fine. He has to be fine. He’s all I have left.

As soon as he thought that, he felt guilty. He had his friends. There was his aunt, several towns over. Assuming she’s not gone too. Even if the worst had happened and his father was gone, he wouldn’t be alone.

But it had been his father and himself for so long. Ever since his mother died, he’d known that his father probably would, someday, too. But that was someday. Sometime a long time from now. Somewhere Kaname could be with him, have a chance to say goodbye. Not six hours ago in a completely different town, leaving no sign behind that he’d ever existed at all.

Stop it. He’s fine. Just delayed.

“You really started something back there.” Kitamoto sat down next to him. Kaname twitched. He hadn’t noticed his friend’s approach at all. “Someone heard Ogawa calling his parents, and now everyone’s clamoring for a chance.”

Kaname tried for a smile. “You’re not?”

He shook his head. “I’m worried, of course. How could I not be, when my dad –?” He cut himself off. “Sorry, it’s not important. But … whatever happened, it’s already happened. A few minutes won’t make that much of a difference. And you looked like you could use some company.”

“What happened?” Taki settled on his other side. “Did you not get through?”

Kaname shook his head. “Answering machine. Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything – my dad wasn’t supposed to get back from his trip until an hour or so ago anyway. But …”

“You’re still worried.” Taki finished.

Kaname nodded, not trusting himself to reply verbally. He tilted his head. “What about you, Taki? Also waiting for your chance?”

She looked away, the longer hair that framed her face falling across it and hiding it from view. “My dad and brother are overseas. The number’s at home, but I never bothered to memorize it. My mom’s probably still at work, and I don’t remember her work phone either, so …” She shrugged. “I can wait.”

Her mother works this late, regularly? And her dad isn’t even in the country? He’d wondered a bit, when they’d stumbled by her house that one weekend, why no one else was home, but put it off as being not really his business. Now, he couldn’t help wondering just how much time she spent at home alone. … Though I suppose that doesn’t really matter anymore, either …

“Do you see anything?” Taki asked, pushing the hair back out of her face again. “Out there?”

Kaname shook his head. “If any more of those things are out there, they’re doing a good job of laying low and looking like actual shadows.” He rubbed at his temples, wishing that the remaining tension headache and dragging exhaustion would disappear as easily. “I don’t feel anything either, though if they’re out on the street, I’m not sure my range extends that far. What did Furuya have to say?”

“He agreed that it sounded like a good idea. I’ll draw the circle once we have a better idea where everyone’s going to sleep. Which he said he’d figure out after dinner.” Kaname resisted the urge to make a face. He knew he ought to be hungry, but between the stress and his headache, food was close to the last thing on his mind.

“Hopefully everyone else will be back by then.” Taki said. “I wouldn’t want to have to spend the night outside with all those things around. And hiding in someone’s empty house just seems …” she shuddered. “Anyway, that’s around when people started making a lot of noise about calling home, and he got distracted trying to help manage that, so I suspect he won’t seriously start working on figuring out dinner until that’s dealt with. Which might take a while.”

“I hope someone gets through to their parents.” Kitamoto said, looking back at the clumped remainder of their classes. “Ideally because nothing’s happened to anyone. But even if it is widespread …”

Kaname nodded. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if there genuinely weren’t any adults left. And not just because it would be comforting to have them around. The thought of all that knowledge, just … lost …

An even worse thought than before occurred to him, and he shivered. “Taki?”

“Yes?”

“Once we get back home, if this really has affected there as well, could you call your dad?”

She went still. “You think this is worldwide?”

“I don’t know.” Kaname said. “I really don’t. I hope it’s not – as terrible as it would still be, I honestly hope that the problem is local to this town. But if it’s not …”

Someone whooped. Exchanging glances, they ran back over to rejoin the main group.

“Sorry!” One of the guys from class 5, with short, tousled, dark brown hair, said brightly. “It’s just, I was afraid you wouldn’t be there.” A pause. “Yes, I know it’s your day off.” Another pause, and he sobered. “The thing is … something’s happened, here. And we were afraid it might have happened back home, too. Are – is Mom home, yet?”

The silence surrounding the boy took on a more sober feel. They all knew why he was asking. They all knew what a negative response at this point likely meant. Kaname realized he was holding his breath, and quietly released it.

“Okay, well, will you call her? Just in case?” The boy asked, voice remarkably steady. “It’s important, Dad. Everyone’s – well, a lot of people have – disappeared, here.” Another pause. “I’m not making things up!  And no, they didn't just wander off, we saw them disappear. Look, we all hope that home’s unaffected, but … a lot of us have been calling our parents, and you’re the first one who’s actually picked up.” Kaname exchanged speaking glances with Kitamoto and Taki. “Yes, I know it could just be coincidence, but a lot of them are supposed to be home by now, too.”

A sigh. “Okay. Just, be safe, will you? The disappearances are apparently caused by invisible things that eat people. No, I’m not joking!” Another sigh, exasperated. “Fine. Fine.” Another pause. He sighed, rubbed his face with his hand, and glanced around, suddenly looking a bit hesitant. “Yeah, I love you too. Bye.”

He snapped the phone shut and looked up, meeting everyone else's curious eyes. “Well, the good news is, my dad appears to be alive and well.” He said, forcing cheer. “The bad news is, he’s barely been outside at all. He hasn’t seen anyone since this afternoon, but since he spent most of the day inside catching up on his reading, that’s not actually all that unusual.”

A sigh of disappointment rippled through the crowd. “Sorry.” He said.

“At least it’s more than we knew before.” Furuya said matter-of-factly. “We may not know whether this phenomenon affected our town, but we at least know that if so, not everyone was affected.”

“… He’s also the first adult.” Kaname added.   He’d mostly been thinking aloud, but when attention shifted to him, he felt bound to explain. “Well, in all three of our classes, the homeroom teacher was one of the ones who disappeared, right? So I was thinking there might be an age limit of some sort. Knowing that your dad” he nodded to the brown-haired guy “is still alive means that that theory’s not correct.”

“Actually, our homeroom teacher didn’t disappear in the first wave.”   Taki said quietly. “She was just one of the first to get eaten by the shadows.”

“Oh.”

“... The point is, it’s good news.” Furuya interjected. “I’m glad to hear your father’s all right, Shimoda.”

How does he know everyone’s name? Maybe it’s some sort of secret class representative power.

… Or maybe he just pays more attention than you. He must be more tired than he thought, if he was starting to think thoughts about “secret class representative powers”.

Shimoda smiled. “Yeah.” It dropped away almost immediately. “I just hope my mom is, too.” He looked around. “He said he’d go out, see if he could find anyone else around. I’m not sure he actually believed me about the monsters. … Though I guess I’d far rather turn out to have been lying than have this thing have happened back home, too.”

A general murmur of agreement.

He tucked his phone away and shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly trying to appear unconcerned. “I can’t really blame him. This morning, I wouldn’t have believed me.”

I would have. Kaname thought, knowing even as he thought it that the thought was unfair. These people – everyone here except Taki and himself, really – were just normal students. He ought to be impressed that they were reacting this well to proof that another world existed, intermingled with their own. Assuming that those shadow monsters are some sort of youkai. Even though they’re not like anything either Taki or I has heard of before, I think I’d rather believe that than believe that there’s yet another world out there that no one can see. Especially given how hostile all the manifestations of it we’ve seen so far are.

“Right.” Furuya said, interrupting Kaname’s train of thought. “Anyone else need to use a phone?”

The blonde girl from class 5 snapped a cell phone closed and handed it back to her ponytailed classmate; everyone else shook their heads.

“In that case, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m hungry.” He hesitated. “I think the original plan was to go out for dinner tonight, but that's obviously not happening.”

“If it was, we’d be running very late.” Sanada-san said dryly, fiddling with the fringe of her scarf again.

A couple of people chuckled. Furuya smiled. “Exactly. Luckily, we’ve got an alternative right here.” He jerked a thumb back at the convenience store. “Does everyone have enough money on them to cover it? If not, could the people with extra help out?”

Everyone looked at each other. Kaname saw a few hesitant nods.

“Why not just take it?” The other boy from class 5 asked. He stood off to the side, posture clearly defensive, his long fringe shading his eyes. “It’s not like it matters anymore.”

“Maybe not.” Furuya agreed quietly. “But let’s pretend that it does as long as we can, yeah? Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a dream.”

The other boy turned away.

Furuya’s attention slipped away from him and travelled onward, settling eventually on, Kaname was surprised to realize, him. “Tanuma?”

“Yes?” He asked cautiously.

He made a face. “I know it looks bright, but … could you double-check?”

“Of course.” Hyper-aware of the four new sets of eyes on him, Kaname walked over to the convenience store and stepped inside, squinting at the brightness of the fluorescent lights. No sign of anyone, man or monster. He turned and waved. “It’s clear!”

He ducked to the side, next to the magazine racks, as the rest of their group rushed in, quickly scattering. Behind him sat boxes of crackers and other non-perishables. Probably wouldn’t hurt to stock up on some of those when we leave in the morning. Not appropriate for dinner, though.

He wandered listlessly through the aisles, trying to find something that looked appealing. Or at least that wouldn’t actively turn him off. Maybe if I were at all hungry …

“So you can see those things?” He tried not to jump as the guy with the over-long fringe appeared next to him, an appraising look in his eyes.

Kaname grimaced. “I can see something. It looks a lot like a shadow, except it moves and if you stand in it for too long, it envelopes you and makes you disappear.” He shook his head. “At night like this, though, it’s almost useless.”

“… I heard you lost people, too.” He said quietly. “We started out with maybe half of our class left, but without some way of seeing those things, we lost … a lot more people than we should have.”

“We lost a little over half of our class initially, but only two afterwards.” Kitamoto offered from an aisle over. “It wouldn’t have been any if they’d just listened …”

“At least we fared better than class 4.” The ponytailed girl from class 5 said, with a quick glance towards the refrigerated section, where Rika-san and Watanabe-san stood examining the onigiri. She bit her lip, then added, “I hope the same thing didn’t happen to 2 and 3. 2 was doing all right the last time we contacted them, but that was several hours ago. Our only contact was through Hitomi-chan, who we lost.” She shook her head. “It didn’t even occur to us to make sure everyone exchanged contacts lists. And we never managed to contact Class 3.”  

“Class 2 should be okay.” Kaname said, hating how it sounded less and less certain the more often he said it. Please. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about class 3.

Kitamoto’s stomach growled audibly. He looked sheepish. “Sorry.Don’t you have anything yet, Tanuma?”

Kaname shook his head. “I’m really not all that hungry.”

Kitamoto frowned and chucked an onigiri at Kaname’s head. He caught it, barely. “Well eat anyway. Honestly, you and Natsume. If this store had any liver I’d sit on you and force-feed it to you, I swear.”

Kaname eyed his friend. “Liver?”

“It’s good for anemia.” He faltered. “Which I guess isn’t exactly your problem. But it’s still good for you!” He threw another onigiri at Kaname. “As is food in general. So go eat!”

Kaname had to laugh. “Yes sir.” He nodded to Taki’s classmates and headed to the counter. From the small stack of coins sitting there, several people had already paid and left. He added his own contribution to the stack, making change from what was already there, and left, returning to what he was beginning to think of as “his” patch of wall near the hotel door.

He turned the first of the onigiri over. Salmon. Could be worse. He pulled it open and reluctantly started to eat. He didn’t want to risk Kitamoto trying to force feed him after all, if his friend came out and saw he still hadn’t started.

Halfway through, his stomach finally decided it was hungry after all, and he practically inhaled the rest. He’d just opened the second when a third dropped into his lap. He squinted up at Taki. “Do I have a sign on my back that says ‘feed me’, or something?”

She settled down next to him, prying open a pre-packaged bento. “Can you really blame me for being worried? You look like you’re about to keel over any minute now.”

“I’m honestly surprised I haven’t.” Kaname muttered. From Taki’s sharp look, he suspected it hadn’t come out as quietly as he’d hoped. He tried to soften it with a smile. “Thanks.”

When Kitamoto came back over, he sat a short distance away, facing Kaname and Taki. Kaname just nodded at him, his mouth currently full. His friend tore open a yakisoba sandwich, putting a couple of melon breads on the ground beside him.

“Waiting to eat those?” Kaname asked once he’d swallowed, nodding towards the melon bread.

Kitamoto shook his head. “Saving it for Nishimura.” He said quietly, looking down at his sandwich as though afraid to see Kaname’s reaction.

“Ah.” Kaname said, turning his gaze back out towards the street. Come to think of it, at the handful of lunches that he’d actually eaten with the other three, Nishimura had always seemed to gravitate towards the melon bread. I wonder what Natsume’s favorite convenience store food is.

It sometimes surprised him, just how little he knew about his friend, when it came down to it. He expected, if hated, that Natsume would hide the important things from him. But even just little things, like favorite foods, he seemed to be just as wary of sharing. As though he were afraid that letting anyone know anything about him would come back to haunt him.

… Hah. I guess I do know that he hates parsley, though, at least. That’s a start.

They finished the rest of their dinner in silence. Kaname was vaguely aware of the rest of their classmates exiting the convenience store in small clumps and scattering around the small courtyard area. All arranged such that they could keep an eye on the street, as though watching it would make their remaining classmates return any faster, and all in brightly lit areas.

With food in his belly taking the edge off his remaining tension headache, Kaname could feel his eyes growing heavy. He considered getting up and suggesting they all move inside for the night, but even getting up seemed like too much work. Plus, what if someone else (Class 2) arrived and they weren’t out here to greet them? He’d never forgive himself if something happened.

A sudden weight against his shoulder made him jump; it turned out to be Taki, slumping against him, eyes closed. Kitamoto laughed softly. “And here I thought she was Natsume’s girl.”

“What? No.” Kaname glared at Kitamoto. “Taki’s our friend, she’s not anyone’s girl. She’s … Taki is Taki.”

“She’s also not quite as asleep as she looks.” The girl herself observed dreamily, eyes still closed. “I can move, if I’m making you uncomfortable, Tanuma.”

Kaname shook his head, then realized she probably couldn’t see. “It’s fine.” He yawned. “I won’t be responsible for carrying you in if you fall asleep, though.”

“Mm.” She made an affirmative sound. “You’re not quite as much of a beanpole as Natsume, but I’m still not sure I’d trust you to carry me properly, especially not all the way there.”

“Hey.” Kaname protested. He glared when Kitamoto laughed. Traitors.

Effectively trapped by the weight on his arm – if voluntarily; he cherished the tactile reminder that Taki was here and safe – Kaname turned his attention from the street up to the sky. He was in the middle of his second absent attempt to count the stars clustered around one of the few constellations he recognized when he heard it. “Atcchan!!”

Kitamoto surged to his feet; dashed across the courtyard and caught up to Nishimura before the shorter boy had had the chance to do much more than step up into the courtyard. Kaname shook Taki awake. “Come on, it’s Class 2!”

She shot to her feet as well, suddenly awake, and with matching grins on their faces they ran over to meet Class 2, along with everyone else who had, with Nishimura’s cry, also realized that one of the two remaining classes had finally arrived.

Kaname got there just in time to have a great view of Kitamoto grabbing Nishimura in a headlock.

“What have I told you about using that nickname, Sacchan?” He asked, his superior height and reach making it child’s play for him to keep Nishimura pinned.

“I don’t remember?” He gasped. “We were eleven, that’s a long time ago!”

“If you can remember the last time we had this argument, you should be able to remember its result.” Kitamoto retorted.

Kaname smiled. Watching them, their status as childhood friends was clear for anyone to see. As they continued bantering back and forth while Nishimura struggled to get out of Kitamoto’s hold, his attention drifted, scanning the rest of Class 2 as they straggled up behind Nishimura, who had clearly shot out ahead with his typical exuberance.

There was the class representative, his curly blond hair sticking out even more than usual, seemingly unaware of the fact that his glasses were a bit lopsided. Tsuji, Kaname thought his name was. A couple of girls he’d had short conversations with a couple of times, when they’d asked him to deliver printouts to Natsume. Two guys he honestly couldn’t remember having met before – and he thought he would have remembered the one with the buzzed hair. Maybe he’d only recently cut it.

Everyone looked at him, and at everyone arrayed behind him, as though they had been stranded in a desert and had just come across an oasis.

But none of them were Natsume.

“Nishimura.” He said. “Where’s –?”

He wasn’t listening. But before Kaname could ask again, Kitamoto suddenly released him, looking around. “Hey, where’s Natsume?”

Nishimura looked away, and Kaname felt his first jolt of genuine fear. He’d worried, but always with the knowledge that it was his own paranoia talking; he’d expected to be proven wrong. He hadn’t expected that Natsume might actually –

“Nishimura –”

“He’s gone, okay!” Nishimura almost shouted. In the unnerving silence of the night, it had at least as much of an impact as one.

“Gone?” Kitamoto sounded blank. Though at least he could still talk. Kaname felt like he’d been encased in a block of ice; he didn’t think he could have said anything if he’d tried. How am I going to be able to do this without Natsume? … What am I thinking? It’s not about me. But … how can he just be gone?

It was the fear that he always tried to suppress, whenever he saw Natsume running around looking panicked and wondered what his friend had gotten involved with this time. (And wished there was something more he could do to help, but of course there hardly ever was.) Except infinitely worse, because this was real.

Nishimura ran his fingers through his hair, looking deflated and exhausted. “We think he wandered off shortly before … it happened. No one remembers seeing him around, and no one saw him disappear. But … we searched the entire museum. If he had still been there, we should have found him.” He shook his head. “Then Endou-san got the call from Class 5 about the monsters, and Hoshino disappeared … we had to leave. There was nothing else we could do, and staying there was just killing more people.”

“None of us knew his cell number.” Tsuji interrupted. He met Kitamoto’s eyes calmly; apologetic but resolved.

“He doesn’t have one.” Kaname found himself saying. His words sounded distant. Detached. Almost like it wasn’t him saying them. What am I going to do if he’s really gone? What are any of us going to do? I can’t do this alone.

Tsuji nodded absently. “We left a note on the front door to the museum. Just in case we missed something. But … Nishimura’s right. We looked everywhere, we called for him everywhere. If he was still in the building, he should have heard.” He inclined his head. “I’m sorry. I know you were friends. But we’ve all lost friends today. And we still have to … move on. Somehow.”

None like Natsume. Was Kaname’s instant, rebellious thought. He recoiled internally, aghast that he had even thought such a thing. Yes, Natsume was his friend. And yes, Natsume’s power would be very useful in this situation. But that didn’t make him innately worth more.

It didn’t make the fact that others had disappeared any less tragic, or make others’ sorrow at their lost friends any less meaningful.

He just wished it did, because being fair hurt almost as much as facing the fact that he would probably never see Natsume again.

A hand clamped onto his upper arm. He looked down and saw Taki, clinging with a death grip. Her face was ghostly pale, and tears glittered at the edges of her eyes. “Natsume …”

Kaname extracted his arm from her grip so that he could reach around her shoulders for a proper half-hug. Silently. He didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t anything he could say. He still couldn’t even really believe it.

She turned inward, full-body hugging him just as tightly as earlier. Her head turned out, one ear lying against the left side of his chest as though she was listening to his heartbeat, reassuring herself that he was still alive. He could feel her shaking, but if she was crying, it was soundlessly. He tightened his arms around her in response. Focused on the feeling of Taki, warm and shaking and safe in his arms, because when he thought about Natsume, it was like a yawning abyss had opened up, threatening to swallow him whole.

“What are we going to do?” She asked, so quietly that Kaname was surprised he had heard. He didn’t think anyone else had.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against the top of her head. “I don’t know.” He said quietly. I can’t do this on my own. I can’t. “I really don’t know.”

Chapter Text

“Natsume-dono!”

“Natsume-dono!”

Natsume Takashi looked around, trying to pinpoint the voices he was hearing. Hopefully his classmates would think that he was simply looking around in awe at the art hanging on the walls. A lot of which really was impressive. He wished he could have actually been focusing on it.

Unfortunately, life rarely worked that way.

His eyes finally caught on a handful of small youkai standing near the far wall in an open space between two paintings. Flower youkai, he thought, based on the brightly colored ruffs around their necks that looked like flower petals. The tallest was perhaps the height of his shoe. Maybe twice that when it jumped, as it was doing now.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching him too closely and meandered over to them. Just in front of one of the paintings, he sank to one knee, pretending to be fiddling with his shoe. “Yes?” He asked, voice as quiet as he could make it. “If you want your name returned, can it wait until we get back to the hotel? It’s not a good idea to do it in public.” For a variety of reasons.

Though he hoped that was not the reason. He’d seen and heard a lot about his grandmother in various youkai’s memories, and he didn’t think she was the sort to pick a fight with someone she could have beaten by stepping on.

… Unless it went out of its way to pick a fight with her.

“No, Natsume-dono, our names are not in your book.” The tallest of them said, its purple ruff rustling despite the lack of wind inside. “I saw you once, at a distance, but I was too lowly for you to deign to fight.”

Takashi considered, very briefly, pointing out to the youkai that it was not him who had been going around challenging people, but in the end decided to hold his peace. Convincing youkai that he and his grandmother were two different people could sometimes take quite a while. “Is there something else I can help you with, then?” He asked. Ignore them and walk away! His inner voice – which sounded suspiciously like a certain slacker bodyguard of his acquaintance – demanded. No point in getting involved in their troubles.

Then again, he always ignored Sensei, too.

“Natsume-dono is so benevolent!”

“We do not deserve Natsume-dono’s regard!”

He sighed inwardly. This might take a while.

“Come with us, please, Natsume-dono!”

“What, right now?” He looked back at his class. About half of them had disappeared around the corner into the next room; the rest still loitered around the area. Luckily, they still seemed not to be paying much attention to him, given that he’d now been ‘fiddling with his shoe’ for an awkwardly long time. “I can’t … I need to stick with my class.   If not, I’ll get lost, and my friends will worry, and …” he shook his head. Clearly nothing he was saying was sinking in. “Look, if you can find me later today, after dinner, I should have some free time then.”

“No!”

“Natsume-dono must follow us now!”

“Natsume-dono is in great danger if she stays!”

Two of the little flower youkai ran over and started tugging on his pants leg. He looked down at them, bemused and starting to get ever so slightly worried. “What sort of danger? If it’s a threat to my classmates, that’s all the more reason for me to stay here.” He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do to protect them, or how he’d explain it away, but … he’d cross those bridges when he came to them.

“But a great danger approaches, Natsume-dono!”

“Natsume-dono will not be safe if she stays here!”

“Yes, you said that already.” … Why couldn’t I be having this conversation with more articulate youkai? He stood. “But if there’s danger, I have friends who need to be protected. And they won’t be able to do it by themselves.” His eyes drifted over the three flower youkai, something niggling at him. Whatever it is, it’s probably not that important. He bowed his head briefly in their direction – a bit strange-appearing from the outside, perhaps, but not too overt. “Thank you for the warning.”

As he turned to leave, they set up another outcry, this time one he was determined to ignore.

A much deeper voice said “I apologize for this.”

The back of his head exploded with pain. He fell forward. As he fell, he dimly saw the last of his class turning the corner out of sight. Good, at least they didn’t see me trip over nothing …

The world went black.

The first thing he noticed as he began to swim back up out of unconsciousness was just how much the back of his head hurt. Memory delayed its arrival slightly, giving him time to feel the damp ground beneath him – great, there went another uniform; he was surprised he hadn’t given Touko-san fits yet, but she still wouldn't let him do more than help hang the laundry – and smell the deep, clean scents of forest around him.

In a way, it was comforting. He’d lived in cities plenty of times over the years – probably more time, overall, than he’d spent in the country. But he’d always felt a bit stifled by them. There were just so many people, and they tended to be harsher. Slightly fewer youkai, but those who stayed in the city inevitably seemed to adapt to it, also becoming larger, angrier, less inclined towards peaceful coexistence. Even the ones who adapted to the city never seemed to quite forget that they had been there first.

Not to mention that narrow streets and alleyways were a lot harder to effectively run away through than open fields. And a lot more likely to contain uninvolved bystanders who would just perpetuate the rumors that there was something not quite right about that Natsume kid.

Still. The last he remembered he had been in a city, so it was more than a little bit upsetting to find himself in a forest instead.

Maybe it’s just a park?

Takashi suspected that he was not going to be so lucky.

Seeing no point in playing possum any further – at least if his kidnapper had been associated with the flower youkai, it seemed unlikely that it was out to harm him – he sat up, rubbing the back of his head and groaning quietly as he looked around.

The undergrowth looks too thick to be a park. ... Great, now I'll never make it back in time to keep people from worrying. He looked around, but didn't immediately see anyone. “Hello?” He called. Quietly. No point in attracting any more attention. Then, resigned, “Was there something else you needed from me?”

“Natsume-dono!”

“Natsume-dono is awake!”

“Natsume-dono is so kind!”

"We wish nothing of Natsume-dono but her continued well-being!”

And there they were - a much larger crowd of flower youkai, popping out of the undergrowth like actual flowers.

“In that case ...” He levered himself to his feet, swayed a moment, then steadied. Not going to want to move too fast for a while, but could be worse. He decided after a moment of consideration. His head pounded distractingly. “I should get back before someone files a missing person report on me.”

He still didn’t quite know how to react to the idea that there would probably be multiple people doing it, and that they wouldn’t be doing it simply out of a sense of obligation. Or that he actively wanted to return, rather than simply feeling like he ought to, to avoid causing trouble. It was hard enough to believe that that truly was the case.

“No! Natsume-dono mustn't leave!”

“It is still not safe!”

“Natsume-dono will be in danger!”

He sat back down, partly so that he could look at them without craning his neck (as much) and partly because his head really was hurting abominably. “Can you tell me more about what this danger is?” He asked. “I appreciate you trying to protect me, but I need to go back to the hu – to the other humans eventually.”

Several of the flower youkai cowered. “Very bad things!” The purple-ruffed one said. “We don’t know what exactly they are, but they are very bad! They will eat Natsume-dono, eat him and eat him until nothing remains!”

“I’ve fought things that have tried to eat me before.” He said. “What makes these different?” If they were, in fact, different, and it wasn’t just these youkai overreacting.

“We don’t know.” A pink-ruffed one said, petals drooping.

“But they are different.”

“Dangerous.”

“They should not be here.”

“They should not be anywhere.”

He blinked in the face of the blizzard of comments. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen youkai this frightened. Uncertainty touched him. If they were right, and something terrible really was on the move …

All the more reason why I must return. He thought. If I can’t deal with it, what hope do the rest of my classmates have? At least I might be able to help. Somehow.

I wish I had a cell phone. He knew some of his classmates had them; had seen girls comparing and giggling over the charms they hung from them.  

He’d never really seen a need for one, before – the only times he was away from people for long periods of time were typically times when he didn’t want to have an easy way of anyone contacting him. But even if he had wanted one, he couldn’t see himself asking the Fujiwaras for it. Not when they’d already given him so much.

Still, it really would have been useful, just now. He could call Tanuma or Taki, let them know that something might happen even if he didn’t know what or when. It would give him something to do instead of just sitting here with a pounding head, trying to reason with a group of youkai who could fit in the palm of his hand.

Or I could just go tell them myself. He stood again. “I thank you for the warnings and for your concern. But I’m leaving now.” He didn’t know which direction to go – where he was, where the city was, anything. But he could pick a direction and start walking, and eventually he’d get somewhere. He looked upwards, at the trees surrounding him, then downwards, at the loamy ground, devoid of anything remotely resembling a human-made path, sloping gently away from him. Downhill seems like the best bet. He decided, turned, and started carefully walking away.

Protests arose behind him, but they weren’t saying anything new, so he did his best to ignore them. It took most of his concentration to figure out the best path forwards and keep a watch for anything that might provide a more concrete hint to his current location.

Not so much concentration that he didn’t sense the larger youkai coming, this time. He ducked out of the way. Hasn't it heard that too many strikes to the head can be dangerous? Though he preferred to talk things out when he could, he doubted that would work this time. So he didn’t spare too many regrets as he whirled and punched upwards, striking the youkai – large, covered in shaggy greyish fur, wearing a mask with the character for ‘hair’ over its face – square in the chin, with enough force to knock him over and, Takashi thought, out.

The flower youkai scattered out of the way as the shaggy youkai fell, their protests about Takashi’s actions briefly morphing into shouts of worry and encouragement to the shaggy youkai. He turned away and started walking faster. Hopefully by the time they started paying attention to him again, he’d be far enough away that they’d have a harder time finding him again. Though given that they found me in the middle of an art museum to begin with …

He shook his head. No point in worrying about it at the moment.

Time slipped away as he concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other. He resisted the urge to run – that always seemed to end up with him tumbling at some point or another, and injuring himself further at this point seemed like a bad plan. Instead, he tried to take what enjoyment he could of the cool spring air; the vibrant green that unfurled around him. Tried to ignore the worry that clenched at his gut when he thought about the nameless danger that the flower youkai had been so afraid of, and when he thought of his friends or his family – if it reached that far, which he dearly hoped it didn’t – being left to face that alone.

Hopefully they’re just overreacting to something simple. The world must be awfully big and scary already, when you’re that small and seemingly defenseless. But then there was their giant shaggy friend to consider as well. Takashi didn’t think it would scare nearly as easily.

Nothing I can do but push forward.

When his breath started coming as heavily as if he had been running, and he found himself increasingly placing a hand against the trees he passed to help regain his balance, he made himself sit down and take a break. He leaned his back against the trunk of a nearby tree and looked upwards, grimacing as the knot on the back of his head rubbed against it. The foliage overhead was thick, but not so thick that he couldn’t see glimpses of blue and fluffy white peeking through the green. The forest was thick enough that it was impossible to tell where the sun was in the sky – aside from “not overhead” – but from the hesitant sort of rumbling that his stomach had started to engage in, he suspected that it was sometime in late afternoon.

Something niggled at him; something not quite right about the situation. (Above and beyond the fact that he’d been kidnapped and stranded in the middle of an unfamiliar forest; he wouldn’t say that that was quite business as usual, but it certainly wasn’t as unusual an occasion as it ought to have been.) As he sat there, staring at the sky, it slowly dawned on him.

There’s no one else around.

In particular, no youkai. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a forested area and been left completely alone. Even if they weren’t actively pursuing him, there always seemed to be youkai of some sort around, going about their own business or staring at him curiously or even more obviously attempting to avoid him. (He’d never quite understood why, if they recognized him, they thought that he couldn’t see and hear them flapping about, shouting about “Natsume Reiko” and “run away!”)

But even though he looked closer, now, into corners and at heights that he normally mostly ignored, he still couldn’t see any. It was a bit creepy, to be honest.

Hiding? Or maybe they ran away too? He shook his head. Does it matter?

Perhaps it did, if it meant that all the other youkai were also running scared. But it didn’t change the fact that he needed to get back to his friends.

Using the tree for balance, he stood back up and started walking again, still keeping to the steepest downhill slope – though none of them were precisely “steep” – whenever he had any doubt about his direction. As long as he wasn’t going deeper into the mountains, he ought to hit civilization again eventually. He hadn’t seen any flying youkai with them, so theoretically he couldn’t be that far away from where he’d taken.

The thought of flight brought a memory of fur so white it nearly shone; of a warm back he pressed his face to as much for comfort as because it was more comfortable to keep it out of the wind. For a moment, he could almost feel the fur running through his fingers. Then the sensation slipped away along with the memory, leaving him feeling strangely desolate. Sensei.

He wished he hadn’t managed to convince his bodyguard to stay home. He could really have used him here, and not just because it would be terribly convenient to have him just change into his great beast form and fly them back. Even if he’d probably have been complaining bitterly the entire way back about Takashi’s stupidity at managing to get himself kidnapped.

There had been times in his life when he had wanted nothing more than to be alone. No more youkai. No more people he was nothing more than a strange, freakish burden to. He still felt like that, occasionally, though for the most part his dream had changed to one of self-sufficiency. He wanted to maintain the bonds he’d built, with youkai and human alike. Even if sometimes he railed at how hard it was, to know how to act. To act even when he didn’t know how, and just hope that it would be close enough.

But then he’d remember what Natori-san said at Omibashira’s mansion – But I think it’s necessary for you – and vow to persevere. He didn’t want to turn out like his grandmother or like Natori, seeing youkai as enemies or tools; humans as antagonists or people to be kept at arms’ length. (He wasn’t sure that Natori-san was like that too. But he never seemed to talk about anyone else in his life, and that dazzling smile of his seemed designed to push people away just as much as it drew them in.)

Still. Some part of himself, he had thought, still secretly craved the simplicity of being alone.

He found himself smiling, though he could not have named the emotion behind the smile if anyone had asked. If I wanted to be alone, then why does it feel so lonely?

When his stomach’s grumbles turned from tentative to insistent, he gave in and found a medium-sized rock to sit on, then dug into his fanny pack.

Even though from the familiar weight he’d known it was still there, it was a relief to see the Book of Friends safe. His goal at the moment, though, was the energy bar tucked in behind it. He sighed in relief. He had thought he’d remembered tucking in before he’d left the hotel that morning. The first day of the school trip had been utterly exhausting, between walking around looking at museums all day, trying to act ‘normal’, and still sneaking off to return enough names that he almost keeled over.

He really wondered what his grandmother had gotten up to, sometimes. Had she had nothing better to do than travel around to neighboring towns and beat up all the youkai there, too?

He was just glad that none of those whose names he’d returned had turned out to be malicious. If he got himself killed by some low-level youkai when Sensei wasn’t there to berate him for it, he’d probably find a way to resurrect him just so that he could do so.

Though at least this mess is not my fault. I think.

He chewed his way through the energy bar. He’d planned for it to be either a midafternoon or a late night snack, in the hopes that it would help restore some of his flagging energy. He’d caught both Tanuma and Taki giving him suspicious and concerned glances the previous night, as though wondering what sort of craziness he had gotten himself involved in now, and wondering how they could convince him to let them help.

He smiled down at the empty wrapper. I don’t really deserve them, do I?

He stood, crumpling the wrapper and, after a moment’s thought, shoving it back down into a corner of his fanny pack. He wasn’t typically the sort to litter in the first place, but in a place like this, where for all he knew he was the first human to set foot there in years, it seemed especially wrong. At least they’re not here with me now. They’re safe, back in town.

The words of the flower youkai drifted back to him, and he shuddered at the sudden sense of foreboding. Please let them be okay. Please let whatever those youkai are so worried about have been a threat to me only. I don’t think I could bear it if …

… If something happened to them and I wasn’t there.

Somewhat refreshed – the energy bar had at least taken the edge off his hunger – Takashi started walking again. He tried not to think too hard about what he’d do for supper. He'd only had the one energy bar. But surely he’d have reached civilization by then.

Takashi walked.

He no longer had any idea where he walked. He had long since begun to suspect that he was not heading in the correct direction to get back to town, but he still had no more idea than before what that direction was supposed to be, so he forged onward. Even if he didn’t get back to everyone else, if he could just find some sign of civilization – a small town, someplace with a train station – he’d be able to find his way back.

Sometimes he walked downhill; sometimes uphill. More often than not, the path he walked was close enough to flat that he couldn’t tell for sure. He walked through endless trees, some varieties he recognized immediately as being common near home, some he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. Occasionally, still far less frequently than usual, he began to see youkai out of the corner of his eyes, hiding behind trees and bushes and peeking at him as thought afraid to approach closer. Maybe they’d heard what he’d done to the shaggy youkai.

Sometimes the subtle differences in his surroundings were the only thing that let him keep believing that he was making progress at all, and not just walking through an endless loop.

The ambient light surrounding him slowly began to fade – during another brief rest he looked upwards and managed to catch shreds of pink staining the sky – until it was all he could do to see well enough to keep himself from tripping and breaking something in addition to his head.

Finally, though he hated the necessity, he stopped for the night. With as much stumbling as he’d been doing, it was only a matter of time before he injured himself further. He managed to find – mostly by feel, at this point – a tree with a particularly broad root system, two of whose larger roots formed a nice large wedge area where he could curl up and hopefully escape notice for the most part.

Although that would work better if he hadn’t already been noticed. He uncurled slowly, but initially made a point of gazing upwards, attempting to count what few stars he could see through the tree’s canopy. When that still didn’t draw them out, he quietly said, “If you want something from me, you can just ask.”

A brief spurt of frantic rustling, as though the majority of the youkai gathered around him had run away. Then, more deliberate rustling coming from straight ahead. He turned his eyes earthwards, and saw the outline of a humanoid youkai, about as tall as his seated self. From the long beard that grew from under his faintly glowing mask – which looked like a Noh mask, one intended to represent happiness, he thought – he must be quite an elderly youkai.

“You will not strike us down?” He asked, standing about as far away as it was possible to stand and still be within Takashi’s field of vision, and looking as though even a harsh word would cause him to flee.

“No, of course not.” Takashi said. He leaned forward, noticed the way the youkai took a step backward, and deliberately relaxed back against the tree again.

“But … the forest guardian …”

“Sorry, who?”

“The forest guardian!” He sounded irritated that Takashi had not known who he was speaking about right away. “He is twice your size, and covered in the most glorious long hair, and he protects all within this forest.”

The shaggy youkai. Takashi winced. “I would not attack anyone unprovoked. But he struck me, and stole me away from the other humans, and tried to prevent me from returning home. I will fight back under those circumstances.”

“Home is where the other humans were?” The youkai asked.

“Yes.” Takashi tried not to read too much into the word ‘were’. “Do you know what happened? Can you tell me how to get back there?”

“Something very bad happened. It is still happening. The human places are no longer good places to be, Natsume-dono. You are better off here, in our forest, where we can protect you. Where we can hide you.”

“I don’t want to be protected or hidden, I want my friends and family. What do you mean, no longer good places to be?” He leaned forward again. “Why won’t anyone tell me what’s actually going on?”

The youkai squeaked and hid. Takashi sighed and forced himself to sit back again, and wait to speak until his voice was calm. “Please don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you just for talking with me.”

The youkai peeked around the tree for a long moment, then carefully walked back out to his previous position, though he looked even more ill-at-ease than before. “We do not know what it is, Natsume-dono. Only that it is frightening, and that it is death to the humans and our kind alike. But while it only targets those humans who invade its territory, we have heard rumors that it will actively seek out our kind. It is a terrible thing. You must not return to the human lands.”

“It doesn’t matter how terrible it is, or how much danger I will be in if I go.” Takashi said. “People important to me are back there. If any still remain, my place is with them. Protecting them, if I can. Or helping them run away if I can’t. I can’t just abandon them, any more than I could abandon anyone in need.” He eyed the youkai. “Not to mention that I can’t just stay here. If nothing else, what would I eat?”

“If food is your concern, Natsume-dono, we can provide it to you.” He said, then put his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly. Takashi felt a brief pang of envy. Yet another skill that he had never learned. Maybe when I get back, I can ask Nishimura if he’d be willing to teach me.

“It’s not my only concern.” He said. “My primary concern is that my friends and family are in danger, and I’m stuck here, too far away to do them any good. Food is just … a technical detail. Another reason why it wouldn’t be wise for me to stay here too long.”

A handful of other youkai appeared, looking similar enough to the old one to be part of his group, but all with different masks and mostly only about three-quarters his size. Each of them was carrying something – mushrooms, berries, everything apparently edible, although several of them looked like things that he was pretty sure weren’t in season. A tiny one, who looked it was probably a child, rushed all the way up to Takashi and laid out broad leaves, on which the other youkai laid their offerings.

The tiny youkai stayed where it was, staring up at Takashi in obvious fascination. “Um, hi.” He said.

It squeaked and ran, hiding itself behind one of the ones carrying berries, who made a gentle shushing noise.

“You don’t have to do this.” Takashi told the old youkai. “It’s not going to change my mind, and surely you must be hungry as well?”

“We know all the secret ways to find food in this forest.” He replied. “You need not fear for us, Natsume-dono. It is our pleasure and our duty to serve you.”

“Why duty?” He narrowed his eyes. “Is your name in the Book of Friends? If so, you should have told me, I would be happy to return it to you.”

The old youkai bowed his head. “I see that you have become just as gracious as the rumors paint you, Natsume-dono. I would indeed like my name back before you leave this place, but there is no rush. You can stay here for as long as you like.”

Takashi looked down at the food, conscious of his stomach growling.

The old youkai hesitantly asked, “Is the food not to your liking, Natsume-dono?”

“What? Oh, no, it looks delicious.” He said. “But I haven’t done anything to deserve it, and I’m not going to be staying. It just doesn’t feel right to take this food from you.”

“Then think of it as thanks.” The old youkai said. “For coming through here and allowing us to see you in person, and as pre-emptive thanks for the return of my name. We will all be quite disappointed if you do not partake in that which we have given you.”

Takashi looked from the old youkai to the younger ones who had brought out the food, to the youngest, who peeked around its mother’s (?) back to look at him again, then squeaked and ducked back when he caught Takashi looking back. And sighed. “If you insist.”

The berries were succulent and far sweeter than they had any right to be. The rest of the food laid out for him was similarly delicious, and Takashi was fairly certain that it wasn’t just his hunger talking. He was still far from full by the time he finished eating – the youkai clearly had no idea how much food was required to properly feed a teenage boy – but there had been years when he’d survived on far less, and been grateful to get even that. To have had even this much of a meal, when he had been expecting nothing …

He bowed his head to the old youkai in turn. “Thank you for the food. It was all very delicious. If there is anything I can do to repay you …”

“That you return my name, and stay safe, Natsume-dono.” The old youkai said. “That is all that we ask.”

“I will try.”

When he curled up that night, it was to the sound of rustling all around him, as a handful of the small youkai settled into their own variations on beds. He wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be an honor guard, or if they were there to make sure he didn’t wander off in the night without making good on his promise, but either way their presence was oddly welcome. It was a reassuring reminder to Takashi that he might be far from home, but he wasn’t quite as alone as he’d feared after all.

In the morning, the same group of youkai fed him breakfast – more nuts and berries and mushrooms – and then he returned the old youkai’s name.

“What are you doing here, human child?” He demanded. These humans never listened, and as the years went by and more of them invaded, it became more and more troublesome to drive them away, particularly since almost none of them could see him or his compatriots, or sense more than the slightest fraction of the things they attempted to do.

He hadn’t expected this girl, with long silver hair and a jaunty walk like she owned the forest and everything in it, to be any different.

Yet she looked directly up at him, and smiled. “I’m on a school trip, but the museums were boring, so I ditched.” She said merrily. “How often do I get to explore an entirely new forest, after all?”

“Won’t the other humans get worried and come looking for you?” He asked. That was what had always happened with children before. Those, they generally did their best to guide safely out of the forest. It wasn’t worth the fuss that inevitably occurred when some child went missing. Humans could be so loud when they were upset, and they got upset over the tiniest things. It wasn’t like the children were helpless, after all, and this forest was mostly safe.

She shrugged, and said airily. “Oh, eventually, perhaps. But I should be back long before then.”

“In that case, please leave this place.” He said. “It is quite a distance back to the nearest human town, and we do not welcome your kind here.”

“Oh, really?” Something subtle shifted in her stance, and he had to fight off an entirely ridiculous shiver of fear. What could a mere human do, after all? “Are you going to make me?”

“If you do not leave willingly, we will drive you off, yes.” At his signal, a handful of his most trusted compatriots melted forward out of the foliage they’d been camouflaging themselves with.

The girl looked surprisingly unimpressed, then broke into a large smile. “How about this, then?”

“Let’s have a match.”

Takashi came back to himself looking up at the canopy of the tree he’d been sitting under. Someone had cushioned his still-aching head with a pile of leaves, which he greatly appreciated. As always, he felt a bit dizzy at first as he sat back up and looked at the old youkai. “I apologize for my grandmother’s treatment.” He said. So, she came here on a field trip, too. And if she came out here on her own, town must not be too far away. I hope.

The old youkai laughed. “No need to look so contrite, Natsume-dono. You – she? – beat me fair and square, and proved to be a surprisingly enjoyable companion, for what little time she spent with us.” He sighed, shoulders drooping. “But she, too, had to go back to the other humans in the end. If the terrible things had come then …”

“If they had, she might have stayed.” Takashi said quietly. “I get the impression that she didn’t have much tying her to the human world. If informed that it was too dangerous to go back, she might have cut her remaining ties and stayed.”

“Perhaps.” The old youkai said. “Or perhaps she would have returned all the faster, in the hopes of challenging those terrible things.”

Takashi laughed. On second thought, that sounded more like what little he’d seen of Reiko’s personality. “You’re probably right.”

“You are very much like her in some ways, Natsume-dono, but entirely unlike her in others.” The old youkai said. “You are sure we cannot convince you to stay?”

Takashi climbed slowly to his feet, pleased to experience no additional bouts of light-headedness. “I’m afraid not.”

The old youkai bowed his head. “Then go, and be safe.”

Takashi bowed his head in return. “Thank you. You all stay safe as well.”

“As safe as any of us are, in this world, anymore.” The old youkai replied.

Takashi nodded, then turned and walked away.

The rustling of the old youkai’s companions followed him for a short while, but gradually died away, leaving Takashi alone with his thoughts once more.

… I should have asked for directions.

Chapter Text

“Forget our families!” The blond man said passionately, seizing the girl’s hands between his own. “Forget society! All I care about is my love for you! Please, say you feel the same. We can run away, to someplace no one will be able to find us. We'll start over again!”

She looked away, her long, brown hair falling across her face, hiding her expression from view. “But … my responsibilities …” Her voice was soft, reluctant. “I want to, you know I do, but …”

The man abruptly turned away. “So is this going to be it?” He asked desperately, imploring the sky above, careful to position himself at just the right angle for the camera to zoom in for a close-up of his distraught face. “I cannot stay, and you will not leave – are we doomed to be apart forever?”

She dashed forward, hugging him from behind, resting her forehead against his back. “Please, don’t be like this. It won’t be forever. I can convince my father, if you’ll just give me a little bit more –”

Silence.

He could no longer feel her arms around his waist, her chest and forehead pressed against his back. He could not, in fact, sense her presence at all.

Loath as he was to break character, Natori Shuuichi turned around, struck by the sudden conviction that something had just gone very, very wrong.

No sign of his co-star.

He looked up. No one manned the camera directly in his line of sight.

He turned a slow half-circle, scanning cameras, break area, director’s chair, everything. Empty. Not a person in sight. He met Hiiragi’s eyes, where she stood off to the side of one of the cameras. “What happened?”

Normally he’d never speak to his shiki in public. But whatever this situation was, it was clearly not normal.

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Master.”

“Did you see anything? I assume they didn’t all just – disappear.”

She hesitated, then shook her head again. “I wasn’t looking directly at anyone when they vanished.”

He frowned. “I didn’t sense anything. Do you know of any youkai who might have been able to do this?” He didn’t. And why would it have only spared him?

“There are no youkai anywhere near here.” Hiiragi said.

He looked at her sharply. “What, none? I could have sworn I saw a handful of mushroom heads a couple of minutes ago. And a raven flew by not long before that.” If those had been the only minor youkai in the area, he would be very surprised. He had mostly been concentrating on his other job at the time, after all. 

“There were other youkai in the area.” She confirmed. “They all left.”

“… Why?”

She tilted her head, looking towards Shuuichi for a long moment. “It felt like something was coming.” She finally said. “Something big, and not at all friendly. You didn’t feel it?”

Shuuichi shook his head. He completed another turn. Still no one. Disturbing, though he supposed it saved him having to deal with the awkward questions about why he was talking to himself.

“How widespread?”

“… I don’t know. But I doubt it was local.”

Shuuichi gave himself a moment to take a deep breath and close his eyes. He’d liked his current director. And his co-star had been better at working through her awkward crush on him than a lot of other girls he’d worked with. He couldn’t say he really knew most of the rest of the staff, but they’d all seemed competent enough. He’d worked with far worse. If I ever find out who or what did this …

Clench fists. Unclench fists. Open eyes. And go.

“Sasago, Urihime. Check in on the Natori estates, starting with the main house.” His other two shiki swirled into visibility and nodded in near unison. “Report back to me whatever you find, usual pattern. If you find whatever did this, do not engage. I need information more than vengeance.”

“Understood.” Sasago said.

“Hiiragi –”

“I’m staying with you.”

He glared. “I need information more than protection right now.”

She set her stance, and her voice was similarly unyielding. “Information will be no good to you if you’re not alive to hear it.”

He spread his hands. “Whatever just happened, it was clearly not interested in me. And you yourself just said there were no other youkai in the area. If anything small appears, I’m more than competent to handle it myself. You know that.”

“It wasn’t interested in you the first time. That doesn’t mean it won’t be interested in you if it comes back.”

“Do I have to make it an order?”

“Will I have to disobey your order?”

“Master.” Sasago interrupted. “Please let Hiiragi stay with you. It would reassure us all to know you are protected.”

Urihime nodded, her long black hair stirring counter to the gentle breeze, a clear sign that she was more agitated than her bland countenance appeared.

Shuuichi resisted the urge to sigh exasperatedly. “Fine. You two, go. Hiiragi – hand me my phone?”

She grabbed it out of the duffle bag at her feet and tossed it to him. He scrolled through the contacts, glad that he’d had the foresight to add this one.

The other side picked up after two rings. “Hello?”

Shuuichi allowed himself a moment of heartfelt relief. “Fujiwara-san, this is Natori Shuuichi calling.”

“Oh, Takashi-kun’s friend! You should come by and visit next time you’re in the neighborhood.”

He smiled, disarmed as always by Touko-san’s frank friendliness. “I’d love to. However, I’m afraid I’m in the middle of something I can’t pull away from at the moment.” He checked his watch, and cursed mentally. He’d forgotten that school would still be in session. “When Takashi-kun gets home from school, could you please ask him to give me a call?”

“I’d be happy to, but it won’t be until two days from now.   He’s on a school trip this week.”

Right. May is a prime time for them. Sometimes school seems so long ago now …

“I don’t suppose you have contact information for them?” He asked. “Or his cell phone number?”

“Takashi-kun doesn’t have a cell phone.” She said, sounding briefly distressed. “It never even occurred – and he didn’t say … oh, listen to me rambling on, I apologize. I do have the number for the hotel they’re staying at here somewhere …”

As he listened with half an ear to various rustling sounds and murmurs from Touko-san, Shuuichi turned another slow circle, then walked over to and up a small mound that formed a local high point for the park in which they’d been shooting this particular scene. Off towards the far end of the park, he thought he saw a couple of people lying in the grass, one half-sitting, waving his arm in the manner of someone enthusiastically explaining something. Aside from that, no one.  He knew the company had done their best to discourage gawkers from coming near the set while filming, but he’d never seen them manage to be this successful before.

He removed the phone from his ear briefly, covering the microphone with his fingers. “Hiiragi, could you go check those two out?”

She remained stubbornly, pointedly silent.

“… It’s within line of sight. Surely you’re not that worried.”

“Aren’t you?” She asked quietly.

… Worried was not, perhaps, the word he would have chosen. But he could not entirely reject it.

“Here it is!” Touko-san said, then rattled off a list of numbers. Hiiragi handed over pen and a scrap of paper on which he jotted it down. The scrap looked like it had been pulled from one of the scripts. He supposed it wasn’t like they’d be needed for anything else anymore.

About to hang up, Shuuichi paused. “Fujiwara-san, pardon me, but … have you heard from your husband today?”

“Hm? No, not since he left for work. He’s due home in a few hours. Did you want to talk with him, too?”

“… You might want to call him.” Shuuichi said absently, still squinting into the distance. Was there only one person left, now? But that didn’t make sense; whatever happened a few minutes ago, had happened instantaneously. There shouldn’t have been any further disappearances. Unless Hiiragi’s paranoia is far more justified than I’d like to pretend it is. “I’m not entirely sure what just happened, or how broadly impactful it has been, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“‘What has happened’?” Touko-san asked, worry sharpening her voice. “Is Takashi-kun in danger? Are you in danger, Natori-san?”

He smiled his most charming smile, even though there was no one there to see. “I’m in no danger, and I’m sure Takashi-kun is fine as well. I just seem to have … misplaced a few things.” Like the entire rest of my film crew. “Oh, looks like break is ending. Pardon me, Fujiwara-san, but I must go now.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and flipped it closed before he could say anything else unwise.

“Break?” Hiiragi asked, her head turning for a moment to indicate the now-abandoned film site. “That hardly seems appropriate.”

“Whatever just happened, there’s no doubt that it’s related to youkai somehow.” Shuuichi said, turning and starting to walk down the hill. “You know how Natsume feels about bringing the Fujiwaras into this world.”

“And that comment about Shigeru-san?”

Shuuichi paused for a moment, eyebrows raised, at this evidence that Hiiragi actually knew Natsume’s foster parents’ names, but decided to let it pass without additional comment. “If this is widespread,” he said grimly, “I’m afraid that Natsume’s desires may soon be a moot point. It’s reassuring that we were able to reach Touko-san so easily, but … I’d rather Natsume have a foster father that’s alive, well, and in the know, than one who is dead. I’m sure he feels the same.”

The tips of the light stands were still just barely in sight behind the hill when Shuuichi stumbled across the first signs that the park had not, in fact, been successfully cleared by the film crew; that its inhabitants had presumably disappeared in the same manner and at the same time as his coworkers.

A purse. Three pairs of shoes, one adult and two children, lined up neatly in a row. Half-hidden in the shade of a tree, a blanket, with open picnic baskets and mostly-cleaned-off plates that the ants were already starting to invade. His heart wanted to ache, but he shoved the feelings aside. He hadn’t known these people. Now, he never would. And he already had more than sufficient reason to want whatever it was that did this to pay. Further emotional involvement would just distract him.

Cresting another small hill, he squinted, then turned to Hiiragi. “This is the right direction, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Then why can’t I see anyone now?”

She shrugged. “Either you were seeing things before, they’ve moved on, or … they haven’t.” But something else has.

“You’re so comforting.”

“I see little point in lying.”

They finally reached the area Shuuichi thought he had remembered seeing the people in. Certainly someone had been there – he could tell that much from the pair of backpacks spilling haphazardly across the ground and each other, as though someone had dumped them there and declared that they’d fix the mess when it was time to leave.

Of any other human presence, though, there was no sign. And in front of him …

He held out his hand. “Glasses?”

Unfortunately, although his glasses sharpened his surroundings slightly (and the fact that he really was a bit nearsighted was a secret he intended to take to his grave), they did very little to help him figure out just what he was seeing in front of him.

It looked like nothing more than a pool of shadow, about two meters wide at its longest and irregularly shaped. Something else hovered above it, wisping and pale like cigarette smoke, that stretched a bit higher than Shuuichi was tall. And …

He leaned forward, squinting. “Are those teeth?” Might explain why it feels so hungry.

Hiiragi pulled him backwards just in time to avoid a sudden upwelling of shadow aimed directly for his face. “I’m not sure, but let’s keep them from biting you, just in case.” She said, a little breathlessly.

The pool of shadow inched towards them. “Run?” Hiiragi asked.

“Run.”

They paused to regroup and catch their breath at the top of the nearest hill, looking downwards. Now that he knew what he was looking for, Shuuichi was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. The shadow hid fairly well in the grass, but the smoke above it was still visible if he squinted, and if he concentrated, he could feel its malicious hunger even from here. “Is that what consumed everyone else?” He asked. With the speed at which it was moving – faster than glacial, but not by much – it seemed unlikely, but he certainly couldn’t think of anything else.

Hiiragi crossed her arms, intent in the lines of her body as her mask bent towards it. “Not exactly that.” She said finally. “It feels … similar but different. They’re likely related.”

“… Great.” A hungry, half-visible shadow creature with lots of teeth, whose appearance was just out of phase enough with reality that staring at it for too long threatened to give Shuuichi a headache. He did a mental inventory. “A full exorcism is out of the question, but let’s see if I can at least trap it.”

“Master …”

“No, Hiiragi. This creature is clearly a threat to anyone it comes across. And if there are any normal people left – which Touko-san seems to indicate there are, assuming this phenomenon has reached that far – I doubt they’ll be able to see it. They’ll just stumble into it, and –” he clapped sharply. “I have a duty to try.”

“… What happened to ‘information is more important than vengeance’?”

Shuuichi granted her a wintry smile. “I do have sufficient regard for my skin to attempt to avoid getting killed. And at worst …” he paused. “People recognize you as my shiki. Find someone. Even Matoba, if you must. Tell them everything we’ve discovered so far.”

She stepped uncomfortably close, looking up at him. “I would rather die,” she said quietly, “than stand by and watch you fall.”

He pulled his most charming smile around him like a shield. “Well then, it’s a good thing there will be no more dying today, isn’t it?” He reached inside his jacket, glad that today’s outfit had been loose enough that he had been able to tuck away a number of the paper dolls that were his preferred weapon. “Here we go.”

The monster had not moved so much as stretched in their direction, now looking more like a rounded triangle than the roughly circular form it had taken before. Even the closest edge had moved no more than maybe half a meter in the entire time they had been talking. Still, to reassure Hiiragi (and, if he was honest, himself), he stopped about halfway down the hill. This much additional distance wouldn’t dilute the power of his paper dolls much, and he liked the idea of having a head start.

“Master …”

Hiiragi’s tone was a warning, but she had not actively tried to obstruct him yet. Good enough for now. He pulled his hand from his jacket, the first couple of the chain of paper dolls clutched between fore- and middle finger, and flung his hand outward with a flourish and a wordless shout.

They responded as well as ever to his will, whipping outward to wrap around the shadow creature, binding it there until he could figure out what to do with it with what limited supplies he had on hand.

At least, that’s what was supposed to have happened.

The first two chains settled across the monster crossways, but the moment they settled fully, they simply melted into nothingness, the tail ends of the chains floating to the ground next to the monster, their power extinguished.

Shuuichi frowned, throwing four additional chains, keeping hold of his end.  For fine-grained control, retaining physical contact with the chain still worked best. Those caught and held, and for a moment, he felt a burst of triumph.

Then he noticed that the parts touching the monster had turned black. Not disintegrated, like the first set; it almost appeared that it had assimilated them. And the black part was creeping up the chain of paper dolls, far faster than the monster itself moved.

Shuuichi tried to let go of his end of the chains. He found he literally could not, some force holding him in place, continuing to draw on his power.

He tried to back up, but after a couple of steps he had to either stop or risk wrenching his shoulder. He knew better than to try and rip them – paper his chains might be, but reinforced as they were, it would take someone stronger than him to tear them apart. He set his stance and tried to whip the chain back and away, focusing all his will on demanding that they release their target, but all that did was pull the monster closer.

The black had crept almost halfway up the chain now.

“Don’t move.” Hiiragi’s voice whispered on the breeze of her passage.

He looked up just in time to see her fall, blade glinting with sunlight and power, to strike the chain at about the halfway point between the monster’s encroachment and Shuuichi’s position.

It resisted, and for a long moment, Shuuichi feared it would not be enough.

Hiiragi shouted wordlessly, her power blazed, and the chain broke.

Shuuichi stumbled backwards, but wasn't even given time to regain his balance before Hiiragi scooped him up and jumped away. He made himself go mostly limp in her grasp. He knew from experience that that made it easier on them both. “I can stand, you know.” He said, exasperated.

“Look behind you.” She said. “I told you, I’m not letting you die.” She touched down, then leapt again. He craned his neck, trying to find a position in which he could see behind them. He caught a glimpse of fuzzy shadow, arcing higher than it had any right to, before the angle and the dizzying speed of their passage made him give up. He always forgot just how much he hated trying to see anything when Hiiragi was carrying him. “I could see better if you let me down.”

A small huff of sound that might have been a laugh, and when she touched down this time, she stayed there, setting him back on his feet with her usual gentleness. “I think we’re far enough away now.”

He turned to look back at where they’d come from, properly this time. Given that they were probably halfway back to the set by now, he hadn’t honestly expected to see anything at all.

Shadow arced through the air, following roughly what he suspected Hiiragi’s initial path had been, and the original shadowy mass looked like it had nearly doubled in size. The arc fell well short of their position, and even as they watched, it collapsed in on itself, oozing back towards the main mass. Still, there was no doubt that without Hiiragi’s intervention, he would have been caught. And he had very little doubt in his mind that if that had happened, he would have gone the same way as the couple he thought he had seen earlier – disappeared without a trace. Almost certainly dead.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his belatedly jangling nerves. “Thank you.”

She shook her head slightly. “It is my duty. And my pleasure.” A tilt of her head. “Have you satisfied your need to play hero?”

He huffed, reluctantly amused. “Yes, I do believe I have.” He headed back across the field to the set and his bags, Hiiragi falling into step next to him. As he walked, he sorted through his mental list of contacts, trying to figure out who would be the best to send a message to.

Yamamura-san, maybe? He’s probably still pretty irritated with me for that one job in his territory a couple months ago, but he’s reasonable. If this is widespread, he’ll be willing to set aside his issues. And if it’s not, he’ll probably be willing to at least send me a polite response asking if I’m crazy.

He paused mid-step. Takuma-san. Had his former mentor been affected?

“Master?”

He scrambled for his phone, dialed his old mentor’s number and stood there, counting as the rings continued. Please pick up. Takuma-san, Tsukiko-san …

A click. “You have reached the –”

He slammed the phone shut on Takuma-san’s recorded voice, closed his eyes, and for a moment just breathed. Two more to add to the list. When I find what did this …

He made himself start walking again, ignoring the way Hiiragi looked at him with such blatant concern that he didn’t even need to see her face.

He had to dig deep into his bag to find his reserve paper dolls, a brush and bottle of ink. He wished he had his ink stone with him – perhaps the repetitive nature of grinding the ink would have helped him to feel less like he was about to fly apart at the seams – but even on exorcist jobs, he rarely traveled with it. The extra power it allowed him to infuse simply usually wasn’t worth how much longer it made the process take. The paper dolls he used for attack weren’t ideal for sending messages, but without any properly prepared paper on him, the spell on them was close enough to work in a pinch.

He’d almost finished writing out his message to Yamamura-san when the low buzz of power caught his attention. He reached out and snatched the message from the air. Not quite as well done as his own – the Natori clan was known for it, after all – but still a more than adequate job, which narrowed down the field of potential senders considerably. And the only one both near enough to his current position and not retired at the moment -

He recognized the distinctive handwriting a couple of words into the message, the overly careful sentence construction not long after, and sighed. He skipped the pleasantries, skimmed the important details, and tucked the message into an inner pocket without bothering to read the sender’s name. He tucked the mostly-finished message to Yamamura away as well. No point in that now.

He packed his supplies back up, zipped his bag shut, and stood, turning to take one last long, hard look at the set. He carefully tucked away both the anger and something that felt suspiciously like pain that the sight evoked. It might not have been his greatest passion, but he had liked being an actor.

All good things must come to an end.

He nudged his glasses up on his nose, slung his bag over one shoulder, and turned and walked away. No point in looking back. There was nothing left there for him now.

“Summons?” Hiiragi asked.

Shuuichi nodded. “General exorcist meeting at the primary Matoba compound. 8 o’clock tonight.”

“Ah.”

Hopefully the trains are still running. And we don’t run into any more of those creatures.

He wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Twilight had begun edging towards full dark when they landed just inside the edge of Matoba clan property. As he had feared, the nearest train station had been as abandoned as the park, so it had only been thanks to Hiiragi’s superior speed and stamina that they had made it on time. He resisted the urge to crack his neck.

“Ah, young master Natori!”

“We feared you would not be joining us tonight.”

Shuuichi nodded in the direction of the two youkai, unsurprised that they were once again standing guard. “Aikawa. Ginji. Given the short notice, I assumed an RSVP would not be necessary.”

And given the current state of things, refusing to come just because Matoba sent the invitation would be worse than foolish.

They exchanged glances. “It was not that.” Ginji said, unusually solemnly. “There have been … reports.”

So this meeting will serve as a headcount as well?

He had guessed that it was his power that kept him from disappearing in that first event. He certainly had no other explanation for why he alone in his crew would have been left untouched. In which case, he’d have expected all exorcists and most of their families to have survived as well.

Although even if I'm right, that only takes into account the first event. If anyone else tried to trap one of those … things, and was not lucky enough to have as dedicated and quick-witted a shiki as Hiiragi to save him from himself …

He could quite easily believe that that had occurred.

With a final nod towards Matoba’s two shiki, he pulled his hat lower over his eyes, and joined the steady trickle of people and youkai – noting offhandedly that there appeared to be far fewer of the latter than normal – as they made their way towards one of the central courtyards. Sensible. Shuuichi doubted that even the main Matoba compound had any rooms large enough to hold all the people gathering tonight.

“Wander around for a bit. See if you can catch any hints of anything interesting.” He murmured to Hiiragi.

She just looked at him, making no move to depart. He sighed. “I’ll be fine. How much trouble do you think I can get up to in a place like this?”

There were times when he really regretted her insistence on always wearing a mask. He suspected that if he could see it, the unimpressed look she was giving him would be legendary. He laughed. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise! And it’s not like I’ll be far. You should still have plenty of time to come save me if anything does happen.”

She muttered something that sounded like “Your best behavior is what worries me”, then let out a sigh at least as deep and exasperated as Shuuichi’s own. “Fine. … Don’t do anything foolish.”

Shuuichi waved dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Now shoo.”

With one last shake of her head, Hiiragi turned away and melted into the crowd. Once she disappeared, Shuuichi started working his way in the opposite direction. He exchanged cordial greetings with a number of fellow exorcists, wary nods with a handful of youkai, and even warier nods with a few who could have been either.

Unsurprisingly, the most prevalent subject of discussion was the event of the afternoon. Reminded of Hiiragi’s comment, he paid close attention to who was saying what. Those he recognized as human speculated wildly - unfortunately, not bringing up any information new to him - while most of the youkai he saw stayed quiet, looking worried. He saw a few small groups of youkai chatting quietly, but they inevitably fell silent when he approached. Hopefully Hiiragi will have more luck.

Those not speculating about the event itself were mostly comparing notes on who had survived and whose status was still unknown.

Seeming to bear out his theory, none of the known disappearances were exorcists or those of their associates known to have some power, though it was sometimes difficult to sort rumor from fact.

Friends and family fared less well. Most of the people Shuuichi spoke to or eavesdropped on mentioned the loss of at least one powerless associate, and many mentioned being unable to reach half or more of the people they attempted to contact. More often it was friends or domestic help than family.

He wondered if that was a meaningful trend - could it be that the blood relationship granted some reduced immunity?  For friends, could power leakage be producing a similar effect?

He resisted the urge to scowl. Too many questions, and far too few answers.

His descriptions of being the only one left of his film crew were met with a sort of puzzled condolence; those aware of his double life tended to view it with amused tolerance at best. Queries about the state of the Natori clan were met with as skilled of deflections as he could muster. He had yet to hear from Sasago and Urihime, and had no taste for speculating.

Their continued absence was starting to worry him, just a bit. It was not entirely unreasonable, given the distance they’d have to travel – there was a reason he’d rented out an apartment in Sakaki, after all, aside from the fact that living at home had come near to driving him mad. Still, even given the distance, he’d have expected them to be back by now. I’d send Hiiragi to go check up on them. If I thought there was any chance at all that she’d go.

He shook his head. I’m becoming as soft with my shiki as Natsume is with that companion of his.

He found a mostly-ignored corner and pulled his cell phone out. No missed calls or texts – not that he’d have expected the latter. His call to the hotel earlier that afternoon had been a bust. Not even an answering machine for him to leave a message on. (And not like there would have been anyone around to listen to it after the fact even if he had.)

He toyed with the phone, considering. It might not hurt to give it another try. If there were any students left, they might have chosen to gather back at the hotel. (And there had to be, Natsume at least had far too much power to be taken and too much sense to let himself get eaten afterwards. Probably.) And if so, it would probably have taken a great deal longer to get there than normal, with neither trains nor subways likely running.

Unfortunately, just when he had found a likely-looking exit – he had no desire to share his conversation with this particular group of people, if he turned out to be lucky enough to have a conversation to begin with – a gong rang. Typical. I must admit it did a good job of getting everyone’s attention, though.

Nanase-san stood in one of the open-air corridors that hemmed the courtyard in, clearly meant to be seen as the “front” for the purposes of this particular meeting. Shuuichi tucked his phone away, made a mental note to try to call afterwards, and turned his full attention towards the front.

“I’m sure you know why we’ve asked that you gather here today.” She said.

Scattered laughter was her reply. Not for the first time, Shuuichi wondered about the sense of humor of the typical exorcist. (He chose to ignore what it said about him that he had smiled.)

"I will let you get back to your mingling soon, but first, we wanted to make sure that you all knew this:

"There is something out there. It seems to have mostly targeted normal humans, but I'm sure you yourselves have noticed enough missing faces to draw your own conclusions."

Shuuichi frowned. He knew for a fact that the monster he had seen had had no qualms about targeting him, and in fact had seemed to grow stronger from contact with him. A fact which seemed, to put it mildly, somewhat pertinent to the situation at hand.

"We do not know what it or they are, how numerous they are, or whether they will strike again. But what we do know is that our core reason for existence has not changed: we must protect the normal humans from threats they cannot see." She bowed. "The Matoba clan believes that now is not the time to stand apart. We ask that you set aside your old rivalries and join us in protecting normal humans from youkai and this new threat alike."

Shuuichi allowed his eyebrows to raise. A power grab, is it? I wonder how the other large families will react to that.

He resisted - barely - the urge to slip out the back. He still didn't know exactly how much the world had changed, but one thing that hadn't was that he still had no patience for Matoba games.

But this was more important than their games. So Shuuichi did what he did best: draw attention to himself.

“Excuse me! Nanase-san. If I may have the floor?” As he made his way to the front, the pathway ahead of him cleared. Youkai and human alike stared at him as he passed. If not all the stares were friendly, well … he was a Natori, after all.

The older woman looked briefly surprised before schooling her features back into polite neutrality. “Of course, Natori-kun. We appreciate your clan’s willingness to join with us.”

He held back a grimace. Correcting her would distract from his point and possibly derail the conversation entirely. I suppose I can let it slide for now.

He reached the edge of the courtyard and, in a bout of showiness – had to give the audience what they expected, after all – vaulted the railing, landing a few feet away from Nanase-san. Who now looked decidedly too amused for his continued peace of mind.

He turned to the crowd, and had to clear his throat to give himself a moment to recover. He hadn’t really noticed while mingling, but from this slightly higher vantage point, the difference was obvious. Far fewer exorcists were in attendance than usually appeared at these meetings. Including a number of faces he had never seen miss one, but had assumed that he simply hadn’t crossed ways with yet.

Anger threatened to stir again, and again he suppressed it. Later.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to add with respect to the initial incident."

He considered briefly, then discarded the idea of mentioning Hiiragi’s apparent premonition immediately prior to the event. If any humans had felt something similar, he ought to have heard. And if it was unique to the youkai, there was little point to bringing it up. He was not in the mood for yet another round of argument about how far youkai - even shiki - were to be trusted.

He placed his hands on the railing and leaned forward. “What I want to talk to you about is the aftermath. In particular, a phenomenon I observed earlier this afternoon that seemed to be, if not the same as the initial incident, then at the very least related. Tell me, have any of you seen shadows today where no shadows should be?”

Looking across the crowd, he saw a few considering faces, and a few doubtful, but most simply intrigued. Perhaps it’s a good thing I came forward to talk, after all. I may be the only one here who has encountered one of those creatures.

He briefly outlined the incident earlier, placing particular emphasis on how it reacted to his paper dolls, his inability to break away, and the way it had followed the arc of Hiiragi’s jump during their retreat.

“If, as Nanase-san implied earlier, the first incident affected only or primarily normal humans, this creature – creatures, I suspect, since I doubt I was unlucky enough to run across the only specimen – may be the explanation for why some of our compatriots are missing from here tonight.” He let his eyes scan across the crowds. “I urge you to be careful, and should you encounter another of these creatures, I would recommend that you not engage them, until we know of a better way to deal with them.

“There are few enough of us as it is. We should endeavor to avoid losing any more.” He bowed. “Thank you for your time.” Turning to Nanase-san, he bowed more shallowly. “And for your patience.”

She eyed him entirely too speculatively for his peace of mind, then regally nodded in return. “And thank you, for sharing your experience with us.”

“It was the least I could do.” He replied, completely honestly. With another, abbreviated nod, he vaulted back over the railing and did his best to melt back into the crowd.

It didn’t work too well.

At least until Nanase-san drew everyone’s attention again. “Does anyone else have any observations they would like to report? Any information, no matter how seemingly minor, may be critical at this juncture.”

That triggered a great deal of murmuring, but no one else stepped up, much to Shuuichi’s dismay. He’d hoped that someone, at least, would have some new information for him. But at least that distraction was enough to allow him to start working his way back towards the edges of the crowd.

“In that case, I will not take up any more of your time.” Nanase-san said. “Please feel free to stay here as long as you’d like, especially those of you who have travelled a great distance to be here. We will not turn people away in this trying time” Especially not people who may be useful to you, Shuuichi thought cynically “and the trains are, after all, no longer running.”

He never saw her leave, because as soon as she stepped back, he found himself practically mobbed by the people in the vicinity, all of them wanting to know more about his abortive attack on the creature.

He did his best to be patient with the questions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to turn to anyone who knew more than themselves for advice. For looking for some way to make sense of the mess that the world had become.

In some ways, he wondered if normal humans (the ones who were left) might be reacting better to this situation than his fellow exorcists. Certainly, something terrible and inexplicable had just happened. But terrible or inexplicable things happened all the time. Exorcists, on the other hand, were used to seeing the source of their troubles, and being able to do something about it. So to be confronted with something they didn’t know about, that they currently had no real way to fight …

Shuuichi knew he certainly wasn’t happy about it.

Still, there were only so many times he could answer the same questions without going insane. Especially since most of them, like “But how do we stop them?” or “How many of them are there?”, he had no more answer to than they did.

“If you’re so curious, why don’t you go find one and try your theories out yourself!” He finally exploded at an overly earnest, overly young woman. Seriously, she looked barely out of high school; he knew he’d brought Natsume along with him once, and Matoba (damn him) had involved him in another meeting, but he’d regretted it almost as soon as they’d crossed the threshold. Children that age should be concentrating on their grades and first loves, not this mess.

(He chose to ignore the fact that he had dived headfirst into the world of exorcists as soon as he had realized it existed; far younger than this particular woman. If anything, that reinforced his point.)

She reeled backwards, and Shuuichi resisted the urge to wipe his face. Great, now I’m yelling at children. “I apologize. It has been a … somewhat trying day.” He offered a smile: far less compelling than his usual fare, because he wasn’t lying about being tired, but from the star-struck look in her eyes, apparently close enough. “Forgive me?”

“Of course.” She assured him hastily. She looked at her watch. “Oh my, is it really that late already? I need to get going.” She bowed to Shuuichi. “Thank you again, for the information you’ve shared. I’ll pass it on to my clan, and we’ll make sure to pass it on to everyone we meet as well.” She offered a shaky smile of her own. “And if I do find out anything more, I’ll be sure to let you know. Natori-san, right?”

He nodded. “Don’t go out of your way to look for them. As Nanase-san said, every exorcist is important.”

She actually rolled her eyes at him. “I may be new to this, but I’m not that stupid.”

Shuuichi laughed. “See to it that it stays that way.”

As though that girl’s departure (or his lost temper) had been a sign, the number of questioners began to slow and eventually, finally, stopped entirely. He took the opportunity to slip out of the courtyard before any of the remaining people milling about decided they were interested in talking to him after all.

He found an empty side-corridor, dark except for a single, unenthusiastic light about halfway down the hall, and leaned against the wall, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“I thought you weren’t planning on getting into any trouble?”

He didn’t even bother to open his eyes at the sound of Hiiragi's voice. “They needed to know.”

She laughed quietly and leaned against the wall next to him.

“Have you heard from Sasago or Urihime?”

He cracked open an eye in time to see Hiiragi shake her head. “They may be waiting outside.”

Ah. Yes. None of his shiki were terribly fond of entering Matoba territory alone, even if the chance of harassment was fairly small. Shuuichi was well enough known, and his shiki had been around long enough, that claiming ignorance was unlikely to get the perpetrator very far. Still, accidents – and “accidents” – did happen.

When it came down to it, Shuuichi himself wasn’t terribly fond of entering Matoba territory alone either.

He pushed away from the wall. “In that case, we should get going.” He eyed her critically. “How are you doing? Will you be able to make another run?”

Hiiragi looked around, as though to say If the alternative is this? “I think I’ll be able to manage.” She said dryly.

They only ran into one person on the way out. Unfortunately, it was the one person who Shuuichi had been hoping he wouldn’t see again that night.

“Leaving so soon?” Nanase-san asked sweetly. “The invitation was extended to you as well, you know.”

“I very much appreciate the invitation.” Shuuichi replied. “But I’m afraid I have some unavoidable business I must get back to.” A deliberately nonchalant shrug. “Life goes on, after all.” He eyed her. “Where is your esteemed clan head?”

It was either unlike, or very like Matoba to not show up at all.Depending on what the other man was planning.

Nanase-san was, sadly, canny enough not to provide any clues. She simply continued smiling as she replied. “Unavoidable business.” The smile brightened. “I’ll be sure to let him know you send your regards.”

Only knowing that Matoba would take that in exactly the spirit in which it was meant – unkindly – allowed Shuuichi to bite his tongue. He nodded a farewell. “By your leave?”

Halfway to the door, she called his name, and he turned back. Her expression was perhaps the most honest one he’d seen on her face in … a long time, if ever. “Thank you for the information you provided tonight. It may prove invaluable in the days and weeks to come.”

Definitely planning a long game, then. Well, whatever they were planning, Shuuichi’s plans involved being well clear of it. “Not at all. As you said earlier – there are things more important than our rivalries. Especially now.” He eyed her. “I hope I can depend on you to send out information on defeating these creatures if you find a way?”

“When.” She corrected, the fire in her eyes reminding him that she had not always been content to act as secretary to the head of the clan. “When we find a way, yes, we will spread it as far and wide as we can.” She paused. “Can we count on the aid of the Natori clan?”

“For information sharing, absolutely.” Shuuichi said. “Any closer alliance, I would need to discuss with the rest of my clan.” As the only member of the Natori family with the ability to see youkai, he had acted on the clan’s behalf numerous times in the past. But it made a convenient excuse.

And I probably should actually consult them, this time. I know I have no interest in being dragged into a revival of the Eleven Noble Houses, or whatever Matoba is plotting. But the others may feel differently.

This time, when he turned to leave, Nanase-san did not try to stop him.

As they crossed the boundary of the Matoba lands, a pair of shadows detached from the trees, dropping to the ground just in front of his path and nearly giving him a heart attack. He jumped backwards, reaching into his jacket from habit before remembering that if this was more of those monsters, tossing his paper doll chains at them was the last thing he wanted to do.

His eyes caught up with his reflexes, and he relaxed. “Sasago. Urihime. News?”

Urihime’s eyes shifted from him to Hiiragi as the blonde deliberately resheathed her weapon, but whatever her thoughts, she seemed disinclined to share. “Your father and grandfather are well. Your grandfather asked that we remind you that telephones exist for a reason.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Shuuichi’s mouth. Figures. Even without any power, the old man’s too ornery to die so easily. “So I take it that Sekihara-san is also well?”

Shuuichi had met the older man a couple years ago, helping him out of a situation he hadn’t had enough power to get out of himself. The last surviving member of a former Natori subsidiary clan, he had asked to join, and Shuuichi had seen no reason not to – particularly since it meant he could leave most of the work of running the exorcist side of the clan in Sekihara-san’s hands, giving him even fewer reasons to return home.

Shuuichi’s father and grandfather had never quite forgiven him for becoming an exorcist – unsurprising, when he sometimes wondered if they’d even forgiven him for being born with this power in the first place – but they’d forged an uneasy peace with Sekihara-san for the most part. Particularly when it meant they could use him as an intermediary to get on Shuuichi’s case.

Urihime nodded. “There have been no sightings of a maid who was supposed to come in early in the afternoon, but everyone else is alive and well.”

Shuuichi couldn’t help his sigh of relief. I should find out her name, to add to the list. But it could have been far worse.

Sasago stepped forward. “I saw no changes in the abandoned properties. Isuzu-san is well, but according to her report, the village nearby has been nearly decimated. She plans to stay there and help rebuild for the time being, but has agreed to pass on any information she learns about those creatures.”

Good. It sounds like she’s calmed down some. Hopefully she won’t get it into her head that this is another plot of Matoba’s. Another mess like that is the last thing we need right now.

He took a deep breath. It’s not as bad as I was afraid of. I can work with this. “Okay.” He nodded to Sasago and Urihime. “Thank you. You can rest now, if you like.”

With nearly synchronous nods, the two of them poofed back into their dormant form, and Shuuichi looked up at Hiiragi. “I hate to ask –” But with the trains not running and no car available for him to drive, his options were limited.

“Where?” She asked simply, no accusation in her tone.

He wavered. His nice, comfortable bed, back in his nice, empty apartment, beckoned. Even the couch, which was far from comfortable to sleep on. The urge to ignore his responsibility to his clan almost overwhelmed him. Just for one more night.

He sighed. But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do, would it?

“… Take me home.”

Chapter Text

Shuuichi staggered as Hiiragi set him down in front of the primary Natori compound. “I really hate being carried.”

“You’ve mentioned.” His shiki said dryly.

He offered her a sheepish smile. “But thank you.” He turned to look at the gate, and suppressed the urge to make a face. “You’re welcome to rest, now. You’ve more than earned it.”

“I would prefer to stay out.” She said, also turning to look, in her case towards the engraved nameplate that decorated the left-side post. “If it does not inconvenience you, Master?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s fine.” I suspect I’ll be grateful for the company. He blew out a breath, irritated at himself, and pushed his way through the gate with more force than strictly necessary. Let’s get this over with.

The front room was dark, so he paused there only long enough to exchange his shoes for a pair of slippers. “Grandfather usually uses that room to entertain guests, so it’s not unusual for it to be left empty otherwise.” He explained to Hiiragi, uncomfortably aware that he was mostly speaking to hear himself talk.

It’s just this afternoon getting to me. Really, I’m too old to be afraid of the dark. Especially when I know there’s nothing there.

He was fairly certain he’d be able to sense another of those monsters coming. It hadn’t feel quite like youkai, but once he’d noticed that he wasn't the hungry one, it still had a pretty distinctive feel. He wouldn’t be caught off-guard again.

He hoped.

He turned a corner to see several of the rooms in the main building lit, and his steps hastened as he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn’t seriously doubted Urihime’s report, but it was still far more reassuring to see with his own eyes.

He slid the door open to a room with a Western-style table standing in the center, well-lit by both the overhead light and a standing lamp in the corner that he was fairly certain hadn’t been here the last time he’d visited. The light paradoxically made the room seem even emptier. Four chairs with matching upholstery surrounded the table, one at an angle, as though the person who had sat there last couldn’t be bothered to push the chair in once he’d finished with it. A wry expression pulled as the corner of Shuuichi’s mouth. Grandfather.

“Sumi-san, is that you?” A man’s voice called from outside the room. Initially tense, Shuuichi relaxed when he recognized the voice. Its owner slid the other door to the room open and stopped, staring.

Sekihara-san stood several centimeters taller than him, with short-cut hair that had mostly gone grey and a well-trimmed moustache. He wore a men’s kimono in dark blue and grey, the sleeves of which fell straighter than the weight of the cloth alone could explain. Shuuichi suspected he had a few things squirrelled away in his sleeves. He certainly usually did.

His expression stretched into a smile, still wry. “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.” The other man replied automatically, then crossed the room with broad strides. “It is a relief to see you well. Urihime said – but then you took so long getting back.”

“I was … otherwise occupied.” Shuuichi took his suit jacket off – the night was a bit chilly, but not that cold – and slung it over the half-pulled out chair. “Matoba called an emergency exorcist meeting. You didn’t get word?”  

Sekihara-san shook his head. “What’s his take?”

“Power grab, I think.” Shuuichi said. He wanted to sit down, but suspected if he did so, he’d have a hard time standing back up. “Team up to continue to protect the normal humans – those who are left – from youkai, figure out how to deal with this new menace, et cetera, et cetera.”

“New menace?”

Shuuichi blinked. “Surely Urihime mentioned –”

“We didn’t encounter that creature until after they left.” Hiiragi pointed out from the far side of the room, where she'd been examining the decorative calligraphy on a wall scroll.

“Right.” Shuuichi sighed. This day has been far too long. “No one knows much about them yet, unfortunately. They look like pools of living shadow with teeth. I think they’re related to whatever it is that caused so many people to disappear earlier this afternoon, but I haven’t seen them disappear anything with my own eyes yet, so I could be wrong.”

He flexed his hand, remembering being unable to let go; a sensation he’d never experienced before and would prefer not to experience again. “Given the speed at which it encroached on my paper doll chain, even if they’re not related to the disappearances, I doubt coming into contact with one would turn out well.”

“Shadows with teeth.” Sekihara-san repeated, looking bemused. He shook it off. “How many? And where?”

“I don’t know.” Shuuichi fought to keep his voice level. Not Sekihara-san’s fault that he was at least the hundredth person to ask that question. “I’ve only seen the one, in the park near my film site. But the chances that I’d just happen to be near the only one …”

Sekihara-san nodded, then looked past Shuuichi to the door, clearly worried. “Hopefully Souji-kun will have the sense to leave well enough alone if they encounter one …”

Souji …? Oh, right, his … nephew? Distant cousin? “He’s not out right now, is he?” Shuuichi asked, a bit appalled. “With everything that just happened, and at this time of night?”

Sekihara-san shot him a look. “Sumi-san wanted to stock up on groceries, just in case. I didn’t think it wise to let her go alone.”

“No, I agree.” So they’re both out there. What if something – Shuuichi flexed his hand again. “I don’t know for sure, but it felt enough like a youkai that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was invisible to normal people.”

“Invisible shadows with teeth. Even better.” Sekihara-san said dryly. “Hiroaki-san and Eiji-san will be thrilled.”

Shuuichi snorted. Like that’s anything new. “Where are Father and Grandfather?” His grandfather often turned in early, but he would have expected his father, at least, to still be awake.

"Making phone calls, last I saw." Sekihara-san said. "Trying to figure out the extent of the problem." He hesitated. "You ought to let them know you're back. They were very relieved to hear from Urihime that you were safe."

It would be terribly inconvenient to have to find someone else to blame all their bad luck on, after all. “When is Sumi-san due back?”

Sekihara-san eyed him, but didn’t press the issue. “It should be any time now. They were only planning on walking to the convenience store down the road. We thought it might be... unwise, to drive at night in these conditions.”

Shuuichi nodded. “I suspect we’ll want to conserve gasoline, too.”

“It's that bad?”

“No one knows for sure.” He suspected his expression looked as grim as that of his fellow exorcist. “But the trains weren’t running, and the stations were empty.”

“Kiyonaga-san?” Shuuichi’s father’s voice drifted through the open doorway, followed closely by the man himself. “Where did you – oh.”

Father and son stared at each other for a long, silent moment. “… Welcome home, son.” His father said, and for once he looked like he meant it.

Shuuichi opened his mouth to reply.

“I suppose it took you so long because you were still playing around at that silly acting business of yours?”

His fists clenched. I’d rather even one of them still be alive than – no. What am I thinking?

“There was an exorcist meeting.” Sekihara-san intervened, with a concerned glance at him. Clearly he was slipping. He made an effort to smooth his expression. “Shuuichi-kun attended on behalf of the clan.”

His father grunted. “Like exorcist nonsense is any better. … They have anything useful to say? This is the fault of those things, isn’t it?”

Calm. I will act calm. “No one knows for sure. But it seems pretty unlikely.” Shuuichi said. “I’m afraid we’re just as much in the dark as everyone else, this time.”

His father huffed, then turned to Sekihara-san. “I was only able to reach three of my coworkers. The rest, I left a message. Those three said they’d let me know if heard from anyone else.”

“That’s good news.”

“What about their families?” Shuuichi interrupted. Three out of how many?

His father slanted a look in his direction, as though surprised he cared. “One of them is single, and lives on his own. One of the others, their only kid is in college, and never answers his phone anyway.” Like some other people I know, his look seemed to say. Which was hardly fair – he'd have grudgingly answered if his father ever bothered to call in the first place. “Third’s fine.”

“Good.” Shuuichi said, surprising a briefly gratified expression on his father’s face.

He turned back to Sekihara-san. “Those … protective barriers, or whatever they’re called, that you claim are around this house. Do you think it’ll do any good against – that?” He waved vaguely towards the outside world.

Honestly, he really didn’t know how Sekihara-san put up with his father.

“Shuuichi-kun, what do you think? You’ve seen one of those creatures you mentioned, right?”

He crossed his arms. “… I don’t know.” He finally admitted. “They seem to be capable of absorbing power when it’s used offensively. But maybe passive defenses are different?” He shook his head. “We’d have to experiment, to make sure.”

“Only if you do it at a distance.” Hiiragi said. Shuuichi started, glancing her direction. From her stance, she was probably glaring. “I’m not letting one of those things that near you again.”

The older exorcist looked from Shuuichi to his shiki. “Again? Did something happen?”

Shuuichi waved it off. “Nothing important.”

His father stared in Hiiragi's general direction, squinting, as though he thought that would help him see her more clearly (or at all). "Which one is that?"

"... Hiiragi, right?" Sekihara-san looked unusually hesitant. Shuuichi thought back. Had he really not brought Hiiragi home and introduced her around? He knew he came back as rarely as he could get away with, but they’d been working together for almost a year now.

“Correct.” She said, and inclined her head slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sekihara-san.”

He returned the gesture. “Likewise.” To Shuuichi’s father, “Hiiragi is one of Shuuichi-kun’s shiki.” He returned his attention to Shuuichi. “She doesn’t seem to think so.”

Nor do I, I just really don’t feel like having this conversation right now.

He was saved by the sound of the door behind him sliding open, and a young voice calling, “We’re back, Uncle, Natori-san!” He turned to look, and the boy’s eyes widened. “Shuuichi-san! You’re home!”

Shuuichi smiled. “Welcome back, Souji-kun, Sumi-san. The grocery trip was uneventful?” Tension he hadn’t even noticed creeping into his shoulders slowly drained away. Everyone’s safe.

He swore that every time he saw Souji, the boy looked younger, for all that he had clearly grown in the past year; maybe because he never seemed to be able to keep his mop of brown hair under any semblance of control. It was hard to believe that he was already thirteen, when Shuuichi still remembered the shell-shocked ten-year-old Sekihara-san had brought home not long after he’d moved in himself, hesitant to ask at all, but well aware that his young – yes, Shuuichi was pretty sure he was a distant cousin of some sort – didn’t have anyone else to turn to.

By that time only spending what weekends at home he had to, Shuuichi had bitten back comments about letting his father and grandfather around someone that young who could see, and given his blessing, for whatever it was worth. Far more surprisingly, his father and grandfather had agreed, too.

“Yeah, it was fine.” The boy said, then straightened, looking chagrined. “I mean, all went well. No suspicious youkai sighted!” He looked like he only just managed to keep himself from tacking a ‘sir’ onto the end. Shuuichi suppressed the urge to sigh. He liked admiration as much as the next up-and-coming famous actor, but from someone he had categorized as essentially family (for whatever that was worth), it was a bit much.

He smiled instead. “Good job. Did you see anyone or ... anything else?”

They exchanged looks. “No.” Sumi-san said, looking a bit upset. No surprise there. We all are. She’d been their housekeeper for as long as Shuuichi could remember, her short hair long since gone fully grey. “Not entirely uncommon for this time of night, but we also saw a handful of cars, empty but still running.”

“One had crashed into a light pole.” Souji said, looking much more solemn as well. “We went over to see if they were okay, but no one was in that one, either. And the door was still locked.”

Shuuichi sighed. “I wish I could say that was a surprise.”

“We saw several similar scenes on our way here.” Hiiragi said from behind him.

Souji jumped. “Who’s that?” He flinched, attention shifting from Hiiragi to Sumi-san. Shuuichi suppressed a smile. Growing up, he too had tried to avoid calling her attention to the things he could see.

“My name’s Hiiragi. You must be Souji-kun? I’ve heard about you.” She said, inclining her head towards him briefly.

Sekihara-san's voice murmured quietly in the background, keeping his father and the housekeeper up to date.

Souji shot another glance at Sumi-san, then nodded. Hesitated another moment, then muttered, “Nice to meet you.”

Taking pity on him, Shuuichi unsubtly changed the subject, repeating what little he'd learned that afternoon and at the meeting.

Souji looked suitably wary of his description of the shadow creatures. Good. He’d have shielded the boy if he could, but there were too few of them left to deliberately foster that kind of blindness.  

It's just as well that he doesn’t appear to be like me when I was at that age. I probably would have run straight at the first of those shadow creatures I saw, blithely confident that I’d be able to do something to stop it.

Sumi-san listened with grave attention. After he wound down, she offered her condolences at the loss of his coworkers, probably the sincerest acknowledgment he’d received all day.

(And he knew that everyone else had lost people too, that he was lucky to not have lost anyone from his immediate family. But that didn’t keep it from hurting.)

Later. You can think about it later.

Once he finished, Souji looked up at him with wide eyes. Was I ever that trusting? “What are we going to do now, though, Shuuichi-san? How can we fight them?”

Shuuichi couldn’t quite bring himself to flat-out admit that he didn’t know either. He pulled on a confident smile, reached over, and ruffled Souji’s hair, prompting a yelp and a betrayed glare. “We’ll figure something out.”

Far, far too late at night, Shuuichi finally escaped back to his room, dropping his duffel bag just inside the entrance and throwing his jacket over his desk chair.

He hadn’t spent significant amounts of time in this room in years, yet looking around, it felt almost like he’d never left.

The bed was neatly made – though that would be Sumi-san’s influence, not his own. If he wasn’t mistaken, it smelled like she’d recently laundered his bedding as well. I’ll have to remember to thank her in the morning.

A small handful of posters decorated the walls, mostly of famous actors he had particularly liked or wanted to emulate when he’d first been trying to break in. A couple had half-peeled from the walls; he absently pulled his spare poster putty out of the shadow of several books leaning on his shelf – math, from his final year of high school, he thought, though he didn’t care enough to check – and stuck them back up.

When he turned back around, Hiiragi had taken his place. She leaned over his desk, poking at the scrolls piled on its surface. “Research?”

Shuuichi shook his head, smiling wryly. “If so, it’d be years old. I’m surprised they didn’t drive Sumi-san mad enough to throw them back in the storehouse on my behalf. I’m usually better about cleaning up after myself.”

Hiiragi knew well the state of the room in his apartment that he used as a miniature storehouse. She just looked at him. He laughed. “When I don’t plan on coming back to something soon, at least.” He frowned down at his desk. “Coming back was the right decision, but … I’ll need to go back to the apartment at some point, to collect everything if nothing else.”

He hated the thought of losing that apartment. It was his, the way this room had ceased to be the day he left home. In many ways, more his than this room had ever been. Being here brought back memories, many of which he usually preferred to ignore.

Well, no one said that doing the right thing was supposed to be easy, I suppose.

“You can send us to do that.” Hiiragi said.

“And you’d have to make how many trips? No, I’ll just borrow my father’s car – assuming he hasn’t given in and sold it – and –” He stopped. “That won’t work either, will it? Who knows how many wrecks are littering the roads, and I doubt we’ll be able to depend on gas stations – on any automated systems – for that much longer.” He pulled his glasses off and wiped his other hand across his face, wishing he didn’t feel so infernally tired.

Then stared at his hand, and the makeup that he’d inadvertently wiped off, with a sort of weary irritation. I guess I never did clean up, did I?

“Master?” Hiiragi asked.

He waved her off. “You’re probably right. Just. I’ll think about it in the morning.”

He crossed the hall to the bathroom and washed the remaining makeup off his face and hand, then stood there staring at himself in the mirror for a moment.

Running water. Electricity. If half the population of Japan – and we’ll be lucky if that’s it – has disappeared, and monsters that most of them may not even be able to see have started eating the rest, how much longer will we have these things that we think of as basic amenities? I certainly don’t know how to run a power station.

The man in the mirror looked tired, disheartened, and a little scared. He summoned his best charming smile, but could only manage a pale imitation. The gecko crawled across his nose, and he did his best to glare at it cross-eyed. You’re not helping.

… And I’m being ridiculous. He splashed water in his face again, gave himself one last look, then shook his head and slipped back across the hall, where he flopped sideways across the bed, eyes closed.

“I hope you’re not planning to sleep in that position.” Hiiragi said.

He opened one eye so that he could indulge in the pleasure of rolling it at her. She shook her head a little bit, in the way he’d noticed she sometimes did when she was amused.

A soft knock at the door distracted them both. Hiiragi went to answer it, and Shuuichi sat up when he saw Sumi-san standing there, a small tray with two still-steaming cups of tea in her hands.

“I thought you’d appreciate a little something calming.” She said. “… I don’t know if youkai drink tea, but –”

“Tell her I would love to.” Hiiragi said, picking up a cup in each hand and gliding over to hand one to Shuuichi.

He passed on Hiiragi’s thanks and watched Sumi-san watch the cups move across the room. And wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like not to see. He had no great love for youkai, but knowing they existed yet being unable to see them had always seemed to him to be the worst of both worlds.

Sumi-san looked a bit startled. “Not at all. It’s I who should be thanking her. She’s the one who brought you safely home, isn’t she?”

“She is.” Shuuichi agreed, with a smile in Hiiragi’s direction.

She brought her cup up in front of where he estimated her mouth to be, as though the mask didn’t already hide her face well enough already. I don't think I've ever seen her drink before. How does that even work, with her mask? “It’s my duty.” She sounded a bit cross.

Sumi-san squinted in Hiiragi’s general direction. Her aim was a bit off, now, so Shuuichi suspected that the filter normal people tended to possess had kicked back in, and her mind was now interpreting the cup in Hiiragi’s hands as sitting on the desk she leaned against, instead. “Well, thank you.” She bowed slightly in Hiiragi’s direction, and again in Shuuichi’s. “Good night.”

“Good night, Sumi-san.” He replied for them both, watching as she closed the door behind her, then finally taking a long sip from his own cup. He sighed as the warmth seemed to suffuse his entire body. “I thought youkai tended more towards drinks of a more alcoholic variety.”

She scoffed. “Please. I have no interest in carousing around like an idiot. I have some class, unlike certain pig-cats of our mutual acquaintance.”

Shuuichi laughed and raised his cup in her direction. “You do indeed.” He froze. Natsume. “Hiiragi, my jacket.”

She looked from his jacket to him, then with a small shrug plucked it off the chair and tossed it to him. He caught it one-handed, unduly pleased that he managed without spilling any of his tea. Sumi-san would not be terribly pleased if I spilled tea on my bed.

With a bit of one-handed fumbling, he managed to extract both the slip of paper on which he’d written the number Touko-san had given him, and his cell phone. He started typing in the number, then hesitated.

Which will last longer? Electricity or cell phone reception? … Forget it, the land line is halfway across the house, and I’m not moving that far again tonight. I’ll just charge it overnight. Surely the electricity will last at least another few hours, since it hasn't given out yet.

Hiiragi drifted over and settled at his side. He put the phone on speaker, though with each progressive ring going unanswered, his hopes sank. Of course the hotel staff would be gone, too. And that’s assuming he even made it back to the hotel – with none of the trains running, if his class was on the other side of the city they could easily have ended up stranded.

Someone picked up. “Um, hello?” A young, feminine voice said, a bit breathlessly. “Sorry, I ran to the phone as fast as I could. Can I help you? Who is this? Where are you?”

Shuuichi gave the phone in his hand a doubtful look. That did not sound like any hotel employee he’d ever encountered. “My name is Natori Shuuichi. I heard that a friend of mine was staying there. Could you perhaps connect me to his room?”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, Natori-san, but I don’t think your friend is –”

A muffled crash, followed by a series of other muffled noises – voices, more crashes. Shuuichi eyed his phone again. “But I don’t know how to –” The girl’s voice protested, slightly muffled but still understandable, as though she had turned away from the phone but not bothered to block the microphone. "—sure, but –” more indistinct mumbling “—oh, there it is!”

Suddenly the background noise in the call increased. “Sorry about that, Natori-san, my friend suggested we put this call on speakerphone. I hope you don’t mind? You’re the first –” she cut herself off. “—never mind. About your friend …” she hesitated again. “I hate to say this, but …”

“Natori Shuuichi?” Another voice – male, vaguely familiar though he couldn’t quite place from where – interrupted. “The … actor?”

“The same.” He said, puzzled.

“I didn’t realize you were a fan, Tanuma.” Another male voice – this one definitely unfamiliar – teased from what sounded like farther away from the phone.

The name also sounded familiar. He looked up at Hiiragi and raised an eyebrow.

“Wasn’t that that black-haired kid we met at Omibashira’s mansion?” She asked.

That’s why the voice had sounded familiar. “Tanuma? As in Natsume’s friend Tanuma?” He asked. “What great luck! I was just hoping to have a little chat with him. Catch up. That sort of thing.”

“Kitamoto. Taki. Can you go make sure no one else comes in here?”

“No.” The girl said immediately. “If this is to do with … those things, I need to know about them just as much as you do.” A chill ran down Shuuichi’s spine. It was, of course, possible that she was referring to something other than the shadow creature he’d encountered. Though from the fear and anger in the girl’s voice, he wasn’t sure that the idea of there being something else out there was any better.

Tanuma made an exasperated sound. “Kitamoto?”

A long pause. “I’ll go see if Nishimura and Furuya are game to start another pillow fight.” The other male voice finally said grudgingly. “But you’d better fill me in on the details later. This is not the time for more secrets.”

Tanuma sighed, and said quietly, “Not all my secrets are mine to share.” A pause. “Thanks, Kitamoto.”

Another, longer pause. Taki, Tanuma, Kitamoto. Nishimura and Furuya. Natsume, of course. Some unknown number of others. That sounds ... I guess I don’t know how many of them were there to begin with, but it sounds like Natsume has at least some of his classmates left with him. Good.  

… But really. A pillow fight?

“Okay.” Tanuma said suddenly, startling Shuuichi out of his unfocused staring at one of the posters on his wall. “Taki, Natori-san is Natsume’s friend and has a secondary job as an exorcist.” Shuuichi stiffened, suddenly wide awake and very interested in where this conversation was going. “Natori-san, I hope you will forgive my inclusion of Taki. She’s quite stubborn.” A muffled sound of outrage. “And she had a point. She’s also one of Natsume’s friends, and although she can’t see youkai, she knows a lot about them.” He took what must have been an impressively deep breath, given how clearly it Shuuichi could hear it over the phone.

“Natori-san … Natsume is gone.”

“Gone?” Surely he had misheard. “Do you mean missing? All evidence I’ve heard points to … whatever it was that happened this afternoon leaving those with nontrivial amounts of power alone. And surely he would know better than to step in a malicious, shadowy mass of teeth.”

“You would think.” Tanuma replied wryly, then sighed. “I don’t know, Natori-san. He may just be missing. His classmates don't remember seeing him just before the... event. But he hasn't been seen since, and if he was still around, I think he’d have made it back by now. So we have to assume...” The boy’s voice was bleak.

Shuuichi shook his head. He would not normally consider himself to be an optimistic person, but ... it just didn’t make sense. “I wouldn’t give up hope just yet.” He said. “Natsume has a habit of turning up when you least want him to.” Hiiragi elbowed him. “Ow! Er. When you least expect.” The tilt of her head and her firmly crossed arms did a remarkable job of conveying ‘unrepentant’.

Tanuma huffed something that, in other times, might have turned into a laugh. “You may be right.”

“Natori-san?” The girl – Taki, was her name? – interrupted. “You’re an exorcist? Do you know how to get rid of those creatures that started appearing after – at least, I assume you’ve never seen one before, Tanuma?”

“I haven’t.” He confirmed.

“Or at least how to protect ourselves from them?” She continued before Shuuichi had a chance to finish figuring out how he wanted to respond. “I’ve drawn a – well, my grandfather’s notes called it that a Chrysanthemum Circle, but I don’t know if that’s its actual name or just something he called it because it looks a bit like one. But I don’t know for sure that it’ll work, and we’ve got I think about twenty of us here? And Tanuma needs to sleep sometime or he’s going to just keel over –”

“Taki!” The boy protested. “I’m –”

“You’re not fine.” She said fiercely. “We’re all exhausted, and you’ve been working harder than any of us. We all know it. – So, anyway, Natori-san, anything you can tell us that might help, we’d really appreciate it.”

Shuuichi blinked. I think I like this girl. Where does Natsume keep finding them? “There is a protective circle called a Chrysanthemum Circle.” He said. He considered what he knew of it. “It seems like a reasonable choice. I can’t think of anything else offhand that’s strong, passive, and something I can describe over the phone.” Twenty. How many were there to begin with?

“What do you mean by passive?” She asked.

“It doesn’t require active infusion of power to be maintained.”

“Ah. No, I’ve … heard that even though I can’t see, I probably have trace amounts of power,” she said, strangely cautiously. “We think my family used to have power. But if it requires more than that, I wouldn’t be able to do it, and as far as we know, Tanuma’s the only one who has any real power, now that –” She broke off. “So you think it will work?”

He hesitated, then sighed quietly. Twenty, only one of them with any power, and none with proper training? I would do them no favors trying to paint things in a better light. “To be honest? As far as I know, no one knows much of anything. About what happened this afternoon, or about those creatures who appeared afterwards. Other than that they appear to strengthen when attacked. Some way of absorbing the power in the attack, most likely.”

Tanuma made a ‘heh’ noise. “Sounds like it’s a good idea we just ran from them, then.”

Shuuichi winced. “Them? You’ve encountered more than one?”

“I think … four total, for my class?” He said.

“My class ran into five.” Taki said bleakly.

Tanuma made a pained noise. “I’m so sorry, Taki –”

A group of children, none of whom could see the invisible monsters that dotted the landscape. Shuuichi could do the math.

“It’s fine.” She said. “… Stop looking at me like that, fine, it’s not fine. But there’s nothing you could have done. And without your warning, we’d probably have all been toast.”

Tanuma stayed silent.

Shuuichi cleared his throat. “Perhaps those monsters group in places with higher population density.” Considered. “Or that used to have higher population density. I’ve only seen the one so far. Is there anything else you can tell me about what it did, or what you did?”

“… They don’t seem to like changes in elevation.” Tanuma said, after a moment. “The first one we encountered was on the landing of a stairwell, and it took it several minutes to even creep up onto the next step. And they seem to prefer to stick to places where actual shadows are. Though that may just be because we mostly ran into them later in the day, so there were a lot of shadows already.” Another pause. “Even on even ground, their movement speed is easily outpaced by a fast walk, so they’re not really all that dangerous, if you know that they’re there.” Left unstated but obvious, the fact that that was the problem.

Shuuichi frowned. “Wait. If they don’t like changes in elevation, what was one of them doing in the middle of a stairwell?”

Tanuma laughed, though his tone held very little real mirth. “I wish I knew.”

In the ensuing conversational pause, Shuuichi found himself caught by an embarrassingly large yawn. He checked his watch. Almost late enough to call it ‘early’ instead. I need sleep. And I suspect they do, too. “I should get going. Thank you for this conversation; it was very … enlightening.”

“Wait!” Tanuma said, sounding borderline desperate. “I’m not – is there any advice you can give us, on how best to deal with, well, everything?”

Shuuichi shook his head, for once glad that the gesture was invisible to the other side of the conversation. With minimal power and so many people to protect … he wouldn’t even know where to start. He looked to Hiiragi for ideas, but she just shrugged. He looked around the room, aware the pause was growing awkward but unable to come up with anything helpful to say, and froze as his gaze landed on his desk. “Glasses.”

“Sorry, what?” Tanuma asked.

“See if you can find some non-prescription glasses.” Shuuichi expanded. “They won’t increase your power any, but I find they help me see youkai more clearly. It could give you at least a little bit of an edge.”

Taki made an ‘ah hah’ sort of noise. “I think I read about that!” She said. “Any sort of reflection will do it, right? Mirrors and that sort of thing too?”

I wouldn’t mind getting a look at her grandfather’s notes. “That’s right.” He confirmed. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, but …” Part of him wanted to run down there and guide them, an urge that frankly sort of confused him. He’d never been much of one for either protection or children, even if Natsume’s friends seemed remarkably level-headed.

But his family – his clan – needed him, too. And he needed to be here, where he had resources he could use to help him figure out the source of this disaster, or at least how to fight it. Even if it meant leaving twenty students in the hands of a boy who could barely see more than shadows at the best of times. Huh. I wonder why he could see those creatures well enough to avoid them consistently. Are they really that strong? The one Shuuichi had encountered had felt enough unlike youkai that he didn’t quite know how to gauge its strength. Though it had certainly moved far faster than Tanuma described. An effect of the power it had absorbed?

As Tanuma started speaking again, he forcibly shelved those thoughts. He’d have time to speculate later. “No, thank you.” He said. “We’ve had … ample evidence that I’m not just seeing things. But it’s still reassuring to know that other people can see them too.” A pause. “Though not so reassuring that they’re that wide-spread …”

Shuuichi laughed. “I promise you, the number of them that you encountered is far from the best news I’ve heard all day, either.” He sobered. “It definitely is good news, though, that you and so many of your classmates have survived. From what I’ve heard, non-exorcists have had … high rates of initial disappearance.”

“Class 4 was decimated, and we still haven’t heard from Class 3.” Tanuma said. “All of our teachers and the hotel staff are gone, and we didn’t see anyone else on the way here. But 1, 2, and 5 … I think we all ended up with somewhere between a third and half left?”

“Before the monsters, that sounds about right.” Taki agreed. “Huh. I wonder if it’s coincidence – your class, mine, and Natsume’s.”

Shuuichi raised his eyebrows.

“That reminds me of something … I think it was Ponta said once?” Tanuma said. “I forget the metaphor, something about sticks and magnets, but I think the general idea was that just by being around Natsume, some of his power sort of … rubbed off on us?”

“Who is Ponta?”

“Oh, sorry.” Tanuma sounded embarrassed. “That’s what I call Natsume’s cat. Nyanko-sensei is just so … embarrassing to say.”

Was that muffled snickering he was hearing from Hiiragi’s direction? Shuuichi turned his head to look. She shook her head, shoulders convulsing, and he had the suspicion that the pig-cat would not be terribly pleased the next time they met. Though he rarely was. Speaking of – “Is he not with you? Even if Natsume ... disappeared, as far as I know youkai were not affected by the initial disappearances –“ he shot a glance at Hiiragi, who shook her head and shrugged.  Helpful.  “– so he ought to still be around.”

Silence on the other side of the line. “I think he might have actually stayed at home?” Taki finally said. “I haven’t seen him around, and I think I would have if he’d smuggled himself here like usual.”

Shuuichi shook his head. Some bodyguard. “At least in that case, the Fujiwaras should be well protected.” He said instead.

“Until he decides to go off and get drunk.” Hiiragi offered. He glared, glad for once that neither of the people on the other side of the line could hear youkai.

“Are they all right?” Tanuma asked. “I’m so glad to hear that. I wanted to call, but I didn’t know their number …”

“Touko-san was fine earlier this afternoon. Shigeru-san hadn’t come home from work yet, so I cannot guarantee his safety. I can give you their phone number, if you like?”

“Please.” Tanuma said.

“The more contact information we can get, the better.” Taki said. “Especially since most of our calls aren’t connecting.”

None of them needed to spell out the most likely reason for that.

Shuuichi opened his cell’s address book and rattled off the number, then after a moment of consideration gave them his cell and home number as well. “I’m unlikely to be in reach of the home phone often.” He warned. “And I nearly always leave my cell phone on silent, so that’s no guarantee that you’ll reach me, either.” He honestly wasn’t even sure why he was bothering, except … “Let me know if you hear anything else about Natsume.” He added abruptly, before he could have second thoughts about being so transparent.

“You’ll be the first to know.” Tanuma said. “Well, the second. The Fujiwaras will probably be first, if we don’t find him before we get home, or if …” He sighed. “I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”

Better you than me.

“Unfortunately, there will be a lot of that sort of conversation happening, I think.” Shuuichi said grimly.

Twin sighs on the other side of the line. “With the number of parents we’ve been unable to contact, I honestly wonder how many of those conversations we will end up needing to have.” Tanuma said, equally grim.

Good point.

Before Shuuichi could figure out a way to respond, Tanuma spoke again. “Sorry. That’s our problem to deal with. I should let you go.” A pause. “Thank you for calling. It … really helped.”

“You’re welcome.” Shuuichi said. Then, before he could find an excuse to prolong the conversation further, he hung up.

He stood, walked over to his desk, laid his jacket back over the chair and put his cell on a mostly clean corner.  He dug a charger out of the back of the desk drawer, trying to remember his reasoning for leaving it here.  Maybe he'd forgotten it?  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it still connected properly.  He hadn't thought he remembered getting a new phone recently.  

Cell phone safely charging, he slowly returned to his bed, sinking down onto it with none of his previous vigor. Hiiragi was a silent, comforting presence nearby.

Natsume.

He buried his head in his hands and finally let himself truly face the idea that he might never see his young friend again. It’s so unfair!

“He does have a penchant for wandering off.” Hiiragi offered, as he silently struggled with himself.

He raised his head to offer her a weak smile. “I know.” It was tempting, so tempting, to hold out hope. After all, between the mass disappearance and the creatures that had appeared afterward, even if Natsume really was gone, it was extremely unlikely that anyone would ever find a body.

I can’t think about this anymore. Not tonight.

He pulled back his covers and slid between them, too tired and heart-sore to care that he was still wearing the day’s clothes, or even that the light was still on. “Good night, Hiiragi.”

Her mask bent towards him for a long, silent moment before she stood and moved away. Shortly thereafter, the light turned off with a quiet click. “Good night, Master.”

Chapter Text

Kaname blinked open eyes still bleary from sleep, and stared for several moments of blissful confusion at an unfamiliar ceiling. Memory rushed in, and he resisted the sudden desire to turn over, pull his blanket over his head, and see whether if he ignored it long enough, the events of the previous day would cease to exist.

If only.

Instead, he sat up.  To his right, he could see the rest of the dining area, where they’d set up their impromptu camp the night before.  A broad doorway split the wall near the far end of the room, angled such that he could just barely see the sun shining through the glass front doors. Almost close enough to touch, the gentle curve of Taki’s protective barrier separated him from the rest of the room: three layers of circles, interspersed with symbols which he certainly didn’t know how to interpret. He thought the air above it glimmered a bit to his eyes, but that could just as easily have been his imagination. He didn’t really think that his sight was that good.

He rubbed at a temple, then blinked and pulled his hand away, looking at it in surprise. He actually didn’t have a headache at the moment. He felt remarkably good, in fact, for having spent the night in a pile of borrowed futons and blankets, surrounded on three sides by the rest of his classmates, many of whom he barely knew. I’m glad this wasn’t a Western-style hotel. Trying to pull mattresses off beds would have been far worse. We’d probably have ended up just sleeping on the floor.

He’d expected to stay up half the night, staring at the ceiling and worrying, but as far as he could remember now, he’d been asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow. I must have really been exhausted.

To his left, he saw exactly what he’d expected: his classmates reduced, for the most part, to the slow rise and fall of lumps beneath blankets. He heard snatches of heavy breathing, but for the most part it sounded like none of his classmates snored. Beyond that, several voices murmured in quiet conversation, which he finally pinpointed as coming from the opposite side of the circle.

He battled the part of himself that really liked the idea of curling back up and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist, but with both his common sense and his slowly waking curiosity on the other side, it wasn’t long before he gave in, gathered up his blanket, and carefully picked his way over.

Furuya and Tsuji, their backs to the edge of the circle, looked up as he approached. Furuya nodded a greeting, and Kaname returned the gesture. Kitamoto and Taki turned to look almost as quickly, then shifted just enough farther apart that Kaname could settle between them without stepping on anyone’s blanket.

“I was just filling them in on the situation,” Taki said quietly, impatiently brushing hair out of her eyes. She sighed. “Not that there was much we hadn’t already known or guessed.”

Kaname nodded. He wanted to ask if Taki had kept quiet about exactly who their source was and why he had called to begin with, but didn’t know how to do so. And in the end, will it really matter?

He was starting to wonder that about a lot of things that he’d thought he cared deeply about.

Tsuji nodded, face contemplative. “It’s still a bit hard to believe, but even if I hadn’t seen evidence enough yesterday, it does … explain a few things.” He shook his head. “I guess Sasada-san might have been right all along after all.” Kaname must have looked confused. “Sasada-san was the class representative before me. She always claimed that she’d seen something at the old school building that we used to use for tests of courage.”

“Oh right, I remember that,” Taki said, then glanced at Kaname. “It was torn down this year – probably a couple months before you moved here.”

“Ah,” he said. “What happened to her?”

Tsuji shrugged. “She was being really loud about it for a while, right before we did a test of courage about a week before it was torn down. She seemed to think that Na –” An arrested look on his face. Then a sad one. He swallowed and shook his head again. “Never mind. I guess – that might have – but it’s not important anymore.” He shrugged again, but it looked more forced this time. “Anyway, there’s not much else to the story. We held the test of courage. Things were a bit weird and spooky, but nothing really happened. And then Sasada-san transferred schools. Her dad’s job, you know.”

Kaname nodded again. Silence fell, and he slowly realized that everyone was looking at him. “… What?” he asked, resisting the urge to curl more deeply into the blanket draped around his shoulders.

“What do you think we should do next?” Furuya asked, and Kaname was struck again by how different, how much more solemn his classmate looked. But then, he hadn’t been able to contact either his parents or his sister last night. He had to be worried. They all were.

“Why are you asking me?” he asked, though he was afraid that he knew. He could feel the abyss yawning again. I can’t do this. Not alone.

“You’re the one who knows the most about these things, and the only one who can see them,” Furuya said simply. “If you can think of anything that might help …”

Kaname shook his head. “I may be able to see something, but barely well enough to just avoid them. From everything we’ve seen and heard so far, that’s probably the best we can do, and I’m happy to help however I can, but otherwise, I have no more idea than the rest of you how to deal with … all this.”

Kitamoto huffed something that sounded like a laugh and punched his shoulder. “You don’t need to get defensive. Like you said – none of us know what we’re doing. So we’ll just have to do what we can.”

“The way I see it, there’s one of two objectives we could potentially pursue once everyone wakes up,” Tsuji said, adjusting his glasses. “Well, three, but I don’t think any of us really see ‘keep cowering here and hope someone will come along and save us’ as an option, do we?” Head shakes around the circle. Kaname was reminded of Natori-san’s voice the previous night, apologetically explaining that he had other responsibilities. The adults who were responsible for us are gone. We could go looking for adults here in town, but they’ll have their own problems to deal with. It’s not fair to ask them to deal with a bunch of out-of-town children, just because it would make us feel better to have someone else in charge. If there even is anyone left, anymore.

“So. Either we try to find out what happened to Class 3, or we head straight for home,” he said. The rest of them stared at him. He looked away. “You know that the chances are …” he started. “Even if they didn’t all disappear initially, none of us managed to contact them, so they wouldn’t have known about the other things. And they never made it back last night.”

“But we can’t just –” Taki started, looking back towards the center of the circle. Kaname didn’t know exactly who she was looking at, but he thought he had a good guess. Okamoto Rika. She shook her head violently. “Sorry. Now’s not the time for outbursts.” But Kaname was starting to recognize the stubborn set of her mouth and the fire in her eyes, and knew that she hadn't changed her opinion.

“I want them to be okay, too,” Tsuji said quietly. “My – Yumi was in Class 3.” Kaname wondered who Yumi was. Girlfriend? But even if he had been the sort to ask normally, now was quite clearly not the time. “But even if we went where they were last known to be … we wouldn’t even know.” His voice rose on the last word, and he cut himself off, taking his glasses off and polishing them with a spare corner of his shirt. Rumpled, like everyone’s was. His studious concentration on the task, Kaname suspected, was an excuse not to look at any of them.

Just like you left Natsume behind. Kaname thought, and shuddered at the bitterness. It hadn’t been Tsuji’s fault. He’d done all he could, and if he still hadn’t found Natsume, then either he’d left for reasons of his own … or he really was gone.

Natori-san said that no people with power seemed to have disappeared initially. Hold to that.

He huddled deeper into his blanket and stayed silent, fearing what might come out if he spoke.

“Peoples’ stuff seems to have been left behind if they weren’t actively holding it,” Taki said. “We could at least see if we could find someone’s bag, or purse, or something. Or someone might have left a note, the way you did for Natsume.”

It was more satisfying than it should have been to see Tsuji flinch when Taki mentioned Natsume.

“It could just be a waste of time, though,” Tsuji said. “We could waste a day or more that we might not really have. I don’t want to jeopardize everyone else’s survival just because I can’t …”

He wanted an excuse to stay and look. As Kaname looked around the circle, he realized that they all did, Furuya and Kitamoto looking conflicted and Taki stubborn. He cleared his throat. “What was that you said last night, Furuya?” He faltered, as everyone’s eyes focused back on him, but pushed forward. “That even if it doesn’t matter, we should pretend like it does?”

Furuya smiled weakly. “I guess I did.” He straightened, nodding. “I did. And I still believe that.”

“Besides,” Kaname continued, not really knowing why. “I doubt a couple hours or even a day will make much of a difference.”

We’re probably doomed either way.

Kitamoto nudged him in the shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was deliberately light. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll make it through. We have to.”

Kaname smiled weakly back.

“All right.” Taki said. “So, where to? Does anyone know where Class 3 was when it happened?”

“Does anyone have a map?”   Kitamoto asked. Everyone looked at him and he spread his hands. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I certainly don’t know this city well enough to navigate around without one.”

They all laughed.

Tsuji stood. “I think they had maps in the lobby. I’ll go check.” He hesitated. “It’s clear, right?”

Kaname nodded, half-standing and looking to double-check. “What I can see looks clear, and I think I’d feel it if there was anything nearby.”

“Thanks.” He started picking his way around their slowly stirring classmates.

“I’ll start collecting food,” Taki said.

“I’ll help.” Kitamoto looked around. “Everyone else will probably be waking up soon.”

The two of them started picking their way towards the doorway back into kitchen area, where they’d stashed the extra refrigerated food they’d acquired from the convenience store. No one had really wanted to have to go back outside before they needed to.

Kaname looked back at Furuya, who stared at the ground in front of him as though he could bore a hole through it with his eyes. He considered asking if there was anything he could do to help, but … what could any of them do?

A wave caught his attention, and he turned to see Taki and Kitamoto standing at the far edge of the circle. Kitamoto had been the one who’d waved, and was now gesturing for him to come closer. He stood, leaving his blanket behind. As he passed his slowly waking classmates, he wondered how many others would yield to the temptation to curl up and ignore reality for just a little bit longer.

Once he was reached them, Kitamoto said, “Could you come with us?” He looked apologetic.

“Sorry I didn’t think to also draw circles protecting the path to the kitchen last night,” Taki said. “I was so focused on at least getting us a safe place to sleep …”

Kaname shook his head. “It’s not a problem,” he said. He looked around, but eyes and head still said that none of those monsters were within range. “It’s clear for now.”

Both of them breathed sighs of relief. “When you said the path to the lobby looked clear, I assumed so,” Taki said. “But …”

Kaname nodded. They were all on edge. He didn’t know if he could have dealt with being one of the ones who couldn’t see anything, as frustrating as only seeing a little bit could be. And as nerve-wracking as taking the lead was. I don’t know how Natsume manages. Managed. … Manages it. He blew out a breath and stepped across the line.

It felt a bit like it tingled as he passed. But maybe he was just imagining that, too.

Taki and Kitamoto slowed as he approached the doors, then sped up to walk even with him again as they passed through. “You’re not nervous, about there being one hiding somewhere you can’t see?” Taki asked.

He shook his head. “Maybe a little bit, but at this range, I’m pretty sure I’d be able to feel it coming.” He brought a hand to his head, then tried to disguise the motion by running his fingers through his hair. “It’s never required line of sight before.”

“How does that work, exactly?” Kitamoto asked. “You get headaches around … youkai?” He said the word hesitantly, as though he still wasn’t entirely sure it was real.

Some small part of Kaname’s brain found it funny, having been involved in his fair share of random conversations with Kitamoto, Nishimura, and Natsume, in which the first two told tall tales or speculated about old stories, and Natsume and himself had mostly stayed quiet and tried not to look at each other lest they start laughing and be forced to explain why. (Put a pillow in Nishimura’s hand and he was mean.)

Natsume.

He had to force himself to keep walking, as the abyss opened wider beneath his feet.

“I’m not entirely sure.” He forced himself to respond. “It wasn’t until –” He stopped, and realized with a slowly dawning sense of wonder that he didn’t have to anymore. “—Until I met Natsume, that I realized that they were youkai at all,” he finished. “I’d always just … seen weird shadows, sometimes. And got headaches, or got sick, sometimes. The shadows seemed to be related to the headaches, and whenever I’d get really sick, there’d almost always be some nearby. But …” he shrugged.

“Natsume doesn’t…” Didn’t. Stop it. “… say a whole lot, even to me, but I think there are almost always at least a few youkai around. Especially when he’s around; he seems to attract them somehow.” It hurt less to speak of Natsume as though he was just in another room. “And I haven’t had nearly as many problems since moving to Yatsuhara. So I don’t think it’s just the presence of youkai, precisely …”

“Their attention?” Taki suggested hesitantly. “If they’re mostly paying attention to Natsume …”

“That might be part of it,” Kaname said. “Though I think I’m also susceptible to just their general … life force? … if it’s in large enough quantities. And if they’re feeling malicious or mischievous towards me it seems to affect me particularly badly.”

Both Taki and Kitamoto winced.

“I’m sorry that we have to ask you to do this,” Taki said quietly. “It must be difficult.”

Kaname smiled at her, and to his surprise he mostly meant it. “I’d rather be here than leave you to face those creatures alone. And as long as I don’t get too close to them, it’s not too bad. They’re … wearying, but don’t seem to be having as bad of an effect on me as malicious youkai.”

“Still …” Taki said, then brightened. “Oh, here we are.”

They each grabbed several bags, already filled with an assortment of snacks, and turned to head back. When they exited back into the dining area, they found it much changed.

The center of the circle had been completely cleared of futons and blankets, which had been stacked haphazardly just outside the lines, tilting in ways that made Kaname suspect that they’d been tossed there. Good. Everyone looked awake now, even if some hadn’t quite managed ”aware”, and for the most part gathered in small groups like they had the previous night. A couple stood near the edge, arguing with Nishimura. He threw them a grateful look when he heard them coming, which turned gleeful when he saw they were carrying food.

He looked for a moment like he was about to leap out of the circle, straight at Kitamoto, but his toes caught just before the line and he windmilled his arms, looking suddenly unsure and almost afraid. Kaname grinned. “It’s safe.”

Nishimura returned his grin and leapt, hanging off Kitamoto so vigorously that Kaname was honestly impressed that he managed to deal with both his friend and the bags in his hands without dropping either one.

“Nishimura…”

“Sorry.” The other boy said, neither looking nor sounding particularly repentant. “But … food! I’m so hungry!”

“You could have eaten more than melon bread for dinner last night, you know …”

“But you saved it for me!”

Kitamoto looked away.

Because he didn’t think you’d actually return. Kaname thought, and his heart ached for both of his friends. “Well, you can have all that you want now,” he said, deliberately lightly. “There’s plenty left.”

The two students who had been arguing with Nishimura – Honda-san from his class, and a guy with short, light brown hair who he thought was in Class 2 – moved out of their way. Neither seemed inclined to restart the argument. Or perhaps they were just hungry enough that they figured it could wait until after breakfast.

“Thank you!” Furuya bounded over with almost as much energy as Nishimura. Whatever had been bothering him before, he’d apparently dealt with it. “Just put them there in the center, and people can grab as they like. That’s not it, is it?” Taki barely had time to shake her head, much less open her mouth, when he continued. “Good. Tanuma, once you’re finished helping bring the rest out, can you rejoin Tsuji and I? We’ve been looking at the maps.”

Kaname nodded.  

“There’s more food? I’ll help too!” Nishimura said.

Back through the doors, his demeanor sobered. “We may have some trouble,” he said quietly. “A few people seem to have decided that last night was just a bad dream. They didn’t see the point of staying within the circle.”

Kitamoto made a disgusted noise that had Kaname glancing at him in surprise. “Idiots. If it was all just a dream, why were they sleeping in the middle of the dining room? And what happened to the rest of the adults?”

Nishimura raised his hands. “I’m not agreeing with them. We all saw people disappear. I’m just saying …”

“This floor of the hotel is probably clear,” Kaname said quietly. “I think I’d have at least a low level headache if anything was nearby.”

“… And for all we know, the circle might not be of any help to begin with,” Taki added from his other side.

“It’s still the best we have at the moment,” Nishimura said with a shrug.

“That won’t matter if it’s not enough,” she snapped.

Kaname looked over, a bit surprised by her tone, and saw that she was staring straight forward, lips pressed together. I guess I may not be the only one who’s afraid that he won’t be good enough. “Even if Natsume was here, I doubt he’d have any better ideas.” He said, not knowing if it was the right thing to say or if it would just make everything worse, but knowing he needed to say something.

She looked sharply at him for a moment, then laughed. “I suppose not. He always seemed to be making things up as he went along, didn’t he?”

“But somehow things would always work out in the end anyway,” Kaname finished, smiling softly.

“Waaaait,” Nishimura interrupted. “Natsume’s like you, Tanuma? That explains so much!”

Kaname exchanged chagrined glances with Taki. Now that Kitamoto knew, they’d completely forgotten Nishimura didn’t. Kitamoto smacked Nishimura on the back of the head. “Not so loud. It’s secret. Ish.”

Nishimura eyed him, doubtful. “Ish?”

“It’s not something he really wants other people to know,” Kaname said. “Though … maybe now that everyone knows that the things he sees are real …” He shook his head. “It’s still his decision to make, though. Kitamoto put two and two together, and I’m sure there are other people around who probably could too, if they really thought about it, but …”

Nishimura looked torn. Probably about to point out that Natsume was in no real position to object to anything anyone said anymore. But after a long moment, he just nodded. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“He’s not really like me, though,” Kaname felt the need to clarify. “He can see things a lot more clearly. And he can actually fight back.”

He’d know what to do, if he were here.

“And Taki- … uh, san –” Kaname almost laughed at the way Nishimura tripped over his words addressing Taki. It was a reminder of happier times, of Nishimura berating Natsume for getting to know a cute girl in Class 5 and not telling him.

“Just Taki is fine.” She said.

“Taki, can you also see those things?”

She shook her head. “If I could, I’d probably be back with the group. It wouldn’t make much sense to leave everyone potentially unprotected if there was a choice. No, my grandfather studied youkai, and I’ve read a lot of his notes, so I know … a few things. But I can’t see them myself any more than you two can.”

“Ah … but you know things! That must be so cool!”

Taki smiled despite herself, though her gaze was far away when she spoke. “It has gotten me into trouble a few times. … But yeah, it really is.”

Four pairs of hands were just enough to gather the rest of the food and bring it back in a single trip, at which point those who hadn’t managed to grab food in the first round fell on it with almost disturbing intensity. Or maybe that was just because Kaname, despite having had a full night of surprisingly good sleep and still no headache in sight, still wasn’t terribly hungry. He ate the food that Taki shoved into his hands when he sat down readily enough, though, smiling at the disgruntled look on her face.

“Honestly. It’s not like I’m your mother,” she said, then stopped, a hand coming to her mouth in horror. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think – I know it’s just you and your father –”

Kaname shook his head, still smiling. “It’s fine, Taki.” She looked unconvinced. “My mother … she died when I was pretty young. My dad’s still sensitive about it, but … I never really knew her, you know? So it’s fine.” Dad … He resisted the urge to go hunt down someone with a cell phone and demand another call. Whatever had happened, had happened. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do now other than wait and hope that his dad had just been out of the house, and that he’d gotten Kaname’s message before he ran into any of those things. Not that he could see them either way.

Aware that he was really just trying to outrun his thoughts, he stood. “Thanks for the food. I should probably go see what Furuya wants.”

Taki nodded. “Good idea. I’ll come with you.” Kaname didn’t think he’d made any sort of surprised face, but she continued defensively anyway, “I’m standing in as the Class 5 representative, since ours …” she trailed off.

He understood.

They maneuvered around scattered groups of students chatting, catching snippets of conversation as they passed. Kaname was glad to hear that the tone of most of the talk seemed a bit more optimistic than the night before. Or maybe everyone’s just trying as hard to ignore how wrong the world has gone as I am … There was comfort to be had in the small familiar rituals, even if they were taking place in the middle of a hotel dining room while surrounded by a magical circle.

Furuya looked up as they approached and gestured to them both to sit down. Tsuji was already there, chewing his way contemplatively through a cream bun. Between them, they’d spread a map of the city, on which a couple of locations had been circled in red pen. Kaname sat down to get a closer look, and sensed more than saw Taki settle next to him, her own breakfast in hand.

“That’s our hotel, right?” Taki asked after swallowing, pointing to the nearer of the circles. “And the other one is …?”

“Right. That one’s the museum that Class 3 was supposed to be at when it happened.” Tsuji said.

Neither location looked at all familiar to Kaname, who was a bit dismayed to realize just how little attention he’d been paying as they’d wandered around the city the previous two days. He could, however, trace the train line they’d taken to get here. “And home’s off that way?”

It would be extremely generous to say that the museum was on the way from the hotel to the highway that ran roughly parallel to the train. Kaname assumed they’d follow it out of town, since the chances that there would be any trains running – or that they could get to them even if there were – seemed pretty slight.

Tsuji nodded and drew a line connecting the two circles with the same broad red pen that the circles themselves had been drawn with. Kaname eyed it, and Tsuji shrugged defensively. “I like being prepared.” He nudged up his glasses, and drew another line from the museum to the highway that Kaname had noticed. “Anyway, we’re thinking this path – roughly – is probably our best bet. Can you” a swift glance at Taki “… two think of anything we might be missing? If not, we’ll present the plan to everyone else. See what they think.”

Kaname stared at the map. He didn’t even really know what he was looking for until he found it. “There.” He pointed at a point roughly halfway between the hotel and the museum. “If I’m reading it right, there’s a bridge there that the road goes under. If these things prefer to stick to real shadows, we should probably plan a route that avoids that.”

“… Or make a point to go by there,” Taki said softly. The three boys looked at her, and she grimaced. “It’s on the straightest path. If anyone did survive, and if they decided to try and come back to the hotel too …”

Kaname nodded. Tsuji put an X on the map to mark the bridge, but didn’t propose changing the route. Just sighed once, slowly, and said, “Anything else?”

They spotted a couple more bridges and overpasses. On the second leg, they unanimously agreed that it would be better to just avoid them. Kitamoto wandered over, trailing Nishimura, who took one look at the map and declared that they should also stake out convenience stores, which led to a discussion of where and when they'd be getting meals and whether they'd be able to make it out of town before they had to stop for the night. And whether they should.

Kaname was a bit surprised to realize he actually had an opinion. “I’ve heard that those creatures seem to be clumped more densely in highly populated areas.” He grimaced. “... Formerly highly populated, I guess.”

Someone whistled. By that point, their planning session had attracted the attention of almost half of the other students. “Glad we weren’t in Tokyo.” A male voice he couldn't quite place.

“They’ve probably got invisible monsters the size of Godzilla running around!” another boy said with a laugh. “Grrooooaar!”

“Stop it!” a girl insisted, high-pitched. Kaname thought he recognized Okamoto-san's voice and winced.

“That’s not funny,” another girl said.

“... Sorry.” The joker sounded repentant.

“So you’re suggesting that we try to get all the way out of town before nightfall?” Furuya asked, ignoring the by-play.

Kaname grimaced. “I don’t know what to suggest. It seems potentially safer, but I’m also not sure it's a good idea to spend the night outside if we don’t have to. Maybe they don’t like coming inside buildings. Or maybe last night we were just lucky.”

“Well, you can see them, can’t you?" Another voice he didn't recognize called from the back, accusatory.

Kaname hunched. He knew he wasn’t being all that helpful. If Natsume had been here, maybe he would have known. I'm trying my best! He wanted to protest. But what good was his best if it wasn't good enough?

Taki turned and glared, hard enough that even though they were innocent, the handful of people in her glare’s path shrank back. “You can see clouds, can’t you?” she retorted. “Does that make you automatically good at forecasting when it’s going to rain?”

Silence.

Taki nodded firmly. “So stop getting on Tanuma’s case for knowing just as little as the rest of us.” She turned pointedly back to the map.

Furuya cleared his throat. "Well, let’s see how the rest of the day goes. Looks like there are a couple of hotels near enough to the edge of town that we could probably use if we change our minds.”

The conversation moved on.

By the time Tsuji and Furuya finished drawing up the route, enough of the remaining students had been watching for long enough that presenting their final conclusions was almost unnecessary. The only ones who hadn’t been paying attention were still too distracted to notice that, either.

Kaname couldn’t entirely say he blamed them.

No one protested the decision to detour by where Class 3 had been and try to find any survivors. Looking around, he saw grim looks on a lot of his classmates’ faces, but also determination.

We won’t leave our friends behind.

Not if there’s any choice.

At Tsuji and Furuya’s direction, after once again asking Kaname if he could sense anything (he couldn’t), everyone started preparing to leave: bagging their trash, straightening their school bags, stacking the futons in neater rows along the far wall, and even dragging the tables that had initially populated the area back into a rough semblance of order.

With so many people running around outside the circle, although Kaname wanted to help, he knew he couldn’t do so and pay proper attention to the surroundings. So he reluctantly staked out a corner where he could see the entrance clearly, and tried not to feel too much like he was malingering.

When Taki passed by, a chair in each hand, he hesitated, then called to her.

She turned, attempting to blow a strand of loose hair out of her face. “Yes?”

Kaname looked down. “I just wanted to say. Thanks.”

He glanced back up just in time to see her brows draw together in a puzzled frown. “You’re welcome?”

“For what you said at the meeting.”

“Oh!” She blushed. “I wanted to apologize to you about that. I didn’t mean to butt in, it’s just, it made me so mad ...”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have been able to say anything. I’m not ... good at that sort of thing. So thanks.”

She smiled, the embarrassment melting away. “That’s what friends are for.”

After the cleanup finished and Kaname had checked the lobby to make absolutely sure that nothing had snuck inside or hidden in the corners, Taki scuffed out what markings hadn’t already been destroyed in the process of setting the room to rights. Reluctantly taking the lead, Kaname pushed the front door of the hotel open and strode out into the bright sunlight.

Pain spiked behind Kaname’s eyes, and he stumbled to a halt, bringing a hand to his forehead. Around him, he could see and hear the rest of their group stop as well. He swore he could feel the inquiring glances. “One of them is nearby, I think,” he said as he scanned the area, looking vainly for any signs of another of those creatures. “Close. Maybe we should back up a bit.” Nothing, in any direction he could see.

“Can we go around it, like the other times?” Furuya asked, tense but calm.

Kaname shook his head. “Maybe,” he said, frustrated, “if I could actually see where it was.”

“I thought you had magic eyes,” someone complained.

“Not magic enough to be useful,” Kaname muttered, glaring forward. Nothing on the road in front of them. Nothing on the sidewalk that stretched to their left. Nothing that he could see in the trees lining the road. Nothing to their right except yet another empty, crashed car and a handful of overturned traffic cones.

Traffic cones with black seeping across them like a dropped paint can spilling across the floor. “Over there!” He pointed.

“Oh.” Furuya relaxed. “Well, if it’s all the way over there, we should be safe, right?” He took a step forward. The headache spiked again, and Kaname grabbed his arm and pulled back before he entirely realized what he was doing. Furuya looked back at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Kaname gritted out. “It’s just … something –”

The black seeped towards them, withdrawing from the traffic cones, disappearing as it hit the road.

1. Kaname’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Not disappearing. Re-joining. The asphalt’s black. If it’s not moving …He looked down at his feet; at the feet of everyone around him. No one had black licking at their shoes. They’d all been standing there for several minutes. If this section of the road had been covered as well, they’d all have long since disappeared. But he couldn’t tell where the asphalt ended and the creature began.

… But I do know where it’s not.

“Everyone, get back on the sidewalk,” he said, and was impressed with how calm the words sounded. “Tsuji, can I borrow your glasses?”

“What?” Class 2’s representative asked as he started motioning the other students towards the side of the road.

“Can I –”

“I heard you. But why? I’m really nearsighted …”

Kaname looked at him. “They’re supposed to make it easier to see … things. I don’t know if it’ll help. But I’d rather see a blur than nothing at all.”

Tsuji met his eyes, nodded once, took off his glasses, and placed them in Kaname’s outstretched palm. “Treat them well,” he said. “I don’t have a spare pair with me, and I really can’t see well without them.”

Kaname tried for a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

He started backing towards the sidewalk as he put the glasses on; he had to resist the urge to yank them off as everything went blurry. Wearing these for too long would give me a headache even if I didn't already have one.

Except focusing was surprisingly difficult when nothing was in focus.

He stared toward the traffic cones, squinting (which seemed to help slightly). For another long moment, he still couldn’t see anything.

Then a shift, almost as though the asphalt had rippled. Except it must have been much larger than a normal ripple, for Kaname to see it. Now that he knew where to look, he started seeing more. A grey haze that hovered over the area, less substantial than cigarette smoke. More ripples.

The haze only seemed to cover the opposite half of the street, although it stretched onward as far as he could see in either direction. Though between its diffuse nature and the blurring effect of Tsuji’s glasses, that wasn’t nearly as far as Kaname wished. As he watched, the haze began rolling towards him. He noticed that, where it wasn’t moving, its border seemed to match places where the blurry black of the asphalt seemed to be a … slightly different blurry black. The creature!

His toes felt cold.

He looked down, and even through the blur of the glasses – even through what little he could see out of the corners of his vision where the glasses didn’t cover – he could tell that something had started inching over his shoes. He yelped and jumped back. Backpedaled further as the shadow followed his path backwards faster than he’d ever seen it move before – and how had he failed to see it get this close? – and the haze continued roiling toward him.

He stumbled into the curb and nearly fell backwards. Someone caught him, but he couldn’t spare the attention to see who, too busy watching the shadow creeping across the ground.

“What do you see?” someone asked. He supposed (in the small part of his mind that wasn’t currently busy attempting to stave off panic) that he really ought to be acting in a more reassuring fashion. But that would take more thought than he currently had to spare, as he backed away from the curb. (Everyone else backed away, too, which that same small part of his mind appreciated.)

The shadow coursing across the ground struck the curb and stopped, briefly. Only a few seconds behind, the haze stopped at the boundary, too. Kaname almost breathed a sigh of relief, but before he could even properly complete it, the shadow began crawling up the curb. And once it was up there, he suspected the haze would only be moments behind.

“Everyone?” he asked, eyes wide, voice calmer than he would have ever guessed he’d be able to make it, when he could swear his heart had just stopped. “Run. Now.”

No one argued. Kaname quickly fell to back of the pack, frequently slowing to check beside and behind them. When he could, he risked looks forward, trying to judge how much further they’d need to run. But all he could see was the haze, so insubstantial that with the jarring of his vision as he ran he sometimes wondered if was still seeing it at all.

As they kept running, his attention narrowed to the sidewalk in front of him, the strain in his lungs, his less-frequent checks, and trying, with what fragments of attention remained, to figure out whether his headache was coming from the creature still behind and to their side, from another creature who might, for all he knew, be in front of them, or simply from the exertion. He hadn’t run this hard or this far ever, and he was frankly stunned that he was holding up as well as he was.

He might want to fall over and just … stop. But he hadn’t yet.

“Stairs!” Furuya called, strain clear in his voice.

“Take them!” Kaname shouted back, hope flaring, voice breaking halfway through the second word. Even a couple of steps could give them some breathing room; an entire flight might be enough to permanently break the creature’s pursuit. As long as there’s not another one ahead of us.

The last one, Kaname pounded up the stairs – and a full flight it was. He stumbled on the next to last step; no one caught him this time so he went down hard, bashing his knee and scraping his hands. For a moment, he didn’t move; wasn’t sure he could. Then he slowly forced himself to turn over, sitting on the top step and waving a scraped hand at the cluster of people who had seen him fall and were now asking if he was all right. “I’m fine,” he said. His next deep breath turned into a coughing fit, his head swimming and his chest aching so badly he barely noticed the scrapes.

“Sure. Fine.” Taki said, sounding as deeply disbelieving and unimpressed as he’d ever heard her. “Here, give me your hand.” He would have protested, but breathing seemed like a better use of his energy at the moment. She wrapped it in a handkerchief, tying off the knot firmly, then grabbed his other hand. “I hope your knee isn’t bleeding, too,” she said. “Can I borrow your handkerchief? I only have the one with me.” This also seemed like a reasonable idea to Kaname’s dazed mind; he pulled it out of his pocket with his already wrapped hand and held it out to her.

“Is everyone else okay?” He dimly heard Furuya asking.

“Can I have my glasses back?” Tsuji asked, somewhat plaintively, from Kaname’s other side. He blinked at him for a long moment, then looked downward. The creature was still struggling with the bottom step. He thought. Maybe the bottom two. The blurriness made it really hard to tell.

“I think it’s fine, for the moment,” Kaname said. His headache was still there, but better. Maybe. He took the glasses off and had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to disperse the mild disorientation of actually being able to see clearly again. “Thanks. They were invaluable.”

“You’re welcome,” Tsuji said. “Um. They’re just glasses, though.”

Kaname nodded. “That’s enough.”

“It’s the glass,” Taki explained from his other side, as she stood back up and stretched. “Glass, mirrors, any sort of reflective surface apparently … focuses the –” Kaname looked up as she trailed off, in time to catch her looking frustrated “—well, the whatever it is about youkai that makes them visible to certain people. So it doesn’t help if you’re not sensitive to them at all, but if you can see them, wearing glasses can help you see them better. And apparently these things follow the same principles.”

Tsuji pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Intriguing.” He looked at Taki, narrow-eyed. “You’ve been part of the planning meetings, but I’m not sure I ever caught your name. You’re from Class 5, right?”

She nodded. “Taki Tooru. And you’re Tsuji-san, from Class 2, right?”

He waved a hand. “Tsuji’s fine. You can’t see those things too, can you? I assume you would have said.”

“No,” Taki said quietly, shaking her head. “Not at all. But my grandfather loved them. He spent practically his whole life travelling, collecting information about them. He always used to tell me such wonderful stories …”

“… I’m sure he’s fine,” Tsuji said, a bit uncomfortably.

Taki laughed suddenly, with a well-worn bitterness. “No, he’s not.” She shook her head sharply. “Sorry. That was unfair. He passed on about two years ago.”

Tsuji bowed his head. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Taki smiled a bit painfully. “It was his time.” She shook her head. “Anyway. I can’t see a thing, but I do have access to my grandfather’s notes, and I’ve read enough to pick up a few things.”

“So that’s how you knew how to do that circle last night,” Tsuji said. “I had wondered …”

“Yes, that was from my grandfather’s notes,” she confirmed. “I still don’t know whether it did any good, though.”

“Let’s hope we never have to find out for sure,” Tsuji said grimly, then looked down at Kaname. “You all right to get moving again?”

Were they making polite conversation just to give me an excuse to catch my breath again? Kaname thought maybe he should be annoyed, but he couldn’t quite gather the motivation. He took another deep breath to test, then blew it out slowly. His chest still ached, but the cough seemed to be gone. “I’m fine,” he said again, and accepted Tsuji’s hand up.

He was particularly proud of the fact that he didn’t stagger as he stood, although he couldn’t entirely suppress a wince as his weight settled on the knee that he had bashed. He looked back down the stairs. The haze had completely disappeared, but he could see the shadow unaided.   Barely. “Odd.”

“What?” Taki asked.

Oops, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. “The shadow,” he said. “I couldn’t see it before without Tsuji’s glasses, but now I can sort of see it, though it’s still not as visible as yesterday evening. Almost like ... but that’s silly.”

Taki waited patiently.

“It’s almost like I can see it better when the surrounding area is darker,” he finally said, glancing back down the stairs. The shadow seemed to have completely conquered the bottom two steps, but was still struggling with the third. He shook his head and deliberately turned away, starting to work his way through the rest of the students to the head of the group.

He did his best to ignore just how many of them eyed him and subtly shifted out of his way as he passed. And he could not express how much he appreciated the way Taki and Tsuji walked with him – and then Kitamoto and Nishimura, when they passed where the two had been standing near the middle of the pack, doing a terrible job of hiding their worry. It made him feel slightly less alone. Slightly less different.

“Maybe it draws power from darkness?” Tsuji suggested.

“This one was much larger and faster than the ones we encountered yesterday,” Kaname said, “so I don’t think so.” He paused. “... Or if that is true, I really don't want to be anywhere near it this evening.”

He slowed his pace as they reached the front of the group, where Furuya stood in the middle of the street, holding the map and making notes. “I’m fairly certain I know where we are,” he said as they arrived. “It doesn’t look like we missed any turns, and this road runs mostly parallel to the one down there.” He looked up. “You all right, Tanuma?”

I’m getting kind of tired of people asking that. The minor annoyance was worth it, though, for the reminder that people cared. More than he had ever really thought. Even if it was only because he was their best hope for survival. “I’m fine.” He repeated, then smiled weakly. “As long as we don’t have to do too much more running.”

And when several people actually laughed, he found himself thinking, Maybe not just because of that.

Chapter Text

“Clear.” Kaname called as his latest headache faded. Around him, everyone relaxed.

Initially, he’d tried to keep the relative intensity of his headaches to himself, looking around when they got worse until either he found the creature causing the headache, or it faded. He hadn’t wanted to worry his classmates about nothing, not when they had so much else to worry about anyway.

But after the third false alarm, he’d noticed the way his friends picked up on his actions, tensing and looking around themselves. (As though if they just stared long and hard enough, they’d start being able to see these monsters too.)

(He wished it actually worked that way.)

Then there had been the times he’d been worried enough to ask to borrow Tsuji’s glasses again, causing anxiety to spike in the rest of their group. He’d noticed that that anxiety persisted long after his headache itself disappeared – until Furuya asked him in a low voice if everything was all right now, and then announced it in a louder voice.

So while he still stayed quiet with the milder headaches, the ones he was fairly sure weren’t anything, he started trying to announce the rest. He felt silly, essentially telling his classmates whether or not he had a headache, but it was worth it to see at least some of them relax. As relaxed as anyone could get, in a situation like this.

At one point, they came close enough to another of those creatures for Kaname to spot it – again, only just barely visible without Tsuji’s glasses. At least this time, he noticed early enough to redirect their group before the creature noticed them back.

They still sought out and took a flight of stairs after the encounter. Just in case.

After what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been – it wasn’t even lunchtime yet – they reached the first bridge marked on the map. As it came into view, Kaname sighed with relief. “Still clear,” he called. He now had a low-level tension headache from all the squinting into the sun, occasional squinting through the blurriness of Tsuji’s glasses, and, well, the tension. But it was nothing like the headaches when the creatures were anywhere nearby.

“You’re sure?” Furuya asked, eyeing the pedestrian tunnel through which they'd be passing.  It certainly looked intimidating; only wide enough for about five people to pass through at a time, and curved such that they could only see the first few meters before it turned out of sight.

“As sure as I can be,” Kaname said.

Furuya blew out a breath. “All right, everyone, head through, and keep an eye out for anything familiar.”

Since he didn’t know anyone from Class 3 well enough to recognize anything of theirs, Kaname concentrated most of his attention on watching for the creatures. He did not want to have to deal with anything like the surprise earlier again. Nor, he suspected, did anyone else. Especially not in a narrow tunnel with nowhere to hide.

About halfway through, the exit only just visible, Sanada-san spotted a purse lying on the ground, its contents spilled halfway across the tunnel. Everyone who could fit clustered around, but they quickly realized that it didn’t belong to anyone they knew. The ponytailed girl from Class 5 dug out a wallet belonging to a 37-year-old woman who lived nearby. They looked at the picture on the drivers’ license – grainy, with short black hair and a worried expression – for a long moment. Sanada-san held out her hand, the other girl gave her the wallet, and she gently put it back in the purse and leaned it against the wall. When she stood and started walking again, everyone quietly followed.

They’d grown almost inured to the empty crashed cars that littered most of the roads, and the minor damage to buildings and trees caused in the crashes, but these more personal signs of a city of people gone missing were still infrequent enough that they struck hard every time. Particularly when we’re looking for people who are, most likely, among those missing.

Graffiti occasionally interrupted the monotony of the left-hand wall of the tunnel, and Kaname wondered idly if any of the artists were still alive. They still hadn’t seen anyone aside from themselves, but surely there were some other people. Somewhere.

Wherever they were, however, it was clearly not here. Nor did they find any other sign that the tunnel had been populated, either when it first happened or at any point in time since then. As they exited back out into the sunlight, Kaname shaded his eyes and looked around. Just behind him, he heard Furuya breath a quiet sigh of relief.

“Clear.” Kaname said. The rest of their group spilled out into the sun behind him.

When they did finally find evidence of other living people, it did not come in the form that Kaname expected.

“Hey,” Ogawa said, “doesn’t that shop look awfully empty to anyone else?”

Kaname turned to look, as did most of the rest of their group. It was immediately obvious just which one Ogawa had meant: a small electronics shop, which appeared to have been ransacked.

A few of the largest items – some big-screen TVs – were still there. But practically all of the cameras and cell phones were gone, leaving behind nothing but empty displays with placards extolling the virtue of something that was no longer there.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

“Why would anyone do that?” One of the girls asked. “What’s the point?”

“Maybe they thought they’d be able to sell them later?” Someone offered.

“To whom?” She retorted.

No one had an answer for that.

Finally, Tsuji sighed. “Let’s keep going. There’s nothing we can really do here.”

It was a quieter, more somber group who started moving again. Despite Kaname’s all clear, everyone seemed restless, watching for some threat. Those creatures might not be the only monsters out there, Kaname thought. And these are ones that anyone can see.

“Here we are.” Furuya announced. He folded the map up and put it back in his bag as everyone gathered behind him, staring up the steps towards the museum. As always, they saw no one else, though since finding the electronics shop Kaname suspected he wasn’t the only one who thought that perhaps that was for the best.

As they climbed the steps, his headache slowly intensified, and Kaname slowed down so that he could take a closer look. Nearby, Tsuji slowed as well. “Glasses?”

Kaname nodded absently. “I’m not seeing anything, but I’m pretty sure there is one somewhere nearby.” The glasses were beginning to feel less awkward on his face, but as he looked around, he still couldn’t see anything out of place.

“No note on the door.” Furuya called. Kaname’s attention snapped forward. When had they gotten so far ahead? Four blurry people clustered at the entrance, the one directly in front of one of the glass doors roughly the right size and coloring to be Furuya. He looked past them.

The inside of the museum looked … darker than usual.

“Furuya, wait!” He called, taking the last several steps two at a time.

The person-shaped blur stopped moving. “What?”

“I think there might be something inside –”

He reached the top, took several steps forward, and his headache exploded. The haze inside the windows kept darkening, so thick it looked like the building was on fire, and the floor just on the other side of the door was a deep black.

He tore off the glasses, more concerned now about being able to see his classmates than the shadow he knew was there.

Flooding out from the door, it dyed the area under the awning a deep black.

Holding the door half-open, Furuya's face drained of color.

Ogawa, Sanada-san, and the girl from Class 5 with the ponytail stood a bit behind him, faces shifting from eager curiosity to horror as they saw Kaname's expression.

“Run!”

The other three didn’t hesitate. Furuya released the door, only a couple of steps behind them, and –

Tripped.

Kaname jerked forward, but hands were on him, holding him back. “We can’t lose you,” Tsuji said.

Furuya struggled to regain his feet; couldn’t quite make it all the way to standing with shadow firmly wrapped around his right foot, holding it down.  It reached halfway up his calf as Kaname watched, and showed no signs of stopping.

“Thanks, Tsuji,” Furuya said, even as he attempted to kick, attempted to drag himself forward with his hands and his free leg; as he swung his backpack through the air above his foot and threw it against his leg with a force that would have bruised if it wasn’t already completely black.

Some part of Kaname knew he should be putting the glasses back on, should be trying to get every bit of useful information he could out of this since there was nothing else he could do to help, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move. “Furuya –”

The pool of shadow, completely immune to any of Furuya’s efforts as far as Kaname could tell, finished encircling Furuya even as he looked back over towards them. Towards Kaname. “Tell my sister –”

Gone.

Dazed, Kaname put the glasses back on. He wanted to fall to the ground. He wanted to shout at Furuya to come back, even though he knew how futile that would be. He wanted to shout at Tsuji for holding him back.

But he also knew that Tsuji was right. That he was the only one who could prevent even more people from following in the footsteps of Furuya (and Yukimura, and Inoue, and all the people in Class 2 and 5 that he hadn’t been around to even attempt to save).

“It’s spreading, but slowly,” he reported woodenly. He could see haze hovering over everywhere the shadow touched, currently the entire length and breadth of the awning and a bit beyond, at its thickest where Furuya had disappeared. The shadow itself crept towards them, faster than the ones the previous night but far slower than the gigantic one that morning.

“Everyone, back onto the steps,” Tsuji called. “Stairs downward block them too, right?”

“They seemed to last night,” Kaname said. Black coiled around a foot. “But they also weren’t quite this … aggressive.”

“Let me know if anything important changes,” Tsuji said.

Kaname glanced back to see how close he was to the steps, just in time to see Tsuji stumble on the top step and catch him just before he fell. “Thanks.” He stood back up. “I’m still not used to …” He gestured toward his face.

Kaname flashed a small smile – about the best he could manage – as he looked back towards the courtyard. The concentration of haze around where Furuya had fallen seemed to be dispersing. “I’m not, either.”

He used the railing to steady himself as he backed several steps down, eyes still on the shadow creature.

“Is it still there?” Tsuji asked. “The backpack …”

“It’s still there.” Kaname said. “Surrounding it. And it’s only spreading wider.”

“Maybe if someone dashed through?”

”No.” Kaname stopped. Shuddered, and tried to force himself to coherence. “Furuya … I don’t know what it looked like to you, maybe just like he tripped? But that thing … it caught him. It was holding him there.”

“… Never mind.” Tsuji shuddered, too.

“If we wait here, will it go away?” Ogawa asked from just beyond Tsuji, mouth a thin line. Blaming himself? Kaname knew he should probably say something to him, to all three who got away, but he didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to spare.

“I wish I knew. Normally, it would just pursue us.” I can’t believe that I’m now using the word ‘normally’ in this context. “It looks like the bulk of it is still inside the museum, so I suppose it’s possible that it would care more about rejoining the rest of itself than about consuming us.” He looked back towards the courtyard, where the shadow’s rate of expansion had slowed further, but showed no signs of stopping. “I’m not sure we can afford to wait around long enough to find out, though.”

Tsuji bit his lip, and Kaname thought he saw in the blond’s face the same reluctance to leave his fellow class representative behind that Kaname himself felt. (Tempered, of course, by “Why wasn’t I faster?” and “Why did you stop me?”, though the latter he swore he would never throw in Tsuji’s face, because he had been right, as much as Kaname hated to admit it.)

(And if he wondered, occasionally, if this responsibility would crush him? If some small, cowardly part of him whispered that maybe it would be easier to just stop, instead of worrying every waking moment about whether he’d be alert enough or fast enough? Especially when it was quite clear that he wasn’t?)

(All he could do was shove those thoughts aside, into the same place he’d shoved his grief and rage. Because he didn’t have time to fall apart now.)

“All right, back down the stairs.” The blond turned away and called, making sweeping motions.

There were murmurs – of course there were murmurs; everyone could see who hadn’t come back, and everyone had probably heard what Kaname had said. But for all that Furuya had been one of their leaders, he was just another in a long line of deaths (failures) over the last couple of days. They were starting to grow inured to it. (Or at least as inured as one ever got to such things.)

A lot of people glanced at Kaname, as they filed back down the stairs in a mostly orderly fashion. He wondered if they were blaming him, before noticing that most of the looks were not suspicious or accusatory, but worried. They probably just want to know whether they’re going to have to run or not. So he concentrated on keeping his demeanor far more calm than he felt, and walking steadily but not hurriedly, and only occasionally glancing back to make sure that the shadow had not started seeping down the stairs after them all.

“Class 3?” Tsuji asked quietly, about halfway down, with the face of someone who was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

Kaname sighed. “I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure exactly what happened.” He glanced back. He couldn’t see the courtyard anymore, but the shadow hadn’t leaked over the top step yet. He tried to remind himself that that was a good sign. Maybe they’d be lucky and get away with only losing Furuya this time. We shouldn’t have lost anyone. “But I could barely see the interior of the museum through the haze. If anyone survived initially …” he shook his head. “If that creature showed up soon enough after it happened … I doubt anyone made it out alive.” He hesitated, then took the glasses off and held them out.

Tsuji smiled grimly as he put them back on. “Sometimes I hate being right.”

He nudged them a bit higher on his nose and sped up, descending on the crowd of students milling at the bottom of the stairs. “All right, everyone. As you probably heard, the museum has turned into one big monster, as far as we can tell. I don’t think I need to tell you what that means regarding the probable fate of our friends –” His voice broke. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clearly trying to bring his voice back to normal. “Sorry. Our friends in Class 3.”

No one spoke. Kaname wondered if anyone even breathed.

Tsuji ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly on the tangles. “So.” He said. “The most important thing to do now is get home. For all our sakes. And so that our friends’ sacrifices will not be in vain.”

Around the group, people nodded. Kaname saw determination firming several’s faces, and wished he could share their confidence that things would be all right because they would make it be.

The crowd parted as Tsuji showed no signs of stopping at the bottom of the steps. Kaname followed behind, as always uncomfortable with the apparent deference, but also knowing that he needed to be there at the front. Rustling started up behind him as he passed; the rest of the students reclosing their ranks and starting to follow behind.

Tsuji reached the middle of the street and turned left, facing towards what Kaname vaguely recalled their intended path being. He hoped Tsuji had a better memory than him; he knew there had been several detours they’d marked on the map, for convenience stores or investigating other potential locations for signs of Class 3’s presence, but he had no confidence in his ability to actually identify them. (No point in detouring to look for Class 3, really. Not anymore.)

Agonizingly slowly, conversations quietly started up again behind them. Subdued, but not a great deal more subdued than they already had been. The front of the group – Tsuji and Kaname; he thought he could see Kitamoto and Nishimura and Taki out of the corner of his eye; occasionally other people, but they never seemed to stay there – existed in a bubble of silence.

A block away from the museum, the last remnants of his headache finally disappeared. “Clear,” he said quietly, unable to quite make himself raise his voice. It didn’t seem right, given his latest failure.

Behind him, Nishimura relayed the message in a much more audible voice.

Tsuji started, glancing at Kaname, then looked away. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not being very good company right now, am I?”

Kaname snorted. “I don’t think any of us are. Or have been. Or will be for a while yet.” He thought of home with a somewhat foreign desperation. Home had always been his dad more than any particular place, and he’d always taken it for granted that his dad would be there. He still hadn’t quite processed the fact that he might not be anymore. I should try to call him again tonight. We all should. Maybe things will have settled.

He eyed Tsuji. “Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business. But, did you …”

Tsuji was quiet for a long moment, and Kaname feared that he’d once again said the wrong thing. “Yumi,” he finally started, then had to stop. “Yumi was my girlfriend. We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember, but we only just started dating this year. She was … one of the best people I’ve ever known. I’ve never known anyone else like her. And now she’s just –” He stopped again, taking a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry.” Kaname said, feeling helpless.

Tsuji laughed bitterly. “It’s not your fault. If that thing was as big as you thought, even if you had been there, you probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. And then you wouldn’t have been there to help the rest of us.” He barked another laugh. “We might have been able to make it home, if there aren’t as many of those monsters outside the town. But probably only a couple of us would have made it.”

“There’s no guarantee that that won’t still be the case,” Kaname said with his own dose of bitterness. “With what good I seem to be doing.”

“You can’t think like that.” Tsuji said forcefully. “Everyone makes mistakes. And it sucks that right now, those mistakes mean that someone dies. But you have to concentrate on the living, not the dead.” He sighed. “I guess I should do the same.”

“That was a pretty impressive display of concentrating on the living back there, in my opinion.” Kitamoto interjected from behind them. They both jumped and looked back. “You’re doing fine, Tsuji.”

The blond smiled wryly. “Thanks.”

When Kitamoto turned his attention to him, eyebrow raised, Kaname did his best to smile back.

Although Tsuji hadn’t memorized their entire route, between him and a couple of the others, they at least managed to find the first convenience store, where they took a break for a late lunch and to acquire a replacement map.

Kaname found he couldn’t stop remembering the other map, in Furuya’s backpack, and the way he’d flung it around, trying to fight something he couldn’t even see.

He tried to shove those thoughts away as soon as he noticed them. He suspected that was what Tsuji had meant when he said not to concentrate on the dead.

It wasn’t like he’d even known Furuya all that well. But he’d been his class rep, and he’d been kind, and he’d been one of the few people who knew at least a little bit about who Natsume was. It had made him feel better to know that Furuya was there.

Operating mostly on autopilot, Kaname acquired some food for himself from the refrigerated case – they wouldn’t be able to do that much longer; some of it was already starting to expire – and slipped back outside to lean against a bike rack surprisingly (well, maybe not) devoid of bikes. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, trying to release the tension that had become his constant companion over the last day.

It’s only been a day. He thought, dimly amazed, and suddenly even more exhausted than before. It feels like it’s been months. Can I really manage this …?

But the answer to that question was the same now as it had been every other time he’d asked it. He would manage it, because he had to. Because if he failed, a lot more people would fall with him. Not that. Please.

He re-opened his eyes slowly, looking around. A narrow street, shops to either side. A couple of cars sat parked on the other side of the street, but apparently no one had been driving down it when it happened, so no wrecks were in sight.

He could almost pretend things were normal, except for the pair of bicycles that lay toppled in the street, one noticeably larger than the other. Kaname wondered who they’d belonged to, and what their owners had been doing when it happened. A mother and child, perhaps. Maybe grocery shopping, though the basket on the larger one was empty.

He felt more than saw someone settle next to him. He turned and nodded to Taki, but couldn’t quite bring himself to talk.

“How are you?” she asked, unwrapping her food. She watched him steadily as she took a bite.

Kaname made a face. “I’m getting really tired of people asking me that,” he complained. Seeing Taki’s eyes narrow, he waved a hand. “I really do appreciate the concern, but …”

She swallowed. “That’s fair, I suppose. It would probably annoy me, too.” She smiled. “No promises that I’ll stop, though.”

Kaname huffed a laugh. “As long as you don’t mind me making faces at you for it.”

“What else are friends for?” she asked. She glanced out at the street. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing worth repeating,” he said. She waited patiently. “Just … I never realized how much I took normal life for granted until it was gone.” He waved towards the bikes. “If I had seen people biking along the street, I would probably have only noticed them if they were people I knew. Otherwise, if someone asked me later if I had passed anyone on the way home, I doubt I would have been able to say. Even if I remembered the bikes, I probably wouldn’t have remembered a thing about the people themselves. But now …” He made a helpless sort of gesture. “Just looking at them like that, I can’t stop wondering. Who were they? What were they like? What did they care about? Where were they going? You know?”

Taki nodded slowly. “I think I understand.”

“I didn’t know anyone in Class 3.” Kaname said, then stopped, a bit shocked that he had actually said it. It was only Taki’s open, non-judgmental expression that let him continue. “I didn’t know anyone in Class 4, either. Class 2 and Class 5 … I knew a few people, like you and Nishimura and –” he stopped. Taki nodded. He made another helpless gesture. “Over half of Class 1 disappeared. I barely remember most of their faces. I don’t think I’d be able to recall any of their names.”

He looked at Taki imploringly. “I still don’t know the names of most of our classmates who are still with us. How can I claim to be their protector when I only learn the names of the ones who disappear after the fact?”

Taki blew out a breath, then gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m probably not the right person to ask. I knew everyone in Class 5 at least by face and name, but I wasn’t particularly close to most of them. Even people like Mio-chan …” She closed her eyes.

Kaname tried to place the name, but it didn’t ring any bells at all. One of her classmates? One that’s gone? He should have realized before now that she’d probably lost real friends, people she’d known since elementary school. She wasn’t a transfer student like him and Natsume, after all.

She blew out a breath, hard, then shrugged, making a halfhearted attempt at a smile. “A few conversations here and there. Taking each other handouts when we’re sick. Little things like that, mostly. Classes 3 and 4 … I knew a few people, but not well.”

She nudged him. “You know, though, that if you’re worried about not knowing everyone who’s left, there’s a pretty simple fix for that.” He looked at her, and she rolled her eyes. “You could ask.”

“But then they’ll know that I have no idea who they are,” he protested. “What if they’re offended?”

Taki shook her head, smile more real now.   “You do realize that before yesterday, most people didn’t really know you, either? I’ve already had to field questions from several of the girls who noticed we were friends.” She nudged him again. “Among other things, they think you’re pretty cute.”

Kaname paled.

Taki outright grinned. “One of them even came right out and asked if you were single.”

“…… Please tell me you’re joking.”

Taki shook her head, still grinning.

“I don’t think I can handle –”

She laughed. “I guessed as much, and told her that I didn’t know for sure, but I suspected you’d be too stressed at the moment to think about it.”

Kaname wilted with relief. “You are a true friend.”

Taki laughed. Probably at him, but her laughter was so infectious that he found it hard to care. It felt good to laugh. The world has ended, I’m stranded in a foreign city with a bunch of classmates I don’t know but should, and I just got asked if I was still single.

Life really is absurd, sometimes.

Kitamoto exited the store, Nishimura following close behind. Since they met back up with Class 2, he’d rarely seen the two of them apart, except when one of them was asleep. Then again, if Natsume –

“What’s the joke?” Nishimura asked, a light in his eyes that Kaname hadn’t seen in a while.

Kaname and Taki exchanged looks, and Taki started snickering again. Resigned, Kaname said, “Some of Taki’s classmates were apparently asking if I’m single.”

Predictably, that set Nishimura off. He turned to Taki. “Were any of them asking about me? I’m totally single right now! And willing! And way funnier than this guy!”

“Oi,” Kaname said. He felt like it was the sort of thing he had to protest, even if it was true.

Kitamoto whacked Nishimura on the back of the head. “Idiot. Is this really the time?”

“It’s always the time,” Nishimura replied immediately. “First Natsume … if I don’t get a girlfriend before Tanuma, I’ll never live it down!”

“… Oi.”

Kitamoto raised his hand again, but this time Nishimura batted it out of the way. “Honestly,” he continued, in an unexpectedly serious tone. “I know things suck right now. Everyone’s stressed out. And I’m not going to go around being an idiot about it.”

“… More than usual?” Kitamoto asked, deliberately straight-faced.

Nishimura stuck out his tongue. “I’ll even be less of an idiot than usual,” he retorted. “But … we can’t let this stop us completely.   If we let running from those …” he gestured broadly “those things control our lives, then they’ve already won.”

“… Won.” Kaname said musingly. “I’m not sure they even recognize us as something to fight.” He sighed. “With good reason. How can we fight something that almost no one can see, and that eats anything that tries to stand against it?”

“We’ll find a way,” Nishimura said staunchly.

“At the moment, even staying alive is a victory,” Kitamoto said quietly. “As long as we live, there’s a chance.”

Kaname smiled weakly. He wished he had their faith. But when even Natori-san didn’t know what was going on or how to fight them …

“Hey,” Nishimura said suddenly. “Tanuma. Or, um, Taki-san. Is there some sort of way to find out for sure whether Natsume’s still alive?”

The question hit Kaname like a physical blow. He’d been avoiding thinking about it – thinking about Natsume – as hard as he could, because it was too hard to bear otherwise, so to hear Nishimura say something like that point-blank …

He shook his head, not knowing the answer and not sure that he could actually speak.

“… Maybe,” Taki said, after a long moment of consideration. All three of their attention was immediately riveted on her, and she shrugged uncomfortably. “I just said maybe.”

“Maybe’s a hell of a lot better than no,” Nishimura said. “What is it?”

She shook her head. “I think I remember seeing mention in my grandfather’s notes of something that sounded like some sort of locator spell. I think it was mostly used to seek out youkai, but if someone’s strong, like Natsume, maybe it would still work? We could try, at least.” She sighed. “I don’t remember any of the details, though. I figured it wouldn’t ever actually be useful to me, since I don’t have any power.”

Kaname sighed. “I probably don’t have enough either,” he said glumly.

Taki punched him in the arm. Again. When did she get so violent? When have I spent enough time with her to know whether or not she’s always been that way? “Stop it,” she said. “Even if you don’t think you can do it. Even if it turns out you can’t. It’s worth a try, isn’t it? To find Natsume?” She looked away, and finished softly, “Or at least to know?”

“… Yes,” Kaname said. “You’re right. It is.”

“All right, then sounds like we’ve got a plan,” Kitamoto said, and smiled when everyone else looked at him. “Get home. Look at Taki’s grandfather’s notes. Do that … whatever it is. Spell? And then find Natsume.”

“But what if –” Kaname couldn’t help but ask, but couldn’t bear to finish.

Kitamoto rolled his eyes. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Just believe that they’re all right until you know otherwise. What does it hurt, ultimately?”

It hurts to hope. Kaname wanted to say, but they all knew that already. So he smiled wryly instead. “I guess you’re right.”

Tsuji poked his head out the door. “You four about ready to start moving again? Tanuma, how’re things looking?”

And Kaname realized that for once, he hadn’t been spending half or more of his attention on a constant survey of the surroundings, but had trusted his headaches to clue him in. It felt … good to have a goal beyond getting home. It made him feel more like they would get there, because how else would they accomplish what came next?

“The coast is clear.” He said, and his smile came easier than it had in a while. He looked at his friends. “And we’re ready.”

You had better still be alive, Natsume. Because we’ll find a way to come to you. I promise.

“I’m afraid I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message –”

Kaname sighed and ended the call. He didn’t have the heart to leave yet another message on the answering machine. Not when the first had gone unanswered, and not when he suspected that it would never be listened to again.

“No luck?” Nishimura asked.

Kaname shook his head and handed over the phone. “I didn’t ask where he was going this time. If it was far enough away, he might just not be back yet,” he said, uncomfortably aware of how well his voice reflected his doubts.

“Like us,” Nishimura said with a grin, looking back towards the center of the circle Taki had drawn around the bulk of yet another hotel dining room. No one had had the heart to push on once they reached the edge of town, not when they still didn’t know whether the circle worked or not. Closed doors provided a sense of security, if nothing else. Given the museum, they might very well be an effective barrier. As long as the monster wasn’t trapped inside with them.

Stop it. You checked the place thoroughly, and your head feels fine. If anything is in here, it’s not anything you’d have been able to do anything about, anyway.

Kaname just nodded, and leaned back, using his bag as a remarkably ineffective backrest as he watched Nishimura dial his parents. Kitamoto cast him a commiserating glance when Kaname looked his way; he’d also already tried that night, and also only gotten the answering machine. Taki paced the far side of the room, head down, checking her work with the circle. If this night was anything like the previous, it would probably be a while yet before she calmed down enough to settle. Everyone else stood or sat in small groups, Tsuji drifting from one to the next.

Last night, Furuya had harangued most everyone into participating in a variety of party games. He’d appeared set to go all night, until Nishimura threw a pillow at his head. Which he’d shown no hesitation in returning with interest. Between the two of them, they’d managed to draw almost everyone – even the girls – into the fight. There had been a brief lull not long before Natori-san’s call had drawn him, Taki, and initially Kitamoto away, but by the time they’d returned, Kitamoto had successfully provoked another one.

It had reminded him of happier times, of that visit the four of them had made to his aunt’s little inn. Of how late they’d stayed up, talking and laughing and telling silly ghost stories. He’d even stopped checking the outside of the circle (just in case) quite as often, if only because inevitably whenever he did, he’d get a faceful of pillow for his troubles.

Kaname had probably been one of the people least in the mood for horsing around the previous night. But now, he couldn’t help but feel like things were just a little too quiet. Whether Furuya had meant it that way or not, last night had at least been a distraction from their current troubles. Had kept people from thinking too much.

Kaname was well aware of how dangerous that could be.

“Oi,” Kitamoto said. Kaname looked at him. “Stop looking so glum. We’re still alive, aren’t we?”

Kaname huffed an unamused laugh. “It says something that you can say that like it’s an accomplishment.”

“At this point, it is,” Kitamoto said. “Hopefully once we get back home, things will settle down, and we’ll be able to concentrate on more important things again. But right now, that is the most important thing.”

“I know.” Kaname made a face. “I just wish …”

“Nothing.” Nishimura snapped the phone shut with more force than entirely necessary, sending the little owl charm attached to it jangling. “Where are they?” Before either Kaname or Kitamoto could come up with something to say in reply, he sighed. “Sorry. You’re in the same boat as I am. No point in making all of us even more miserable.” He stood up and stalked off in Ogawa’s general direction, probably to return the phone.

Kaname watched him go, wishing that he knew something to say, some way to help. He’d never seen Nishimura like this, so on edge and angry.

“He argued with his brother right before we came on this trip,” Kitamoto said softly. Kaname looked at him in surprise. His classmate shrugged. “It’s not really a new thing. He doesn’t talk about it much, but the situation at home for him has been … tense … for a while. His brother just entered college, the one up in Sakaki, so he commutes. Things are a bit better than last year, when he was studying like crazy for entrance exams, but he’s apparently still not doing as well as their parents want.”

Kaname winced. He was not looking forward to that next year.

He laughed suddenly. “College entrance exams.” It all just seemed so ridiculous. "At least we won't have to worry about those anymore."

"Tanuma?"

Somehow the laughter kept coming, despite his attempts to stop it. “I hadn’t even decided if I wanted to go, yet, but what does going to university even mean if there isn’t anyone there to teach you?”

“Tanuma!” Kitamoto grabbed his shoulders and shook. “Calm down.”

Kaname took a deep gulping breath, buried his face in his hands, and tried. Concentrating on his breathing seemed to help. As long as he didn’t think too hard about … anything else. Especially not college entrance exams. Or college. Or the future. Or home.

As long as he just concentrated on his breathing, he’d be okay.

When the bubble of hysteria faded enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself again, he lowered his hands and looked at Kitamoto. “Thanks.”

His friend shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. … You might want to reassure the others, though.”

He looked out towards the rest of the room, and found an uncomfortable number of his classmates looking back. He plastered a weak smile on his face and waved, and slowly the attention subsided. Mostly. He could see that Taki and Nishimura were already on their way over, although the former was waylaid by Tsuji as he watched.

“I’m fine.” He said as soon as Nishimura got within easy speaking distance. “Sorry. Just.”

“A bit much?” Nishimura asked, flopping back to the ground with his typical bonelessness, the flare of anger from before apparently burnt out. “Yeah. This stuff has us all on edge.”

“I should be stronger, though.” Kaname looked back out towards the crowd. “For everyone’s sake.”

“Kitamoto, punch him for me.”

Kitamoto did.

“Ow. What was that for?” Kaname rubbed his abused shoulder.

“We’re here, too, you know.” Nishimura said. “You don’t have to do this alone. In fact, please don’t, because then the rest of us will be screwed.”

Kitamoto pulled off a sock, balled it up, and threw it at Nishimura, who yelped and ducked. “Tact. It’s a thing.”

Kaname snickered.

“Why are we abusing Nishimura?” Taki asked as she sat down. “Tsuji-kun wanted to know if you’re all right, Tanuma. I told him you were probably just blowing off steam.”

“Thanks, Taki.”

“I’m just misunderstood.” Nishimura said indignantly. “Taki-san, you’ll protect me, won’t you?”

Taki looked briefly taken aback, then smiled sweetly enough to make Kaname nervous. “Maybe.” She said. “Depends on what I would be defending you from. I might decide to team up against you instead.”

Nishimura sighed overdramatically, and Taki turned her attention back to Kaname. “So what was that all about?”

Kaname looked away. Somehow, her honest concern was even harder to take than Kitamoto and Nishimura’s encouragement. “Nothing worth repeating.”

“College.” Kitamoto said. Kaname glared at him. He caught Nishimura giving Kitamoto a suspicious look as well.

Taki blinked. “What’s so funny about college? That’s over a year – oh.”

When it appeared that she wasn’t going to start speaking again, Kaname smiled wryly. “Exactly.”

She looked stubborn. “We still don’t know how bad things are elsewhere. There could be plenty of people left in other cities.”

“Until they all get eaten by monsters they can’t see.” Kaname said.

“There might be fewer monsters elsewhere, too.”

“Or there might be more. Remember what he said?”

Taki crossed her arms. “You heard him. He doesn’t know what’s going on any better than we do.” Kaname just looked at her, and she eventually deflated. “I know. I know. But …” The stubbornness appeared to be making a comeback. “There will still be some people around. And even if there aren’t, there are plenty of books. We can keep learning if we try.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have bigger things to worry about,” Kaname said quietly. “College is all well and good, but if we can’t even feed ourselves properly … I mean, look at us. What will we do when we run out of onigiri and shrimp-flavored chips?”

“… Not that shrimp-flavored chips are all that nutritious to begin with,” Kitamoto said.

“But they’re so delicious!” Nishimura protested.

“Do you want me to throw my other sock?”

“That’s quite all right,” Nishimura said hastily.

Kaname met Taki’s eyes, and suddenly he was laughing again. Less hysterically, this time. Kitamoto and Nishimura looked at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Never change, you two. Just … never change.”

Chapter Text

“Excuse me? Could I ask you –”

The little youkai looked up at Takashi, jumped, and ran. About the color and consistency of mud and looking like it had been shaped into roughly human form by a child’s hands, it wasn’t long before it disappeared into the undergrowth.

He sighed as he watched it go. There seemed to be more youkai around now than the previous day, but he had yet to find one willing to stand still long enough to converse with. The small youkai – which were all he’d run into so far – were notoriously skittish at the best of times, but it still worried him.

Though at least that means no one else has attacked me. Yet.

Bushes rustled nearby and he tensed, wondering if he’d inadvertently jinxed himself. A couple of small birds burst out and flitted away, too fast for him to tell whether they were as normal as they appeared. He shook his head as he relaxed, looking around for any other signs of life.

All he saw was forest on all sides, each direction virtually indistinguishable from the next aside from the occasional broken branches and crushed leaves that marked the path from which he’d come.

Does more youkai mean that I’m getting farther away from town instead of closer?

Am I ever going to find my way back?

His friends must be so worried, now, Tanuma and Taki most of all. Nishimura and Kitamoto would yell at him for wandering off and getting into trouble without them again, but Tanuma and Taki understood (far better than he wanted) just how dangerous that ‘trouble’ could sometimes be. I hope they convinced the teacher not to call Touko-san and Shigeru-san. I don’t want them to be worried, too.

Fear bit deeper as part of him whispered, If any of them are still there to be worried.

He still knew no more about whatever it was that had all the youkai so frightened, but they all seemed convinced that it had hit the human world the hardest, and that it was something that would go after humans, too.

Maybe it was arrogance, to think that if he was there, he’d be able to protect them. But he knew for sure that from here, he could do nothing.

Nothing but keep walking and hope.

(Unfortunately, he’d never been terribly good at hope.)

(So he kept walking and hoped that would be good enough.)

Takashi shivered. He could have sworn it had been significantly warmer a few minutes ago, but now he was deeply regretting not having a jacket along with him. Even the previous night, it hadn’t been this chilly.

The sunlight seemed dimmer, too, but when he looked upwards, he could see only the smallest traces of white in the patches of blue that were all he could see of the sky. The air didn’t have that expectant feel he associated with storms, but there was something …

He knew it was probably his imagination, but the forest seemed less friendly than before.

… Is that fog?

It swirled across the ground in front of him in barely visible wisps, disappearing into the suddenly silent trees, and seemed to be thickening as he watched.

… Maybe I should go back.

But when he turned, he found the fog drifting there, too. Thicker, now, obscuring the ground, rising higher, beginning to make all but the nearest of the trees fade away. Chill trickled down his spine.

The fog seemed to thicken further as he forced himself to keep walking. It’s just fog, he tried to tell himself.

But what if it wasn’t?

He knew nothing of the threat that had the other youkai running scared, that they described as something that ate humans. What if this was it? What if he never made it out?

How can I fight something I can’t see?

He folded his arms more tightly around himself and walked faster, fog swirling with every step. The ground sloped gently downward, and his fast walk became a jog, then a full-out run, no matter that each bouncing step sent a corresponding throb through the knot in the back of his head. He just needed to find a way out –

He tripped over a branch; flailed, trying to regain his balance. His next step hit solid ground, but the following lurch struck only air until he’d tilted too far to do anything but fall, ducking to protect his head and striking with shoulder and upper back instead. The fall turned into a roll, as he bounced his way down an incline suddenly much steeper than it should have been.

At the bottom, he rolled across a patch of rounded stones and splashed to a halt in a small stream.

Lying there on his back, the couple of centimeters of water he lay in quickly soaking the rest of his clothes, he opened his eyes to sunlight.

He blinked. Sat up and blinked again, shoving wet hair out of his eyes. The sunlight stayed stubbornly bright, and the scenery ...

He could see no sign of the forest he’d been in until just a few minutes ago; instead he found himself – and the stream he was still sitting in – surrounded on all sides by a field, tall grass bending gently with the light, surprisingly warm breeze.

Although even the wind’s warmth could not entirely counteract the chill it caused as it brushed past wet clothes, hair, and skin.

I didn’t just get eaten. Did I?

He slowly stood, as a hundred small bruises and scrapes called themselves insistently to his attention. He was fairly certain he’d added at least a couple new bumps to his head, but those were eclipsed by the fierce ache in his shoulder from that initial fall. He rolled it tentatively and winced. Not dislocated, thankfully. Just … painful.

I wouldn’t be this banged up if I were dead. … Probably?

He climbed out of the streambed, up the short incline to the edge of the field, and sat back down to empty out his shoes and wring out his shirt and socks as well as he could, all the while keeping an eye out for any suspicious movement. Anything that might tell him where he was and just how he’d gotten there.

Certainly it hadn’t been through any normal path. He doubted he sat more than a meter above the streambed, and the opposite side didn't even rise that tall.  He couldn’t see any sign of the hill he’d just rolled down, and the only forest he could see was off in the distance, almost on the edge of sight, and from his current position mostly obscured by the waving grass.

Well, if I had been wondering if it was possible to get any more lost, I guess this would answer that question.

He stood back up, making a face at the way his shoes still squelched and wincing as his various bumps protested, and set off walking roughly parallel to the stream. The sun shone down from almost directly overhead – another oddity, he was fairly certain it had been afternoon before – making it hard to tell which direction he was going. Not that it mattered, he supposed. 

At his left, the stream widened and deepened, until it looked about knee deep, the clearest blue Takashi had ever seen. When he stopped to take a rest, his throat chose that moment to chime in along with the rest of his body's protests, reminding him it had been quite a while since the last time he’d drunk anything.

He fell to his knees next to the stream, hands cupped to gather some of that pure-looking water, before caution reasserted itself. Wherever he was now, he wasn’t entirely sure it was completely … real. Would it be safe, eating or drinking anything in a place like this?

But he was so very thirsty …

He dipped his hands into the water, and just beyond them, a head popped up.

“Uwaa!!” Takashi toppled over backwards.

The kappa folded its arms and glared at him. It was the smallest one he'd ever seen, only its head and shoulders raising above the water. “Didn’t your mother teach you to ask first?”

“Ah. No?” He answered without thinking, caught off guard. He had no memory of his mother, but as far as he knew, she hadn’t even been able to see youkai. Manners re-established themselves. “Sorry?”

The kappa sniffed, then made a face. “Whoa, you stink of human. What’s a city kid like you doing here?” It pronounced the words ‘city’ and ‘human’ with roughly equivalent levels of disgust. “How’d you get here to begin with?”

“… I have no idea,” Takashi admitted honestly. “I was running through the forest, tripped and fell down a hill, and somehow ended up here.” He hesitated, then added, “I thought something might have been chasing me. There was this really thick fog that seemed to appear out of nowhere.” In the bright sunlight it seemed silly, how afraid he’d been. It was just fog.

The kappa laughed. “First I’ve heard of someone tripping into our land.” It gave Takashi another once-over. “This is Seigen, overseen by the benevolent Kamuriki-sama. He will likely grant you leave to stay here, now that you have found your way to our fields. Certainly it’s far better than living with humans.” The kappa sniffed again. “I will even allow you use of my stream to wash yourself in. You must have been around them for a long time, to have their stink ground so deeply in.”

“Ah … thanks?” Takashi wasn’t sure now was a good time to point out that he was, in fact, human. He looked down at himself: still thoroughly damp, if drier than before thanks to the bright sun and warm temperatures. “I think I’m good for now. … I’m quite thirsty, though. Would you mind if I had a drink?”

The kappa nodded sharply. “It wouldn’t do to appear before Kamuriki-sama distracted by thirst. Be welcome to drink of my stream.”

“Thank you.” He took several deep gulps, sighing with pleasure as the cool water slid down his throat, then looked back at the kappa. “What do you mean by appearing before him, though? I’m not planning to stay here. I need to get back to my friends.”

The kappa looked vaguely horrified. “Oh no, that won’t do at all. I don’t know why you’d want to leave Seigen in the first place, especially now, but you certainly shouldn’t do so without making your bows to Kamuriki-sama. It's just not done.”

Takashi wasn’t sure how good an idea it was to deliberately seek out a youkai that powerful, but looking at the kappa, it was also clear that he’d get no help from that quarter otherwise. Besides, he thought, resisting the urge to touch his fanny pack for reassurance, maybe there’s someone here who needs their name returned. Certainly stranger things had happened before. “Where can I find him?” He frowned. “And what did you mean by ‘especially now’?”

The kappa pointed upstream, the direction in which Takashi had already been travelling. “Near the source of my stream, there is a small village. Kamuriki-sama lives in the largest house.”

“Thanks,” Takashi said, and waited expectantly.

The kappa gave him another disdainful look. “I don’t know any details about what’s going on in the human world. I know better than to go there begin with. No surprise it’s all messed up, with all those humans there.” It turned to leave, but turned back. “And don’t forget to wash yourself off! I don’t know how you can stand that stench.”

Although the water hardly looked deep enough to do so, it dove back in, rapidly disappearing from even Takashi’s sight.

He stood back up, looking down at his hands. If Sensei were here, he’d try to make a mask to help cover up his scent. But with no Sensei and no materials to make the mask from in the first place, he supposed he’d just have to hope that the other inhabitants of this place (world?) were either friendlier to humans, or as easily confused as the kappa had been.

He shook his head and started walking. At least he wasn’t thirsty anymore.

Not long after leaving the kappa, Takashi found a small bridge crossing the stream, connecting a narrow dirt road on either side. Curious, he followed the road a short distance away, and found that it intersected another dirt road, this one looking considerably better traveled, that appeared to run roughly parallel to the stream.

After the forest and the uneven ground near the stream, the road was a relief, as long as he stayed out of the deep furrows near the center that spoke of either many, or very large, passersby. With youkai it could easily be either.

Not long after he started following the road, he ran into a youkai headed the opposite direction. It was about half his size, as round as it was tall, and blindingly yellow-green, wearing a beige yukata fastened by a faded brown belt. It looked up and bowed its head in silent greeting as it approached.

Startled, Takashi returned the gesture and slowed, but the youkai continued onward without paying him any further attention.

Huh. He turned to watch it go, but it just continued placidly on its way.

That proved to be a theme as he continued on his way. A couple of times, youkai he encountered on the road slowed to exchange a few words with him, but neither conversation proceeded much beyond exchanging pleasantries, and soon enough they’d head their way and Takashi would continue along his. The majority ignored him completely.

It was oddly nice.

He could feel himself relaxing. Funny, that the last day and a bit of isolation could wear on him so badly that he’d find this sort of shared journeying, this weakest of connections, a relief. He found his fears slowly ebbing in the face of the beautiful day and the clearly unworried youkai surrounding him.

The tension flooded back when he crested a low hill and found himself staring down into a small town that looked like it had leapt straight out of some of his history books. A very tall, pale youkai with thin floppy arms that reached almost to its knees paused beside him and looped its overly long neck to look at him. “First time visiting? Quite a sight, isn’t it?” It sounded proud.

He still found it surreal that he’d encountered this many youkai and not a single one of them seemed interested in attacking him. “Yes,” Takashi said cautiously. “You’ve been here before?”

“Indeed I have.” The youkai bobbed its head. “I live a fair distance away, but it wouldn’t do to neglect the proprieties.” It shuddered. “Have you heard the rumors of what’s happening in the outside world? I know Kamuriki-sama is strong, and Seigen plentiful, but one worries, you know?”

“I … heard something terrible had happened,” Takashi said cautiously, and even more cautiously added, “to the humans?”

“Not just them, from what I’ve heard, more’s the pity,” the pale youkai said. “Not that I really care about the humans one way or another, you know. But certainly it wouldn’t hurt the other world that much to have a few less of them.”

Takashi flinched. “It would hurt the friends and family they left behind,” he said quietly.

He kept forgetting. Youkai had their own perspectives.

The pale youkai tilted its head slightly, a faintly curious expression floating across its mostly expressionless face, and Takashi just wanted out of this conversation. “Kamuriki-sama lives there, I’m guessing?” He indicated the house on the far side of the village, set a little bit back from the rest, and easily three times larger than the next largest house. It would honestly be more accurate to call it a mansion, one that reminded him suspiciously of Omibashira’s, but older, matching the aesthetic of the rest of the town.

I hope, given how well everyone I’ve talked to has spoken of him so far, that Kamuriki-sama is not the sort to eat his followers. I don’t think I’d be able to do much to stop him on my own.

He remembered Natori-san trying to push movie tickets on Tanuma, and Sensei bursting through the door looking like Reiko but acting like his usual exasperating self, and for a moment missed all three of them – missed everyone – so much that it hurt.

I’d even be happy to see Natori-san acting sparkly and embarrassing if it meant that he – that everyone – was all right.

“That’s right,” the pale youkai said. “Hey, are you …?”

“Thank you,” Takashi said. “I hope your audience goes well.” He turned and walked away at a brisk pace, not giving the pale youkai a chance to respond, and couldn’t deny his relief when it apparently decided not to follow him.

He slowed about halfway down the hill in deference to his battered body, but once in the village proper found his minor injuries fading from his attention as he tried his best to take in everything he could.

It seemed to be entirely populated by youkai. Many were roughly human-sized, often doing human-like things, but he also saw more than a few small to medium-sized youkai, some clearly children, some equally clearly not.

His feet slowed of their own will near a stand selling hot steamed buns, manned by a youkai wearing a long, intermittently stained smock who looked mostly human except tinted blue, with no hair on his head and tentacles that shaded into blue-green hanging from his chin and jawbone in place of a beard. “Hail, traveler!” he greeted Takashi jovially. “You look like you’ve come a fair distance. You must be hungry.”

“I am.” Takashi found himself admitting. The mushrooms and berries from that morning had been a long time ago. “… I don’t have anything to offer in return, though.” Did youkai even use money? He knew many of them didn’t appear to have qualms about stealing from humans, but he assumed things would be different when amongst themselves.

The tentacled youkai laughed and held out a bun. “You’re taking refuge here from the human world, yeah? The first one’s on the house.”

"I couldn't do that ..." Even with the other youkai he'd accepted food from, he'd been able to do something in return. I guess it's pretty unlikely that he would need his name returned. "Maybe I could wash dishes or something?"

The tentacled youkai laughed again. "If I made everyone do that, I'd have a line out to here of people waiting their turn. How about you tell me a story instead?"

"If you're sure ..." Takashi took a seat at the stool farthest to the right, and gratefully accepted the bun. “Have there really been that many refugees?” None of the youkai he’d passed on the way here had really given him that impression.

“That was perhaps an exaggeration,” The stall owner admitted. “But even one or two visitors from outside is quite an event, most months, and there have been quite a few more than that.” He leaned forward. “So what brought a city kid like you out here?” He eyed Takashi critically. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you really were human.”

I am. Takashi wanted to protest, but once again caution held his tongue. He took a bite of the bun to buy himself a bit of time to think, and yelped as the meat inside burned his mouth. “Wow, this is really good.” The stall owner looked pleased. “Some … friends of a friend, I guess, dragged me out of town into a nearby forest not long before … whatever it was that happened. I was trying to get back, but I got lost and somehow found myself here.” He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s not a very interesting story.”

He hesitated. “Can you tell me anything about what did happen? My friends -” He took another bite, the temperature slightly more tolerable this time, before he said anything too unwise.

The stall owner shook his head with a small, grim smile. “It would do everyone’s peace of mind a great deal of good to know the answer to that question. Unfortunately, if anyone knows, no one seems to be talking.”

“I’ve heard rumors that there’s something eating people,” Takashi offered. He remembered the flower youkai’s words and shivered. It’ll eat and eat and eat until nothing remains.

The stall owner nodded. “By what few reports we have, these … creatures seem to have mostly appeared in human towns, and mostly seem content with consuming what few humans remain, but they have no qualms about pursuing and eating any of us they can find.” He paused before adding more gently, “Your friends did well, removing you from town. That may very well be the only reason you made it here.”

It took a concerted effort to keep his hands from clenching into fists. “My friends,” Takashi said precisely, “are back in town. My family is in another town. I have a hard time feeling grateful towards someone who removed me from them. No matter how good their intentions.”

He made himself lift his half-eaten bun for another bite, then paused. "... What did you mean by 'what few of them remain'?"

The stall owner tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed, his tentacles swaying disconcertingly slowly into their new resting position. “You really were out of touch, weren’t you? I meant exactly what I said – no one knows why, but immediately prior to those … creatures’ appearance, the majority of the humans just disappeared.”

Takashi froze. Disappeared? But …

Takashi could dimly hear the stall owner speaking, but couldn't make sense of the words. He felt like his head had been wrapped in cotton wool, and he could hear an odd, faint ringing.

My family.

My friends.

My home.

Gone.

A large blue hand reached for his shoulder, and he flinched before he could pull his reflexes back under control. “You okay, kid?” he asked. “You’re looking pale.”

Takashi took another large bite of the rapidly cooling bun. For all the attention he paid to the taste, it might as well have been ashes in his mouth, but it at least gave him an excuse not to speak.

Everything good in my life.

Gone.

"... But not everyone, right?" He asked, voice echoing faintly through the long tunnel that connected him to reality. It can't. I can't have just -

The tentacled youkai hummed. “A few small packs of humans have been spotted. One refugee mentioned she saw several humans walk straight into one of those creatures. After it ate the first one, the others got frightened and ran away.” He shook his head. “What did they think would happen? Humans.”

“They probably couldn’t see it,” Takashi said quietly. Well accustomed to seeing normal humans ignore a stunning variety of youkai and their tricks, he could imagine the scene the other had painted all too easily.

The tentacled youkai didn’t appear to have heard. “And of course those obnoxious exorcists are still around. A couple of our refugees only just managed to avoid getting tangled up with them.”

Natori-san. Takashi clung to the thought like a life raft. Matoba-san, too, probably – he couldn’t imagine the man letting anything take him down – and his feelings about that were still a bit too tangled and ambivalent for him to be willing to examine them too closely, but if at least Natori-san was all right …

Please let at least Natori-san be all right.

“Did you have some pet humans or something?” The stall owner asked, tentacles waving counter to the breeze. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I'd recommend you give up on them. You’re safe and among friends here. Why would you want to abandon that for a chance that your pets might have been among the few who survived?”

“Some things are worth it,” Takashi said. No matter how great the danger. No matter how small the chance. He stood and looked from the crumpled paper the bun had rested on – he tried to remember when he’d eaten the last couple of bites but couldn’t – to the stall owner. “You’re sure it’s all right?”

The youkai waved a free hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, kid." He laughed suddenly. "If you find those humans of yours? Come back by and I'll feed you again. That's bound to be a story!"

Takashi forced the clawing fear out of the way. He could do this. He'd done it before. He smiled at the tentacled youkai, grateful for the food and the information both.

(He thought he had been better at this, before, had been almost able to convince even himself that the face he showed the world was the truth.)

He bowed, still smiling. "I'll do my best."

And fled, before the cracks could get any wider. While he could still pretend that no one had seen them but himself.

Takashi loitered in a gap between two houses.  Stacked with large wooden boxes on one side, even without taking that into account it was almost too narrow to be called an alley.  He adjusted the mask on his face and attempted to breathe calmly.

After leaving the steamed bun stall, by the time he'd regained the ability to do anything other than blindly get away, he'd found himself on almost the opposite side of town.  His eyes had been drawn by the brightly colored display of a mask seller's stall across the street, with dozens of masks of all different shapes and sizes lined up in neat rows, but they’d paused on perhaps the simplest of them all: a white, ovoid mask with three concentric circles drawn in the center in black ink. Although it lacked the horns and the smile, it had reminded him of Hiiragi, and he'd almost lost control again.

(Surely she wouldn’t let Natori-san come to harm if there was any possible way to avoid it.)

(Surely.)

The stall owner, who wore a blue oni mask over his face and a red ones on either side, had noticed his interest and invited him closer to take a look. Takashi had confessed that the white mask reminded him of a friend, but that he had no way to pay for it, and had been about to walk away again when the stall owner had mentioned that he was a collector of strange human artifacts, and wondered if he might be willing to make a trade.

Takashi had refused outright to trade away his shirt or shoes, as the youkai had initially wanted. Likewise with his fanny pack – he held no particular attachment to the fanny pack itself, but refused to put its precious cargo at risk.

Then he'd remembered the crumpled energy bar wrapper he'd tucked into a corner and offered it up instead, not really expecting it to work. 

To his surprise, the mask seller had been ecstatic. Apparently human food made it into Seigen even more rarely than human clothing, so even the empty wrapper was quite a prize.

So he’d left with mask, the stall owner’s profuse thanks, and his compliments on Takashi's impressively authentically human appearance. He still didn't quite know how to feel about that.  

When he'd first put the mask on, not knowing what to expect from something with no visible eye or mouth holes, he'd been extremely surprised to see that although the colors faded and his vision as a whole seemed slightly dimmer, he could still see and breathe perfectly well. 

He'd always wondered what Hiiragi's world looked like.  Maybe, if (when) he saw her again, he'd ask. 

The resemblance was so very superficial, but with the mask resting against his face, he couldn’t help but remember Hiiragi and Natori-san and the warmth that came from their presence. (Even if Natori-san sometimes made it difficult to remember that warmth with his exasperating antics.)

But for you, I think it’s necessary.

It helped him feel slightly less alone, let him imagine that they were nearby, that this was just another ridiculous youkai-related adventure that Natori-san had dragged him into (… or, to be fair, vice versa).

That it would be over soon, and then he’d go back home, and Touko-san would be there waiting with dinner ready, scolding him about the grass stains on his pants, while Shigeru-san stood in the background, a solid, amused presence.

He’d go back to school the next day, eat lunch with Nishimura and Kitamoto and Tanuma, wave a cheerful hello to Taki as they passed each other in the halls.

If I can just get home …

He leaned against the alley wall and closed his eyes, glad that the mask hid his face. Stop it. You know you can’t go in there like this. You can’t show this sort of weakness.

You’ll be fine. Even if everyone is gone. You have more to lose, now, but being afraid won’t keep it from disappearing. Crying, shouting, worrying, none of it will help.

It’s not up to you. It never is.

But you’ll be fine. You always are.

He breathed out a shuddering sigh; took a deep breath.

And if you thought – if you hoped – if you’d almost managed to convince yourself that maybe this time, it would be forever?

Well, that’s your own fault, isn’t it?

He closed his eyes; reopened them to the slightly dimmed view of the street and houses and, beyond that, the mansion that was his goal.

He would not stop here. For the sake of whoever was left. Or if no one was left … then for his own sake. Because at least then he’d know.

I wonder what Sensei would say if he could see me now. Takashi almost laughed; fought back the immediate flood of but what if he’ll never say anything ever again it’s mostly humans but some youkai too what if he bit off more than he can chew you know he does sometimes that threatened to steal his breath away.

He’d probably tell me to stop moping around and get him some more fried squid while I was at it.

Takashi pushed away from the wall, adjusted his mask, and took another breath.

He could do this. Even if it felt like the rest of his world had crumbled under his feet. He would do this.

He’d be fine.

As Takashi approached the mansion, he noticed a small group of youkai standing in front of it, arguing.

“I’m certainly not going first,” one insisted as he approached.  She was completely covered in reddish-brown fur, at her full height didn’t quite reach Takashi’s shoulder, and appeared to have neither a face nor limbs. “What if he’s in a bad mood?”

“You’re the best at ducking,” one of her companions pointed out, snickering. She floated a few centimeters off the ground, dressed all in white, her unbound black hair pouring over her shoulders and falling nearly to her waist. Takashi carefully averted his eyes, wary, but if she was the vengeful spirit she appeared to be, she wasn't acting it at the moment.

“You’re the one who can turn insubstantial!”

“Are you also here to visit the great Kamuriki-sama?” A third turned to address Takashi. This one looked rather like an ambulatory stick, if said stick had clearly branched arms and legs, and knots in around the right position for eyes and a mouth that … did seem to move as it talked.

He nodded, just as the stick youkai’s companions turned to see who it was talking to.

“Well!” The furred youkai said, sounding a great deal more cheerful. “In that case, don’t let us hold you up.” She stepped to the side, despite already being nowhere near the direct path from Takashi to the stairs, and gestured with an equally furry arm that he would never have noticed otherwise.

Takashi considered protesting that he was neither terribly good at ducking nor capable of turning insubstantial, but as he really did want to meet with the god of this place so that he could figure out how to leave, already, he simply thanked the three unlikely looking companions and started up the stairs, dimly aware that they seemed to have decided to follow him.

In the entrance hall he stopped to remove his shoes, the red and white sneakers sticking out like a sore thumb among the carefully straight rows of wooden geta and straw zori and waraji. His were the only modern ones he could see. He knew that youkai tended to prefer more traditional attire, but …

He ignored the trickle of mild unease and stepped up into the hallway. A tall shadow with an ovoid, unmarked white mask for its face seemed to almost melt out of the woodwork, as though at some unseen signal, and he flinched. At least a head taller than him, it inclined its mask silently in his direction before turning and beginning to glide down the hall.

He looked towards the other three youkai, but they all seemed to have decided to continue cowering behind him. An additional pair of zori kept his sneakers company; he wondered if they belonged to the furry youkai, since he wasn’t sure the other two even had proper feet.

Focus. He looked back forward, to where the shadowy youkai stood at a turn in the hallway, mask turned back towards them. I guess that’s a ‘follow me’?

He shrugged and followed.

Three turns, a flight of stairs, and two more turns later, all taken at a speed slightly faster than his preferred walking pace, Takashi admitted to himself that he was quite thoroughly lost. He thought he still remembered the sequence, but he’d long since lost count of the number of nearly identical doorways and hallways they’d passed on the way.

He suspected magic at work. The mansion had looked large from the outside, yes, but not large enough to be harboring several stories full of maze-like hallways and rooms. He just hoped he hadn’t walked into another trap like Omibashira’s mansion.

The shadowy youkai abruptly halted, and it was only with some undignified flailing that Takashi avoided running into it. Something soft impacted his back, almost knocking him back off balance. When he turned, the furred youkai wilted. “Sorry,” she whispered.

He smiled. “It’s fine.”

In front of them, the shadowy youkai stepped aside, revealing a much more ornate door than any of the others they had passed. Its mask turned from their group to the door and back, then it faded backwards and disappeared.

“Do you think we’re supposed to open the door?” The furred youkai asked, barely louder than her previous whisper.

“Why else would we have been brought here?” The spirit asked, her higher-pitched voice contemptuous.

Takashi stepped forward, knocked on the door, and waited briefly to see if there would be any immediate response. When he could neither see nor sense any change, he took a deep breath and quietly slid the door open.

The room was dim, large enough that he could not see the far wall clearly, with a disconcertingly high ceiling. A raised platform near the center of the room, framed by two elaborately decorated pillars, drew Takashi's eye.

Someone sat in the center of the platform, back turned to the door, posture perfect. He wore an elaborate outfit that reminded Takashi of his history books again, in dark shades that the dimness and Takashi's mask leached any remaining color from. His hair had been tied up in a tall knot, anchored by a long metal rod.

And Takashi, who did not usually pay much attention to such things, could feel the way his power permeated the entire room. It did not precisely make it harder to breathe, but he could feel himself taking shallower breaths anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the furred youkai dropping first to her knees, then prostrating herself fully. He hesitated, then followed its example. He had no idea what the proper protocol was, but suspected that more respect was probably better than less.

Even if that made it almost impossible to see anything but the floor.

He heard the faint rustling of cloth. Perhaps Kamuriki-sama had turned to take a look at his visitors? The urge to look was almost overwhelming, but he stubbornly suppressed it.

"Be welcome here, to my land." A melodic voice, far mellower than Takashi had expected, broke the silence. "I know the path here must have been long, and fraught with dangers both familiar and strange, but know that you are home now."

Takashi flinched. This strange place, where none of the youkai chased him because they thought he was one of them, where he knew no one, where he had no place ... Even if he hadn't had a home to return to

(Please, let me have a home to return to. I know I ask a lot. I know some things are impossible no matter how hard I wish. But. Please.)

he could not see himself calling this place home.  

Two or three years ago … perhaps. Before the Fujiwaras had taken him in. Before he’d met everyone, his friends human and youkai both … maybe. Maybe simply being in a friendly place, one where no one looked at him askance for seeing strange things (because they were the strange things) would have been enough.

But not anymore.

“Thank you, Kamuriki-sama,” the other three murmured.

Takashi stayed silent.

A brief pause weighed on him almost as heavily as Kamuriki-sama’s still-swirling power; he again heard the faint sounds of shifting cloth but could not guess in what way the god had moved.

“Should you wish it, ask one of my servants, and they will help you find places to live,” the god said. “Should you have any concerns or problems, you will find many of my followers friendly and willing to aid you. You may also, of course, seek an audience with me if that aid proves insufficient.”

“Thank you, Kamuriki-sama,” the other three repeated.

At some unseen gesture – or perhaps just some point of youkai etiquette of which he was unaware – he heard the other three stand and shuffle slowly away.

The door slid open and shut.

Takashi took another breath, intentionally deep. I can do this.

“Yes?” Kamuriki-sama’s voice flowed over him, gentle and kind. “Is there something else I can help you with, young one?”

For a moment he almost wished things were different. Maybe he could have been happy here.

Certainly far happier than what probably waited for him back in the human world.

But he had to know. And if anyone was left …

“You must have spent much time with the humans, to mimic their dress so well. Perhaps we seem strange to you. But know that you are safe here.” Steel entered the god’s voice. “I will not allow harm to befall anyone within the bounds of Seigen.”

Not knowing whether it was the right thing to do, Takashi sat back up. The god’s face was lined slightly with middle age, but his hair and long, thin beard were both still jet black. “I appreciate the offer of sanctuary,” he said quietly. “But I cannot accept. Please, would you tell me how to return to the human world?”

“You take some issue with Seigen?” His voice sounded mostly curious, but Takashi thought he caught a darker undertone.

“No! Of course not. It seems like a very pleasant place, all the youkai I’ve met have been very friendly. It’s just …” Takashi looked down at his hands. “It’s not where the people who are important to me are.”

“All the –” Kamuriki-sama’s head raised, clearly testing the air. “Remove your mask.” No gentleness wrapped his voice now.

Takashi placed the mask in his lap, fingers clutching it a bit too tightly still. “I meant no disrespect –”

“Human,” the god hissed, and Takashi could recognize very little human in his features now. “BEGONE.”

Takashi fell through light.

Blink.

Blue sky.

Blink.

Soft grass and a couple of extremely uncomfortable stones digging into inconvenient locations.

Blink.

Takashi sat up, groaning. He hurt everywhere, a bone-deep ache that left him fighting the urge to lie back down. He doubted it would help. Grass stretched around him several meters in all directions, before starting to fade into first sparse, then quickly thicker trees.

From the varieties of tree he could see, and what little he could see of the way the hills rose beyond the trees to his right, he appeared to be in a completely different forest.

Where am I now?

For about a minute he just sat there, staring at nothing, unsure whether he wanted to scream or cry or just ... give up.

I guess that's what I get for thinking I couldn't possibly get any more lost, he thought. Heh. At least I didn’t fall into a stream again?

At least I'm back in the human world.  ... I think.

He started to stand slowly, a multitude of new aches protesting every movement, then abruptly sat back down and put his head between his knees as gray crept in around the edges of his vision. He didn’t have time for a fainting spell right now. Unfortunately, his body did not always pay attention to his demands.

Once he felt a little bit … he wasn’t sure better was precisely the word, when in addition to his physical aches he felt as drained as if he’d just given three names back in a row, but less slightly likely to keel over, he tried standing again.

His first step was a bit shaky. His second step, better. His third step almost caused him to topple back over, as he jerked back from smooth, curved hardness that definitely was not grass, and a crunching sound that made him wince even before he confirmed that he'd just stepped on his mask. He knelt to pick up the two pieces, split diagonally across the center, and brought them back together, wanting to pretend, for just a moment …

Before his startled eyes, the crack resealed. Not completely - he could still see the thin line of the original break, evoking yet stronger memories of Hiiragi and her own cracked mask - but well enough that when he tugged lightly, unwilling to push his luck too far, the mask felt as solid as it had when it was whole.

He sat back on his heels, hugging the mask to his chest, as an entirely disproportionate relief flooded through him. It shouldn't matter. It was just a mask.

It really shouldn't have mattered. But it did.

Once he felt less like letting go of the mask would make him fly apart, he put it back on, but shifted it around to cover the side of his head instead. He didn't really have a better place to put it - his fanny pack far too small to fit it - but he was reluctant to play youkai too blatantly now that he was back in a place where he might actually encounter other humans.

(Please.)

Out of excuses to delay any further, he shot one last accusatory look uphill, towards unfamiliar mountains, and resolutely turned to place them at his back. Maybe this time, downhill would lead him back towards civilization.

He quickly rediscovered just how little he enjoyed walking through wooded areas in nothing but socks. I really liked those sneakers, too.

He pushed the thought aside. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd lost something he'd made the mistake of growing attached to. Nor did it come anywhere near to being the most important thing he'd lost - realized he'd lost - that day. He reached up to touch the mask. If I can at least find Natori-san ...

He shook his head and immediately regretted it as the motion caused his head and neck to redouble their protests at the recent treatment. Just … get back to town first. You can figure out how to get back after that. Dread clenched his stomach, imagination all too ready to throw up images of what a town – what home – might look like if the steamed bun seller was right and almost everyone had just disappeared. Stop thinking about things you can’t change.

He stopped walking suddenly at the faint sound of someone crying, and almost tripped over his own feet as he whirled. Where –?

To the right. He thought.

He crashed through the trees, afraid to slow down lest something – he didn’t know what, but something – happen.

He tripped over an exposed root, slammed his bad shoulder into a tree, and had to stop there, leaning against the tree, to catch his breath and fight back the pain. 

Then the crying – noticeably louder, now – suddenly stopped. Dread squeezed Takashi’s heart, and fear, and I’m sorry I’m too late

“All right!” He jumped at the sudden shout. “A proper man can’t sit around crying!”

That voice sounded … oddly familiar.

“I’ve got to get stronger so that I can be of proper use to Natsume!”

It couldn’t be.

Takashi broke through the last bushy barrier into a small clearing not unlike the one he’d woken up in. And there, in the center …

“Little fox?” he asked, throat so tight it was a wonder he’d been able to speak at all.

In the middle of striking at an imaginary opponent, his young friend turned so fast his limbs all tangled up on themselves and he collapsed in a heap. Yet Takashi barely had time to blink before he found a warm weight wrapped around his legs. “Natsume!!”

He crouched, and hugged the young youkai back. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“Natsumeeeeee,” the little fox wailed. “I was so scared, and I ran away, and I got lost, and I can’t find my way back, and –”

Takashi couldn’t help it. He toppled back into a seated position, inadvertently dragging the little fox into his lap, and laughed. Laughed, and laughed, and –

“Natsume?” The little fox reached up with a tiny hand to touch his cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m glad,” he said. “I’m scared, and lost, and I can’t find my way back, either, but I’m so glad to have found you.”

“But you’re Natsume.” The little fox sounded so scandalized that Takashi almost started laughing again. “You’re strong, and brave! You never get scared!”

Takashi bent closer, resting his forehead briefly on the top of his friend’s head. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he offered quietly. “I’m always afraid.”

The more I receive, the more afraid I become that I’ll lose it all.

Have I, finally?

“What do you do?” The little fox asked, eyes wide and trusting, as Takashi sat back up.

He huffed a quiet laugh, and placed his hand on the little fox’s head. “I suppose I try to do what a very brave little fox did once,” he said, “and push forward and do it anyway.”

“Me?” The little fox asked, eyes even wider with astonishment. “But I’m little, and useless, and –”

“You could never be useless,” Takashi interrupted. “You’re my friend.”

He struggled to his feet, at first trying to let the little fox go, then shifting his grip when it became clear he had no intention of moving. “Do you think friends could help each other find their way home?” The little fox clung tighter. “Or at least be lost together for a while longer?”

“Together?” the little fox breathed, like a dream come true.

“Together,” Takashi agreed, and clung a bit more tightly himself.

No. Not everything. Not yet.

Chapter Text

1. Basic necessities

Shuuichi tapped his pen against the paper as he thought. It’s a good thing this place is so old. We’ve got the well for water, and an entire forest behind us for wood. Only a couple of rooms that we could safely keep a fire in, but come winter it’ll still be better than nothing.

He glanced up at the light overhead. Still shining as steadily as before the world had gone mad the previous day. But for how much longer?

Sewage … Ask Grandfather about it, perhaps. Didn’t he say at one point that his father didn’t modernize the house until after he’d enlisted? He grimaced at the idea of trying to have a constructive conversation with his grandfather. Better yet, ask Sekihara-san to ask him about it. He paused. Or ask Sekihara-san. As I recall, before he sold it, his was an old traditional home as well.

Food … I’ll need to talk to Sumi-san. Figure out what she needs; what’s possible. We should stockpile nonperishables while we can. I don’t know what we’ll do once that runs out. I don’t even know the first thing about farming.

The sheer scope of the problems ahead of him – ahead of them all – threatened to raise up and consume him. He sat back and made himself just breathe for a moment. He didn't have time to feel overwhelmed.

2. Investigate the shadow creatures

It took work to keep his fists from clenching. Once he had a way of dealing with those things …

3. Figure out what to do about Matoba

Since he was alone in one of their multitude of sitting rooms at the moment, Shuuichi allowed himself to sigh and rub at his temples. He hadn’t brought Matoba’s proposal up the previous night; he hadn’t had the energy or the patience for the argument that would no doubt ensue. Not to mention the fuss Grandfather would have kicked up if he’d realized the discussion had been held in his absence. But he suspected it was only a matter of time before one of Matoba’s shiki – or worse, Nanase-san – showed up at his door, politely requesting a response.

Cooperation, for sure. It would be good to know what their plans are for survival – if it’s something we can contribute to, or if they’re using tactics we can adopt. Anything else? I just don’t know.

He didn’t like the idea of giving anyone that much power over himself and those he was responsible for. Especially not Matoba.

Even if it he did find it incredibly tempting, at the moment, to make all of this someone else’s problem.

A distant jangling sound distracted him from his dark contemplation of the list in front of him. He stood, folding it and tucking it into a pocket. Who would be calling the landline –? Perhaps someone who heard one of the messages Father left last night?

At this point, he’d welcome any good news. Even if it meant dealing with his father.

He stepped into the hall and almost ran into Souji. “Sumi-san asked me to come get you,” he said hurriedly, breathing slightly heavily. “It’s for you.”

Shuuichi raised an eyebrow. Who would call him here? Only a handful of people even knew this number, and they all knew his cell number, too. He hadn't missed a call, had he?

“Did she say who?” he asked, reaching into his pocket.

No phone.

Note to self: leaving it on the charger overnight “just in case” only helps if you remember to take it back off in the morning.

Well, that at least explained why he hadn’t heard anything.

Souji shook his head. “She just said you’d want to know.”

Probably someone Sumi-san knows, so unlikely to be Natsume's classmates. Who else...?

Most of the rest who knew this number were exorcists, and he suspected that anyone who had survived, he'd seen in person the previous night.

He turned the final corner, and smiled at Sumi-san. “I hear I have a call?”

She smiled back. “It’s from a Takuma-san, so I thought you’d want to –”

He crossed the remaining distance so quickly he couldn’t remember himself actually moving, hand held out. She blinked and placed the phone in his hand, and he remembered himself just enough to thank her before bringing it to his ear. “Takuma-san?”

“Shuuichi-san?” Tsukiko’s voice, tense but not panicked.

They’re alive.

“Where are you? And your father? Is he also all right?” Calm. Act calm.

“I’m fine, Father’s fine, we’re at home," she said. “He’s trying to contact some friends of his, I should be doing the same, but … Shuuichi-san, what happened?”

“No one really knows," he said. “Many people disappeared simultaneously yesterday afternoon, shadowy creatures have been seen roaming the streets, like youkai yet not. No one knows why, yet. Where were you two, yesterday? I tried to call.” I thought you were dead.

“We were on a two-day hike," she said. “I’m sorry, I had my phone with me, but I turned it off – I didn’t want to be disturbed, not unless we needed to call out in an emergency –”

“It wouldn’t have mattered," Shuuichi interrupted. “I only called your home phone. I’m not sure I even have your cell phone number.” He shook his head. Not important. “You didn’t see anyone else while you were hiking?”

“No, but … we usually don’t, so we didn’t think anything of it. But then on the drive back …” Her voice trembled. “There were crashed cars everywhere. We ended up having to get out and walk just to get home. And I know it’s midmorning, so I didn’t expect to see many people out and about, but I didn’t see any. Do you think they all disappeared?” A suddenly indrawn breath, loud enough that he could hear it. “Shadowy monsters? Do they –?”

“Yes.” Shuuichi said, as gently as he could. “I haven’t seen it happen personally, but apparently the effect is nearly identical to the initial disappearances. Nothing remains.” He paused, then added, “I suspect you two are very lucky, to have made it home safely.”

A long pause. “… What are we going to do now?” she asked, almost inaudible. “What can anyone do?”

Shuuichi covered the microphone, looking towards Sumi-san. “Can we support two more?”

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if she said no. He would not stand idly by and watch the Takumas disappear. Not if preventing it was in his power.

Sumi-san said nothing for a long moment, meeting his gaze evenly.

“… Shuuichi-san?” Tsukiko said, audible despite his having pulled the receiver away from his ear.

Finally, Sumi-san sighed, shaking her head. “You expect I’d have the heart to say no?”

He smiled. Small, and thankful, and as real as most of his smiles ever got.

She smiled back. “Just don’t go expecting me to be the one to explain to your grandfather about our new guests.”

Shuuichi laughed. “Yes, Sumi-san.” He turned his attention back to the phone, uncovering the microphone. “Tsukiko-san, how would you and your father feel about moving?”

Shuuichi turned onto a familiar road and pulled out his cell phone, one eye to the number he dialed and one eye on the road. If he had been thinking ahead, he would have added it to his speed dial.

“Um.” Souji said hesitantly from the passenger seat. “Isn’t it illegal to use your cell phone while driving?”

I think if there are any cops left, they have bigger problems to worry about.

… And that was why he was completely unsuited to mentoring children. “Well, I’m the only one with a license, so … congratulations, you’ve got phone duty.” He tossed his cell over, Souji catching it without a fumble. “Put it on speakerphone, would you?”

Soujistared at the phone for a moment, then pressed a couple of buttons. “—uichi-kun?”

“Takuma-san. We just entered the neighborhood.” Shuuichi said, keeping an eye out for any suspicious-looking shadows. The street was quiet, all the cars still politely parked where their owners had left them. It had been several kilometers since the last time he and Souji had been forced to get out and move a car out of the way.

He didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried that he hadn’t seen any of the shadow creatures yet. While Takuma-san’s house was in a suburban area, his town wasn’t that small. Assuming the frequency of those creatures really was tied to population density. “Are you two about ready?”

“In terms of clothing and other necessities, yes,” his old mentor replied. “We’re still cleaning out the kitchen. Do you need any more dishes or cookware?”

Shuuichi pursed his lips. It’s always the thing you don’t think to ask. “I don’t believe we do,” he finally replied. “Let’s target getting everything else in first, and then wedge those around the edges if there’s still room.”

“Makes sense. Tsukiko?” A distant reply, too quiet and garbled to be able to tell much more than tone of voice. “Leave off the dishes for now, unless that’s all you have left.” A response. “Hm, good question. Shuuichi-san?”

“Yes?” He took another turn faster than he really should have, nudging the curb with his back tire.

“How well is the main compound set up in terms of exorcist supplies? All my old supplies are useless to me, of course, but …”

“The storehouses have barely been touched for decades,” Shuuichi said. “We should prioritize any books or scrolls you have, in case our storehouses don’t have any copies.”

“You think there is something about those … shadow things you mentioned, in there?”

“I certainly hope so,” Shuuichi said quietly. “Surely someone …” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Souji look towards him. He winced inwardly. He’d been trying to keep a confident face up in front of the kid. So much for that.

“I wonder,” Takuma-san said. When he spoke next, his voice was brighter. “Regardless. Necessities and books. We should have that much ready by the time you get here for sure. We can wait out front –”

“No!” Shuuichi’s hands clenched on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath. Calm. “Please stay inside until we get there. We don’t know whether those creatures can travel through walls, but especially with as many protections as your house has, it’s probably safer than otherwise.” Unless those creatures feed on protections like they did on my attack.

“We only just got back a few hours ago, and it was fine then,” Takuma-san pointed out. “You really think one of those things would have moved in between then and now?”

“It’s unlikely,” Shuuichi admitted. “But not impossible. I’d just be more comfortable if I could see it for myself, first.”

“Since I can’t, anymore,” Takuma-san said, quietly enough that Shuuichi suspected he hadn’t meant their side of the conversation to hear. “All right. We’ll be waiting in the front hall.”

“Thanks, Takuma-san.” Shuuichi turned another corner. “We should be there soon.”

Takuma-san hung up, and Souji flipped the phone closed. “Who is Takuma-san?” He asked.

“An old acquaintance,” Shuuichi said. “He … I suppose you could say he mentored me,” as much as I let anyone do so “when I was first starting out as an exorcist.”

“How old were you, when you started?” Souji asked eagerly.

It’s a lot easier to understand Takuma-san’s perspective now. Shuuichi thought wryly. None of these kids should be getting involved in this world, not any deeper than they have to.

“Second year of high school,” he said. “Younger than I really should have. I got lucky more often than I probably should have, and Takuma-san pulled me out of more than a few bad situations.” Matoba did a couple of times, too. But I never asked for his help.

“High school …” Souji said speculatively. He looked out the window. “Is there even going to be high school, anymore?”

“… We’ll work something out.”

“That means no, doesn’t it?” Souji asked, startling a laugh out of Shuuichi.

“It means I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I’d say if nothing else, there won’t be school for a little while yet. But once everything else is sorted out – once we have a better idea who survived, and how, and figure out how to destroy or at least ward off those creatures …” He shrugged. “It may not look like the school you’re used to, but we ought to be able to pull something together.”

“… I’d rather learn how to hunt those creatures than maths, anyway.”

Shuuichi smiled wryly. You and me both, kid. “Perhaps. But maths are important, too.” He spotted a familiar house up ahead. “Ah, here we are.”

He pulled just past the driveway, then backed in, turning to look. “How do things look on your side?”

Souji looked out the window. “Clear on the left, as far as I can see.” He hesitated. “If Takuma-san was your mentor … what did he mean, he couldn’t see? He’d have to be able to, wouldn’t he?”

“He used to be able to,” Shuuichi said. He hated explaining this, but he’d rather be the one to do so than force Takuma-san to. “About two years back, he suddenly stopped. It happens occasionally. No one really knows why, or why it affects only some exorcists.”

Souji was silent for a long moment. “I wonder,” he said, then stopped.

Shuuichi pulled to a stop, as far up the driveway as he could go while still leaving enough room to pop open the back gate. He looked out his window. Clear as well. He turned off the car, then turned to look at Souji, who was still staring forward, an unreadable look on his face. “You wonder?”

The boy blinked. Bit his lip, and looked down. “I wonder if my parents would still be alive, if they had lost the ability to see,” he muttered.

Shuuichi sighed. “It’s possible,” he said. “Or it’s possible you would still have lost them, in a different place, in a different way. Losing the ability to see is dangerous, more dangerous than not having been able to in the first place. At least if you can see, you can fight.”  

Souji shuddered. “I don’t know if I could stand it. Knowing that there were things out there that might be after me, but not being able to tell.”

“It’s why we try to keep people who can’t see from getting involved in our world,” Shuuichi said. “And it’s why we exorcists exist, to protect them.”

Though with the world like this, I don’t know how much longer our secrets will last – or whether they even should – or how much our supposed protection is actually going to be worth.

He shook his head, then placed a heavy hand on top of Souji’s head, pretending to ignore how the boy squirmed. “For the record, Tsukiko-san – that’s Takuma-san’s daughter – has never been able to see. So I’d not bring it up too much. It’s a bit of a sensitive subject.”

The boy nodded solemnly, and Shuuichi graced him with another smile. “Good. Now let’s go rescue some friends.”

About halfway to the front door, Shuuichi waved Souji onward. “You go ahead and start helping them carry their stuff out. Here’s the keys to open the trunk.” He tossed them.

Souji stopped walking. “Why, where are you going?”

“Just something I want to check out,” Shuuichi said easily. “I don’t think it’s one of those creatures, but I need to get a closer look to be sure.”

“I’ll come with you,” he immediately offered.

“No, you’ll do as you’re told,” Shuuichi said, then forced himself to continue more gently. “I’ll be fine. I’m not going to approach any closer than I have to. And even if it is something dangerous, I can take care of myself.”

Hiiragi swirled into existence at his shoulder. Souji flinched back. “I will ensure no harm befalls him.” She said.

“… Okay,” Souji said reluctantly. He started slowly walking towards the front door, turning back frequently as though hoping that Shuuichi had changed his mind.

Shuuichi strode across the grassy lawn towards the stand of trees that bordered the property. As he did, the roughly human-sized shadow he thought he’d seen stayed where it was, slowly resolving itself into a youkai, staring at the house.

A very familiar youkai.

He stopped about a meter away. “Benihimo.” One of Takuma-san’s former shiki, who Natsume had released from her bond. He still very much wanted to know why the process had seemed familiar to the boy. Though I suppose it may not matter, anymore.

She turned to look at him, long black hair stirring slightly at the movement, but did not speak.

“Why are you here?”

“Danger to Takuma.” She said.

“You were released from your bond. Why are you still here?”

She tilted her head. “I may no longer be his shiki, but Takuma is Takuma. I will not allow harm to come to him.” She almost seemed to inflate as they spoke.

Shuuichi kept his gaze level and his expression unimpressed. On his own he might have been a bit concerned, but with Hiiragi at his side and Sasago and Urihime in reserve? “I’m not here to harm Takuma-san. I’m here to help. To take him somewhere he will be safe.” As safe as anyone is.

He studied Benihimo. “Have you been here all along? I thought you were planning to leave, once your bond was released.”

“Being around Takuma is sad, because he can no longer see,” she said, looking down. “But a great danger approaches, and I will not allow him to come to harm.”

“What do you know about this danger?” Shuuichi asked.   Hiiragi also mentioned feeling that something terrible was coming. What is it that youkai are feeling, that we humans cannot? Are they connected to this new menace?

“It is a terrible danger,” she said. “It eats and eats and is never satisfied.”

Right. It would have been nice if Takuma-san had bonded slightly more intelligent shiki. “Do you know how to stop it?”

She shook her head rapidly. “You cannot stop it. It just keeps eating and eating –”

“Right, it eats.” He resisted the urge to rub at his forehead. “Well, Takuma-san and Tsukiko-san are coming with me. I swear I will do everything in my power to keep them safe.”

“I will come with you,” she said. “I want to protect Takuma.”

He hesitated. If she was still his shiki, it would be fine, but … after the trouble they caused, can I trust her not to do something like that again? He glanced towards the house in time to see Souji leave, dragging a rolling suitcase. But telling her ‘no’ at the moment will probably just delay me further. “I’ll consider it.”

He turned and walked away, Hiiragi falling into step beside him. “You might as well let her come with you,” she said quietly, once they were out of earshot. “I suspect she’ll just follow if you don’t.”

Shuuichi grimaced. “You’re probably right.”

At the door, he narrowly avoided running into Takuma-san. He had to stop for a moment, drinking in the sight. “It’s good to see you.”

The other man smiled thinly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I could wish the circumstances were better.”

“On that, we agree.” He looked at the jumbled bundles – one suitcase left, most of the rest stuffed in bags or wrapped in what looked like spare bedsheets. “Is this the rest?”

“There’s a few things left in the storeroom that I’d like your opinion on,” Takuma-san said. He grimaced slightly. “And a few that you will need to deal with on your own, I’m afraid, if my memory holds true.”

Shuuichi raised an eyebrow.

Once they reached the storeroom, it was clear what the man had meant. Shuuichi rushed over to the only corner of the room that didn’t show signs of having been ripped through. “Binding restraints ... and what else do we have here?” He picked up several charms, their designs unfamiliar.

“Would that I could tell you.” Takuma-san’s voice held a familiar note of frustration and sorrow, and Shuuichi looked at the stack with new eyes. He knew that the restraints were invisible to normal human eyes. Did that mean the charms also were …?  

“I can point you towards the sources I used,” Takuma-san added abruptly. “See how much I can remember offhand; some of them were of my own design. Some of them are Takuma family secrets, but … I don’t suppose it much matters, anymore. Wouldn’t have, even if all this hadn’t happened.”

Shuuichi nodded, putting the charms back down carefully, before turning more fully towards Takuma. The older man laughed. “Oh, stop looking so gloomy, Shuuichi-san. I should have passed them on to you a long time ago, honestly. But it was … easier to forget. Do you think they’ll be helpful?”

Shuuichi shook his head. “No one really knows anything, at this point. Direct attacks don’t work – at least, it ate my paper dolls – but maybe something less direct will.”

“Dare I ask why you were close enough to one to know this?” Takuma-san asked dryly.

Shuuichi treated him with one of brightest smiles. “A suspicious, shadowy creature appearing shortly after my entire film crew disappeared? What else was I to do?”

Takuma-san looked at him closely. “You were the only one left? Shuuichi-kun, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said breezily. “It was a new project, I didn’t know any of them all that well.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they disappeared before your eyes,” he said sternly.

It might have been easier if they had. Maybe if I had been able to watch one of them disappear, I could have learned something, even if I couldn’t do anything to prevent it. “I’m fine.” He smiled again, edged. “Once we know how to affect those things, they won’t know what hit them.” He looked around the room for something to carry the charms in; finally found what looked like an ordinary canvas grocery bag. He raised it, eyeing Takuma-san.

The man smiled. “For smaller jobs, a grocery bag is a great deal less conspicuous than a duffle bag. And if I end up with some spare room left over, I can always go grocery shopping on the way home.” He paused. “Could,” he corrected softly.

Shuuichi turned away, stacking the charms in the bag as hastily as he could and still keep them more or less in order.

He could hear Takuma-san sigh behind him. “Just … don’t do anything too reckless, all right? I won’t be there to pull you out of trouble anymore.”

“… I have been doing this on my own for quite a while now,” Shuuichi pointed out.

“And still biting off more than you can chew more often than not, I’d wager.”

… I suppose I can’t honestly argue that point. “Hiiragi’s pretty good at keeping me honest.”

“Hiiragi? Oh, your new shiki. I think you mentioned her last time.” Takuma-san sounded wistful. “I wish I could have met her.”

I suspect you two would have gotten along far too well for my own peace of mind. “So do I.”

The last of the charms safely stowed away, Shuuichi slung the bag over his shoulder and turned in place. “Anything else you wanted from here?”

Takuma-san glanced around the room, eyes weighted with memories, then shook his head. “Not unless you can see anything else you want.”

Shuuichi looked around as well, shook his head. There were things here that would be useful in a pinch, but nothing that the storehouses back home didn’t also have. And he suspected they were already nearing his father’s car’s capacity. Particularly since all four seats would be filled on the way back. “We can always return if we need anything else.”

He stepped back out of the room, watching silently as Takuma-san slid the door shut and stood in front of it for a moment, head bowed. Then he turned and walked away, and Shuuichi rushed to catch up. “That boy who was with you the last time you visited,” Takuma-san said as Shuuichi drew even with him. “Natsume, was it? How is he?”

Shuuichi was aware even as he faltered, scrambling to come up with something pleasant and optimistic, that his silence spoke for itself.

“I’m sorry,” Takuma-san said quietly. “He seemed like a good kid.”

“It’s not certain,” Shuuichi said, hating the way it sounded like an excuse. “According to one of his classmates, they lost track of him shortly before people started disappearing. And he does have something of a habit of running straight into messes.”

“Not unlike certain other people I could name,” Takuma-san said dryly.

“Haha.” Shuuichi shrugged, deliberately casually. “He’s good at getting himself out of messes, too, so … maybe he’ll pop back up."

Takuma-san's hand landed on his shoulder. "It's all right to be worried about your friend."

Shuuichi shrugged his hand off as he leaned down to pick up a couple of bundles at the front door – only a few remained; it looked like Souji and Tsukiko-san had kept themselves busy.

Takuma-san chuckled quietly behind him and picked up the remainder.

Shuuichi almost ran into Tsukiko-san as he left the house. She looked past him to her father. “That’s everything?”

Takuma-san nodded, then turned back towards the house, looking upwards, face carefully blank. Tsukiko-san stepped around Shuuichi and leaned into her father’s arm, looking up as well. He glanced down at her, then wrapped her in a half-hug. “It’s been a good home, hasn’t it?” He said quietly. Shuuichi looked away, feeling like an interloper.

“Yes.” She said quietly. “It really has.”

Souji lingered by the car, talking to a tallish woman with graying, curly hair. His eyes narrowed. Ginro?

They both looked up as he reached the car. “Shuuichi-san, she wants to come with us,” Souji said, looking reluctant. “But isn’t Takuma-san …?”

“Ginro chose not to be released from the shiki bond.” Shuuichi said. He looked at her. “I have no objections, but I don’t believe that there will be room for you in the car, unless you can go into stasis still. Can you follow later?”

She shook her head. “I stopped being able to when Takuma lost his power, as it drew on both his power and my own.” She looked towards the car. “I can hold the handles on top.”

Shuuichi looked up and blinked. He’d forgotten that his father had installed a roof rack on this car. He’d certainly never seen him use it for anything. “I suppose that will work, if you can hold on.”

Ginro shrugged. “Even if I fall off halfway there, it will get me closer than I would be otherwise.”

Shuuichi eyed her. “Benihimo seemed very twitchy about this new danger. Why aren’t you as affected?”

Ginro just looked at him. “I will die before I let one of those creatures touch Takuma.”

Ginro is one thing, but how did I let myself get talked into bringing Benihimo along too?

Shuuichi cast one eye upwards, even as he kept most of his attention focused on the road. He suspected that if Hiiragi had been out, she'd have been laughing at him.

"The streets are surprisingly clear," Takuma-san observed from the passenger seat behind him. “—Wait, you can’t turn that direction, it’s one way.”

“If anyone appears to protest my breaking the law, I'll invite them to join us,” Shuuichi said dryly.

“We’re retracing the route we took to get here,” Soujisaid from where he sat next to Takuma-san. “Shuuichi-san said that that would save time since we wouldn’t have to stop and move cars out of the way again.”  

“… So you’re going to be driving on the right side of the road all the way back?” Takuma-san sounded vaguely appalled.

“Just pretend we’re in America,” Shuuichi said flippantly.

Takuma-san chuckled and didn’t protest further, but when he glanced to the left, Tsukiko-san looked worried. After a moment, she said, “… Do you think that America was affected, too?”

“No way,” Souji immediately protested. “There’s no way it can be that wide-spread. Right?”

Shuuichi was glad that watching the road gave him a good excuse not to turn and look. “We don’t know,” he finally said, when Takuma-san’s conspicuous silence proved that he was not planning on rescuing Shuuichi. “But given how deeply impacted everywhere I’ve seen has been so far, there’s no way the rest of Japan – or if all of Japan is affected, the rest of the world – would have failed to notice. It may have only been a day, but I think we’d have seen something by now if anything was coming.”

“… And if no one’s coming, it’s probably because they have their own problems to deal with?” Takuma-san said. “I’m not sure I like the way you think, Shuuichi-kun.”

He just shrugged. I don’t particularly like it either.

Takuma-san sighed. “But you’re probably –”

“What’s that?” Souji asked, leaning forward and pointing through the gap in the front seats and upward.

Shuuichi looked up at the approaching pedestrian overpass and swore.

Haze covered the entire span of the bridge.

What is one doing up there?!

He slammed the accelerator. Ground looks clean, Tanuma-kun said they don’t like changes in elevation, too close to come to a full stop before we get there –

“What’s going on?” Takuma-san, sounding a bit concerned.

“Is that –?” Souji, a great deal more worried.

“Yes.”

They shot under the bridge as solid shadow hung over the edge and dropped. Souji shouted, he flinched and swerved – too late – and reflexively turned the windshield wipers on full blast.

At first, the wipers simply seemed to spread the shadow around and he cursed a steady stream under his breath – words he hadn’t used since that one time he played a foul-mouthed detective with a heart of gold, and he hadn’t thought about that particular contract in ages –

“Can it eat through the windshield?” Souji asked.

“Can what eat through –?”

“I don’t know,” Shuuichi cut Takuma-san off. “But I think if it could, it would have by now.”

Part of the shadow coalesced, right in front of Shuuichi’s eyes. The next swipe of the wiper blades seemed to scoop under it, flinging it off the windshield.

After two or three more rounds of that, the windshield finally looked clean. He hazarded a glance backwards. Rear windshield also looked clean, and if anything had followed, he couldn’t see it.

He allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.

“Would you mind explaining –”

A thump on the roof. Shuuichi froze.

Ginro and Benihimo.

“What was that?”

“Shuuichi-san ...”

“I’m stopping the car.” Shuuichi said abruptly. Hopefully it's safe. And hopefully we're not too late.

Takuma-san was no Isuzu-san, to go mad with grief and lust for vengeance. But regardless of the fact that he could no longer see them, he would not be pleased if serious harm had come to his former shiki. Nor would it sit well with Shuuichi, to have allowed them to come to harm when under his protection.

He forced himself to slow to a stop instead of just slamming the brakes. As soon as it stopped, he threw the car into park and rushed out, almost forgetting to undo his seatbelt. He remained only half-aware of Souji following him out, or the argument as he tried to convince the Takumas to stay inside.

One of Ginro’s arms and about half of Benihimo’s hair wrapped around various parts of the roof rack. Benihimo crouched, half-covering Ginro, who lay mostly supine.

“Let go.” Ginro insisted, with a fury he could only remember seeing in her that time she had tried to warn Natsume and himself away. She let go of the roof rack and pulled backwards, bringing her other arm into view. The wealth of Benihimo's hair wrapped around it had turned her forearm almost completely black.

“Hiiragi.” Shuuichi said quietly.

It wasn’t just Benihimo's hair.

Takuma's two shiki turned to look as Hiiragi touched down at Shuuichi's side.

“Cut this fool’s hair before she –”

“Please, Ginro’s arm –”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?! You need to protect –”

“You protect Takuma better than me. And it's too late.” Benihimo reached up a spindly arm, running her fingers through the stretch of hair wrapping Ginro’s arm. Shuuichi couldn’t see any trace of shadow on her hair, but even with that momentary contact, when she pulled her hand away, her fingers had leached black.

She turned her attention back to Ginro, holding her hand up between them, black now almost to her palm. “It’s … cold.”

Shuuichi closed his eyes. “Hiiragi –”

“Yes.” She disappeared from his side with a quiet whoosh of displaced air.

By the time Shuuichi reopened his eyes, it was done. Ginro clutched what was left of her arm – Hiiragi had cut it off just above the elbow – and Hiiragi knelt at her side, sword still drawn, her attention focused on Benihimo.

Ginro’s arm bounced backwards, striking the windshield once, but disintegrating before it could hit the hood of the car.

“Sasago.” His original shiki swirled into existence, taking in the situation with a single glance – or some related sense, if her blindfold truly was to cover blind eyes; he’d never asked. She hopped onto the roof of the car as well, gently pulling Ginro away and beginning to bind her arm, though for such a severe wound there was surprisingly little blood. Meanwhile, Hiiragi remained focused on Benihimo, who still held out her stained hand, the black slowly creeping past her wrist.

“There is still time,” Hiiragi said, frustration clear in her voice. “If I cut away your hair and your hand, the rest of you will be fine. But it must be now, before the taint reaches your head.”

Benihimo shook her head rapidly. “Not my hair! It is my only weapon. And I can't show my face to Takuma without –”

Oh for crying out loud. “Your hair will grow out,” Shuuichi said sharply. “And even if Takuma-san could see you in the first place, I’m sure he would far rather see you alive and bald than dead.”

“Of course I would!” Takuma-san forced his way out of the car, staring wildly across the top. “Where is – oh, never mind. Benihimo, after coming all this way to protect me, don’t you dare go dying on me now!”

The long-haired youkai bowed her head. “… Do it.”

Hiiragi’s sword flashed so quickly Shuuichi’s eyes could barely follow, and so close to Benihimo’s head that he flinched sympathetically, though the other youkai never moved an inch. At the end of it, she was not quite bald, but the hair on that side of her head was certainly very short. She seemed to curl into herself more without her hair to hide behind, but still had the presence of mind to run her other hand through what hair she had left.

Shuuichi breathed a sigh of relief as that hand came away clean, and Benihimo held her tainted arm out towards Hiiragi. “Please.”

Ginro, sufficiently bandaged for the time being, settled at Benihimo’s side. “It appears we shall be a matched set.”

It figures that youkai would have a dark sense of humor.

Benihimo smiled weakly back at her, then winced as Hiiragi sliced efficiently through her arm. She aimed the cut upwards and outwards, sending the detached limb with its dangerous payload bouncing away on a similar trajectory to its predecessor.

Shuuichi resisted the urge to rush over and tryto get a closer look. Hiiragi would not be amused. Not, it appeared, that there would have been much to see: Benihimo’s arm disappeared almost as quickly as Ginro’s had.

I wonder why? Certainly, youkai often dissipate when they die, and I suppose it would make sense for the same to hold true for detached limbs, but it's usually not anywhere near that fast. Some sort of adverse interaction with the shadowy creature?

But for something that apparently consumes humans near-instantly, why was it acting so slowly? Was it just the comparatively small amount? Or the fact that it was just the shadowy part, not the haze that hangs above it? If only we knew more –

He forced himself to put those thoughts away. Some knowledge wasn't worth the cost. 

Takuma-san met his eyes over the roof of the car and inclined his head away from the car. Shuuichi nodded, cast another quick look over the proceedings – Sasago and Hiiragi appeared to have Ginro and Benihimo well in hand, and Souji appeared to have given up on Takuma-san in favor of explaining recent events to Tsukiko-san – and moved to join him.

They stopped well just out of earshot, though still with a clear line of sight.  Shuuichi turned to face Takuma-san, and he just looked at Shuuichi for several seconds.

“… How are they?” He finally asked.

“Ginro lost her right arm just above the elbow. Benihimo lost her left just below it, and most of her hair.”

“And Jinbe?”

It took Shuuichi a moment to place the name. Takuma-san’s third shiki. “She didn’t come.”

Takuma-san looked back down the road. “I hope, wherever she is, that she’s safe.”

If not, there’s not much any of us can do for her. And after the trouble she’d caused, Shuuichi had to admit he wasn’t entirely sorry that she had not appeared to demand her inclusion as well. At least Benihimo hadn’t appeared to be actively involved in attempting to call disaster down on the house, that time.

“Why didn’t you tell me before we left?” Takuma-san asked.

“… You seemed like you were dealing with enough already.”

He sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It never even occurred to me to ask if Ginro –” He shook his head. “It sounds like it happened when we passed under the pedestrian bridge? Your young friend was … less than entirely coherent in his explanations.”

Shuuichi nodded. “You didn’t see anything?” Takuma shook his head. “… So they really are only visible to those with the power to see.” More proof that the things that Natsume’s friends had run into and the things they were dealing with now were one and the same. That was … he hesitated to call it ‘good’.

Information. It was information. He’d leave it at that.

He caught up with the rest of the statement and chuckled. “Yes, Souji-kun can get a bit … enthusiastic at times, from what I’ve seen. … He’s a bit too much like me for my own comfort at times, though.”

“Ah, well. He’ll figure things out eventually,” Takuma-san said. “No one really enjoys being that age, even if they can’t see. The stories I could tell about Tsukiko …”

“Are there any that it’s actually safe for me to hear?” Shuuichi asked dryly, and smiled when Takuma-san laughed. He sobered quickly. “I apologize for allowing such a terrible thing to –”

“You couldn’t have known,” Takuma-san said.

“I could have guessed. I’d heard they don’t like elevation changes, but I shouldn’t have just assumed that that meant they couldn’t split off like that. And I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that they were still on the roof –”

Takuma-san held up a hand. “It was a mistake. I wish you had mentioned it; both Tsukiko and I would have been happy to help figure out a way to fit them inside the car as well. But that is water under the bridge now, and I suspect that it’s only thanks to your quick thinking that either of them is still alive and well.”

Shuuichi shook his head, looking back towards the car, where his shiki still kept Takuma-san’s shiki company on the roof, patching up their wounds. Benihimo’s remaining hair flared counter to the breeze, the longer parts looking like they were trying to shift to cover the shorter areas. “I just stood there, really. Hiiragi and Sasago did everything.”

“That’s what shiki are there for, sometimes. To do those things that you can’t.” Takuma-san said, following Shuuichi’s gaze with a nostalgic, yet lonely expression. The sort of expression that Shuuichi had foolishly avoided bringing up his shiki initially in an effort to prevent.

After a moment more, he shook his head. “In any case. I assume you will have no problem with letting Benihimo and Ginro sit in the car for the rest of the trip?”

“Of course,” Shuuichi said. “If I had thought there was real danger before –”

Takuma-san held up a hand. “I know. And we know better now.” He paused. “Although … is there much blood?”

“Initially quite a bit, but I do believe their wounds are both well bound now. I don’t expect they will drip on you too much, if that’s what had you concerned.”

“… I’ll pay for cleaning the – hm.” Takuma-san paused, an arrested, then sad look on his face. “I suppose it’s unlikely there will be any services to pay, anymore.”

“Probably not,” Shuuichi agreed, then shrugged. “On the bright side, it’s youkai blood, and neither my father nor my grandfather can see. We could just leave it there.”

Takuma-san looked vaguely appalled. “You can’t just –”

“Ahahaha. I’m joking, Takuma-san. I’ll get it taken care of somehow.”

“… Well, if nothing else, I see your sense of humor certainly hasn’t changed.”

Shuuichi’s cell phone rang. With a mental curse and more swerving within his lane than was really preferable – yet another benefit to there being no one else on the road – he dug it out of his pocket and tossed it at Tsukiko-san, sitting in the passenger’s seat. “Answer that, please?”

She fumbled the catch, then nodded. “Hello? Yes, this is Takuma Tsukiko. Yes, we’re on our way back, there was just … a bit of a delay. Okay. Okay. Let me see.” She pulled the phone away from her head. “Sekihara-san said to tell you that you should come around to the back entrance. Apparently one of those creatures is blocking the front. He wanted to know if you had any advice?”

It took a great deal of self-control not to slam the brakes. “Are the wards holding?” He could just imagine what a disaster it would be if they had to evacuate. They only had the one car, and it couldn’t even hold everyone, much less all the supplies they’d need to bring with them.

Tsukiko repeated the question, and Shuuichi resisted the urge to tell her to put it on speakerphone. “He says that as far as he can tell, the wards are still at full strength, and seem to be holding the creature at bay.”

Shuuichi breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Well, that’s something. Tell him to just stay back for now. If it sticks around we’ll have to see if we can figure out how to do something about it, but I would suggest that any attempted interactions with those creatures only take place when there’s sufficient backup nearby.”

“He says that makes sense. How far out are we?”

“A little less than thirty minutes, I believe.”

The final leg of the journey passed mostly quietly. Both Tsukiko and Souji made occasional attempts at conversation, but they were all too tense to give the conversation the attention it deserved. Even Shuuichi, usually the first to engage in small talk, found himself refraining. He couldn’t do that while concentrating on the road (and especially on any other bridges, though thankfully there were relatively few and none of the rest showed any signs of being inhabited).

“I hadn’t realized your home had a back entrance.” Takuma-san remarked mildly, as they drove up to the thankfully-clear gate.

“We don’t advertise it. Souji-kun, if you would?”

“Sure!” The boy scrambled out of the car and over to the gate, looking extremely happy at getting the chance to get away from the back seat, now rather over-crowded with the addition of Ginro and Benihimo. Particularly since unlike Takuma-san, who probably simply felt mildly claustrophobic, he had been able to both see and feel them for the rest of the ride back.

He normally paid little or no attention to the wards, but today, Shuuichi was hypersensitive to their presence, only properly relaxing once the entire car had passed through the gate and into their compound. He idled briefly to pick Souji back up, then headed inward. Their compound might not be on par with the Matoba family’s main compound, but it still covered a lot of space, and had not a few detached buildings scattered both near the main building, and out in the forested area they now drove through, which covered much of the back of the compound.

“I asked that Sumi-san prepare rooms for you in the main house,” he said as they drove by one of the detached buildings. “I’d prefer everyone stay close for now. But you two are welcome to claim any other rooms, or one of these buildings, if it suits you better. Please feel free to treat this as your home.”

In the rear view mirror, Takuma-san shook his head slightly. “The main house would be good, for now. I think we would all be more reassured, to be able to check on everyone else’s status quickly.” He hesitated. “If I haven’t said so before, I thank you for your hospitality.”

Shuuichi shook his head. “It’s nothing.” I’m just so glad you two are okay.

He finally pulled to a stop in front of the garage. "Souji-kun, could you help get the Takumas settled? I need to go get a status report from Sekihara-san."

"But I want to –"

"Your guidance is greatly appreciated." Takuma-san said. Shuuichi shot him a grateful look, and received an amused one in response. "I have only been here a couple of times, some years ago, but never much past the front entrance."

"Oh. Um."

Shuuichi slipped away before Souji could recover enough to try again. He'd be in safe hands with the Takumas. "Sasago, Urihime." They appeared. "Would you work with Ginro and Benihimo to get them settled as well? I don't know what will suit them best, particularly while they're still recovering. Ask Souji-kun to act as an intermediary if you need one." He was once again struck with uncertainty -- was this really the right course of action, to take in two unbound youkai?

But neither Takuma nor (he had to reluctantly admit) his own conscience would allow him to do anything else.

Urihime nodded and Sasago said, "Of course, Master."

"Hiiragi," she called. His third shiki touched down at Sasago's side, brushing down her still-bloodstained clothes. (Would machine washing work on youkai clothing? Would they be willing to do it if it did? ... Would the electricity and running water last long enough for it to matter?)

"Watch over Master," she said.

Hiiragi bowed her head. "Of course." Sasago and Urihime headed back towards the car, and Shuuichi turned started walking again, Hiiragi easily maintaining the pace.

"I can look after myself, you know."

"Because your first encounter with one of those creatures went so well."

"I do learn from my mistakes."

Shuuichi suspected Hiiragi’s silence had been intended to be pointed, but they both lost interest as they rounded a corner that gave them line of sight to the front gate.

Unlike the pedestrian entrance, which was properly sized and more or less traditional, some ancestor of Shuuichi’s had decided that for the main driveway, the gate should be some enormous wrought-iron monstrosity that looked like it had come straight from a Gothic novel. (For all he knew, it had – some of the materials he had read hinted strongly that the Natori family had been among the first of the major exorcist families to start offering their services to certain receptive foreigners during the Meiji era.)

He’d always been a bit surprised that no one had replaced it, given his family’s fear of youkai. The gap between the bars was easily broad enough to let any number of suspicious creatures in. They couldn't actually get in, of course – even before Shuuichi had strengthened them, the wards had been more than strong enough to keep out the small fry.

But whether through tradition or simple apathy, the gate had stayed. And he had to admit, as he stopped beside Sekihara-san, that in this particular instance, it came in handy. It meant they could look outside with ease, without having to open the gate or climb the walls. (Not that Shuuichi hadn’t done the latter any number of times as a child. The gate was heavy and it squeaked.)

“It looks a great deal larger than the first one we encountered,” Hiiragi observed. She hopped to the top of the wall.

“Don’t cross the wards.” Shuuichi called.

She turned to look back at him just long enough that he suspected she was rolling her eyes behind her mask, then peered downwards. “It’s mostly concentrated in front of the gate.”

“Interesting. Does that mean it has some way of sensing entrances?”

“It may just be that the wards are stronger here,” Sekihara-san said.

Shuuichi nodded to acknowledge the point. “And you’ve seen no degradation?” The wards still looked strong to him, but by this point, Sekihara-san was probably far more familiar with them.

The older man shook his head. “They still seem to be holding.”

Shuuichi crossed his arms. “Have you seen any change in the creature? It getting bigger, or the haze above it getting darker? Any suspicious movements?”

Sekihara-san shook his head. “It’s just been sitting there since … probably somewhere around lunchtime.”

Shuuichi’s stomach grumbled, reminding him that all he’d had for that meal was a couple of onigiri while he and Souji attempted to move yet another car out of their way. He pointedly ignored it and approached the gate, kneeling in front of it.

“Master …” Hiiragi’s voice sounded torn between warning and weary as she landed behind him.

He waved a hand. “We’ve seen proof that the consumption process isn’t instant. Huh, look at that, it really was teeth I saw before.” He resisted the urge to poke his hand through the bars – and the wards. Hiiragi might claim otherwise, but he did have some self-preservation instincts.

Plus, the creature apparently decided it would come to him.

He fell backwards and yelped as a tendril of shadow about the width of his thumb suddenly arced out of the main body straight for his head. And stopped, just outside the gate.

“Master!”

Shuuichi held up a hand as Hiiragi practically teleported to his side, looking like she was on the verge of repeating her grab-and-run of the previous day. “Well, now we know that wards work against attacks, as well,” he said, a bit giddy from the rush of adrenaline, and looked up at Sekihara-san. “Still no change to the barrier?”

“The barrier is fine.” Sekihara-san said, giving him a disapproving look. “Though I can’t say the same of my poor heart.”

“Haha, sorry.” Shuuichi levered himself to his feet, stood there for a few seconds to see if the creature’s attack would change in any way – it didn’t – and then took several careful steps backwards. “That’s … very good to know.” His thoughts returned briefly to Natsume’s friends and their classmates, and in particular that girl, Taki. Assuming this reaction isn’t just because of the strength of the ward, that Chrysanthemum Circle should have done some good after all.

He spared an additional moment to lament forgetting to acquire at least one phone number in return for giving them his. (If any of them even had cell phones? Many of his coworkers still didn't.  But he could have asked.)  It would be … good to be able to check up on them. Assuming any were left. Stop it.

“I should let Nanase-san know, in case they don’t already,” he said aloud.  “Alliance or no, every little bit of information may be critical.”

“Alliance?” Sekihara-san asked.  “Ah.  The power grab you mentioned last night?”

Shuuichi nodded.

The older man hesitated, then asked slowly, "And ... will we be throwing our lots in with the Matoba clan?"

Shuuichi gave in to temptation and sighed, eyeing the gate. He considered prevaricating – he’d told Nanase-san he needed to consult with his clan, after all. But then he thought of Isuzu-san, who’d probably try to kill Matoba again if she ever saw him again. Of Ginro and Benihimo, the latter no longer a shiki and the former one practically in name only, and how Takuma-san would likely react to any disparagement of them.

He thought about what Natsume would likely say to the sort of humans-and-shiki-only society that he suspected was Matoba’s goal, and had to swallow against the burning in his throat at the reminder that he'd probably never see his young friend again.

In the end, he had all sorts of excuses to do what he’d wanted to do from the start. He shook his head. “I really don’t think it would work out.”

Was that amusement in the older man’s gaze? If so, none of it touched his voice as he nodded and said, “No, I don’t suppose it would.”

Supper was plainer and smaller than what Shuuichi remembered as being typical in this house. (Although still of far better quality than he often ate coming off a particularly intense job of either sort.)

Sumi-san apologized repeatedly, but before Shuuichi had figured out how to appropriately phrase his response, his grandfather surprised him by waving it off. “Only so much you can do, times like these.”

She bowed her head, face stubbornly suggesting she did not agree, but unwilling to outright contradict the head of the house.

He gestured. “Now come. Sit.”

“I couldn’t –”

“This is not the time for that. I assume this will be a working dinner” Shuuichi blinked when he realized that his grandfather’s eyes were on him, but quickly nodded, “and your input will be useful.”

Sumi-san nodded stiffly, then disappeared briefly to acquire herself a place setting and a chair. Once she settled at the foot of the table, Shuuichi’s grandfather looked around at everyone there. “This keeps up, we’ll need a bigger table.” He said.

No one laughed outright, but Shuuichi wasn’t the only one who cracked a shadow of a smile.

He nodded to the Takumas. "I heard a bit about your journey here. My condolences for your loss." His mouth twisted at the words – a reassuring sign that his youkai-fearing grandfather had not somehow been replaced by something completely foreign – but the fact that he said them at all was astonishing.

Takuma-san bowed his head briefly back. "I appreciate your kind words. Thank you for being willing to take us in."

“Hmph. Least we could do.” His grandfather’s sharp gaze turned to Sekihara-san next. “What’s the front gate looking like?”

“The creature is still there, but the wards are still holding steady,” the older exorcist said calmly. “I agree with Shuuichi-san’s assessment that the wards are likely to continue to be effective against them.”

“And they don’t need to be taken down for repair, or anything, these wards?”

"Strengthening and minor repair can be done with the wards in place, and Shuuichi-san did a good job of shoring them up several years ago. Barring disaster striking, the wards shouldn’t need major enough maintenance to warrant removing them entirely for decades.”

His grandfather grunted again. “Let’s hope we’ve filled our allotment of disaster for the time being.”

Two mentions of him in less than a minute, and neither his grandfather nor his father had given him more than a sideways glance. Shuuichi eyed Sekihara-san thoughtfully. He wondered what the other exorcist had been up to in his absence. He wasn’t sure that even a disaster of this magnitude would have been enough to convince his family to treat him with this level of benign disdain without external interference.

And neither of them has even hinted at the idea that I might be the cause. Perhaps they finally found a disaster of sufficient magnitude that even they couldn’t buy that argument.

“Shuuichi.”

He blinked. “Yes, Father?”

“That … rescue thing you did today. Can you do it again?” He drew a folded piece of paper out of his kimono and held it out. Curious, Shuuichi put down his chopsticks and reached across the table to take it. Unfolded, it turned out to be a list of five names, annotated with single-digit numbers – headcounts? – and addresses.

He looked up. A couple of the names were very vaguely familiar, from bits and pieces of half-heard conversations growing up. “Your associates? These are all that’s …”

His father looked away, lips pursed.

Shuuichi refolded the paper and tucked it into his breast pocket. “I’ll see what I can do.” He needed to double-check several of the locations against a map. He wasn’t as familiar with this town as he had once been. He probably needed to figure out where the nearest self-service gas station was, too. “Are you sure we can support …?” He looked from his father to his grandfather.

His grandfather frowned. “From everything Sekihara-san has said, they’re sitting ducks out there. I won’t stand for that. And the more of us are in one place, the more of a chance we have to figure out how to defeat those things.”

Shuuichi doubted that a bunch of people who’d never heard of youkai before would have anything useful to add to that conversation. But he agreed with his grandfather otherwise, and saw no point in starting a fight. He nodded. “I’ll get started in the morning. Sumi-san, is there anything you’ll need?”

The housekeeper pursed her lips. “How many?”

Shuuichi passed the note to her. “Fifteen, if they’re all still alive.”

“My. We shall have to start cleaning out some of the empty buildings.” She sounded oddly pleased by the idea. “Souji-kun, you’ll help me out, won’t you dear?”

The kid looked like he really wanted an excuse to say no, but didn’t quite have the heart to find one. “Um. Sure?”

Amused, Shuuichi said, “I hope you don’t mind if I still have you help me out with the other pick-ups.”

“Not at all!” Souji said immediately, looking happier.

“We’ll help with the cleaning too, won’t we, Father?” Tsukiko-san said brightly.

Takuma-san smiled down at his daughter. “Of course.”

Sumi-san nodded sharply. “In that case, our main concern will be food. Perhaps another grocery run, as part of one of your trips? I can give you a list.”

Shuuichi smiled his most glittering smile. "Only the best for you."

There were benefits to sitting out of range of a slap to the arm. Particularly when he still had a great view of her fondly exasperated expression.

He let his smile fall away as he turned back to face his grandfather. "So you intend to transform this place into a sanctuary?"

"I do." His grandfather looked down his nose. Shuuichi knew he was several centimeters taller than his grandfather, but he never felt like it. "Is there a problem with that?" Especially not when he was making him feel like he was still the same sulky teenager he thought he had left behind for good.

I thought I'd left this place behind for good, too. He met his grandfather's stare calmly. You're an adult. Now act like it. "No, for once we are in complete agreement."

His grandfather had the gall to look almost surprised for a moment before he nodded grimly. "Good."

After dinner, Shuuichi followed the Takumas back to their rooms to make sure they were settled properly, ran into Sumi-san on the way back and ended up discussing her grocery list in detail – since he was driving anyway, she had some strong suggestions about where he should get certain items – checked up on how Benihimo and Ginro were settling, and caught Souji on his way out the front door. 

“No,” Shuuichi said, staring down at the boy.  “Not at night, and certainly not alone.”

Souji glared at him.  “But I need to see it, too. I need to know what we’re fighting!”

Shuuichi wished he could say that Souji wouldn’t have to fight. But he tried not to promise things he couldn’t deliver. “Not at night,” he repeated. “If it’s still there tomorrow morning, we can take another look. All right?”

Souji deflated. “I guess.” Though the way he kept sneaking glances at the door left Shuuichi unconvinced.

In the hopes of distracting him, Shuuichi asked, “Have you called your friends already? We could add them to the list of people to pick up.”

Souji looked away, shoulders slumped. “I don’t really … have many friends. I’m just too …”

Right. Shuuichi liked to forget just how little he’d enjoyed middle school. “Well, if you think of anyone, just let me or Sekihara-san know.” He smiled grimly. “At least you wouldn’t have to hide your abilities anymore.”

Souji shook his head. “Most of my classmates are … fine. But I don’t know anyone's phone number.”

“Do you have a school directory?” Shuuichi experienced a moment of doubt. "Or do they not do that anymore? Sumi-san probably knows where a phone book is, if you know anyone’s parents’ names.”

Souji nodded slowly, looking like he was thinking hard. “I – maybe I’ll do that. Thanks.” He looked away again, fidgeting, then looked back up through his bangs. “Um. What about your other friends, Shuuichi-san? You’re an actor, right? You must have a lot of friends from all the shows you’ve done.”

He blinked. After his current crew disappeared on him, it honestly hadn’t occurred to him to look up any of his other former contacts. He supposed somewhere inside, he’d just assumed they’d all gone the same way as his current crew. Particularly since he’d stayed in intermittent contact with only few of them, even fewer of whom were local to the area. “I don’t have very many close friends, either. But you’re right.”

He’d have to look through his contact list, and his old address book. He didn’t expect much, but better to try and fail and know than to lose someone who he potentially could have helped save.

Then there were Natsume’s friends and classmates. He’d invite them if he was given another chance. (Why had he not thought …?)

The Fujiwaras. He flinched inwardly at the thought, because even more than his friends, Natsume’s family was inextricably linked to him in his mind. He’d want me to help them, if I could. I want to help them, if I can.

“Shuuichi-san?”

He smiled reassuringly down at his young ward. “It’s nothing, I was just thinking of another friend of mine. I wish you could have met him.” Maybe Natsume would have had some advice for Souji. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I have a few phone calls to make.”

Souji smiled tentatively back. “I guess I have some things to look up, too.” He sketched a quick bow and scampered down the hall.

Shuuichi watched him disappear, then sighed. If I’m going to do this, I might as well do it right. “These creatures. They’re as much of a threat to youkai as to humans?”

Hiiragi faded away from the wall to join him as he turned down the other corridor. “It’s difficult to tell relative degrees without testing the hypothesis – and no, Master, that’s not a suggestion.” Shuuichi smiled faintly. “But they certainly are a threat.”

He nodded, and resisted the urge to sigh again. “At some point in the near future, can you work out with Sasago and Urihime how best to let the youkai in the area know that they’re welcome here, too?” He held up a finger. “Within limits. There will be zero tolerance for mischief or malice against the humans here, and we won’t be weakening the wards, so anyone who can’t make it through is, unfortunately, on their own.”

Hiiragi was silent for a long moment, and Shuuichi shrugged uncomfortably. “What. If we’re providing sanctuary for one, we might as well do so for the other. And until we have a better understanding of what those things are, any insights would be welcome.”

“What about the others?” She asked, voice neutral.

Right. I’m not on my own anymore. He rubbed his forehead. “I guess I should discuss it with Sekihara-san, at least. All right, hold that thought. I would still like you to discuss it with Sasago and Urihime if the three of you can find some time, but don’t take any action yet.”

“Yes, Master.”

His room felt like far more of a sanctuary than it had the previous night. It was still the same ill-fitting shrine to his high school self as before – though it appeared that someone had tidied up the scrolls on his desk, maybe Hiiragi? – but at least it was empty of other people, and his.

He flopped crossways on his bed, staring dully up at the largest of the posters above his desk. He doubted he’d even remember the man’s name if not for the fact that it was emblazoned across the width of the poster. I ought to redecorate.

I also ought to stop procrastinating.

I really should have made this call last night. But how do you tell a parent that their child has – At least now I’ll have something to offer, even if it’s incredibly paltry in comparison.  

He forced himself to move over to the desk chair so that he could charge his phone as he called. The battery was usually good for a little less than a week, and for all he knew, the cell towers wouldn’t last that long, much less their normal electricity. But better to charge now than to regret it later.

The phone rang, and kept ringing.

He glanced at the clock. Well past dinner time, but not late, yet. He’d stayed up past this time working on homework regularly, when he’d been in high school, even on days when he hadn't spent (he refused to call it “wasted”) his afternoon haunting the storehouses.

Answering machine.

Almost angrily, he flipped the phone shut, back open, dialed again.

Ringing.

Touko-san had been fine. She’d known to be cautious, even if she hadn’t known exactly what to be cautious of. He didn’t know about Shigeru-san – wracking his brain, he wasn’t even sure he’d ever met the man before – but Touko-san at least should be fine.

Answering machine.

Try again.

Ringing.

Natsume may have known nothing of wards, but his bodyguard suffered no such deficiency. The last time he’d visited they’d been full of small holes that tiny (or particularly determined) youkai could wedge their way through, but strong, for all their leakiness. If those creatures couldn’t get through the Natori wards, they shouldn’t be able to get through the pig-cat’s wards on the Fujiwaras’ house, either.

Answering machine.

“This is Natori Shuuichi.” He said quietly, the words tasting like defeat. “If you get this message, please call me back.” He gave first his cell phone number, then the land line, then clicked his phone shut one final time.

“Urihime!” No response. He resisted the urge to shake his head at himself. Right, she’s still helping Benihimo and Ginro.

He wavered, almost physically repelled by the idea of leaving his room again that evening. But what if it couldn’t wait until the next morning?

(Even if the most likely possibility of all was that it would be too late then, that it was already too late now, that there was nothing he could have done.)

He navigated through the halls almost without seeing them; barged into the room that Benihimo and Ginro were staying in until they had recovered enough to find a more permanent residence – Benihimo most likely in the forest; Ginro he wasn’t entirely sure of yet. “Urihime, mission.”

She looked up. “Yes, Master.” Exchanged a handful of words with the other four youkai – it appeared this is where Hiiragi had disappeared to – then came to stand in front of him.

“I want you to go take a look at the Fujiwaras’ house.” He said, quickly explaining the phone conversation – or lack thereof. “Look for any evidence of what might have happened to them, whether it was the creatures or … something else.” Though he found his imagination failed at the idea of there being something worse.

She nodded. “As you wish.”

“Oh, and Urihime?” She tilted her head slightly. “Be careful. If you encounter one of those creatures, run. This information is not worth your life.”

She smiled faintly. “Yes, Master.” And left.

With nods to the other four, Shuuichi left as well. Once back in his room, he contemplated showering – his hair was starting to feel unacceptably greasy, and who knew how much longer they’d have running water? – or starting in on the momentous task of trying to sort through what information they had in search for any record of what these creatures might be.

In the end, he just turned off the light and crawled into bed. Showering, like the rest of his problems, could wait for morning. He’d done all he could tonight.

He hoped.

Chapter Text

“Do you think the youkai might know anything?” Taki asked, her voice low.  Perhaps because of his outburst about college the previous night, she, Nishimura, and Kitamoto appeared to have formed a conspiracy to ensure that at least one of them stayed with Kaname at the front of the group.  He might have called them on it, but he did enjoy the company. 

"... Probably," he said.  "Those creatures are pretty hard to miss."  He kept his voice low, as well; the two of them were far enough ahead of the group, and enough others of their classmates were talking, that they probably wouldn't be overheard.  Even though his ability to see them was public knowledge, now, old habits died hard.

She leaned in closer. “Do you think I should try using … it?”

Especially since not everything was public yet. “Didn’t Natsume tell you not to? That it was dangerous?”

She looked frustrated. “It’s just dangerous if certain people catch me using it. But don’t you think it’s worth the risk? So we could talk to some youkai properly?”

“I don’t know … what if you’re seen? The more people who know, the more likely it is that someone might find out who really shouldn’t.”

“So we’ll be careful, and if anyone sees, we’ll swear them to secrecy. Just …” Taki gestured helplessly. “I need to feel like I’m doing something to help.”

“You’re drawing those circles every night.” Kaname pointed out.

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not the same. We don’t even know if those work or not.”

“… All right. Just. Be careful. Remember that youkai can be dangerous, too.”

She stared at him. “Tanuma. You do know who you’re talking to?”

Kaname belatedly remembered just how she and Natsume had first met – he was sure he still didn’t know the full story, but Taki had filled him in on a lot of the details Natsume failed to mention. He winced. “Right. Sorry.”

She flashed him a small smile, then turned her attention back to their surroundings. According to Tsuji's maps, they should be nearing the outskirts of town, but for the time being, they were still surrounded by low buildings and the occasional park. “Do you think any will come?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” Kaname said. “They’re everywhere, after all. I suspect if there are any friendly to humans around, they’d be willing to talk.”  And if they weren't friendly to humans ... well, it's not like they'd be in that much more trouble than they already were.

“Are there any nearby now?” she asked.

“None strong enough or malicious enough for me to sense,” Kaname said after a moment’s concentration. He frowned. “Come to think of it … I haven’t sensed any of them since the first day of our trip. The school trip, I mean. That’s … kind of odd. I usually pick up something every now and then.” He rubbed at a temple ruefully. “Maybe all those creatures have caused my senses to go haywire.” He ruthlessly suppressed the jolt of panic that tried to run through him at the thought. His senses weren’t great, but they were his.

But if they really have faded, there’s nothing I can do about it. And at least I can still sort of see the creatures, which is arguably more important right now.

“… Or maybe we’re not the only things those creatures eat,” Taki said, looking ill.

Kaname shuddered. I almost prefer my theory. “Hopefully not. Or at least, I hope that the youkai can actually fight back.” He looked around again, as was beginning to become habit. “Though I haven’t seen any of those creatures today. Maybe Natori-san was right, when he said that they were more populous in cities.”

Taki huffed a quiet laugh, and Kaname looked at her curiously. ”Just thinking about what Kojima-kun said the other night. That he was very glad we weren’t in Tokyo.”

Oh, right, the guy with the badly timed joke. Furuya always used to joke, too, though usually in better taste. Kaname felt another pang, and another rush of irritation at himself for letting it get to him so badly. “… Is it weird, to miss what could have been, even if chances were that it never would have happened in the first place?”

“You mean like seeing a shop shut down that you had walked past for years but never entered?” Taki asked, looking at Kaname as though trying to figure out where this aside came from. “And feeling sad that you never tried it out?”

“Hah.” Kaname smiled. “Pretty similar, I guess. But with people instead of places.”

“… This is about Furuya-kun again, isn’t it?”

Kaname blew out a breath. “All the others, too, but … yes, mostly Furuya. I actually knew him a little bit, so I can imagine better what it might have been like to know him better, and …” He made a helpless gesture with his hands. “What am I going to tell his sister?”

“Do you actually know his sister?”

“Not well. We met once, when I was helping him with something. Well, it mostly turned into Natsume helping, because, well …”

“Natsume,” Taki said with a grin.

“Yeah. But if those with power – even a little bit – really are less likely to have been taken in the first wave, she’ll probably still be around.” He made another helpless gesture. “And now I sound like I hope she’s dead, just so that I can get out of talking to her, which isn’t true, but …”

“I don’t envy you at all,” Taki said. “I’ll come with you, if you want the moral support, but … I would hate having to do that.” She glanced backwards, to where their erstwhile leader walked a short distance away, clearly deep in his own thoughts. “Do you think Tsuji-kun is planning on telling the rest of the families?”

“I hope so,” Kaname said. “If not, I will. They deserve to know. If there’s anyone left to know.”

Taki slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “We’ll figure things out. It’ll be … not all right. But better.”

He smiled at her weakly. “Thanks.” He looked down, where their hands were still joined. He was gripping just as tightly as she was, though he couldn’t remember having consciously decided to do so. “People will probably get the wrong impression, if they see …” But he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

That stubborn look – increasingly familiar over the past two days – planted itself on Taki’s face again. “Let them.   It doesn’t matter.” It faded, as she looked Kaname properly in the eyes. “Does it? If you’re uncomfortable …”

Kaname squeezed her hand back and smiled. “I don’t care if you don’t.” It wasn’t quite true, but he found himself unwilling to give up the comfort just for his own silly concerns. He’d make himself be okay with it, if necessary. Heh. It’s not like I’m not already far more conspicuous than I’m comfortable with anyway.

Taki smiled back. “Thanks.”

“… So what do you think did happen to all the youkai?” She asked, several minutes further down the same narrow two-lane road they’d been following for most of the day. Kaname glanced briefly at the shops now lining the road, but didn’t let himself look too closely. There was still something fundamentally wrong about seeing what appeared to have been a small shopping district so empty. “Do you think they’re really all gone?”

“I hope not,” Kaname said. “I hope they fled, or that they are still here, and just too small and weak for me to sense.”

Taki nodded, then brightened and turned, raising her voice. “Tsuji-kun, can we borrow your glasses again?”

The class representative looked up, blinking owlishly, clearly still half-buried in whatever thoughts had been engaging most of his attention. “Sure … is there –?”

“No, as far as I can tell there still aren’t any of those creatures around,” Kaname said hastily, as more people started paying attention, alarm stirring. “It’s a … bit of a test. To see if we might have any other allies available to call on.”

“We can certainly do with as many allies as we can get,” Tsuji said, heartfelt, and reached up to take off his glasses. Then his attention caught on something behind Kaname and Taki, and he grinned. “I’ve got a better idea than that, though.”

Kaname turned to look, and couldn’t help but echo Tsuji’s grin.

Tsuji waved to the rest of the group. “All right, everyone, break time!”

Several people protested, but Tsuji waved their objections off. “This is a special event,” he said, indicating the shop they stood in front of. The grins began to spread. “Tanuma. Is it clear?”

Kaname gave the shop front a good hard stare. His head was clear. He let go of Taki’s hand reluctantly and walked all the way up to the door, peeking through the somewhat clouded – but not in a concerning way – glass. Still no headache. For such a small shop, given his apparent range, he was fairly certain it was safe.

Still. He turned back to Tsuji, fighting to keep his face straight, and held his hand out. “Glasses?”

A couple of people chuckled – well, he’d never claimed he was good at controlling his expression – and Tsuji eyed him suspiciously. “It’s safe, isn’t it.”

He gave in and grinned. “As far as I can tell, yes.”

“All right.” Tsuji clapped his hands. “Anyone who wants to participate – Tanuma here needs a new pair of glasses. I think it’s only fair that we choose them for him, don’t you?”

Kaname blinked. “Hey, wait –”

The look on Tsuji’s face stopped him. “Let us do this for you, at least, Tanuma?”

He caved.   “All right. Just … I get final veto power, all right?”

“That seems fair.” Tsuji made a grand gesture. “All right, anyone who wants to help out, in you go!”

They quickly discovered that only a handful of people could comfortably browse the glasses shop at one time, leading to Kaname finding himself summarily pushed back outside, not allowed to do any browsing of his own.

The first pair offered to him were star-shaped, with pink sparkly rims. They also looked like wouldn’t fit anyone older than ten years old. “Nishimura, no. Just – they don’t even look like they’d fit.”

“You never know until you try, right?” He asked cheerily, and shoved them onto Kaname’s face. Everyone watching nearby snickered, and Kaname resigned himself to being the comic relief.

After the chuckles wound down, he took them off and handed them back. “They’re also incredibly uncomfortable. A couple hours wearing those and I’d have a headache regardless of whether there were any of those creatures around. “

Nishimura sighed theatrically. “But they looked so good on you, Tanuma-chan!”

Kaname shoved him back towards the store, chuckling despite himself. “Don’t push your luck, idiot.”

Nishimura laughed and went.

After that, for the most part the offerings were serious. With a very small handful of exceptions (none as offensive as Nishimura's), he'd have been happy enough with any of them. But the moment he put a pair on, suddenly everyone nearby felt the need to express their opinions, usually mostly negative, and the cycle would continue.

Even those who were neither picking out glasses nor offering their opinions seemed to have no problem with standing back and laughing.

“Surely they’ve made their mind up by now?” Kaname asked Kitamoto plaintively, after what seemed like hours but had probably only been minutes. “It’s a small shop, there can’t be that many pairs of glasses there to begin with!”

Kitamoto just laughed. “You clearly don’t have sisters. Mana can take hours deciding on the tiniest little thing. Trust me – never go shopping with a girl unless you’re willing to spend the entire day standing around being bored.”

“Not all girls are like that.” Taki protested, hopping down from where she’d perched on top of a nearby postal box (she'd been one of the ones sitting back and laughing) to come over and treat Kitamoto to a more close-up rendition of her admonishing look. “Just because your sister takes forever deciding what to buy …”

Kitamoto raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I was just saying …”

She rolled her eyes, then her attitude melted as she admitted with a shamefaced grin, “… Let me into a bookstore, though, and you won’t find me again.”

Kaname suppressed a grin. “Or a Sanrio store?”

Taki’s eyes glazed over. “So much cuteness …” They popped back into focus and she glared at Kaname. “Hey!”

He laughed so hard that he almost dropped the next pair of glasses someone – Sanada – offered him. “These are fine.” He said almost as soon as he put them on. They weren’t strangely shaped or weirdly colored and they fit his face. Good enough.

“I don’t know.” Another girl said. “I still think something a bit more rounded would bring out his eyes better.”

And as the next round of argument started, Kaname sighed. How much longer will we be doing this? … And who really cares about bringing out my eyes, anyway?

When Kaname was beginning to wonder if he could stand any more, Kitamoto pulled him aside during a brief gap in offerings and gestured towards the group bustling around in the shop. “I know it’s annoying. But let them have their fun?”

And they were having fun, Kaname realized. The ones inside the shop, arguing incessantly over which glasses to pick. The ones crowing around the door, impatiently demanding to be given another chance inside. The ones waiting well back from the entrance, mostly engaged in their own quiet conversations but always more than happy to break those off in favor of watching the uproar that rose around Kaname whenever he was asked to try on a new pair.

He shook his head. “I suppose you’re right.”

Eventually, finally, Tsuji clapped his hands again. “All right, everyone, we’ve had our fun, but we still have a great deal of ground to cover before nightfall. If you haven’t made a decision yet, gather up the final contenders and we’ll have a vote.”

A chorus of protests arose, mostly perfunctory; everyone slowly filed back out of the shop, two girls and one guy clutching pairs of glasses.  This once, he was glad he didn't know any of them by name; it made making a decision feel less like favoritism.  Most of the rest of their group crowded in behind, everyone looking at Kaname expectantly.

He swallowed the urge to try to disappear, wondering if he'd ever get used to being the center of attention, and looked at the three finalists.  The first had slightly wider rims; the frame on the second was black instead of the brown of the other two; the rims on the third were a bit taller and more rounded than the squarer look of the other two.

Kaname tried them all on one last time, and when it looked like people were about to start arguing again, raised a hand. “I’ll keep these.” He said of the third pair. “Being bigger might come in handy.” Unsure how to express his appreciation – and for all his impatience, he really was floored by just how much time and effort his classmates had been willing to spend on something so comparatively trivial – he gave an awkward, short bow. “Thank you, everyone. For all your help, and for the consideration you’ve shown me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want –?” Nishimura started, holding out another pair of sparkly children’s glasses almost as bad as the first.

“No, Nishimura.”

Laughter.

As the other two pairs of glasses disappeared back into the shop, Kaname took off the pair he had chosen. The rim cutting through his peripheral vision was still a bit weird, but not nearly as bad now that they didn’t also hopelessly blur his sight. He assumed he’d eventually get used to both that and having the extra weight on his nose. Probably. About to peel off the sticker that announced manufacturer and clouded the plain glass lenses, he paused and looked at Tsuji. “How are we going to pay for them? We can’t possibly have enough money, especially not with how far we have left to go. We need food for everyone more than I need –”

“We’re almost out of money now. “ Tsuji said. “No matter what, we’re going to have to start writing IOUs soon anyway. And if these help you get us all home safely, they’re more than worth it.”

Kaname swallowed, then bowed his head. “Put my name on the IOU.” He said. Tsuji looked about to protest, so he shook his head. “I mean it, Tsuji. I accept the logic, but I won’t have any of you paying that much money for me. My family is not so poor that we need to accept charity.”

“It’s not charity.” Tsuji protested, took a look at Kaname’s face, and clearly decided to try a different tactic. He lowered his voice. “You know that chances are that IOU will never be called in, right?”

Kaname nodded, feeling the same sense of sorrow that he could see on Tsuji’s face. He mustered a wry smile in response. “In which case, it really shouldn’t matter whose name goes on the note, should it?”

Tsuji raised a finger, opening his mouth in rebuttal. Thought. Sighed. “I suppose you’re right. In that case, you should go tell Hosoya your contact information.”

Kaname hesitated, trying to figure out a way to ask who Hosoya was, but before he could, someone else called for Tsuji’s attention and he turned away.

Kaname found the guy from class 5 with the over-long fringe standing at the otherwise-abandoned counter, scribbling on a small notepad.  “... Hosoya?”  When the other guy looked up, he made a mental note. He still didn’t know everyone’s names. But he was trying.

“Tanuma. Is there something I can help you with?”

“For the IOU, please put my contact details down,” Kaname said, then rattled off his address and phone number. He looked at the price sticker on the glass. “Do you already have the price?”

Hosoya nodded. “Are you sure? Any of us would be happy –”

“I know. And thank you. But this is something I want to do myself,” Kaname said. Then wrinkled his nose. “Or borrow money off my father. Maybe see if he’ll pay me for doing some extra chores. I doubt I have this much spare cash lying around.”  If I still have a father.  Or chores.

Hosoya snorted. “If you’re sure. Is this right?” He repeated Kaname’s address back. Kaname nodded, and he tore the note off the pad and taped it to the top of the cash register with a small colorful piece of tape that Kaname recalled seeing some of his classmates using to mark their textbooks.

“Did you just have those with you?” he asked, slightly impressed. His brief acquaintance with the other guy had not led him to believe he was quite that studious.

Hosoya shook his head. “I bought them – both the notepad and the tape – at the convenience store that first night. I thought they’d come in handy, given our money supply.”

“Well, that was very good thinking on your part,” Kaname said, then grimaced. “Sorry, that sounded patronizing, didn’t it?”

Hosoya snickered, and held his fingers a short distance apart. “Little bit,” he said. “… You know, you’re a lot different from what I expected. More …” He made a grasping sort of gesture. “Normal?” He winced. “Sorry, that was just rude.”

Kaname grinned and mimicked Hosoya’s gesture from earlier. “Little bit.”

“You’re different from my first impression, too,” he admitted after a moment. “When you first said what you did, about just taking what we needed …”

Hosoya grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking terribly clearly. I still think we may be setting ourselves up for trouble if we give everything away. Who knows whether or how that money may come in handy later?” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “But Furuya had a good point, too. And I think I’d rather live in the world he was proposing than the one that I would have had us take a hand in creating.”

At Furuya’s name, Kaname looked away. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant at all!” Hosoya said, so quickly the words almost tripped over each other. “I mean, yes, it sucks that he’s … gone. It really sucks. But it’s not your fault, no more than the rest of this mess is.”

Kaname smiled weakly, hating himself for needing the reassurance, especially when he didn’t even believe it once he received it. “Thanks.” He turned to leave.

“Tanuma?”

He turned back. Hosoya looked more worried and uncertain than he had ever – in their admittedly extremely limited acquaintance – seen him. “Yes?”

“Will we make it back, do you think?”  

“I will get you all back home, or die myself trying,” Kaname said quietly.

“… You mentioned your father. Do you really think they’ll be waiting for us? If – once we get back?”

Kaname sighed. “I don’t know. You’ve heard the same phone calls I have, so you know we haven’t been able to contact anyone since that first night. We can hope that that just means that no one’s at the phone when we happen to call, but …”

“But you sounded so sure, before.”

Kaname smiled wryly. “I’m trying to choose hope.” Dad. Natsume. Wherever you two are, please be safe. “Maybe I’m setting myself up to be hurt worse in the future, but …” He shrugged. “For now, it’s all I can do.”

Hosoya nodded slowly. Maybe it was the fear he was so clearly trying to hide that made Kaname ask, after a brief hesitation, “What’s your family like?”

It was like he’d driven a hole through a dam. Hosoya's father. His mother. An older brother, who after graduating college had moved to Tokyo – he’d only been gone for a few months, but Hosoya still missed him. A younger sister, in her first year of middle school, who wanted to be an astronaut and was always dragging Hosoya away from his homework to stargaze with her.

He faltered when they rejoined the group and began walking again, and it became clear that everyone nearby was just as interested in hearing his stories as Kaname had been. Then, looking sheepish, offered up another anecdote.

Breaks in his stories started, hesitantly, being filled by other nearby students.

Sanada’s older sister, who’d passed her scarf down to her when she’d gone off to college.

Ogawa’s younger brothers, twins, who loved switching their clothes and aping each other’s mannerisms and who were always incredibly frustrated by his almost supernatural ability to tell them apart. “It’s actually not that hard,” he said with a laugh, then winked. “I promised them that I wouldn’t tell anyone else the trick, though.”

Kaname saw more than a few tears glistening at the corners of people’s eyes. He was glad no one had asked him to tell any stories – he wasn’t sure his voice could take it, when he kept choking up from rushes of memory of his own.

Kitamoto told hilarious stories of his little sister, and the seemingly endless ways in which she got into trouble. Nishimura told stories of times past, when he and his brother would get into all sorts of trouble that left their parents tearing their hair out trying to figure out who to yell at first. (“That’s the nice thing about being the youngest,” he had said smugly. “My brother usually took most of the blame even when it was my idea.”)

Kaname noticed that Taki was staying as silent as he, was, and under the cover of laughter at one story of Nishimura’s, leaned over and asked, “Did you want to –?”

She shook her head. “This is – everyone’s telling stories about people who they hope are still alive. Because it makes not knowing easier to deal with,” she replied just as quietly. “All the stories I’d be interested in telling are about my grandfather, and I know where he is already.”

This time, it was Kaname who reached out – not quite capable of taking Taki’s hand, but making the offer clear. Her smile as she took it was more than worth it.

“Touko-san … Touko-san …”

She felt like she was floating through a warm haze.

“Touko!”

She woke up.

Blinking fuzziness out of her eyes, she reached a hand up to touch her husband’s cheek. “Shigeru-san, what’s wrong?”

She started to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down. Given how dizzy she’d become just from that motion, she knew better than to protest. He buried his face in her chest and, a bit confused, she carded her free hand through his hair. Her hand, at least, wasn’t shaking. “I was afraid I had lost you,” he said, muffled.

“Silly, I’m right here.”

As she had hoped, indignation stiffened his spine, and he sat up, giving her an admonishing look. “I know that.” He reached out and cupped her cheek, and his voice softened. “You were asleep for so long, though. They said that it would be okay, but …”

“Who is they?” Touko finally realized that she did not recognize the parts of the ceiling and walls she could see, or the feel of the futon beneath her, or anything, in fact, except for Shigeru. She struggled up onto an elbow, waited out the dizziness – much lighter this time – and then finally made it all the way upright. Shigeru hovered, but didn’t interfere. “Where are we?”

The room was about half again as large as their bedroom, so wherever they were must be a quite impressive place; theirs was a large old house as these things went. She saw Shigeru’s futon folded and stacked in the corner, part of the blanket hanging out of the folds. He never had learned to fold his futon cleanly.

The rest of the floor – aside from her futon – was empty. A sliding door on one side of the room sat half-open, showing a closet filled with clothes she didn’t recognize. Another sliding door on the other side of the room was firmly shut. The exit to the hallway? The rest of the walls were mostly empty, but for a wall scroll hanging on the far wall that looked like it had come straight from a period drama.

“I don’t know precisely,” Shigeru said. “Some tens of kilometers north of home, I believe. The people who picked me up drove me here in a car with blacked-out windows.” He peered at her. “What happened to you?”

She brought a hand to her head, trying to remember. “There was a pleasant young man with an eyepatch, trying to explain to me that I was in danger if I stayed at home. Something about invisible creatures …” She shook her head. “That friend of Takashi-kun’s, Natori-san, said some strange things on the phone, too, so I was inclined to believe him. It seemed a strange thing to lie about, if it wasn’t true, after all.” They exchanged a significant look, and she frowned. “He wanted to take me somewhere – he really wasn’t clear – but I told him I’d rather stay there until you and Takashi-kun got home.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t remember anything else. Maybe he had a friend of his sneak up behind me and knock me out? But he appeared to be alone …”

“Knock you out?!” Shigeru leapt to his feet. “I was willing to let their treatment of me pass, until I had a good opportunity to get a proper explanation. But that’s just –”

“Calm down, dear,” Touko said, as she watched Shigeru stalk to the door. “If they went to all this trouble to bring us here, I’m sure it’s probably …”

He pulled at the door. Nothing happened.

“… locked.”

“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t see any sort of lock when they brought me in, and normally wouldn’t a door lock from the inside, anyway?”

“Normally,” she agreed. “I’m not sure anything about our current situation is normal.” She shook her head. “Assault and kidnapping … and he seemed like such a nice young man.”

After one last affronted yank at the door, Shigeru stalked back over to her futon and settled to the floor next to her, breathing slowly in a clear attempt to calm himself down. “An eyepatch, you said? Did he also have long black hair in a ponytail?”

“Why, yes. Is he an acquaintance of yours, dear?”

Shigeru shook his head. “I’ve seen him loitering near our place once or twice, as though waiting for someone. Very good at making it appear to be a coincidence that he was in the neighborhood, but he is rather distinctive-looking.” He frowned. “I wonder what he wanted.”

“Maybe he is just another of Takashi-kun’s friends.”

“I hope not. If so, we may need to have a talk with him about the appropriate sorts of people to associate with, after all.” He sighed. “I hope he hasn’t gotten involved with anything too far over his head.”

Touko patted his hand. “I’m sure he’s fine. Takashi-kun can take care of himself, and he has his friends with him. Atsushi-kun and Tooru-chan have always had good heads on their shoulders, and Kaname-kun may be a bit quiet, but he also seems very responsible.”

“Hmph.” Shigeru grumbled. “Wait, you said Natori-san called?”

“Yes, earlier that afternoon. He sounded somewhat out of sorts; was wondering if I knew how to get in contact with Takashi-kun. I gave him the number for the hotel – can you believe, it never occurred to me that we should get Takashi-kun a cell phone? It would have been so useful, all those times he was off running in the forest all hours of the day and worrying the living daylights out of us. And I’m sure he was jealous of his friends at school who had them. He probably just didn’t want to put us out by asking us about it.”

Shigeru chuckled. “I’m sure he never thought a thing about it, love. And now that we know, we can take him out shopping for one once we’re back together.”

“I suppose,” she allowed.

“So you gave him the hotel’s number?”

“Yes, and then he suggested I call you, but refused to say why. Something about misplacing something important.” She looked down. “But then I couldn’t quite recall the number, and I’d forgotten where I put it, and between one thing and another …”

Shigeru smiled. “This was early afternoon? I doubt I would have been at my desk to answer it. Something strange was going on – a lot of my coworkers just up and disappeared on us. We never quite figured out what happened – they weren’t in the restroom, and most of them were not the sort who would have just left in the middle of the day without letting someone know where they were. So I was busy running around figuring out who was left.” He patted her hand. “It’s just as well you didn’t call. I’d hate to have worried you unnecessarily.”

“Invisible creatures and disappearing people …” Touko shook her head. “What is the world coming to?”

She sighed. “… I do hope Takashi-kun isn’t mixed up in any of this. I should have at least called the hotel myself, just in case.”

“I hope it’s not this eyepatch man’s plan to make him get involved,” Shigeru said grimly.

“… If it is, we’ll just have to do something about it,” Touko said firmly. She patted his hand again. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

He covered her hand with his own, and smiled that same smile that she had fallen in love with, all those years ago. “I hope so.”

“Do you want me to see if I can adjust the fit?” Tsuji asked as they walked, gradually passing through the outskirts of town into less- or sometimes entirely uncultivated land, with only the occasional house standing in the distance to remind them that they shouldn’t be entirely alone. “They seem to be slipping a lot.”

Kaname shook his head, once again pushing the glasses up on his nose. “I’m pretty sure they’re fine. They just … feel a bit weird.”

Tsuji laughed. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ve been wearing mine since third grade, so now it feels weird if I ever leave them off for a long period of time.” He adjusted his glasses, then laughed again. “Now you’ve got me doing it! … I’m really glad you don’t need to borrow mine anymore. I’m practically blind without them. Are they actually helping?”

Kaname shrugged. “I can’t really tell. I haven’t seen or sensed anything all day.”

“Maybe we really are through the worst of it, then,” Tsuji said, looking like he was trying hard to be optimistic. “It’s just small towns and rice fields all the way home, after all.”

“I hope so,” Kaname said. He reached up to pull at the left arm of his new glasses. “Hm. Maybe I should have you take a look at these next time we stop. I think it’s beginning to give me a bit of a –”

He whirled.

“Is there something …?”

“I’m not sure,” Kaname said, scanning the area, searching for any hint of shadow. He had glasses now; he ought to be able to actually see it. “I can’t see anything, but my head … there’s something there.”

“Everyone, group in closer!” Tsuji called. “One of those creatures is probably nearby, so be careful.”

“Where?” One of the girls called.

“I don’t know yet.” Kaname raised his voice so that everyone else could hear. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can tell anything else.”

“In the meantime, let’s keep moving forward,” Tsuji said. “But carefully.”

Conversation ground to a halt as everyone followed Tsuji’s commands, walking slowly and carefully and looking around with wide eyes, as though they could see something if only they looked hard enough.

Kaname felt a pang in his heart and a redoubled desire to not let anyone else down. If his were the only eyes that worked – and hopefully with the glasses, they’d work better than ever – then he’d just have to look hard enough to make up for everyone else whose didn’t.

But no matter how hard he looked – moving backwards and forwards along their clump of students, right and left across the road, varying his perspective in any way he could think of – he couldn’t see any trace of the creature. All he could see was their surroundings: a paved two-lane road, striped with paint that had faded almost to invisibility in places; a grassy hill rising up to the left, leading into a stand of trees; another grassy hill sloping down to the right, culminating in a patch of rice paddies, not yet showing the signs of neglect that he feared would only be a matter of time.

Nothing out of place. No youkai. No creatures. Yet his slowly increasing headache left him no doubt but that there was a creature, and that it was nearby and getting closer.

He worked his way back forward, and shook his head at Tsuji’s enquiring look. “Still nothing. I can tell there's something close, and getting closer, but I can’t quite …”

“Maybe it’s just passing by?” Tsuji suggested.

“Maybe,” Kaname said, as he turned to make another round.

His headache suddenly spiked – not nearly as bad as several other times back in town, but a notable increase. With a renewed sense of urgency, he looked around more. Just please, please let me find it before someone else –

The first time his eyes passed over it, he thought it was just a patch of dead grass, and almost moved on. Then he realized that dead grass was usually yellow, not grey, and that it was moving, and that – “At the back! It’s coming down the hill!”

Everyone ran forward. Someone – Kaname couldn’t spare the attention to notice any identifying characteristics, so he literally had no idea who – knocked into him, sending him reeling sideways. He regained his footing just in time to get bumped by someone else; recovered from that one slightly better, and gamely continued fighting his way backwards.

He finally broke through the last of the people running forward, and what he saw almost made his heart stop.

“Yoshida-san,” he said, mouth dry. He hadn’t even known her name until earlier that afternoon. She had a brother in fourth grade, and her father was currently working in Sapporo and only got the chance to come home every couple of months. “Okamoto-san.” She sat collapsed on the ground, holding her ankle, face screwed up in pain. The shadow began to seep beneath them even as he watched, and he could see the smoke – lower to the ground and thinner than he had ever seen, but still, he feared, easily enough to eat them both – following slowly in its wake. “You need to get out of there, now.”

“Go on without me, Sanae,” Okamoto said, her voice high with panic or pain (probably both). “You can still make it.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” Yoshida said. “Now come on! Stand up!”

Kaname lurched forward, but his feet stopped well back from the edge of the shadow, and even he didn’t know whether it was Yoshida’s shouted “No, stay back!” or his own cowardice that stopped him.

“How much time do we have left?” Yoshida asked, strangely calmly, looking at Kaname even as she kept trying to pull Okamoto up. Some part of him had expected Okamoto to be crying, but her eyes were dry, almost as though she still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening.

Kaname wanted to punch something. Not again! But the smoke was rolling in. “Maybe twenty seconds. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to chant. Barely more than a whisper, at first, but slowly growing in both volume and conviction.

Three words in, a chill ran down Kaname’s back. Throat tight, he swallowed, bowed his head, stepped back well out of range, and joined his voice to the chant.

Memory rushed in –

A dark room, his father holding his mother’s hand, the only part of her aside from her face not hidden by the blanket. His father’s voice, murmuring that sutra, over and over and over, like an endless roll of distant thunder.

Him sneaking over to his mother’s bed, in one of the brief periods of time when his father wasn’t by her side. Her hand on his head, uncommonly cool and so weak. Him asking what it was that his father kept saying, and his mother explaining that it was his way of helping her remember the right path onward, once the time came.

Him yelling that he didn’t want her to go, that why was his father helping her, didn’t he care?

Her laugh, as weak as the hand resting on his head, as she told him that she didn’t want to go, that his father didn’t want her to go either, not really, but that sometimes people had to do things they didn’t want to, and he was just trying to help the only way he knew how.

He hadn’t understood, not really. He’d been so angry – at his mother, at his father, at everything. He’d been convinced that if he didn’t say goodbye, then maybe she wouldn’t leave after all. Yet he’d still sat there beside his father, and listened, because the only alternative was to not be near his mother.

Then at the funeral, his father had looked so alone, and so sad. It had been the first time – one of the only times – he’d seen his father weep. And he had realized that he might not want to say goodbye to his mother, but that he couldn’t let his father do it alone.

He hadn’t learned anywhere close to what he’d need to know in order to become a full-fledged priest. He wasn’t even sure that that was what he wanted to do with his life. But this sutra.

This sutra, he knew.

Yoshida’s eyes flew open as she heard his voice join hers. Her voice faltered, then strengthened as it settled into the same rhythm as his. She smiled tremulously, and a very, very small part of the tightness in Kaname’s heart and throat loosened. There was nothing he could do for her – for either of them – now, but at least he could give Yoshida the send-off she obviously desired.

The haze swept in, and Kaname kept his eyes on the two girls, barely even daring blink lest he miss their final moments. He owed them that much.

But although the haze swept around them, it didn’t touch them. At first Kaname couldn’t believe his eyes. It didn’t seem possible. He kept expecting the haze to change its mind, to sweep in and claim Yoshida and Okamoto the same way it had claimed everyone else.

But it didn’t.

It roiled thickly around the two girls, condensing and condensing until almost none of the haze remained over any other part of the shadow; until he could barely see them through it, and the main reason he knew they were still alive is that he could still hear Yoshida’s voice, strong and pure.

Was their chanting actually holding the shadow off? Hope leapt in Kaname’s heart, then fell again, because even if he was right ... how could he help, when even if they were still safe, they were also still trapped?

Then he realized he knew the answer to that question. He closed his eyes. If I’m wrong …

If he was wrong, hopefully he’d have enough warning to jump out of the way. Or at the very least, to shout a warning. And if he was right …

He walked forward, still chanting. Someone shouted a warning, a question, something he didn’t quite catch. He waved in a way that he hoped looked reassuring, and hoped that that would be enough to keep people from following him and pulling him away until he had retrieved Yoshida and Okamoto.

Or until I fail.

He took his first step into the shadow, and saw it drain away from under his feet. That’s a good sign …

Another step, and the shadow pooled away again. Some of the haze around the two girls faded as it started flowing toward him, and he had to resist the urge to hold his breath or flinch or do anything other than calmly, evenly continue to chant.

The haze rushed him and suddenly stopped, angrily pressing against the bubble of clear space that surrounded him. He paused to take a breath and the bubble shrank, but as soon as he started chanting again, trying to keep his voice even through the sudden burst of panic, it expanded back out. I think … I can do this. We can actually do this!

The edge of his bubble met, then began to overlap with the girls’ bubble.

He could see them clearly again at last, in roughly the same position as before, both staring at him as though they’d never seen him before. He moved over to Okamoto’s side and knelt, gesturing to her to put her arm around his shoulders. Between his efforts and Yoshida quickly inserting herself on Okamoto’s other side, they managed to get her standing again, leaning mostly against Kaname.

Slowly, painfully slowly, they retraced Kaname’s steps. Every step, it was a battle to keep chanting, to not hold his breath in fear that the creature would somehow figure out what they were doing, figure out how to break through, and take all three of them out.

But whatever it was, it kept working. With both of them still chanting, almost the full width of a lane around them remained clear. And no matter how furiously the haze roiled, it couldn’t break through.

When they crossed the shadow’s boundary, Kaname almost – he wasn’t even sure what. Collapsed? Cheered? He make sure that Yoshida could hold the extra weight and then slipped out from under Okamoto’s other arm, gesturing to them to continue on towards the group while he turned back to face the creature.

It looked almost like it had shrunk. Maybe it was just his imagination, or perhaps the shadow had simply concentrated itself into a smaller area while trying to break through their barrier. But the parts they’d walked through were still clear, and only slowly closed back up as he watched, as though the creature found it more difficult to cross. Just in case, he paced the full width of the road, still chanting, then stepped back and finally stopped.  Behind him, he dimly heard Yoshida stuttering to a stop as well.

His throat felt oddly raw. He knew he hadn’t been chanting for all that long, but he was badly out of practice, and hadn’t been in the proper state of mind to make sure he wasn’t straining his throat. But he had done it. The euphoria almost made him dizzy. He could still feel his head pounding from the nearness of the creature, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because they had actually won.

“Is it safe?” someone called hesitantly. “Whatever you did … is it safe now?”

“The creature –” he had to stop and clear his throat, as he turned back to face his classmates. “The creature’s still there, back past the line I just walked. But it hasn’t passed that line yet, whether because it won’t, or because it can’t. So yes." He couldn't keep the awe from his voice.  He didn't try. "Yes, I think we’re safe.”

“Tanuma.” Okamoto stood mostly unassisted, now, though the ginger way in which she held her injured foot made it clear that she wouldn’t be wanting to put any significant weight on it anytime soon. “Whatever you did … whyever you did it … thank you.”

Kaname shook his head. “It wasn’t anything I did, not really.” He bowed towards Yoshida. “Thank you, Yoshida-san. Your desire for a peaceful passing may have just helped save us all.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” she said quietly. “I just …”

“What happened, back there, Tanuma?” Tsuji interrupted. “You just – you said the creature was there, but then you just walked into it. Did it leave a path open, or something?”

Kaname shook his head.

“I don’t know exactly what happened, but … when we were chanting, the creature couldn’t touch us. I noticed that it was gathering around Yoshida-san and Okamoto-san but wasn’t able to actually touch them, and the sutra she was chanting was the only difference I could think of, so … I walked in after them, and the creature just … melted out of the way. On the way back, with both of us chanting … it couldn’t come near us.”

“But why?” Tsuji looked slightly manic. And no surprise. This was – Kaname could barely wrap his mind around how big this was. This was a way to fight back. “Was it because it was a sutra, or would any sort of chanting work? Was it that specific sutra? Do you actually have to believe in it in order for it to work, like with vampires and crosses?” Someone snickered.  "Would crosses work, too?"

Kaname raised his hands in an attempt to stem the flow of questions. “I don’t know. It doesn’t appear to require the power to see the creatures, since the bubble of safe space around me might have been slightly larger than the one around Yoshida-san, but not significantly so.” He looked at her. “As to belief – I assume you’re also a devout Buddhist?” He couldn’t think of any other reason why she would both know that sutra off the top of her head, and think to chant it in the face of near-certain death.

She nodded, and said quietly, “Everyone in my family is.”

Kaname ran his fingers through his hair. “If the opportunity arises, we can see if we can do a bit of experimentation. But only if we’re safe about it.”

Tsuji grimaced. “I’d rather hope we don’t get the opportunity. That line you walked – did it work?”

Kaname looked back over his shoulder, dimly surprised that he’d so easily forgotten it, even with his headache still pounding. The shadow had shifted into a flat and narrow configuration, stretched across the road at right around where he though he remembered drawing his chanted line.

Less reassuring was the way the shadow had begun creeping off the road, into the grass, around his line, and back towards the group. “It’s safe for now. But we really ought to get going. I don’t think what I did is going to hold it for long.”

“Okay.” Tsuji turned away. “Let’s get moving, everyone! We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover today!”

A few students shifted, but no one really moved, aside from the handful of girls who had mobbed Okamoto and Yoshida as soon as they’d reached the “safe zone”. He was surprised to realize that he actually recognized them as the girls who typically walked near Yoshida, so he assumed they were her closest friends (left). Watanabe-san, from his class, and a blonde girl from Class 2. Teraoka, he thought her name was?

“… What about Okamoto?” One of the guys asked hesitantly. “We’re not going to …”

“No one gets left behind,” Tsuji snapped, before anyone had the chance to do more than start looking offended. “Not anymore. We’re all going to make it back, and we’re going to make it back together.” He himself approached the group of girls and offered his shoulder to Okamoto. “So let’s get going, all right?”

Slowly, the group began to move again. Kaname lingered near the back initially, until they were safely far enough away from the creature – which, by extending around the line in both directions, appeared to have prevented itself from coming all the way around in either direction – that the last of his headache faded.

Reassured, he started back towards the front of the line. Which was also beginning to feel a lot more natural than it had at first. He still didn’t like the idea of leading anyone. But taking point? Being the first person to encounter whatever nastiness awaited them? That, he could do.

Actually getting back to the front took far longer than he had expected, because of the number of people who had questions about what he’d just done.

The worst was the one girl who looked at him, desolation in her eyes, and asked why he hadn’t done this before. For all that it was completely true, saying that he hadn’t known felt like a cop-out, and he suspected that when he moved on, it had looked more like he was fleeing. He felt like he was fleeing. Why hadn’t he ever tried that before? Why hadn’t it even occurred to him? If he had, Furuya wouldn’t have had to – no one on his watch would have had to –

Kitamoto took one look at his face when he reached the front and punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

Kaname rubbed the spot, wondering if it would bruise. “What was that for?”

“Stop blaming yourself,” he said. “I’m getting tired of having this conversation. There’s no way you could have known that – what was it you even did, anyway? – would work. There’s no point in beating yourself up about it. We all know now. Can’t that be enough?”  

Kaname shook his head. “I just wish …”

“We all do,” Tsuji interrupted. “But if we could have everything we wished for, none of us would be in this situation to begin with.”

Kaname huffed a quiet laugh. “True enough. I wish we knew what did happen. And why.”

Kitamoto shrugged. “Nuclear fallout?”

“I’m pretty sure history has shown that that had rather different results,” Tsuji said dryly. “Not to mention that I think we’d have noticed a bomb going off anywhere near enough to have noticeable effects.”

Kitamoto made a face at Tsuji. “Fine. Evil plan for world domination.”

“What is this, an anime?”

Kaname watched them continue bickering with a small smile. He could almost imagine things were okay, that they were just shooting the breeze while walking to school. Except the part where he and Kitamoto lived in opposite directions, so they almost never actually walked to school together. And the fact that his legs were sore enough from the last several days that he was surprised he could still walk at all.

And Natsume wasn't there.

“Do you think you could teach that sutra to other people?” Nishimura asked, popping up on his other side suddenly enough that he jumped. “I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m a devout Buddhist, but I go to festivals and stuff.”

“… Everyone goes to ‘festivals and stuff’,” Kaname pointed out, trying to keep a straight face.

Nishimura nudged him. “But could you?”

“... I think so. I can try.”

“I could help, too.” Taki offered, a few steps behind Nishimura. “And I’m sure Yoshida-san would be happy to as well. And maybe there are others who know at least a few sutra.” She looked down. “I only know that one. And I may not even remember the whole thing. I just … I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Something to discuss tonight once we’re settled in,” Tsuji said. “Even if it might not work, it’s better than nothing.”

Kaname nodded, and saw his friends doing the same. I wonder if Natori-san has figured this out, yet. Or if he knows anything else that would work. I should try to call him tonight, just in case.

Over the general noise of the group, he thought he heard Okamoto’s voice rising in irritable complaint, and he couldn’t help his somewhat incredulous smile. For the first time, he started truly believing that they might actually make it all the way back home safe after all.

Dad … I’m coming. Please be there.

Chapter Text

The sky was red, and the trees were watching Takashi.

He could feel it.

But worse than the trees were the things hiding in them. Shining bright oranges and yellows and reds, the color haloing around them in a way that made his eyes burn if he looked at them too long –

(Whatever else he does, he must not look at them too long, or they’ll notice him too)

– they shifted from one shape to the next with dizzying speed, too blurred for him to get a clear look.

(Especially since he mustn’t look, not for long, not too close, or they would get him)

“Natsume?” The little fox looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting, their joined hands a spot of warmth in a forest that felt far too cold.

– Or was it pleasantly cool in heat like the height of summer? –

“Natsume, is there something wrong?” The words rose from the little fox’s lips in little blue clouds, and Takashi wondered what it would be like to touch one.

He squeezed the little fox’s hand and smiled a reassurance he didn’t feel. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Just … keep walking and don’t attract their attention, all right?”

His voice wisped outwards, silver like his hair fading to pale grey like the fog that had led him to Seigen.

Were they from Seigen? Had Kamuriki-sama decided that just kicking him out wasn’t enough?

But then why would they just be sitting there?

Or were they those things, the ones that had eaten most of the other humans? Watching, waiting for the right time to strike?

“Don’t attract whose attention?” The little fox asked, looking around.

“Whose?” Echoed a much deeper voice, misting a narrow band of purple at his eye-height that faded as quickly as it had appeared. Too quickly for Takashi’s frantic looking around to pinpoint its source.

“Natsume?”

“Did you hear that?” Pale green coalesced into spikes and faded.

“Hear what?” The little fox asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe one of them.” Takashi glanced upwards; flinched away from the bright haloing light. The trees’ attention sharpened. “Just … keep ignoring them, and maybe they’ll keep ignoring us.”

The sky was green. He thought it had been red.

(He thought it had been another color before that. But he couldn’t quite remember –)

The little fox looked upwards, looked right at one of them, and Takashi wanted to cover his eyes before it noticed but he couldn’t make himself move. He looked back at Takashi. “I don’t see anyone there.” Blue faded to blue-grey; Takashi reached out to touch one of the little clouds, but it dissipated before he could.

The meaning of the little fox’s words sunk in and he froze from an entirely different sort of fear. “You don’t see anything?” He forced the words out, and they fell as the ash they tasted like on his tongue.

The little fox shook his head, ears drooping. Heart in his throat, Takashi turned and looked directly at the closest one, a spiral of yellow-orange-red that coalesced into a humanoid form (but there were too many arms, and where was its head?) as he watched.

“But I’m sure if Natsume sees them, they exist,” he heard as though through a long tunnel, as it gathered itself for a leap; as others of them flowed into it and it grew.

A keening cry ripped through the forest, black icicles hanging from midair, and Takashi turned and crouched, wrapping himself around the little fox.

“Natsume?”

The world fractured into color and light.

“Natsume-dono.”

He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t tell whether he was hearing real words or just the roaring in his ears, whether he was standing or lying down or spinning in the endless spiral his head felt like.

“Natsume-dono.”

He didn’t recognize the voice. Didn’t know how to respond. Wasn’t sure he could.

His hand felt cold.

“What … him …?”

“Take … god …”

He strained to hear, but static wrapped him, wiping all sense from the rest of the conversation. A high-pitched voice piped insistently, and he knew that was important, if he could just remember –

Hands touched him from all around. Some tiny, some large, one about the size of his head. He felt himself rise. Tried to struggle, to protest, to ask what was happening and who was there and where they were taking him and why.

But the swaying dragged him away, spiraled him under, before he had the chance.

“— Record.”

Touko paused. “Dandruff.”

“Frantic.”

“Coffee.”

Shigeru stopped, looking wistful. “Coffee …”

Touko hid a smile behind her hand. “I win again.”

“Only because you play dirty.”

“Because you never think to first?” She shifted from facing Shigeru to sitting beside to him, close enough to lean against his arm. He obligingly wrapped it around her, drawing her in deeper, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, following his gaze to the still stubbornly shut door.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were back home, sitting on the back porch. Watching the flowers grow, Shigeru had always joked. Instead of here, in this room, completely cut off from everything and everything they knew, without even the decency of having been told why.

She grasped for that fleeting calm; she’d never thought herself the most active of people, but after less than a day awake, only the word games they played as a distraction were keeping her from seriously contemplating doing something drastic. She didn’t know how Shigeru had managed alone during the nearly two days she’d lain asleep.

And even worse than the boredom, was still not knowing anything.

“Takashi-kun’s all right, isn’t he?” She asked, voice too loud in the otherwise silent room, and far more uncertain than she liked to admit.

Shigeru’s arm tightened around her. “He’s gotten out of plenty of scrapes before,” he said lightly. “… And that’s just the ones we know about.”

I’m sure there are plenty of others we don’t. “… Do you think we made the right decision? Not pushing him?”

“If we had, he would probably have fled, at least at first,” Shigeru said, and Touko remembered just how – fragile wasn’t quite the right word. How insubstantial he’d seemed at times. She’d occasionally wondered if she would turn around one day and find that he’d disappeared. Now she hoped, desperately, that those fears hadn’t finally come to pass. “Now … I don’t know.” He leaned into her briefly, a subtle nudge. “When we see him again, shall we ask?”

She huffed, quietly amused. “Yes, let’s.” She eyed the door. “There must be some way to open it. Our meals get in here somehow.”

In her peripheral vision, Shigeru grimaced. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

Those first two nights, he’d said, it hadn’t occurred to him to question where the food had come from; he’d been too worried about her, and too overwhelmed by his own not exactly uneventful day. But the previous day had been calm and quiet, and after discussing the situation, they’d decided one of them should see if they could catch whoever – or whatever – was bringing their food.

Shigeru had taken a nap in the early evening, Touko keeping a fond watch. She’d woken to the smell of dinner, irritated that she’d allowed herself to drop off as well. Surely she had slept enough, these last several days.

Sleep had been a long time coming that night, but she’d eventually dropped off, Shigeru still wide awake. She’d woken around 8 am – if their watches were still to be believed – to find Shigeru sprawled half across her, fast asleep, and steam still rising from the miso soup that accompanied their breakfast.

Touko frowned. Perhaps if there had been only the one incident, she wouldn’t have been quite so suspicious. But twice? And when she may have been somewhat drained the previous evening, but not particularly sleepy? “Last night, when you fell asleep, do you remember feeling tired?”

Her husband shrugged, the motion shifting her slightly as well. “I’d been up all night, so … somewhat, of course. I’ve had far worse – ah.” He paused. “You think they used some sort of … sleeping spell? … on me too?”

Touko huffed another quiet laugh. ‘Spell’ was not, perhaps, the word she would have chosen. Though given their current predicament, it seemed as reasonable an explanation as anything else. “If our captors do have such things, it certainly seems the easiest way of keeping us under control.”

Of course, that would also imply that either they really were invisible, or that they were currently under active surveillance, neither option of which Touko liked. She patted Shigeru’s knee. “I appreciate your worry about my condition when we arrived, but let’s both stay up tonight. Perhaps it can only affect one person at a time, or we can help each other shake off its effects.”

Shigeru covered her hand with his own. “All right. We’ll figure out a way out of this somehow.” Something steely entered his expression. “If this goes too much longer, perhaps I can just break the door down.”

“If there’s some sort of magical seal on the door, I suspect it’s also protected against violence,” Touko pointed out. “… But if it comes to that, I’ll help.” She nudged him, feigning lightheartedness. “Now how about another game of Shiritori while we wait?”

He looked down at her, mischief in his eyes. “I will win this round.”

“You are welcome to try, dear.”

A dull thud.

Touko jumped, her full attention on the door as from beyond it, something thudded again.

Shigeru stood, his expression wary. “What –?”

She joined him during a brief period of silence that somehow seemed more ominous than the thuds, and jumped again as the door slammed open.

“Oi, brat, what the hell are you doing still here? Even a weakling like you should have been able to break through that seal easi –”

Touko stared downwards, dimly aware of Shigeru doing the same.

The cat they had taken into their home about a year earlier – the cat that had just talked, with the voice of a middle-aged man – stared back.

“… I’m not imagining things, am I?”

“No, dear, I heard it too.”

“… … … Meow?”

Touko laughed quietly as she knelt down to scratch behind his ears. Did talking cats like that? He’d never objected before …

“I’m afraid you’ll have to try a bit harder than that to convince us, Nyankichi – oh, come to think of it, what is your name?” She could never remember what it was that Takashi-kun called him, and he always seemed to come when she called regardless.

“Eh, whatever’s fine,” the cat said, leaning into her hand. “Can’t be more embarrassing than the brat’s choice.”

Touko bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.

The cat suddenly ducked out from under her hand. “Anyway! I don’t suppose you two would agree to forget this ever happened? The brat’ll be pissed when he finds out.”

“I’m afraid not,” Shigeru said, settling crosslegged beside her. “And just what is going on? Where did Takashi-kun come across a talking cat?”

“I am not a cat,” he said, with the air of an old grievance. “If it would do any good, I would show you my proper, noble form, but of course most of you silly, normal humans can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“But Takashi-kun can?” Shigeru asked, only moments before Touko would have said the same. So that white raven he saw really was –

She watched with fascination as the cat (not-a-cat?) visibly winced. “Are you sure we can’t pretend we never had this conversation?” he asked plaintively. “He’ll put me on a diet for months.”

She and Shigeru exchanged an amused look. “And I’ll make sure you can’t sneak anything from the kitchen, either, if you keep avoiding the question,” she said, hoping she’d feigned severity well enough to hide her amusement.

The cat gave her an impressively appalled look, then sighed. “Fine.” He threw a look towards the still-open door. “But make it fast, or better yet, ask on the way. Matoba’s shiki are almost all idiots, but even they’re going to notice that I disappeared eventually.”

“Shiki?” Shigeru asked.

“Matoba?” Touko asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

“Shiki are … eh, call them servants. Matoba is the long-haired eyepatch-wearing bastard who owns this place,” the cat said, clearly impatient.

Ah. Yes, that was it. “Matoba … -san … came to talk to me, before he brought us here,” Touko said slowly. As much as the forced lack of activity grated on her, now that escaping seemed an actual possibility, she had to wonder … “He was saying something about invisible monsters. He wasn’t talking about … the things Takashi-kun can see, was he?”

Nyankichi huffed. “Hell if I know.” He paused to wipe a paw across an ear, then continued, voice reluctant, “Probably not. If he had come to talk to you about youkai, he’d probably have started the conversation by revealing to you that the brat could see them.”

“Then there’s something else out there? Something … worse?” She wished she knew a better word – surely not everything strangethat Takashi-kun saw was bad – but couldn’t come up with one.

“Do I look like I have all the answers?” the cat demanded. Really, it was amazing Takashi-kun had stayed as polite as he had, if he’d spent much time at all talking with his very rude cat. “Something smelled off before that bastard Matoba’s shiki sneak attacked me, the fools. But it’s not like I ever saw anything.”

He tilted his head suddenly, and she wondered what he was hearing that they couldn’t. “There’s my cue. Seriously, how incompetent are those shiki?” He turned back to them. “Well? You two coming?”

Shigeru half-stood, but Touko laid a hand on his arm. “We’d just be in your way, wouldn’t we?” She asked. “And with some unknown thing roaming about …”

Her husband studied her face for a moment, sighed, and turned back to the cat as he settled back down. “Are we any safer here than we would be out there?”

The cat looked at him as though he’d asked the stupidest question in the world. “Matoba wards are some of the best in the business, the bastard has no qualms about harming youkai but he generally treats humans with more respect, and in any case, unless I miss my guess you’re meant to be pawns in whatever he’s planning for the brat. If you’re not safe here, you wouldn’t be safe anywhere.”

Shigeru looked like he had something sour in his mouth. Well, Touko couldn’t say she liked the idea of being used as a pawn (a hostage?) any more than he did. Still. “In that case …” She faltered.

Shigeru’s hand closed over hers, comfortingly. “In that case, tell Takashi-kun that we are safe, and that he should stay safe, too, until we see each other again.” He paused. “And that if we really are being used as hostages, he shouldn’t agree to anything just because of us.”

“And tell him that we love him,” Touko said, the words falling off her lips far more easily than she felt they had any right to. For a moment, she wanted to take them back – what if they were too much, what if they scared him away, what if they were a burden?

But Shigeru’s hand tightened around her own, and when she looked up she found him smiling down at her, and then there wasn’t any time left.

“Ugh, stupid sentimental humans give me indigestion,” the cat muttered. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

He barreled towards the door, slamming it shut behind him. The patter of his feet had barely faded before Shigeru stood and walked to the door.

He looked as surprised as her when it slid open with no more resistance than a normal door. Clearly, whatever Nyankichi had done had removed the lock. (Seal?)

Curious, she joined Shigeru in looking out into a corridor that matched their room: traditional, possessing a palpable sense of age but also clearly well-kept, impressively wide, and bare of any decoration.

It also appeared to be empty, though when she stuck her head out to look farther down the corridor, a sudden gust of wind blew loose strands of hair across her face. She leaned back into the room that now felt more like “safe” than “prison”, and tucked the disarrayed hair back behind her ears. “… Just because it looks empty, I guess it’s not fair to assume that it actually is.”

“Even less so here than other places, I suspect,” Shigeru said dryly, cast one more thoughtful look at the corridor, and stepped back from the door, closing it behind him. He stood there for a few moments, hand still on the door, before sighing. “The world really is bigger than we’ve ever known.”

“Or perhaps simply larger than we were willing to admit,” she said quietly, thinking of white ravens and unexplained grass stains and scrapes and occasional fainting spells and bouts of sudden, unexplainable sickness that disappeared just as quickly as they appeared – except when they didn’t. “… We’re terrible guardians, aren’t we?”

In a handful of rapid steps he was there, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ve done the best we knew how. And now we know better. We’ll be better.” His grip tightened. “And even not knowing, I’d say Takashi-kun was still far better off with us than some of those – those –”

She didn’t know whether it was some sense of obscure family loyalty or simply an inability to find the right words that stilled his tongue; either way she nodded firmly. Some part of her wanted to beg for more reassurance – that everything would be okay, that Takashi-kun would be okay, that they’d see each other again – but it wasn’t really fair to Shigeru, to lean on him so much. Instead she straightened, looking up at him. “What now, do you think?”

Her husband made a face, drawing a smile onto hers. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything we really can do now but wait.”

“Ishida-san,” Shigeru said triumphantly. “I bet you don’t remember him.”

Touko closed her eyes. Tired of losing to her at Shiritori, Shigeru had proposed a memory game: naming fellow students of theirs from middle and high school, and seeing if the other remembered. She’d only forgotten two to Shigeru’s three, but feared she wouldn’t be able to hang onto her lead much longer. “Was he, um …” memory sparked, and she grinned, reopening her eyes. “That boy with the terribly unfashionable round glasses who transferred out our third year of middle school. No fair choosing a transfer student!”

Shigeru smiled, eyes dancing mischievously. “I have to take my advantages where I can, dear.”

The door slid open.

“— take to get competent help around here …” A smooth young masculine voice preceded its owner into the room. At his distinctive appearance, Touko stiffened, wondering if she’d feel the sleep spell (or whatever) coming; Shigeru half-stood before apparently thinking better of it, and the young man stared at them, his visible eye open in something that looked very much like surprise. “Ah.”

As quickly as it had appeared, the surprise disappeared, replaced by a bland smile much like the one Touko remembered him greeting her with the first time they met. “If you will excuse me …”

He turned to leave, and Touko and Shigeru exchanged a glance. “If you’re looking for Nyangoro, Matoba-san,” her husband said politely, “I’m afraid he’s long gone.”

They found themselves once again the subject of the black-haired young man’s attention; a rather closer examination than the first time. When he spoke again, his voice sounded slightly strangled. “Nyangoro … was it?”

“You must admit the name fits,” Shigeru said, slightly defensive. "Though ... what would be an appropriate name for a talking cat?"

“Luna?” Touko suggested, doing her best to keep a straight face. She'd never watched the show herself, but at the height of its popularity Sailor Moon had been so popular even in their area that she could hardly have avoided learning at least a little bit about it.

Shigeru shot her an appalled look, amusement well hidden. “Wasn’t Luna female? I doubt he’d forgive us for that!”

She waved a hand. “The male cat, then. Artemis, wasn’t it?”

Matoba cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t put it past him to know enough of Greek mythology to take exception at being named after a goddess,” he said dryly. “He ... talked to you, then?”

So the sense of humor was not entirely a front. The man who stood near the entrance to the room seemed subtly different from the one who had tried to convince her to leave home (and kidnapped her when she refused). His clothes were the most obvious change – traditional, in dark colors, of similar make to what had been left in the closet for Shigeru's use, where when he had visited her, he'd worn a suit. He’d seemed more at home in the suit; here it was as though some additional weight sat uncomfortably on his shoulders.

She also noticed that he had yet to cross more than a step past the threshold, and although this young man couldn’t be more different from their ward, that reminded her of how hesitant Takashi-kun had been, those initial long weeks, when she and Shigeru had begun to wonder if they’d done the right thing, or simply inadvertently caused more damage with their blundering.

“Won’t you come in and have a seat?” she asked, as gracefully as if it were her own home and not (presumably) his.

Shigeru shot her a look that she returned with a brief smile before she turned back to Matoba, his expression again blank. “I believe I will pass,” he said politely. “I must continue the search for ... Artemis.” A short pause. “If he stopped to talk, I am ... curious why you did not accompany him.”

“Given your conversation with my wife before you kidnapped her, we thought it best not to,” Shigeru said, showing admirable restraint in tone if not words.

“He said you could be trusted to keep us safe,” Touko added.

Matoba’s face went even blanker. “I somehow doubt that.” He inclined his head towards them, turned, and left, sliding the door closed behind him.

Touko took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “That was … interesting.”

“Why did you invite him in?” Shigeru asked, turning towards her. “He’s the one holding us here.”

“According to Nyankichi, he’s also the one keeping us safe,” Touko said. “Now that we have decided to stay here, there’s not a whole lot of point to holding a grudge. Besides, if he doesn’t think we’ll cause trouble, maybe he’ll open up more of this place to us.”

“Speaking of –” Shigeru walked over and tried the door. It slid open easily. “Well, either we are allowed out now, or he didn’t think it worth the time to spend re-… sealing? the door.”

“I do hope he got away safely,” Touko said.

“Nyangoro? You’ve seen how much trouble he can be when he doesn’t want to do something.” Shigeru settled back down next to her, bumping her shoulder lightly. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

She smiled back. “I wonder what Matoba-san wants with Takashi-kun. Perhaps I’ll ask, if he comes by again.” Seeing Shigeru’s expression threaten to turn dark, she nudged him back. “Be nice, dear.”

He shook his head. “If you insist.”

“He reminds me – just a little – of how Takashi-kun was, right after we took him in,” she said, looking back towards the door.

“He kidnapped you, dear, he’s not one of your strays.”

She made a face at him. “I know that.”

He sighed. “Well, we’ll try it your way for now. More flies with honey, I suppose.”

Touko just smiled. They always end up being your strays, too, dear.

Takashi’s eyes snapped open.

He stomped on his first instinct towards panic. His most recent memories were a jumble of fragmented images, most of which didn’t make any sense, but the familiar feel of his fanny pack against his waist, the less familiar feel of the mask pressed against the side of his head, and a warm weight curled up at his side that felt like the little fox reassured him that he was among friends.

He shifted the still-tender knot on the back of his head against the rock he lay on, and winced. Not that that’s necessarily any better, some days.

A thin, rough cloth covered most of his body; it slid reluctantly downwards as he sat up slowly, automatically shifting the little fox, who grumbled a sleepy protest and resettled into his new position. His head spun, and he felt hollowed-out, as weak as if he’d just recovered from a particularly bad bout of overstrain-induced illness.

The darkness shaded slightly lighter off to his right. Not bright enough to see any details, but he thought he could see a couple of stalagmites rising from the surrounding rock not too far away, and far above his head, he thought the ceiling looked rough and jagged.

He thought he could hear a small stream trickling nearby, and several other places dripping in syncopated fashion. Something that might have been the soft pattering of tiny feet caught his attention before fading away, but he couldn’t see any youkai who might be the cause.

His heart clenched, remembering the times before when his sight had been temporarily damaged. What if youkai were all around him, and he just couldn’t see any of them anymore?

What if it was permanent?

Panic tried, again, to sink its claws into him, but he shook it off as well as he could. With the room this dim, probably the only way he would be able to see any youkai is if they glowed. Or perhaps it was just rats. (Though in that case, he would definitely prefer the youkai.)

He slowly stood, reaching a hand out to steady himself against the nearby wall as he nearly lost his balance. He almost fell over again as he leaned down to feel around for and then pull the blanket over the little fox, injured shoulder protesting each motion. Part of him wanted to just lie back down, curl up, and sleep some more, but first he needed to know where he was.

And who had him.

And why.

He gingerly prodded at his memories again, hoping they’d make more sense this time.

They’d stopped for lunch, Takashi helping gather what they could find as the little fox directed him in a surprisingly imperious voice, so glad to be of use that it made his heart ache.

Maybe it was the food? He certainly didn’t know forest life well enough to be able to tell at a glance what was edible to humans and what was not. He’d assumed the little fox would know; it had been their third such meal together, and no trouble had befallen him the other times.

Everything after that was still jumbled, incomprehensible fragments, so perhaps his luck had run out.

He shook his head gingerly, pleased when the motion caused no additional ill effects. Well, I seem to have survived. I’ll call that lucky enough for me for now.

Stepping carefully, he walked towards the lighter part of the cave, one hand always lightly touching the wall. Several bends in the path later, he had to stop and cover his eyes as the light from the exit – still a ways off, but now a straight shot – stabbed at his eyes.

He paused again at the mouth of the cave, taking in his surroundings as his eyes finished adjusting.

A good-sized clearing fanned away from him, framed by trees on all sides. It appeared to form a small plateau, the steep drop-off on all sides hiding the lower trunks of any of the trees, but the trees themselves were still tall enough that he couldn’t see over them.

The rushing noise he’d been hearing for several minutes turned out to be a stream that ran down the cliff face not far from the cave, bisected the clearing, and disappeared over the edge. It looked about ankle-deep, maybe half a meter wide at its broadest point, and so achingly clear that his throat pointedly reminded him that it had no idea how long it had been since he’d had something to drink.

Part of him wanted to stop and drink in the beauty, as he so rarely had the chance to. (He had trouble appreciating beauty while being chased by something with far too many teeth.) Unfortunately, he still had no idea where he was.

I hope I haven’t been kidnapped again. I hadn’t even finished rescuing myself the first time yet. Sensei would never let me live it down.

“Natsume-dono, you’re awake!”

His head whipped around, trying to pinpoint the voice, and he finally found it in the form of what initially appeared to be a small fish hovering in the middle of the stream. It climbed out of the water and what first appeared to be translucent tendrils waving behind it turned out to be an incredibly loose and noodly body attached to its fish-shaped head.

He had no idea how it stood upright, though he supposed it still wasn’t the strangest youkai he had seen. And it was such a relief to have confirmation that he could still see them.

“Natsume-dono, please stay right here.” It waved its noodly arms in a way that left Takashi hard-pressed not to laugh. “I will go inform my lord. He will be so pleased!”

It jumped back into the water and swam upstream, briefly appearing to be nothing more than another small fish, before it used its … tentacles? … to help it climb up the miniature waterfall at the stream’s head.

Takashi blinked as he watched it go, then shrugged and sat down, leaning back against the rock wall and closing his eyes.

If he hadn’t had the little fox with him, he might have considered running. Though given how shaky he still was, he doubted he’d have gotten far. As it was, he simply had to hope that the servant youkai’s demeanor meant that its lord would be similarly benevolent.

The waterfall had almost lulled him back to sleep when a familiar voice spoke. “Natsume.”

His eyes shot open. “Kai!” His friend stood there, whole and healthy and so painfully unsure that even Takashi could see it. And with absolutely no reason, when it had been him who had – “I’m so sorry, I never meant for you to believe that I was in league – I mean, I wasn’t in league with Natori-san, he’s my friend, yes, but so are you, and I wouldn’t have knowingly done anything that put you in danger. Please believe me!”

For a long moment, Kai simply stared, his face distressingly blank.

Takashi only caught a glimpse of Kai’s face crumpling before he found his arms full of distressed young god. He patted Kai’s back tentatively. “It’s all right?”

“I almost stole the Book of Friends from you,” Kai wailed. “I thought it served you right! But then I couldn’t, because you’re still my friend! But I thought you hated me!”

“I could never hate you,” Takashi said, pouring all his sincerity into the words, hoping Kai would believe him. “It was a misunderstanding, and that was my fault, too.”

He breathed out. “I know what it’s like, to be lonely and misunderstood. And I’m sure there have been times that I’ve misinterpreted things, too, because I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe in the people who tried to explain themselves to me.”

Kai looked up at him in wonder. “But you have so many friends! You have Taki.”

“I do now,” Takashi said, forcing himself to breathe through the echo of the steamed bun seller’s voice in his head, mockingly reminding him that he probably didn’t, anymore. “I didn’t always.”

“But you’re so nice!”

Takashi smiled wryly down at Kai. “I wasn’t always. And sometimes … things just don’t work out.” He looked out towards the gap in the trees. “Like we almost didn’t. I always meant to come try to find you, but … it never really worked out. There was always something else.”

“… I wanted to visit,” Kai said in a small voice. “But I was afraid.”

“I think I may have been, too.”

“I don’t think so. Natsume would never be afraid,” Kai said, again full of that childlike faith that tended to make Takashi forget just how much older than himself Kai must be. It was so easy to treat him like the child he appeared to be. “What changed your mind?”

Takashi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you decide to come?” Kai asked. “The kitsune with you ran into some of my followers – did I mention I have followers now? – near the foot of my mountain and led them back to where you had collapsed. They brought you here, and we’ve done our best to nurse you back to health. I was worried that something terrible had happened. I’ve been getting a feeling like that lately, like something terrible has happened, but …”

“From what I’ve … heard,” Takashi said, and had to force himself to breathe, again, “something caused most humans to disappear. And there’s something else that eats both humans and youkai.” He made a helpless gesture. “I don’t – some youkai stole me away before whatever it was that happened, so I don’t know anything, really.” He turned his face away, not wanting Kai to see just how upset he was. “I’ve just been trying to get back –”

“I’ll help,” Kai said.

Takashi stopped, looked at him. Kai gulped. “You’re my friend, Natsume.” He stood back up. “If something that terrible is out there, I think I should probably know more about it. Even if it’s really scary. Maybe especially if it’s really scary. How can I protect my home and my followers and Natsume from something I don’t know anything about?”

Takashi swallowed, overcome. But. “I can’t let you do that, Kai,” he said. No matter how much he wanted to. “There’s your followers, and –”

“They can take care of themselves for a while,” Kai said. “Please let me do this for you, Natsume.”

He closed his eyes, forced himself to reopen them. “Kai, I – from what I heard, only people with power survived. I can’t ask you to come with me, not when I’m trying to find Natori-san.”

Kai stiffened, and at their side the stream rippled counter to its normal flow. “That exorcist –!”

“He’s my friend, too.” Takashi met Kai’s eyes. Just as he had been unable to choose just humans then, he couldn’t choose just youkai now. No matter how much easier it would be. “I have to know.”

Kai turned away, the stream at their side slowly returning to normal, and when he turned back the last of the angry god bled from his eyes. “I suppose that was a misunderstanding, too?”

Takashi flinched from the bitterness in Kai’s voice and forced himself to answer honestly. “Natori-san … I don’t think he likes youkai very much. Especially not when he thinks humans might be at stake. But after I explained things to him, he was going to just seal the well and leave. I think he regretted trying to exorcise you. He’s –” Takashi faltered. Who was he to say that Natori-san was a good person, when he wasn’t even sure what that meant? “— he’s my friend.”

Kai stared at him for another long moment, and finally nodded. “Okay. I’ll give him another chance.”

“What?”

“If you’re friends with him, maybe he’s not like the other exorcists.” Kai nodded again, then faltered. “And … I don’t want you to disappear again. Especially not if you might disappear forever. So …” He gulped. “Let me stay with you a little bit longer?”

“I …” Takashi wanted to protest further, but the truth was that now that he’d found Kai again, he didn’t want his friend to disappear, either. “If you’re sure?”

“I am,” Kai said. “Where did you want to go? One of my followers, Takabane, can fly really fast. He can take us there.”

“Um.” Takashi had to bite back the sudden urge to laugh. He had been to Natori-san's apartment in Sakaki, but he had no idea where his real home was. “I don’t actually know.”

The urge to laugh drained away. When Natori-san had given him his address, he’d also given him his phone number – both the apartment landline and his cell. He knew he still had that paper tucked away somewhere.

At home.

He could imagine all too easily; had had nightmares about what that house would be like empty of life. He did not want to go back there. Not now. Not yet.

But.

“Home,” he said quietly. “I need to – if you’re sure, please take me home.”

Chapter Text

Tsuji stopped walking.

Kaname turned to look at him as the rest of their classmates also gradually came to a stop. They had eaten lunch a couple of hours ago, and his head felt as clear as it ever got, after three and a half days of constant walking. “What’s wrong?” 

The blond took his glasses off and scrubbed at his eyes, and Kaname realized that he was crying. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, voice wavering. “Nothing at all.”

Kaname looked to his friends, next, but Taki’s hands covered her mouth, her eyes wide, and Nishimura was grinning so hard it had to hurt. Only Kitamoto looked at him and said, “Look closer, Tanuma,” his eyes suspiciously bright.

Kaname looked around. Tall grass swayed in the occasional breeze in a meadow to their left; to their right rice fields lay mostly empty, ready to be planted sometime in the next few weeks. (If anyone remained to plant them.) The road they’d been walking down ran between them, one lane each direction and empty. Up ahead, he could see a one-lane road that ran between two of the rice fields before intersecting with their road. Beyond that, he could see the outskirts of another small town, quiet and still.

He shook his head, increasingly frustrated as more of his classmates began looking around, many of them clearly also noticing whatever it was that he just couldn’t see. “I don’t –”

“Right, transfer student,” Taki said, smiling sheepishly. “Tanuma. … We’re home.”

Kaname stared around with new eyes, not quite daring to believe. Yet as the reactions of his classmates cascaded from wide eyes and grins and pointed fingers to yelling and laughing and hugging, he found it hard to suppress the relief bubbling in his chest, or the lump in his throat. I can’t believe … we’re finally …

Taki hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder, and whispered, “Thank you.” Not knowing how to reply, he wrapped his arms around her awkwardly. He looked to Kitamoto and Nishimura for help, but that same gratefulness was so naked on their faces, too, that he couldn’t meet their eyes for long.

As the initial excitement began to die down, Tsuji called for order, and Taki pulled away, scrubbing at her face.

“Tanuma,” Tsuji said, and Kaname shifted uncomfortably as everyone’s attention shifted to him. “We are all indebted to you, more than words can say. If you hadn’t been here –” he stopped, shook his head. “Well. I’m really glad you were.”

Kaname looked down, sure his face was the reddest it had ever been. “It’s not – I didn’t really –” He made himself stop. Made himself take a breath, and look up, at Tsuji and at his friends and at all the rest of his classmates. “I couldn’t have made it alone, either,” he finally said. “Thank you.”

He thought his classmates probably expected more of him than that, but the rest of his words had dried up, so he just mutely looked towards Tsuji.

The class representative cleared his throat. “All right. Next order of business: where to first?”

Kaname braced himself for another uproar, but instead there was only silence.

Finally, Yoshida-san spoke up. “I think we should go by the temple, first.” She looked towards Kaname. “That’s where you live, right? The old temple near Yatsuhara?”

“I – yes, but –”

“I agree,” Okamoto-san said, cutting him off. She claimed her ankle was feeling much better, but she still had a noticeable limp. And like a pebble starting an avalanche, suddenly, it seemed like everyone else was agreeing, too.

“I – wait. Wait!” Kaname surprised himself – and, it appeared, everyone else – by shouting. Into the ensuing silence, he said, “That doesn’t make sense. Yatsuhara’s on the other side of town, right?” He thought he remembered that from the maps. “And everyone will need me to guide them home.” He hesitated, forced himself to continue. “You know I haven’t managed to contact my dad, yet.” After the first two nights, he hadn’t had the heart to try. “He’s probably – it just doesn’t make sense, to make everyone walk so much further for what is probably –”

“Anywhere we go could be a wasted trip.” Shimoda interrupted. He ran a hand through his hair. “Even – just because we know my dad was around that first night, doesn’t mean that he might not have –” he stopped. “But it’s right that you know first.”

“I – are you sure?” But no matter how hard he looked, Kaname couldn’t see anything but agreement on his classmates’ faces, or in their murmured words. “I don’t know what to say.”

Nishimura rolled his eyes, and stepped just enough closer to grab his arm and drag him back to the front of the group. “Just say ‘thanks’, idiot.” He gently pushed Kaname. “And lead the way.”

Kaname turned back, looking from face to face. He still didn’t know all of their names, but he knew a lot more of them than when he started. And even those whose names he didn’t know, he felt like he knew, now, in a way that he’d never known most of his classmates … well, ever. He had been consistently floored by their faith in him, and this was just …

“… Thank you.”

It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t think of any words that would be. So he did what he could: he turned and started walking.

‘Leading the way’ turned out to be more a symbolic gesture than anything else, since the fact remained that Kaname didn’t know this area of town. After about the third time he paused, uncertain, at an intersection, Tsuji laughed and reclaimed the lead, and Kaname fell happily back into his usual role of keeping watch.

So far Natori-san’s theory that they were more likely to appear near populated areas had held true, so he knew it was important to keep an especially close eye out, no matter how much his heart ached at the thought of one of those things in the town that had grown to mean so much to him. He suspected Tsuji shared that opinion, as the path they took stuck to the outskirts of town, when he was fairly certain they could have taken a straighter path and shortened the distance considerably.

As still as the town was in the middle of the afternoon, as few parents as they’d been able to contact … none of them were so delusional as to believe that their town had somehow escaped. But as long as they stuck to the outskirts, as long as Kaname didn’t sense anything, they could at least pretend.

He wished they’d been able to contact Natori-san and let him know about the effect the sutra he and Yoshida-san had chanted had had on the creature. But his cell phone had apparently been off when they’d tried, that night, and the other number he’d given them had been picked up by an irritable-sounding man who’d never heard of the name ‘Natori’ and showed no interest in listening to their explanations of invisible monsters.

The previous day, almost everyone’s cell phone charge had run out, the remainder they were conserving for absolute emergencies, and they’d spent most of the day walking through mostly undeveloped areas. They’d even ended up having to sleep outside, an experience Kaname was not eager to repeat.

He had to hope that nothing had happened to Natori-san. And for the time being, he had to accept that there was nothing else he could do.

He was so very tired of there being nothing he could do.

As they entered a very familiar forest, he had to fight to keep his steps from slowing. He wanted – he needed to know, but he didn’t know what he’d do if all that awaited them was an empty, dead temple. And how could he honestly expect anything more?

In an attempt to distract himself, he watched the forest around them, for familiar landmarks but mostly for any sign of youkai. Surely at least Natsume’s friends would still be around.

As they began to climb the stairs, his heart pounded far harder than could be excused by the exertion. The idle conversations behind him slowly died, leaving him unnaturally aware of the gentle rustling of the forest that surrounded them. He wondered if everyone else shared his nerves.

Taki slipped her hand into his. He smiled wanly down at her, and she smiled encouragingly back, and that wasn’t enough, not given how desperately he wanted to just run away. But it helped. Seeing Nishimura’s thumbs up and Kitamoto’s encouraging smile helped. Hearing the soft sounds of his classmates behind him, knowing that they were there for him, as they’d all been there for each other, helped.

Not enough to make it okay. But enough to let him fake the courage he needed to keep walking. To turn that final corner. To keep his eyes open, when he desperately wanted to close them.

An older woman, black hair with touches of grey pulled back in a bun, stood in the front courtyard, brushing the dirt clear with a broom Kaname had used many times himself. He didn’t recognize her, and for a moment, his heart sank, and he cursed the hope he had allowed to take root.

Then Yoshida-san pushed past him, breathing a disbelieving “… Mom?”

The older woman stiffened, head raising; looked around wildly, before her eyes settled on their group and she gasped, bringing both hands to her chest – the broom dropping, forgotten, at her feet – and said, “Sanae?”

Yoshida-san ran. “Mom!”

“Sanae, oh Sanae, you’re safe, you’re alive, I can’t believe it –”

“Yoshida-san?” A man’s voice, curious, as he stepped out of main building. “Is everything –?”

“Dad!” Shimoda yelled. He pushed past, jumping into his father’s arms as eagerly and happily as Yoshida-san had, and with as little regard for dignity or propriety.

Not that any of them cared. Not as more adults appeared – from within the building, from around the corners, even a few from the outskirts of the forest – and more and more of their class found and reunited with their parents.

Kaname kept looking for a particular black robe, a bald head, those glasses that were far more familiar to him that his own. He resisted the urge to run into the temple, knowing he’d be far more likely to miss his dad in passing than actually find him. If his dad was still alive. If he was still here. He’d be here.

He’d be here.

Not everyone was happy. Several of his classmates searched through the growing crowd, their hopeful faces growing increasingly desperate. He saw a few of the adults doing the same thing. And even with the parents and children who had found each other, he saw with aching heart the way a few of his classmates’ faces fell when they heard – he assumed – who they’d never see again.

“Atsushi-niiiiiii!”

What appeared to be the living manifestation of a shriek attacked Kitamoto, who caught her with the ease of long practice, swinging her around and laughing joyously, a look Kaname had rarely seen on his friend. “Mana! I can’t believe you’re okay! What about mom and dad?”

“They’re both fine, too!” Mana said. “We were so worried about you, but no one knew anything, so we kept hoping, but then it was days and we figured there was no way you could have made it back here with the trains not running and nothing working and people disappearing and we’d almost given up hope and I can’t believe it you’re actually back!” She pulled out of the hug and grabbed his hand. “Come on, we have to find mom and dad!”

Nishimura, on the other hand, was still looking. He kept smiling. Nishimura was like that. But having learned to recognize the lie in Natsume’s smiles, Kaname could see the strain to Nishimura’s.

Taki –

He looked around, only to find – and belatedly wonder how he hadn’t noticed before – that she still stood beside him, clutching his hand so tightly it was beginning to hurt. “Taki? You’re not looking?”

Her grip loosened a little bit as she looked up at him. “It would just be my mother, anyway. And I can look just as well from here. What about you? If all these people are here, surely …”

He offered her a half-smile, about the best he could manage. “I can look just as well from here.”

“Kaname?”

His heart stopped. He looked towards the voice, hardly daring to, afraid to believe that what he was seeing was real. He dimly felt Taki let go of his hand, gently push him, and quietly say “Go.”

He walked across the courtyard in a daze. There must not have been anyone in his way, since he doubted he’d have had the presence of mind to avoid them.

His dad seemed frozen, gripping the door frame as though it was the only solid thing in the world. “Kaname, is that really …”

He finished climbing the steps and stopped, almost in arm’s reach. “Dad,” he finally said, through a throat so tight he almost choked. “I’m home.”

His dad took that final step, wrapping his arms around Kaname. “Welcome home, son.”

"Are you real?” Kaname found himself asking, though his dad felt real, just as real as before, and though he hated how childish his words sounded.

“As real as I’ve ever been.” His dad said, and his voice rumbled in his chest the way it always did, and Kaname was almost, almost ready to believe. “Kaname. Are you real?”

“I’m real.” He said. “I –”

“I’m so glad you made it home. I thought …” His dad’s voice broke. “I thought I would never see you again. Never know. Never even have a body to do the funeral rites over and have some sense of closure. I can’t –”

“I know, Dad.” Because he had felt the exact same things, each night, as his hope that his dad was still alive kept getting eaten into by the dread of “but what if he’s not?”

His dad pulled away, just a little bit, reluctantly, and looked up at him. “Look at me, babbling on. You must think I’m insane.”

Kaname smiled through the tears. And why was he crying now, now that he was home and he knew that his dad was alive and everything was fine? He should be celebrating, like everyone else.

“No. You’re ... perfect. You ...”

His dad took his face in both hands, the way he had when Kaname was small. “Kana-chan, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” His voice broke. “I just can’t stop …”

“Aa, Kana-chan.” His dad leaned forward, touching their foreheads together, his fingers gently wiping away the tears that seemed determined to continue leaking out regardless of Kaname’s wishes. “It’s been hard, hasn’t it? I don't know how so many of you made it back, but I am so, so glad you did.”

He started laughing, helplessly, through his tears. “You haven’t called me Kana-chan since I was five years old.”

“I seem to remember a certain young man being very emphatic about the fact that he was far too adult to respond to such a girly nickname.”

“I did not.”

“You most certainly did.”

“Well, I revoke the ban.” Kaname sniffed, closing his eyes. “You can call me whatever you want.”

He could have easily stayed there, leaning into his dad, forever. But when he heard shouting from the other side of the courtyard, new reflexes took over and his head shot up, somehow managing to knock both of their glasses askew as he turned to look.

Visual check confirmed headache check that none of those creatures were in the area. The one shouting was the blonde girl from Class 2 – Teraoka-san, he was pretty sure. Her target was a tall girl with medium-brown hair in a high ponytail, who he thought he remembered being from Class 5.

Kaname looked around for Tsuji and Kitamoto – normally their group’s primary peace keepers – but Kitamoto’s sister appeared to have been joined by his mother and father, the latter looking a bit pale, and Tsuji he finally found sitting in the shade of a tree at the edge of the forest, curled around a child who looked near-identical to him, except several years younger and with slightly less curly hair. Neither of them appeared to have noticed.

Why now? Kaname closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, and turned back to his dad. “I should go –”

His dad looked startled for a moment, then surprised Kaname by beaming proudly.   “All right. I’ll be here.”

Desire to get the discussion over with so that he could return to his dad hastened Kaname’s steps. (Since when was he a peacekeeper, anyway?)

Since she stood mostly facing the temple, Teraoka-san saw him first. She broke off in the middle of a sentence and dashed the rest of the way over. The girl from Class 5 stood there for a moment, as though unsure, then sighed and followed.

“Tanuma-san!” The blonde said, hands clasped at chest level, eyes wide. “Nonomiya-san says that if my family isn’t here, then they’re probably dead, but that can’t be true, right? They just must not have made it here, right?”

“Well, that’s –”

“You’ll help me find them, won’t you?”

Kaname couldn’t quite bring himself to point out that the other girl might be – probably was – right. He wasn’t sure how his dad had managed to gather so many people here, but given that he had, Kaname suspected that there weren’t very many others left.

“I’ll try,” he finally said helplessly. “Once we figure out who else needs to go looking, we can go together.”

“But I want to go now! What if they’re in danger?” she protested.

Then I doubt a few minutes or even a few hours will make a difference. “What if someone else’s family is in danger, too, and we miss helping them because their son or daughter wasn’t there to lead us to them?” Kaname said instead. “We shouldn’t rush into this.”

“You’re just saying that because your father is fine,” she spat.

Kaname flinched, but did his best not to fold. “I like to think that even if my father were missing, I’d still say the same thing,” he said quietly. “I am deeply grateful that I don’t have to put that theory to the test. Can you wait a little bit longer?”

She looked for a moment like she was about to say something else, but in the end just looked down and muttered, “I guess.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

She turned and walked away.

Kaname turned to Nonomiya-san. “Are your parents -?”

She cracked a bitter smile. “My dad was on a 4-month business trip to America. My mom went with him. I guess I should have taken them up on the offer to go with them, but …” she spread her hands “… my life was here. I guess I may never know what happened to them. My aunt –” her mouth firmed. “She’s gone.”

Kaname wished he was good at being reassuring. “She might just not have made it here yet.” He offered quietly. It was the best he could do.

Nonomiya-san looked at him levelly. “Yeah. She might. But unlike some people, I’m not going to get my hopes up.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re ready to go.”

Nonomiya-san shrugged. “Sure. Meanwhile, I’ll go see if there’s anything else I can do to help out.” She looked away briefly, then looked Kaname straight in the eyes and said, “I’m glad your father’s okay.”

Kaname swallowed. “Thanks,” he said quietly. With an offhanded wave, she walked away in the opposite direction from the other girl, and he watched her go, fists clenched, shaking.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Taki asked, walking over from the center of the courtyard, where most of the happy reunions had initially clumped, although they were beginning to disperse across the grounds now.  

He did his best to unclench his fists. “I just wish there was something I could do. Some way I could make everything better.”

Taki half-smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t think even Natsume could do that.”

“Hah.” Kaname managed a smile in return. “I suppose you’re right.” He blinked. “Natsume – I can’t believe I forgot – the Fujiwaras!”

Taki flinched. Looking around, Kaname almost didn’t notice, and at first, didn’t think much of it. “I wonder where they are … maybe inside?”

“Tanuma.” Her tone of voice stopped him; made him slowly turn back. “I don’t think they’re here.”

He stomped on the urge to protest. This was Taki, after all. “Where have you checked?”

She blew out a breath. “Just the courtyard area. My mother works pretty far out of town, but I thought just in case – but I asked around, and no one had seen either her or the Fujiwaras. So unless they only just got here and snuck in through the back …”

“But Natori-san talked to Touko-san,” he couldn’t help but protest. “She was fine.”

“Maybe she still is.” But the look on Taki’s face reminded him a bit too much of what his own had probably looked like just a few minutes earlier. Neither of them were very good at lying.  Not about something like this.

He’d thought that at least, at least the Fujiwaras had made it, even when he’d been afraid no one else had.

And even now, knowing that so many more of their parents were here than they’d ever expected, he just. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Taki said quietly.

She offered her hand, and silently, Kaname took it. He stood there, staring blankly at their joined hands, trying hard not to feel anything at all, for several long seconds before he remembered what else she had said, and looked up. “I’m sorry about your mother, too.”

Taki smiled bitterly. “I wish I could be sorrier.”

“Well, well, what have we here?” Kaname looked up in surprise at the sound of his dad’s voice, secretly glad that he had been spared the necessity of responding to Taki’s statement, even as he worried at the sentiment behind it. (He kept forgetting just how little he knew about even his closest friends. What sort of friend was he, really?) “Kana-chan, don’t tell me you went and got yourself a girlfriend without telling me?”

“What? Dad! No!” Kaname protested, face heating. “Taki’s a friend! … And is this really the time?”

Taki, the traitor, giggled, releasing his hand and stepping away to bow briefly. “I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced. I’m Taki Tooru, from Class 5.”

His dad raised his eyebrows and grinned in a way that filled Kaname with foreboding. “Taki-chan! My son has said nothing but good things about you. He never mentioned you were so cute, though.”

“Dad!!” Kaname resisted the urge to hide his face in his hands. Or just run. This was it. He’d survived four days of constant walking and more than a few encounters with ravenous shadow monsters only to finally die from sheer mortification.

And Taki was playing along. “Well, that’s an unforgivable oversight,” she said solemnly.

His dad laughed. “Speaking of your friends, Kaname, I saw Kitamoto-kun and Nishimura-kun, but where is young Natsume-kun?”

Kaname and Taki exchanged looks, embarrassment and laughter both instantly forgotten, and he had to put concerted effort into keeping his fists from clenching again. His dad looked from one of them to the other and back, and his face fell. “Don’t tell me he was one of the ones who –”

“… We don’t know for sure,” Kaname said, knowing that it sounded like ‘Yes’. He looked up at his dad, and though he truly did trust Taki, he couldn’t help but ask, “The Fujiwaras …?”

This time it was his dad who looked away. “Their house was empty,” he said quietly. “A couple of the people here work at the same company as Fujiwara-san, and from what they’ve said, he survived – he was trying to help organize the survivors, initially. But after that … no one’s seen a sign of him since.” He offered an awkward smile that anyone but Kaname would likely have recognized as a near-mirror to Kaname’s own. “Perhaps it’s for the best, if they’ve all moved on together.”

Kaname turned away, clenching his eyes shut and bringing his balled fists up in front of them. He knew his dad was just trying to help in his own way, but he couldn’t bear, right now, to listen. Not when all he wanted to do was fix things, make it so that his best friend and the family that had meant so much to him were still here.

… But it wasn’t something he could fix.

There was no way he could have kept it from happening, or fixed anything at all.

He wished that made it hurt any less.

After a long, strained moment, he felt his dad's hand land, briefly, on his shoulder. “I should go. I’ll need to figure out how to make space for quite a few new additions, after all.”

From his pleased tone, he was looking forward to the challenge.

Kaname turned, immediately feeling even guiltier about his flare of temper. “I’ll help.” He tried for levity. “It is my fault, after all.” I just wish ...

His dad reached out, as though to hug him again, but stopped, and simply said, “And I am so very glad.”

“Don’t worry about the search party,” Taki said. “I’ll wander around, see who else is still looking. Gather a list for when we’re ready to go.”

Kaname smiled, strained but real. “Thanks, Taki.”

He watched her speed off in the direction of one of the students standing alone looking lost, then turned to follow his dad up the steps.

“... If you thought you might need glasses, you could have just told me,” his dad said mildly as they entered the building. “We could have handled the cost.”

Kaname blinked, for a moment honestly confused. While they still didn’t feel quite natural, he’d been wearing his glasses long enough to have almost forgotten just how new they were. Particularly given the consequences of losing them.

“No, my eyesight’s fine,” he said. “I just wear them now because the glass makes it easier to see the monsters.”

His dad stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned slowly to look at Kaname. “Monsters?”

“You know. Those creatures who have been disappearing people. Eating them, I guess. We didn't know what to call them, but I think monster is a fair description.”

His dad’s eyebrows raised. “Monsters … And you can see them?” Thankfully, there was nothing of judgment or disbelief in his voice. Kaname wasn’t sure what he would have done had there been.

Even so, he found it unexpectedly hard to nod. “Not very well. It’s like with youkai – I can only see shadows, mostly, and sometimes not even that. But the glasses … help.”

“Youkai? So that’s …” His dad reached over and tousled Kaname’s hair, smile wide and proud. “You really have grown strong, haven’t you? My son. It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

Kaname looked down, darkly certain that he was blushing again. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m stronger than I used to be, but I’m still not all that strong.” He turned his head to look back down the hall towards the courtyard, unable to resist making the motion even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything. And that even if he did, it still wouldn’t be what – who – he wanted to see. “But I was all they had, so … I had to do something. I couldn’t just let them down because of my weakness.”

His dad chuckled. “You will find that sometimes, that’s all it takes to be strong.”

The temple Kaname called home was old, and had always seemed very large with just the two of them. But it had already been crowded before they arrived: according to his dad, there were twenty-seven adults there and fourteen children. Most were in elementary school or junior high, but there was also an infant and a two year old. “Both with only one parent left,” his father had said quietly as they compared notes. “Though at least they have that.”

Add to that the survivors of the school trip, nineteen students including himself, and Kaname feared that the temple would burst at the seams. Although like his dad, his relief that so many people were alive far outweighed the inconvenience.

Still. “Are you sure it’s all right?” He asked quietly, as his dad directed a couple of the parents to bring another set of spare blankets – he wondered where they’d found them all – to lay out the main hall, where a tall statue looked down on the proceedings with a benevolent smile. The blankets were only being laid out in the gejin, the part of the hall open to lay visitors, but it still felt … strange.

His dad followed his gaze and smiled. “I doubt he would begrudge us this, with the times being what they are.” He rubbed his head and said sheepishly, “Although even using all available floor space, I fear we won’t have enough room. A few people might have to sleep outside. I suppose it’s a good thing that this happened now, when the weather’s almost amenable to that.”

“Almost.” Kaname agreed with a grimace. They’d had to sleep outside the previous night, using their school bags as uncomfortable pillows and huddling together to conserve warmth. It had been … bearable, but not exactly comfortable. And he’d gotten far too well acquainted with what Nishimura and Kitamoto smelled like after a day’s exertion. Not that he expected he smelled any better.

Speaking of. “Sixty people is going to put quite a strain on the bathroom.” He made a face.

His dad huffed a laugh, and reached up to ruffle his hair. “Forty-one already was,” he said wryly. “… And I suspect it won’t be a problem for much longer. We’ll have to figure out what to do about that, too.”

“Won’t be a – oh.” Kaname bit his lip. He’d thought about electricity, though less after that first night, since they hadn't had any problems with it yet. It was tempting, to ignore that problem when they had so many other, more immediate concerns. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the same would hold true for water and sewage as well. “… What are we going to do?”

His dad looked at him for a long moment, before saying quietly, “I don’t know.” He half-smiled. “But we’ll figure something out. We’ve all got each other, and that’s the important part.”

Kaname smiled back. It seemed he’d been smiling ever since he got home, because even if everything else had gone wrong, his dad was still here. He bit his lip. “I didn’t think to ask – is Aunt Satomi …?”

“She’s all right,” his dad said. “She’s turned the inn into a gathering place for those who are left in the village. I wanted her to come here, but travelling from Tetorizaka when we didn’t know how difficult a journey it would be seemed … unwise.” He nodded towards Kaname. “Given what you’ve said about the … creatures you encountered on your way here, it seems that heeding Ito-san’s warnings was likely the right decision.”

“So Ito-san’s all right, too. Good, she –” Kaname remembered his suspicions, both based on his own unreliable feelings and on how oddly she and Natsume had behaved around each other; remembered how relieved Natsume had looked when he’d ultimately decided not to ask. He still didn’t know for sure, but … “— I’m glad she’s safe, too.”

“Any good news right now is a blessing,” his dad said quietly, and smiled warmly at Kaname.

He wasn’t the only one smiling a lot more than normal.

But no matter how much he wanted to just fold himself into his dad's presence, stop thinking and never leave, the past week had left its mark. He looked towards the door. "I should go see what Taki found out..."

He ducked his head, unable to look for too long at his dad’s proud expression. He'd only done what he had to, and accomplished a lot less than he should have.

His dad’s hand landed on his shoulder, warm and strong and there. “All right. Let me know before you leave. I can tell you where I’ve already searched.”

“You’ve –?” It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Kaname’s heart jumped into his throat anyway. “Dad. That’s dangerous.”

“I know that now, but … I can’t see the things you can, Kaname. I knew that everyone had disappeared, but it never occurred to me that they might continue to disappear, that some other force might still be at work.” He tilted his head slightly. “And it seems to have all turned out all right, hasn’t it?”

“I guess.” Kaname took a deep breath, trying to calm down and smooth away the mental image of one of those shadows rolling its way towards his dad and the other people in their town, completely unaware. “If there are anywhere near as many of those things here as we saw on the way, you must have been incredibly lucky.”

But … that still didn’t make sense. “No one’s disappeared when you’ve been around? No one at all?”

His dad stilled, and examined Kaname’s face more closely. “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t know what happened at the empty houses I passed by, whether they disappeared in the initial event or at some later point in time, but everyone who I have seen, who I brought back here, has made it. Kaname, did something –?”

He turned away, hoping it was before his dad could see the naked frustration on his face, the core of anger that he had been able to mostly ignore after having brought everyone else back safely, but that flared up at the reminder that it was everyone else, not everyone, because he hadn’t been certain enough, hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t been there enough.

And maybe no one could have, not even Natsume.

But it still hurt.

“I need to find Taki.”

He fled.

Kaname found Taki sitting on the steps of one of the smaller satellite buildings, feet tucked sideways to keep her lap flat, with one of her school notebooks spread open, most of the page filled with neatly written notes.

Tsuji sat next to her, a map folded open across his lap and spilling over to either side, and his younger sibling tucked in against his other side, eyes closed and hand clutching Tsuji’s shirt as though afraid that he would disappear.

They both looked up and said quiet greetings as Kaname approached. Taki’s eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

He really was that transparent, apparently. “Nothing important,” he said, with a sigh he tried to imbue with the remnants of his frustration. “What does the tally look like?”

He hesitated, looking at the steps, where it looked like he would just barely fit on Taki’s far side. She scooted a bit sideways in clear invitation, and he sat.

“Certainly far better than we had feared,” Taki said. “But ...”

Kaname looked at her notes: a list of names, most of them annotated with addresses. “That’s who’s still missing?”

Taki nodded. “Parents and other family. Some neighbors. Otherwise ...” She shook her head.

He nodded, looking down at his hands, resting empty in his lap. “Did you check around to make sure no one else had seen or heard anything about them either? My dad mentioned wanting to take a look at the list before we did anything.”

He glanced back up just in time to see her raise both eyebrows. “That would be really helpful. I tried to ask around some, but most of the adults are … otherwise occupied at the moment, and I didn’t really have the heart.”

“That’s fair.” The nearby forest rustled in the light breeze, and he wondered, again, where all the youkai had gone. Surely, especially with his glasses …? “It’s not like a few hours here or there is likely to make much of a difference.”

“We can hope anyone who survived had the good sense to stay inside,” Taki said, the doubt clear in her voice.

“But then why wouldn’t they be answering their phones?” Tsuji asked. He passed his hand through his younger sibling’s hair, a distant look on his face. Kaname couldn’t bring himself to ask about his parents. He suspected the two of them sitting here alone was answer enough.

“… I don’t know,” Taki said quietly, sighing. “But … we’ll never know if we don’t go look.”

Tsuji shrugged, and looked down at his sibling again.

Kaname leaned over, straightening back up abruptly when he accidentally bumped Taki. “That map – you’re marking destinations?”

“We were just about to start when you got here,” Taki said, apparently just as happy to change the subject. “Shall we trade?”

“Sure.” Tsuji passed her the map, which she unfolded still further, until it spilled over onto both Tsuji and Kaname’s laps as well.

“All right, it looks like the first house is here …”

Dinner was actually cooked, courtesy of several of the adults. There wasn’t anywhere near enough space in the dining room to fit everyone – it had been meant to hold ten people, not sixty – so that was being used as a makeshift buffet. After acquiring food, Kaname followed the bulk of his classmates outside, where everyone sat in a rough circle in the courtyard.

Many of the others followed them out, adults and siblings settling in little satellite groups. The courtyard was surprisingly quiet given the number of people scattered throughout, everyone concentrating on their food. Especially the recently returned students, who had fallen on the home-cooked meal so ravenously that a man with short black hair and a thin moustache sitting next to Kojima, who Kaname assumed was his father, asked jokingly if they’d eaten anything at all on the way back.

“Convenience store food,” Ogawa said between bites, the pause in the movement of his chopsticks almost unnoticeable. He sat a couple of meters away from where Kaname, Taki, Tsuji, and his little brother – who, after he woke up, Tsuji had introduced as Kazuya – sat. “There’s only so many yakisoba sandwiches you can eat before it starts getting old.”

“Yakisoba sandwiches?” One of his younger brothers – who really were just as identical as he’d said – piped up.

“Can we have some?” The other chimed in.

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “If we can find any that hasn’t expired yet. You’ll have to let Tanuma go get them, though.”

Kaname immediately found himself the focus of two pairs of highly interested eyes, and resisted the urge to sigh. “Ogawa –”

“It might take a while, though,” his ponytailed classmate continued. “Tanuma’s secretly a superhero, and I’m sure you’d agree that saving people in danger is more important than yakisoba sandwiches.”

Identical wide eyes. “Whooooah.”

“Ogawa!”

“It’s true, though,” Hosoya commented blandly from several meters beyond Ogawa. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to live with the fame now that we all know your secret identity.”

“But if you’re a superhero, why didn’t you save our parents?” Kazuya asked quietly, turning eyes that were just as large as, but a great deal more solemn than, the Ogawa twins’ towards Kaname.

He couldn’t help the flinch. Tsuji looked down at his brother. “Kazu ...”

Kaname was uncomfortably aware of the fact that, as quiet as Kazuya's question had been, their conversation had attracted the attention of most of the other people nearby.

“I’m really, really glad you saved my brother,” the boy added, and somehow that just made Kaname feel even worse, “But couldn’t you have saved my parents, too? Or Michio? He was my best friend.”

Kaname resisted the urge to curl in on himself, to look away. As much as it hurt, it was almost a relief to be blamed.

(“If you can see so much ...” Yukimura-san's voice rang in his memory.)

“I,” he started. Stopped. What could he say, really? But somehow, he found words. “I’m not a very good superhero,” he said. I’m not a hero at all. “I can see a few more things than you can, but I can’t really do anything. I was able to help your brother because he was right there with me and we were all lucky. But I can’t – I couldn’t –”

“Oh.” Kazuya kept looking at him, still with those wide, trusting eyes. “But you’re here now. You’ll protect us, right?”

“I –”

He couldn’t say no. Not to the naked trust he saw on Kazuya’s face, or the creeping worry in the way the rest of the clearing was just a bit too quiet, everyone else just a bit too intent on their food. Not when he thought about what it really meant, sixty people and him still the only one capable of really seeing what threatened them.

He remembered a conversation, leaning against a bike rack outside a convenience store otherwise indistinguishable from any number of other stores they’d passed by on their way back home. Agreeing that once they made it home safely, they’d find Natsume, wherever he’d wandered off to. It had been so easy to agree to, back when he hadn’t had to think about the consequences for everyone left behind.

And yet. If Natsume really was out there somewhere. If Kaname could have found him.

How could he decide?

But how could he reasonably choose anything else?

He forced himself to meet Kazuya’s gaze, and stretched his lips into something that he hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “I’ll try my best.”

Chapter Text

Unbearable pressure, and silence somehow louder than any sound could be, and the darkness of the depths of the abyss.

Kaname flailed awake, on the verge of shouting; choked it back, certain no sound he made would be heard. As his eyes registered the dim moonlight shining through the door to his left, illuminating Nishimura’s peacefully sleeping face, he slowly began to calm. Somewhere towards the other end of the room he currently shared with eight other guys, someone snored quietly.

Just a dream. He released a shuddering breath and lay back down, but as soon as he closed his eyes, that dream began to creep back in around the edges of his consciousness.

He stared blankly at the dim ceiling, listening to his classmates breathe, and sighed quietly. Maybe a walk will help?

He held his breath as he stood and stepped out onto the engawa, the wooden corridor that ran around the exterior of the building, breathing out only once he slid the door mostly closed on his still-sleeping classmates.

He slid the shutter forming a temporary outer wall to the corridor a bit further open to make it easier to sit down and pull his shoes on, then stood and slid it mostly closed behind him.

He thought he remembered both door and shutter being closed when they'd gone to bed. Maybe his dad had come by and opened them up a bit?

The cool night breeze blew across his face, and he relaxed almost despite himself. Standing here alone, he could almost pretend everything was back to normal.

He hadn't expected to be so affected by his new sleeping arrangements; certainly they’d dealt with far worse in the last couple of days. But the futon wasn’t his bed. The blankets weren’t his blankets. He wasn’t alone in his sometimes too quiet room. He was home but it wasn’t the same.

And he knew – he knew – that he was lucky to have come back to as much as he had. They all were. But that didn’t help the crawling discontent, or his sudden flares of resentment towards the two mothers currently sharing his room with their young children. It just made him feel guiltier about it.

He rubbed his temples. Paused. No, no headache, just the irritable fuzziness of interrupted sleep. So either the protective circles Taki had drawn around each of the buildings worked despite her fretting about not being sure the design was right at such a scale, or whatever miracle had allowed his dad to gather so many people unharmed was still in effect.

His lips twisted into a wry smile. Or maybe those creatures just really don’t like our stairs.

He had settled enough that he thought he might be capable of going back to sleep, but not quite to the point where he wanted to. He started meandering around the building, keeping an eye towards the ground to make sure he wasn’t about to scuff any of the lines Taki had drawn.

About halfway around, he stopped, attention caught by … he wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d seen something moving near the edge of the forest.

He started walking in that direction, cautiously, then covered the last half of the distance at a dash when he finally recognized his good friend’s figure. “Taki?”

“Tanuma?” She sounded equally surprised. “Is something wrong? What are you doing out here?” Her head turned towards the forest. “There isn’t one of those creatures nearby, is there?”

“No, there isn’t,” Kaname reassured her hastily. “And I could ask the same of you. Weren’t you bunking with the other girls in one of the buildings over there?” He gestured. “Did something happen?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I … it sounds silly.”

“I promise I won’t laugh,” Kaname said.

“I … thought I smelled something. Flowers. Lots of flowers, and nearby. So I thought I’d try to find out where they were.”

Kaname frowned thoughtfully. “That’s odd. We don’t have many flowers around here. Can you still smell them?”

“I – not as strongly as before, but yeah.” Taki looked away. “Why would I hallucinate flowers?”

“I doubt you’re hallucinating,” Kaname said. “I’m sure there’s a reason.   We just … don’t know it yet.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. … Why are you out here?”

“I needed a walk.” Kaname hesitated, thinking about his dream. “When I first woke up – I don’t know. I was probably imagining things, but for a moment, my chest felt … heavy.”

“You’re not asthmatic, are you?” Taki asked, sounding concerned. “I think Kikuchi-san – he’s in class 2, short brown hair, usually doesn’t talk much – has his inhaler with him, if you need one.”

Kaname shook his head. “Only when I get bad respiratory infections.” The last of which had been quite a while ago, thankfully. He still had a rescue inhaler buried in his room somewhere, assuming it hadn’t expired. Which was beside the point. “Kikuchi – he was the guy arguing with Nishimura about leaving the circle that first morning?”

“Um. I think so, yeah. He’s been fine after that, though, so whatever Nishimura said to him must have worked.”

“Or maybe looking outside was enough to remind him that it wasn’t a bad dream, no matter how much we all wished otherwise,” Kaname said grimly, then sighed. “Sorry. Just. I thought it would be easier, once we got home. And it is, in some ways, and I really am glad we’re here, but …” he gestured weakly, not even really sure what he was saying anymore.

“The world’s still just as broken?” Taki suggested quietly.

“Yeah.”

A brief silence fell, Kaname swearing he could almost feel Taki hesitating. He wished there was enough light for him to properly see her face. Finally, she said, “What you said to Kazuya-kun earlier. About staying here.”

He looked down at his feet. “What else can I do?” he asked, and hated the whine he could hear in his voice. “You know I want to find Natsume, but I can’t just leave everyone here.”

But do I? He wondered suddenly, a sick sense of guilt sinking into his stomach. Do I really? When I’m the dependable one now, when I actually have the power to make a difference?

What if I secretly don’t want Natsume to come back – if he’s even out there anymore – because if he does, I’ll go back to being as useless as I’ve always been?

And then everyone will realize just how bad a deal they were given, having to depend on me.

He shook his head violently. Natsume was his friend. His best friend. And he missed him, far more than he’d ever have expected, not just for the big, youkai- and monster-related things, but even just the little things, like sitting down to lunch and not having someone to share amused glances with when Nishimura and Kitamoto were too busy snarking at each other to notice.

He and Taki did that now, sometimes. But it was different.

Still, that terrible thought would not go away, and a part of him feared that it stayed because it was secretly truer than he wanted to admit.

He gratefully let Taki’s sigh drag his thoughts back to the present. “I don’t know either,” she said, sounding just as frustrated as Kaname felt; almost angry. “If I could do it myself, I would, but –”

“No!” Kaname crossed his arms, because the only alternative was leaping across the short distance that separated them and shaking the sense that she already had into her. “You – I can’t –”

I can’t lose you too.

“I know.” Now she just sounded defeated. “But … abandoning him. If there was even just one other person ...”

Kaname hugged himself more tightly. “My dad can’t see, but ... he’s been safely walking to and from town all week. What if it’s not a coincidence? The sutra had an effect, and he’s a priest. Maybe he’s just... protected, somehow.”

“... He might be,” Taki agreed, after a long pause that just made Kaname feel worse for even considering offering his dad up like some sort of sacrifice. “We should try to find out, if we can figure out a way to do so without endangering him or anyone else. But ... I wouldn’t ask you to put your dad in that sort of position, Tanuma. Not even with proof. And you know Natsume wouldn't, either.”

“He’d be too busy trying to protect us both,” Kaname tried to joke, but he could only summon a weak smile. The relief only made him feel guiltier.

“He would,” Taki agreed, sounding wistful. “I really hope he’s all right. That even if we can’t search for him, he’ll find his way back to us somehow.”

Kaname closed his eyes. “… Yeah.”

What felt like the last of his nervous energy slipped away, leaving him feeling as drained as when he had fallen into bed earlier that night. Maybe I’ll actually be able to go back to sleep now. The thought of returning to that crowded room still didn’t precisely appeal; it was hard to give up the restfulness that came of being mostly alone. Just himself, and Taki, and the light breeze that lightly rustled through the leaves in the nearby trees.

“We should probably head back inside,” he said reluctantly.

She sighed. “You’re probably – wait!”

The breeze rose to full-on wind, then as quickly died away, leaving Kaname’s head feeling … odd.

“What?”

Taki turned in place. “The flower smell – it’s strong again.”

Kaname looked around, trying and failing to find anything out of place. He looked up, and the moon looked dimmer and more diffuse, as though hidden by light clouds.

But the sky was clear.

“Taki?” Kaname said, suddenly wide awake again, stomach roiling with a combination of excitement and trepidation. “I don’t think we’re alone anymore.”

She looked around wildly. “What? Where? Do you need my help with chanting? Maybe I should be the only one to start with, so we can test –”

Kaname raised his hands in a placating gesture. “No, I don’t think any of those creatures are here. I think what you’ve been smelling is –”

Taki stilled. “Youkai.”

She sprang back into sudden motion, bending to pick up a long stick and then dashed over to where the thick grass gave way to hard-packed dirt and started drawing.

Kaname followed. “Taki, are you sure –?”

About three-quarters of the way around the circle, the stick hesitated briefly before continuing. Taki herself didn’t otherwise react outwardly. “You can’t see them, can you? You can feel something, but not enough to communicate, right?”

Kaname looked at his feet; turned to look over his shoulder at the large presence still blurring the moon. Now that he knew it was there, he had a slightly better feel for where it was and just how big it was. He also fancied that he could feel a sense of intent from it. Friendly intent, he thought. Maybe. But anything more … “Right,” he said.

After the last several days, the concrete reminder that, in some ways, he was just as useless as ever, hurt. “But if anyone sees …” he tried to continue, weakly, hating that he didn’t have any better suggestions.

Glad that at least with Taki’s circle, he’d be able to see, too.

“It’s the middle of the night,” she said pointedly. "I assume everyone in your building was just as fast asleep as the girls in mine were. No one’s going to see. And even if they did …” She sighed, and stopped drawing, leaving the diagram looking nearly complete to Kaname’s untutored eyes. She turned to look at him. “Even if they did. The more I think about it, the less I think it really matters, anymore.”

She raised a hand before he had more than halfway opened his mouth, still not even terribly sure what he was planning on saying. “I know what Natsume said. He and Fluffy-sensei didn’t go into much detail about exactly why it was forbidden, but it sounded like it was mostly because it was enabling normal humans to form connections with youkai, since they could see things that they otherwise wouldn’t. To attract more, and more persistent unfriendly attention than they would otherwise.”

She made a broad gesture back towards the town. “Do you really think that matters, anymore? We’re all stuck in this situation, whether we like it or not, and whether or not we can see anything doesn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference, when we’ll be eaten just as fast either way.” She stopped, turned back to the circle, and scratched a few last symbols. “… Sorry. That was rude. And it’s not your fault, I just …”

“No, it’s fine,” Kaname said. “And you’re right.”

“The girl is, indeed, entirely correct.” A deep voice boomed. Kaname jumped, then jumped again as what looked like a giant horse’s head – it must have been twice as large as he was tall! – poked itself into the air above Taki’s circle.

Taki herself half-shrieked, covering her mouth to muffle the sound and looking around wildly as though trying to tell whether she’d woken anyone.

“… I guess you should have drawn a bigger circle,” fell out of Kaname’s mouth before he could convince his stunned mind to figure out something useful to say instead.

The – Kaname wasn’t sure what the giant horse-like youkai was supposed to be called, he’d never seen or heard of anything like it – boomed something that he thought was supposed to be a laugh. “Indeed, young human, that would have been convenient.” It also explained just who was large enough to have been breaking his line of sight to the slowly setting moon.

“Oh, shove off.” A sharp female voice – again unfamiliar – interrupted, as a tall woman with dark hair in a messy bun marched into the circle, dressed in a flower-print kimono that she wore with an attitude that made the outfit seem far less modest than it actually was.

If not for the fact that Kaname had seen her appear as she crossed the boundary, he might have thought her human. Perhaps a bit strange, since she looked young enough to be of a generation that rarely wore kimono outside of festivals. But compared to the … giant horse thing, she looked positively normal. “If you want to be involved in this conversation, you can go ahead and bestir yourself to take a form actually appropriately sized for it. The racket you’re making, pretty soon all those other humans really will be out here gawking.”

The horse-thing grumbled something incomprehensible and withdrew.

With no further fanfare – Kaname thought he might have seen smoke, but it had been so insubstantial and disappeared so quickly that he really couldn’t be sure – a man appeared.

Outside the circle.

He was tall – at least a head taller than the woman, probably more. His hair was straight, black, and tied back in a tail that fell to about halfway down his back; he was mostly clean-shaven except for a long goatee, as straight and black and his hair. He wore a formal men’s kimono with the air of one who expected the clothing to appreciate the honor of him allowing it to be worn on his person, and had folded his hands together in such a way that they were hidden by the folds of fabric in his sleeves.

Kaname shared a look with Taki. Was this –?

The woman took one look at the stately gentleman and nearly fell over from the force of her laughter. “Who on earth is that?! That look doesn’t suit you at all, Misuzu.”

The man threw her a disgruntled look. “I am not quite so free in my association with humans as some of our number, and I did not believe that donning the guise of the one whom we seek would be appropriate.”

The one whom …? Kaname had a lot of questions for the youkai, but it was clear that they were here for a purpose. He suspected that Taki, at least, had been deliberately drawn out here, and he knew even from his limited experience that youkai purpose did not always align with that of humans. He shifted closer to the circle, not quite assertive enough to put himself between Taki and the two youkai, but at least wanting to be in range.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he could do against someone whose true form was a giant horse-thing, but if they were targeting Taki for some nefarious purpose … he didn’t know what he’d do, but he’d do something.

“… Is there something we can help you with?” he asked cautiously.

Both youkai turned their attention from each other towards him. Misuzu’s gaze bland – if he wasn’t normally humanoid, did facial expressions even mean anything? – and the woman’s suddenly irritated. He wondered why.

She pouted. “Why couldn’t all of Natsume’s friends be cute girls? It’s just unfair, having to deal with another boy.”

Kaname felt like she had lit every nerve on fire. Was it Natsume they were looking for?

Misuzu sent a pointed look at the woman; dismissing her, he turned his attention back to the two humans. “You two are friends of Natsume-dono, yes? I believe I recall seeing the three of you together.”

“Yes, we’re his friends,” Taki said. She raised her chin. “What do you want with him?”

“First and foremost, to reassure ourselves of his well-being, as he did not appear to be travelling with you who arrived this afternoon,” Misuzu said. “I have … reason to believe he is safe and well, but I mislike depending on circumstantial evidence.”

“Natsume really is alive?” Kaname asked, dimly aware of Taki excitedly asking something similar. “How do you know? Do you know where he is?”

“Do you think we’d be asking you if we knew, boy?” the woman scoffed.

Misuzu shot her another look. “Hinoe.”

“Even just knowing that he’s probably alive is … there are no words,” Taki said quietly. “Thank you. I’m sorry we can’t be of more help, but we don’t know where he is either.”

“But was he not with you, on that … school trip?” Misuzu pronounced the word like it was something completely foreign; Kaname supposed that to a giant horse youkai, it probably was.

“He was, but we weren’t with him when everyone … disappeared, and the people who were said that he disappeared at around the same time,” Taki explained. “Do you know what happened? Why everyone disappeared?”

“Sadly, no,” Hinoe said, with none of the hostility she’d exhibited towards Kaname. “The weaker of us speak of feeling something shortly before the humans disappeared; many of us feel similarly disquieted if near one those creatures that remain. But we don’t know from where they have come, or what their purpose is here.”

“Is that why we didn’t notice any youkai on the way back from the field trip?” Kaname asked, splitting his attention between Misuzu and Hinoe. “They had all … run away, or something?”

“Not all had the opportunity or the means to run,” Misuzu intoned, grimness imbuing his voice with echoes of its former depth. “Otherwise, you are likely correct. Very few, now, do not recognize that those places where humans used to gather are now no longer hospitable to either them or us.” He withdrew his hands from his sleeves, smoothed down the front of his kimono, flicked a bit of lint off a shoulder, and tucked them back into place. “You are the … son of the priest who currently holds this land, correct?”

“I am,” Kaname said cautiously, restraining the urge to try and redirect the conversation back to the youkai reaction to this phenomenon.

Misuzu bowed, low and formal. “I would like to officially request that he purify this forest, and beg sanctuary for the weaker of the youkai who live here, who are most vulnerable to the predation of those creatures.”

“I doubt that will be a problem, but I can ask,” Kaname said. “But I thought – didn’t Natsume say that purification … hurt youkai? Or something like that?”

“It is indeed a most uncomfortable sensation,” Misuzu said, blandly enough to give the impression that he was above such plebian things as discomfort. “However, we have observed that those creatures tend not to follow us onto purified grounds, although we are as yet uncertain whether it is that they choose not to expend the effort, or that they simply can’t. For many of our number, some level of discomfort is an acceptable tradeoff in return for a guarantee of safety.”

Hinoe snorted. “Guarantee.”

Misuzu shot her another look.

“I’ll ask,” Kaname said hastily. “That’s really good to know, in general. It’s hard to protect against something that no one can see.”

Taki looked at him. “Not quite no one.”

Kaname shrugged uncomfortably. “One person who can only sort of see them isn’t that much better.”

“Those creatures cannot be seen by humans? That is … also interesting,” Misuzu said.

“Whatever,” Hinoe said. “Boy. You’re the one with some power, right?” Kaname blinked, but before he could muster a response, she continued. “If you don’t know where Natsume is, you should go ask that exorcist who likes hanging around him.” Her tone made it clear what she thought of that. “That sort has ways of tracking people.”

“You mean Natori-san?” Kaname asked. He was the only exorcist Kaname knew of, but he’d long since acknowledged that Natsume usually told him as little as he thought he could get away with about the parts of his life that were less safe. And he could easily see exorcists falling into that category.

“No, I’m talking about the eyepatched brat with the umbrella,” Hinoe said. Apparently some youkai were also fond of sarcasm. But … eyepatch? Umbrella? “Of course the sparkly actor brat.”

Taki coughed a suppressed laugh, and Kaname admitted even he had a hard time keeping his face straight at the description. His amusement fell away. “I don’t think … he’s probably not …” He couldn’t quite make himself say it.

“We tried to call Natori-san two nights ago,” Taki said quietly. “We weren’t able to get through to him. So we had to assume …”

“The sparkly brat is alive,” Hinoe said. “We caught one of his shiki sniffing around Natsume’s house yesterday. She would have known if anything had happened to her master.”

Is that why Misuzu thinks Natsume is still alive? Kaname wondered, but stopped before he asked. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe either that his friend would be willing to take a youkai as a servant, or that someone so elegant and obviously powerful as Misuzu would deign to serve anyone.

“He might just not have been paying attention to his phone,” Taki said hesitantly. "But …”

Hinoe waved a hand dismissively. “Human technology. Who knows what went wrong with that. Whatever, just contact him and get him to tell you where Natsume is.”

“Don’t youkai have ways of tracking people? Er. Or other youkai, I guess.”

“I am aware of none that can be employed without first knowing where that being has been.” Misuzu said. “If Madara were here, we could send him to pick up the scent from that … school trip of yours. But of the others who inhabit these parts, only I am sufficiently strong and can travel sufficiently long distances to make the journey, and with my responsibilities, I cannot afford a lengthy absence.”

What did responsibility mean to a youkai, Kaname wondered. Who was Misuzu, exactly? He was certainly like no other youkai Kaname had encountered; even the fact that he still stood comfortably outside of Taki’s circle, as solid and visible as any human, was proof of that.

“Madara?” Taki asked.

Hinoe laughed. “Ah, yes, he goes by a different name when among humans. What was it? Nyan-nyan-sensei?”

“Pon – Nyanko-sensei?” Kaname asked. He had been vaguely aware that the manekineko form Ponta typically used was not his normal form, but he’d never seen him use anything else, aside from the one very disconcerting time he’d disguised himself as Natsume, and the even more disconcerting time he’d disguised himself as a girl. Reiko, he’d called her?

He wondered if Hinoe or Misuzu would know anything about Reiko.

Hinoe laughed again. “Yes, that.”

Kaname shoved the thought away. Now was not the time to ask questions about Natsume’s grandmother. Especially when he realized that they’d implied something more important. “What happened to Nyanko-sensei?” And wow, that never got any less embarrassing to say. “We thought Natsume might have convinced him to stay home.”

Now he wished that when they’d asked his dad about the Fujiwaras earlier that afternoon, he’d thought to ask after Ponta as well.

“He stayed here,” Hinoe said. “If he was with Natsume, the brat would be back already.”

“But you just said –”

“He’s not here now,” She interrupted, sounding exasperated. “When that eyepatch brat took the Fujiwara woman, he got the drop on Madara too. I really hadn’t thought him to be that incompetent; that must have been some hangover, and in the middle of the day, too.”

“Wait.”

“Touko-san was taken?”

“She’s still alive?”

Kaname and Taki shared a sheepish look at the way they’d tripped over each other’s words, but he could hardly bring himself to care after that news. “Why would an exorcist kidnap Fujiwara-san, though?” he asked. “She’s as normal as … well, as anyone. And I know that Natsume hasn’t told her anything about what he does.”

“If you know who took her and Fl – Nyanko-sensei, you must have a pretty good idea where they are, too,” Taki added. “Why have you just left them there?”

“I fear I do not know precisely what the Matoba head desires,” Misuzu interjected. “Although I suspect his aim is leverage of some sort against Natsume, once he is found. From what Madara has said, he has long desired to bring Natsume-dono into his clan.”

Matoba. Kaname fixed the name in his mind, glad to have a name to put to Hinoe’s colorful description.

“If you know she’ll be used against Natsume, that seems all the more reason not to leave her there,” Taki said.

“It is difficult to rescue someone who cannot see you,” Misuzu said. “There are a few among our number who can show themselves to human eyes, and even fewer for whom it is not so exhausting a task that it would be all they could do just to maintain it.”

“And the brat’s wards were already good,” Hinoe agreed, looking like it physically hurt her to admit. “They’ve probably only grown more annoying now that he has apparently offered his home up as a sanctuary to other exorcists.”

“Even should we rescue her, there is a question whether it would ultimately be the right course of action to take,” Misuzu said, with a nod towards Hinoe that seemed to acknowledge the truth of her words. “Whatever the motivations of he who took her there, her current location is likely one of the safer places in this changed world. The Matoba clan would accept nothing less.”

“She could come here,” Kaname said. “Oh, but I guess transportation would still be an issue.” He sighed. “Still, I wish we could do something.”

“Find Natsume,” Taki said quietly. He looked over towards her, and she met his eyes. “Once we find Natsume, we can tell him that this Matoba person has Touko-san and Nyanko-sensei. He’ll know what to do.” She hesitated, then added fiercely, “And we’ll help.”

But what if Natori-san really was … gone, he wanted to ask. What if he couldn’t learn whatever technique it was that Natori-san knew, because he just didn’t have enough power? What if Natsume really was gone?

He tried to expel all his uncertainty with a sigh. “Yeah.” It was a nice vision. He really wanted to believe it could come true.

He glanced back at the still-dark building behind him, and couldn’t help a second sigh. “But … everyone else …”

“If purifying the area keeps those creatures away, they’ll be safe here,” Taki said. “And that’s probably why neither your dad nor anyone he was with at the time has ever been attacked, either. So as long as no one leaves – no, I guess that wouldn’t work too well. But if he accompanies any party that leaves the purified zone, everyone should be safe.”

“But how can we be sure?” Even as his heart soared at the hope that there might be a way out of this trap his sense of responsibility had stuck him in, Kaname’s gut clenched at the thought of trusting his dad’s life to a ‘probably’.

Misuzu tilted his head slightly, as elegantly as all his other motions. “You worry over the fate of the humans who have sought this location as refuge, yes?”

Kaname nodded. “I’m the only one who can see anything – those creatures or youkai, either one. And even my sight …” he grimaced. “They’d have no way of telling if anything was coming. And you said that purification might just slow them down, or maybe it only lasts a certain period of time before it loses potency, or …”

“Perhaps we can reach an accord,” Misuzu said. “My responsibilities bind me, for the most part, here, but particularly should your father the priest agree to purify these lands, I see no problem with extending my watch to the humans who currently inhabit this place as well. And while they are not suited to assaulting a well-fortified stronghold such as that owned by Matoba, there are a number of us who, should the situation demand it, are capable of donning a form visible to humans for long enough to pass on a message, or direct humans to a safer location.”

“That would be really helpful,” Kaname said. “I –”

“Tanuma?”

All four of their attention snapped to the building from which Kaname had come, and the form who stood at the corner for a moment before rushing over. “Geez, don’t go wandering off! When I woke up to see you gone I was afraid that something –”

Nishimura stopped, blinked. “Oh, um, hi Taki.” He glanced back at Tanuma. “Am I … interrupting something?”

Kaname gave in to the urge to cover his face with his hand. “Nishimura …”

“See?” Hinoe demanded of Misuzu. “All boys, I shouldn’t have to deal with this!”

Kaname didn’t get a chance to see what Taki thought of that announcement because he was too busy watching Nishimura’s jaw drop, as he turned his attention from Kaname and Taki to first Hinoe, then Misuzu. “Is that – am I –?”

“This is Hinoe and Misuzu,” Kaname said. “And yes, they’re youkai.”

“I can see youkai?!” Nishimura all but shrieked.

Kaname flinched.

Up in the building, a light turned on, dimly visible through the cracks in the shutters.

Kaname glanced at the two youkai. “If you want to leave, you should probably do so now. Taki, shouldn’t you –”

“If Hinoe wants to stay visible, she can,” Taki said, quietly but firmly. “I – if it does still matter … if it does, I’ll face the consequences.”

Kaname closed his eyes, tried to push his worry away, and nodded. “Not alone.”

“Hinoe may do as she pleases, but I believe I shall stay,” Misuzu said.

Nishimura looked confused. “What –”

The shutters nearest them slid open. The light from inside highlighted Ogawa’s shoulder-length hair, messy from sleep, and behind him, Tsuji’s curls as the latter rubbed at the corners of his eyes behind his glasses – a technique Kaname had yet to figure out how to do without knocking his own glasses askew. “Nishimura, is that you? What’s going on?”

“Ummm.” Nishimura looked from Kaname, to Taki, to the two youkai.

Kaname just looked back, at about as much of a loss as Nishimura looked.

What now?

In the light from the building, Hinoe's dark hair turned out to be a deep blue bordering on purple, her kimono brightly colored, and Misuzu's hair just as black as it had appeared by moonlight.

Misuzu stepped towards the building. “Greetings, young humans. I apologize for disturbing your rest. I am Misuzu, one who lives in these parts.”

Ogawa squinted. “Humans?”

Tsuji wedged himself past Ogawa and down onto the stone step. “No apologies necessary,” he said hesitantly. “Are you two, um … neighbors?”

“Indeed. We have long inhabited Yatsuhara, but find we must change with the times and this new scourge that is upon us.”

“Okay.” Tsuji pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Um. Stupid question. You’re youkai, right? So why can I – we?” He glanced at Ogawa, who nodded, “—can we see you?”

“What? Youkai?” Hosoya’s voice asked sleepily from somewhere behind Ogawa. Great. If everyone’s not up yet, I’m sure they will be soon. Kaname glanced towards the building Taki had been sharing with some of the other girls currently lacking guardians, a bit further away and still dark and quiet. Though the way this night had gone, he had his doubts that it would stay that way for long.

Surprisingly, Misuzu actually looked over his shoulder at Taki for a moment before answering. Still, resolved, she nodded. And whether he had been looking for permission or something else, that seemed to be answer enough. “I have simply borrowed this form to promote increased ease of conversation. That you can also see and speak with Hinoe is thanks to a technique known to this young lady,” he bowed his head towards Taki, “to make visible what normally is invisible to human eyes.”

“What?”

“Taki has –?”

“Why didn’t you –”

“Can I do it too?”

Nishimura’s question drowned out the rest of the questions and protests, and silence settled as everyone turned questioning eyes towards Taki, wanting to know the same thing.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t – I can’t see or anything, but I’ve heard it needs trace amounts of power, and I guess my ancestors used to be able to see, so I might have inherited at least enough to make it work? But I don’t know how much trace amounts is, or how to tell whether anyone else does.” She looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“You know how to draw it and activate it, though, right?” Nishimura asked. Kaname could see no sign of his usual hesitance around Taki; even these last few days as they’d started to get to know each other, he’d swung between treating her as a just another friend and a sort of tense reticence when he remembered his crush. “So … I mean. You could teach us. And we could try. And if we can, we can, and if we can’t, we can’t, but either way, then we’d know. Right?”

Taki nodded, mouth in a thin line, and Kaname took it upon himself to say what she was probably unwilling to because after all, she had resolved to face the consequences. “It might not – it’s not just a matter of whether you’re capable of doing it, though,” he said. “We’ve heard that this technique … it’s supposedly impossible, something that doesn’t exist. But if it did exist – which it does – we’ve heard that it would be forbidden.”

Taki raised her head. “I don’t agree with the reason for forbidding it, not anymore. So I’m … well, I’ve decided I’m going to use it. For everyone’s sake. Whether it’s forbidden or not. But …”

“Why is it forbidden?” Asked a new voice as yet another person crowded up behind Ogawa and Tsuji, one of the few sharing their room whose name Kaname still didn’t know. Kikuchi, maybe? He resembled Taki’s description.

“Wait,” Ogawa said suddenly. “Am I missing something? Who forbade it? Is there some secret society of people who can see youkai or something?”

Kaname exchanged a helpless glance with Taki. Where to start? “You’ve heard of exorcists?” he finally asked tentatively.

Even before he’d met Natori-san, he’d heard of exorcists occasionally. He’d never thought about them much; if he’d thought of them at all before meeting Natsume, he’d assumed most of them were putting on a show to soothe people’s fears. Certainly the one time that his dad had had a friend of a friend take a look at him in early middle school, just in case his headaches and frequent bouts of illness were induced by some sort of supernatural interference, had had no effect.

That opinion had only been reinforced once he had proof that his headaches were, in fact, caused by supernatural interference.

Still, he knew that he’d had a rather unusual education, growing up. Maybe normal people didn’t ever hear about this sort of thing?

But no, everyone he could see crowding around the door, and Nishimura there in the courtyard with them, were all nodding. “Well,” he said. “Some of them really do deal with youkai.”

Hinoe snorted, but though her negative opinions of exorcists were writ large enough on her face that even Kaname could read them, she refrained from saying anything outright.

Ogawa laughed incredulously. “You mean there really is a secret society of people who can see youkai?”

“I don’t know how much of a society it is, exactly,” Kaname admitted. He thought back to comments about clans. “… But probably, yeah.”

Exhaustion struck again, harder than before.

“It’s too late for this,” he said abruptly, and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just.”

“No, that’s a good point.” Tsuji shook his head. “I think … now that we know no one’s being attacked or anything, this sounds like a conversation better had on a full night’s sleep. Er. Unless you can only appear at night or something?” He asked Misuzu.

“Some of our number operate under such restrictions, but I am not one of them,” Misuzu said. He turned back towards Kaname. “I shall take my leave now. Should you desire one of our assistance in the morning, simply call and we shall answer.”

And before Kaname could come up with a reply, his humanoid form disappeared. For a few seconds, the moon again blurred in a way that Kaname suspected only he could see, but then even that faded away.

“And make sure you contact that sparkly pain in the ass,” Hinoe added, then strolled out of the circle, disappearing between one step and the next.

Kaname looked from Taki, to Nishimura, to everyone else gathered around the door. “… I guess we’ll pick this back up in the morning?”

“We will,” Tsuji said, and it sounded more like a threat than a promise.

As everyone started filing back inside, someone Kaname didn’t see turning the light back off, he turned to look at Taki. “What are we going to do?”

She shook her head. In the sudden darkness he couldn’t see her face, but when she spoke, she sounded somewhere between resigned and amused. “A lot of talking, I suspect.”

“Do you think this is big enough?” Taki stood back from the outer circle she’d just finished digging into the hardened dirt of the front courtyard, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. She glanced towards Kaname. “You could sort of see him, right?”

The sun shone brightly on her efforts, turning the otherwise pleasant day almost uncomfortably warm. Kaname crossed his arms, eyed the circle, and tried to remember just how tall and broad the fuzzy shadow of Misuzu’s true form had been.

But it had been dark, and late, and honestly the only reason he hadn't dismissed the entire encounter as a dream was that Taki had come knocking softly at the door next to his futon early that morning, wanting to discuss what they planned to say. And, of course, the uproar once the rest of his building woke up, quickly spreading via garbled retellings over breakfast to everyone else who now called this temple home. “I think so?” he said doubtfully. “I really didn't get that good of a look, though.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up to see a youkai that big,” Kazuya protested; by Kaname's count the fifth time he'd complained to his brother about the events of the previous night.

“I didn’t see anything like that, either,” Tsuji said, with what Kaname was fairly certain by now was an endless amount of patience. “By the time I woke up, the only youkai there looked human to me.”

“Do you mind if we make a copy of what you’re doing?” Yoshida-san approached from Taki’s other side, ponytail swishing gently behind her as she walked. At her side, Watanabe-san clutched a sketchpad large enough that Kaname was impressed she’d managed to fit it into her bag. And that she had chosen to – more than a few people in their group had abandoned unnecessary items back at the hotel they’d stayed at that first night, either because they wanted to lighten their load or they wanted more space into which they could fit additional food.

Schoolbooks had been popular. Kaname had kept his schoolwork for reasons he didn’t entirely understand – maybe just that it felt too much like acknowledging that normal life really would never resume – but even he’d left behind the math textbook he’d brought along just in case he had the time and motivation to try and convince Kitamoto to help him figure out the latest assignment.

Taki looked up from a half-finished curve that looked like it was probably part of the stylized eye that he thought he remembered covering most of the center of the circle. She shifted her weight mostly onto one foot and began turning the stick she was using as a writing instrument around in her hand. “I don’t –. I can’t stop you, obviously, if you really want to. But are you sure?”

“Your explanations earlier were pretty clear, if … surprising,” Yoshida-san said ruefully. “And if everything was still normal, it might make sense. Though really, forbidding it seems like it’s going a bit far, since if you’re using it in the first place you probably know what you’re getting into.”

“No,” Taki interrupted, hands suddenly still, face turned downward. “Believe me. You don’t.” When she looked back up, for a moment her eyes reminded Kaname of how Natsume’s got sometimes, and Yoshida-san flinched. The bleakness drained away, and Taki smiled wryly. “It was worth it in the end. I personally think it still is. But things could easily have turned out so much worse.”

“And we could all be eaten by invisible monsters tomorrow,” Yoshida-san said dryly, then shot Watanabe-san an apologetic look when she flinched.

Yet it was the short-haired girl who spoke next, back straight as she met Taki’s eyes. “We know it’s not free of dangers, even though I know I’d probably be lying if I claimed to know how dangerous it was. But it’s important. And now that we know, it’s not fair to make you shoulder the burden for all of us.”

An aborted gesture in the corner of Kaname’s eye briefly caught his attention; he turned and saw a woman with the same dark brown hair tucked back in a bun, and glasses as large and round as Watanabe-san’s own, looking conflicted as Yoshida-san’s mother pulled her into a low-voiced conversation.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Taki said, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “But, if you’re sure – go ahead. If you want, I’ll check it over once you’re done?”

Watanabe-san smiled. “Thanks. And you’ll teach us how to … invoke it? Make it work?”

Taki grimaced. “Honestly, it mostly just happens? But I’ll help if I can.”

Kaname wondered what Natori-san would think, as Taki re-busied herself with drawing the diagram, and the two other girls continued watching for a few minutes, then departed, Watanabe-san standing at the top of the stairs to the main building, probably the closest she could get to a birds-eye view of the proceedings without climbing onto the roof.

Natori-san.

Remembering Hinoe’s admonishments, he started towards the main building and the phone hidden within. Stopped, feeling oddly guilty at the thought of having the conversation (if there even was a conversation. Hinoe’s certainty made it frighteningly easy to believe) without Taki there, even given how bluntly he’d forced her way into the first conversation.

“Taki?” On the other side of the circle, she turned, and he carefully picked his way around already-drawn lines close enough to talk without quite as many people overhearing.

“Remember what Hinoe said, about learning that spell?” Kaname asked, feeling silly. It was a good thing he wasn’t some sort of secret agent; he’d fail immediately.

Taki nodded. “I thought I might go give that another try. Um. If you don’t mind?”

“Go for it,” she said. “I can hold down the fort here. From what Misuzu said, it sounds like the grounds ought to be safe for now.” She hesitated. “Stay in shouting distance?”

The bleakness from before drifted across her face, and Kaname wondered whether she was thinking about the current threat, or about the fact that some youkai could be just as dangerous. Either way, his answer was easy. “Of course. It’s just over there, and I’ll leave the door open.”

She half-smiled. “Thanks.” Narrowed her eyes. “And I expect a full report afterwards.”

“Of course,” Kaname said again. He’d never considered anything else.

He picked his way back across the circle and slipped away, aware of a few eyes following him, but no more than that as he approached the door to the building that he’d always thought of, more than the rest of the temple, as home.

He almost closed the door behind him out of reflex, but remembered to pull it back open before walking about halfway down the hall to where the phone sat on a small side-table. The hallway was empty, and he couldn’t hear any signs of inhabitation either. It seemed that everyone was either outside or – since he hadn’t seen the infant, the toddler, or their respective mothers – asleep.

He took a deep breath, dug the scrap of paper – now considerably more worn, but thankfully still readable – out of his pocket, picked up the phone, and dialed.

On the third ring, mild discomfort made him realize he was holding his breath and he exhaled sheepishly. On the fifth, he closed his eyes and resisted the urge to just put the phone down. It hurt more than he expected, even knowing that it was the most likely outcome. Please …

Halfway through the eighth ring, Natori-san picked up.

For a long moment, no one said anything, Kaname not quite able to believe. But.

“Hello?” asked a voice that was recognizably Natori-san’s, even in that single word. “May I ask who this is?” He sounded a little bit tired, but well, and most importantly, alive.

“Natori-san,” Kaname said. Made himself take a deep breath. “This is Tanuma Kaname. Natsume’s friend.”

“Tanuma-kun!” Natori-san exclaimed, and Kaname smiled involuntarily at the honest pleasure in the other man’s voice. “You’re all right? And the rest of your classmates?”

“We’re fine. And we’re home now.” The thought still tasted of disbelief. “My dad gathered – well, the temple has become a safe zone, for whoever’s left that we’ve managed to find. We’re planning to do a survey of the town, see if we can find any other stragglers, but at this point …” Kaname stopped himself. No point in restating the obvious.

Especially not when there was so much else to say. “We found – I don’t know, maybe you’ve figured this out too, and we don’t know for sure how well it works, but … we found a way to keep the creatures from attacking us.”

“Passive defenses against youkai appear to be effective,” Natori-san said. “It’s hard to tell if prolonged contact with a barrier causes progressive degradation, but at the moment it at least appears as though it doesn’t. So your friend’s circle should provide you with some protection.”

For a confused moment Kaname wondered wildly if Natori-san was referring to Taki’s circle for making youkai visible, and if so, how had he known, because surely he had been the exorcist that Natsume had been warning Taki against? Then he remembered the protective circle they’d talked about that first night and that she’d used each night since, thankfully before he said anything unwise. “That’s good to know,” he said sincerely. “That’s not what I was talking about, though.”

“Another means of protection?” Natori-san asked, sounding surprised. “I am all ears.”

As Kaname explained what had happened when the creature had surrounded Yoshida-san and Okamoto-san, Natori-san said not a word, though he made some sort of noise, quickly cut off, as Kaname glossed over his decision to walk in after them.

Finally, Kaname ran out of words, and for a little over a minute (according to the tiny digital clock on the phone; it felt far longer than that) silence reigned. Kaname used the chance to turn his ear back towards the courtyard, wishing the cord was long enough to reach the door. Everything still seemed calm; he couldn’t hear anything.

“Well.” Natori-san finally said, but seemed not to know quite how to continue. Was this the first time Kaname had seen the flamboyant actor speechless? “Well. That is very good news. And you said it seemed to be hurting it?”

“I don’t know for sure.” Kaname looked down, twisting the cord around his fingers. “It looked kind of like it shrunk? But it might have just been focusing.”

“It’s something,” Natori-san said strongly. “Thank you. I’ll talk this over with people, see if we can find out anything else. I’ll let you know if anyone finds anything additional out, or of course if there are any new breakthroughs. Is this a good number?”

“Yes, it’s my home phone. There are enough of us around that there’s generally someone nearby.” Except when everyone was gathered outside to watch the spectacle that was actually getting to see youkai. “Which reminds me. I tried calling the other number you gave me, but the person who picked up sounded like he’d never heard of you …”

Natori-san quoted the number again. “That one?”

Kaname nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see. “Right. Except the third and fourth digits were flipped. I must have written it down wrong –”

“Or I could have misquoted it,” Natori-san interrupted. “It’s been a number of years since I’ve had any call to use it on a regular basis. I’ll let everyone back at the house know you might call; I’m not always at home, but if you ask for Sekihara-san,” he seemed to hesitate for a moment, “or Takuma-san, they’re also quite knowledgeable. And anyone here knows who I am, if you just need to get a message to me and I’m not currently here.” Another pause, this one longer. “For however much longer the phone lines last.”

Kaname’s fingers stilled on the phone cord. He kept forgetting. It was so easy to pretend that all that infrastructure, all the trappings of civilization that he never really thought about, would just keep going. And especially now that he'd found out that Natori-san was still alive, the thought of being cut off again was –

He shoved that train of thought into a corner of his mind. Now was not the time. “… Do exorcists have ways of communicating without phones?” he asked.

“There are a few common ones,” Natori-san said. “There’s a technique for modifying paper such that if you imbue it with a bit of your power and … intention is the best way to put it, I think, it will fly to the hand of the person you intend it for. Although it is in the end, only paper, and as such, not entirely immune to such dangers as sudden rain showers.” Natori-san sounded a bit rueful, and Kaname had to bite his tongue, wanting to ask about the story behind that comment. He felt certain there was a story, and probably an interesting one. But Natori-san was not Natsume.

“That sounds like you need a fair amount of power to pull off, though?” he asked, looking towards the opposite wall of the corridor without really seeing it. It seemed like most everything – except Taki’s circle – did.

“Not as much as you might expect,” Natori-san said. “It also depends on the distance you need the note to travel, of course. I expect you’d be able to send a note to most anywhere in your town, at least. But the technique for preparing the paper, and the circle you'd need to draw to send it, are somewhat more complex, and not something I think I’d be able to explain effectively over the phone. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kaname said, because what else could he say, really? He frowned thoughtfully. “Is there a common name for the technique? Maybe Taki’s grandfather would have left something about it in his storehouse …”

“Hm. I’ve seen it referred to as hishi a few times, with the characters for ‘fly’ and ‘paper’, if his sources use kanji. Try that,” Natori-san suggested.

“And you said there was another way, too?” Kaname asked, though he didn’t hold out a lot of hope that the second path would be any more usable than the first.

“For sensitive or important messages, it’s also not uncommon for an exorcist to send their shiki with a message,” Natori-san said. “But –”

“… That requires having a shiki,” Kaname finished for him, with a sigh.

“Exactly,” Natori-san said. “Now, taking a youkai as your shiki – that's simple enough. Doesn’t take much power, either, unless they’re resisting.”

“That’s okay,” Kaname said. “I can’t ... I don’t think I’d be able to do that. Even if they were willing. It just doesn’t seem...”

Natori-san laughed softly. Not a mean laugh, Kaname didn't think. More like he was laughing at a private joke, or maybe even at himself. “I thought that might be your answer.”

When Natori-san seemed disinclined to add anything more, Kaname took a deep breath. “Do you know any way of searching for someone? Now that we’re home, Natsume –” He stopped, struck by a sudden thought. “The hishi you mentioned. Could it be used to search for someone? By sending a message and then following it?”

“Hmmm, not quite. Although you’re on the right track,” Natori-san said. “Hishi typically fly too quickly to be reasonably followed. The techniques for preparing the paper used are very closely related, but soushi – that’s ‘search’ and ‘paper’; whoever came up with the terms originally clearly had no poetry in his soul – also maintain a link to the sender, so that they won’t travel too far from their owners and lose all usefulness.”  A pause, behind which Kaname suspected lay another story. "Usually."

“I’ll look for that too,” Kaname said, glad to see that the notepad his dad kept near the phone was still there. “Unless. Have you already tried to search for him? Um. Natsume, that is.” And really, that should have been his first question.

“I have not,” Natori-san said, something in his tone that Kaname couldn’t decipher. “After what you said the last time we talked, and with how much of a madhouse it has been gathering and housing people here, and knowing that even if a search turned something up I wouldn’t be at liberty to follow it … it seemed better to focus on what I could do.” A pause, a bright laugh that even Kaname could tell was mostly fake. “Ah, look at me going on. If you don’t mind my asking, what changed your mind?”

Kaname considered mentioning the previous night’s conversation; Misuzu’s odd confidence that Natsume was still out there somewhere. But wariness stilled his tongue: it was clear Natsume didn’t trust even Natori-san completely. He didn’t know if this was another of those things, like Taki’s circle, that Natsume would worry about if he were here, but he didn’t want to risk the consequences of being wrong.

“Nothing really … I guess, like you said, I was concentrating on what I could do, trying to get everyone home safe. But now that they are, I just … I want to know.” He snapped his mouth shut, surprised at just how vehemently the sentiment had torn its way out of him.

“It is quite a feat, and one you should be proud of,” Natori-san said quietly, sincerity clear in his voice. (And yes, he was an actor, and could probably fake sincerity on demand, but why would he bother?)

And suddenly, Kaname couldn’t take it anymore.

“Proud?” he asked, so bitterly that at first he didn’t recognize the voice speaking as his own. “Proud? I failed, I was the only one who could see those things and I could tell they were nothing good and I still let Inoue jump into them, and Yukimura-san – if I had just been faster, or stronger, or not so much of a coward maybe I could have at least saved her, and then Furuya – and there were a thousand times on our journey that it was only pure dumb luck that I noticed before anyone else got eaten and –”

And somehow it all poured out, the frustration and anger and fear and the all-consuming worry and self-doubt because how could he be good enough because he wasn’t –

(Natsume)

And at the end of it all he found himself staring at the wall, breathing heavily, fingers wrapped so tightly in the cord that they were starting to go white, feeling oddly … empty.

Guilt rushed in. “Sorry,” he said, voice echoing hollow in his ears. “Sorry. You didn’t need to listen to all – it’s nothing really, I’m sorry to have wasted all that time –”

“It wasn’t a waste,” Natori-san interrupted. “You are strong, Tanuma-kun, and you may not see it now, but you should most certainly be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

“But I’m not –”

“Not everyone can be Natsume,” he interrupted again. “Even in my world … even among exorcists, men and women with Natsume’s level of raw power are extremely rare. There is no shame in not being Natsume, Tanuma-kun. The rest of us … as much as it pains me to say, we must know our limits and make do with what we have. Even Natsume, for all his power, cannot help if he is not there.”

A pause, and Kaname thought he might have heard Natori-san exhale something that was not quite a sigh. “You don’t have to be the best, Tanuma-kun. If you’re there and you’re good enough … that’s really all anyone can ask. And it sounds like you were. You should be proud of that.”

Kaname looked down, staring through the phone and the tiny desk it sat on. “I.” He wanted to believe. But. “… Then why does it still hurt?”

A huff that sounded almost like a laugh. “Because responsibility is a pain in the ass. Why do you think I’ve avoided it for so long?”

That startled an answering laugh out of Kaname. “Surely you –”

“Ah, well, turns out even I couldn’t avoid it forever,” Natori-san interrupted yet again, cheer sounding less fake this time. “Speaking of avoidance –”

“I’m sorry, I really should let you go, shouldn’t I?” Kaname winced.

“Alas, I suspect so. Sumi-san will have my head if I’m late for lunch again.” And he sounded so serious that Kaname couldn’t help but laugh again. “It truly was good to hear from you, Tanuma-kun, and I very much appreciate the news you brought. Please call again if you find anything else out, or even if you just need a friendly ear.”

“I – You’re welcome. And thanks.” For as long as the phone lines last.

Natori-san hung up, and Kaname placed the receiver gently back into its socket. He turned his back to the wall and just leaned there for a minute, breathing.

Responsibility, huh? Well, now that I’m back home, maybe I don’t need to be quite so responsible anymore?

But I’m still the only one who can see.

He shook his head, pushed away from the wall, and started back towards the still-quiet courtyard. Had Taki intentionally delayed finishing the circle until he got back? He hadn’t thought it had taken her anywhere near this long to draw it the previous night …

Halfway out the door, he paused.

I wonder if I should have asked Natori-san about … Matoba-san, was it? Maybe he’d know something about where Touko-san disappeared to?

He shook his head yet again. It sounded like he was really busy too, though. And maybe there are some sort of rules about what exorcists can do to each other? I really know nothing about that world, after all.

He made himself start walking again. One problem at a time. It sounded like she was safe enough for now. Probably? So I just need to make sure I find Natsume before Matoba-san does.

Surely with Taki and everyone else’s help, he’d be able to manage that much?

Chapter Text

Taki Tooru stepped away from the half-finished circle and wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. Note to self: when I go home, see if those headbands I wore in middle school still fit. Or maybe some of my brother’s sweatbands? I don’t think he kept up with basketball after he left, so he probably left them behind.

The weather at the moment was no worse than pleasantly warm. But it was also only May. And the chances that they’d have any electricity at all come midsummer, much less enough to expend on luxuries like air conditioning …

If the temple even was air conditioned. Her home had it, but only because her father had had it put in when she was five, back when he still lived at home. She knew a lot of the houses around here, especially the older ones, didn’t.

She shook the thoughts away and deliberately refused to glance back towards the main building. Tanuma had been in there for quite a while. Not that she was worried, precisely. What sort of trouble could he get into with just a single phone call, after all?

(Now, if it were Natsume …)

Rationally, she was probably about as safe as could be expected, too, as were the dozens of people loitering on the steps of a nearby building and throughout the courtyard. She didn’t completely trust that one of those creatures wouldn’t be able to get in, but Misuzu had sounded pretty convinced the previous night, and if there had been any previous attacks, she doubted the adults would be anywhere near as comfortable with being outside as they seemed.

Still. She didn’t like letting Tanuma out of sight for too long, not when the part of her that was still a frightened child feared that he’d disappear beyond her reach forever when she wasn’t looking.

Like Natsume.

Not like Natsume. She told herself sternly. Natsume is out there somewhere, and we’re going to find him. That’s what Tanuma is calling Natori-san about. … And maybe the fact that he’s been in there for this long means that it worked?

She still found it so strange that the famous actor, Natori Shuuichi – she might not watch much television, but she wasn’t blind, and almost the entire rest of her class had been huge fans – was also not only secretly an exorcist, but also Natsume’s friend. She wondered if she’d get a chance to meet him. He’d seemed like a very interesting person on the phone, even if Tanuma had a tendency to get the oddest expressions on his face when thinking or talking about him.

“Is it done?” Watanabe-san asked. Tooru jumped and turned, having not even noticed her approach. The dark-haired girl looked sheepish. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. But, um. Is it?”

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t paying attention.” Tooru waved off the apology. “And no, not yet. I still need to fill in the rest of the symbols around the edges.”

“Oh! In these sections, right?” Watanabe-san traced a finger along the less-populated looking half of the copy of the diagram she’d been drawing in her sketchbook.

Tooru leaned in. “Right. Wow, this is really good. I’ll have to make sure I draw it properly, with you making such a faithful copy.”

Watanabe-san blushed. “It’s really not that good. And anyway, it’s a lot easier to copy something else. I’m really impressed that you can actually remember how to draw something so complicated from memory.”

“I’ve had some practice,” Tooru said. An entire year of it. And maybe some of that came through in her voice or expression, because Watanabe-san shifted back, looking suddenly unsure. Tooru made an effort to pull her face into a proper smile. “If we go by my house, I’ll try to find my grandfather’s original drawing for you. I’m probably messing up some of the details a bit. But it still seems to work, so …”

Watanabe-san relaxed and smiled back. “Thanks, I’d like that.” She paused. “Why do you say, ‘if’? You –” she looked uncomfortable. “It seemed rude to ask, but, is your family –?”

“My father and brother are working in Singapore, and my mother has a pretty long commute,” Tooru said, “so, with the trains …” Watanabe-san nodded. “So I don’t know whether or not they’re all right. I hope they are. But either way, I doubt they’ll be at home.”

She knew that was only an excuse. If nothing else, she had the list of contact numbers at home; she ought to at least try to call.

But she hadn’t talked to her father since his short phone call for New Years, her brother hadn’t even bothered with that much, and half the time even when her mother was at home, the house still felt empty. She thought it might be more comforting, not knowing. To be able to continue to pretend that they just … weren’t around, instead of having to face the knowledge that she really wouldn’t ever see them again.

“… What about your family?” she asked. “If you don’t mind.”

Watanabe-san shook her head, now looking like she was the one attempting to smile. “Fair is fair. My mother is here, thank goodness – she’s over there, talking to Sanae-chan’s mom – but my dad …” She swallowed.

“Maybe we’ll find him, when we go back into town?” Tooru suggested, not knowing what else to say.

The other girl shook her head. “Dad was home sick, and he disappeared in front of Mom’s eyes. So. I mean. I guess I’m glad I know for sure. But.”

Tooru nodded. Watanabe-san swallowed again, eyes suspiciously bright. “Anyway. Um. Sorry for disturbing you.” She fled back towards Yoshida-san, who stood in the shadow of the main building. About halfway there, Okamoto-san intercepted her with a hand on her arm that turned to a brief hug before they both rejoined their friend.

At least she was one of the few whose parents were both alive and here. Tooru hoped they were helping her cope with the loss of her entire class, but she’d already noticed that sometimes, some of the adults looked just as lost as her classmates.

Not that I can really blame them for not knowing what to do.

Still, she mused as she started scratching out one of the more complex symbols in the upper left quadrant, it would have been nice to believe that the adults had everything under control.

As the minutes crawled by, the circle neared completion, and Tanuma remained absent, Tooru could feel herself slowing down; finding excuses to stop and double-check her work, despite knowing, from experience, that it was correct. She knew there was no reason Tanuma absolutely needed to be there. But it still didn’t feel right, to start talking to the youkai without him.

Happily, just as she started on the final symbol couple of symbols, she caught a flash of movement from the direction of the main building out of the corner of her eye. Tanuma, still wearing the slightly wrinkled white shirt and slacks of their school uniform, despite being one of the few who could have been wearing some of his own clothes today. (Only a couple of her classmates wore normal clothes; ones who she knew had at least one parent left. She wondered at the hope that led to choose that to bring with them when abandoning their home, possibly for good.)

She wondered if Tanuma was doing it to make a statement of solidarity, or if he had simply been too reticent to ask the current residents of his room if he could grab some of his stuff. Or maybe it just hadn’t occurred to him. With Tanuma, it was sometimes hard to tell.

Tanuma himself looked thoughtful. Not as happy as she would have expected, if she was right and he’d taken so long because he actually had a chance to talk to Natori-san, but maybe the actor had just given him a lot to think about.

He did smile when he neared the edge of the circle, and looked up to see her watching him. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not yet. I’m almost done.” Not having made any attempt to keep her voice low, she noticed a few people looking in her direction, suddenly interested, and a quiet murmur began to ripple across the crowd. She cast her eyes across the courtyard, and asked more quietly, “Do you think anyone will come?”

Tanuma’s eyes unfocused, looking somewhere past her shoulder, and she resisted the urge to attempt to follow his gaze. “I think …” he refocused on her, that familiar uncertain look stealing across his face that just made her want to shake him, sometimes. “they might already be here?”

“Good,” she said, firmly despite the butterflies. “I’d hate to put on such an impressive show and not have anyone show up.” Again, she resisted the urge to turn and look. “Is Misuzu here, do you think?”

Tanuma shook his head. “I don’t know, he might be waiting in the forest nearby. But, the ones I think I can see, they’re all roughly human-sized. And Misuzu, well …”

“Wasn’t,” Tooru agreed, amused despite the lingering shreds of embarrassment at how much of a fool of herself she had made. She’d been expecting something in her circle, sure, but nothing that big. At least he had looked enough different from … that one … that she had been more startled than afraid. She didn’t think she’d be able to look Tanuma in the face again if she ran away, and even though her hands no longer shook when she drew her circles, even though she looked forward to seeing what would appear in them now instead of bracing herself to be hurt again …

If she ever saw that one again, she knew in her bones that she would run. Without second thought, even if her friends were with her, even if Natsume was with her. She just wasn’t that strong.

But I’m not going to have to confront that today. I won’t have to do it ever again.

With steady hands, she drew the last symbol, and finally let herself turn to look the courtyard. “Be welcome in my circle. We should be able to see you now.”

“About time,” Hinoe said as she sauntered into visibility, to gasps and other wordless sounds of surprise and excitement from the gathered crowd. The brightly colored flowers on her kimono drew Tooru’s eye; her hair was a far deeper violet than Tooru had realized the previous night.

A small black-haired figure broke away from the crowd, dashing straight towards Hinoe. Yoshida-san’s younger brother, Tooru thought – and quickly became sure, as both older sister and mother scrambled to chase after him. She didn’t remember if Yoshida-san had ever said what his name was; with everything else going on, she didn’t think there’d been a proper round of introductions yet.

“You’re so pretty!” the boy announced, grinning a gap-toothed grin. “What’s your name? My name’s Osamu!”

Well, that answered that question, at least.

Hinoe looked down at the child and, for a moment, remembering how she’d reacted to Tanuma the previous night, Tooru worried that she’d spurn him completely. “You’re all right, too, I suppose,” she replied, and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Too bad you won’t stay that way. My name is Hinoe.”

Tooru couldn’t quite decide whether to wince or laugh, but thankfully the insult flew straight over little Osamu’s head.

Hinoe looked back towards the forest. “What are you all waiting for? You came here because you were curious, so there’s no point in chickening out now.”

Osamu giggled, and Tooru heard a few other scattered chuckles as well, presumably at the idea of even youkai being shy or cowardly.

“I simply did not wish to interfere with your entrance, Hinoe-san.” A familiar figure strolled into visibility and bowed his head in Tooru’s direction. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Taki-dono.”

Tooru smiled. “It’s good to see you too, Chobihige. It really has been a while, hasn’t it?” As though the large-faced youkai’s appearance had been a signal, more youkai enter the circle after him, spreading out and looking curiously at the humans who are looking back.

“Indeed.” He nodded ponderously. “Would that it were under better circumstances.”

“… Yeah.” Tooru’s face fell. “You’ve spent a lot of time out in the fields of Yatsuhara, right? What are things like out there, are they really bad?”

“Although they have spread out somewhat, the creatures appear to congregate primarily in human towns,” Chobihige said. “Only one has invaded the fields of Yatsuhara. We have had to evacuate that area, but as long as we keep sufficient distance it is slow to proceed further.”

“I’m sorry,” Taki said.

“These are dark days indeed.” Chobihige gazed passed her, and although his face was strange enough that she could not swear she was interpreting his expressions properly, she thought he seemed sad. “Is this all that remains of the human town? I admit I have not entered it in many years, but I had thought it had grown quite large.”

Tooru hesitated. “My class – the other people the same age as me – we know that we’re all that remains of that.” After a pause, she added, “Except maybe Natsume. No one’s seen him since those creatures appeared, but Misuzu seems to think he’s still alive.” She looked back towards the gathered remnants of her town and sighed. “As for everyone else … Without being able to see them, I can’t help but assume that anyone who didn’t make it safely here probably … didn’t make it at all.”

“I saw someone,” a small voice piped up. Tooru looked around in vain for several seconds before finally finding the source of the voice: a small green youkai standing in Chobihige’s shadow, roughly humanoid but with elongated arms. “By the pond with the fish that try to bite you if you tease them!”

Tooru kneeled to bring herself closer to the small youkai’s level. “What did this person look like?” she asked.

“Like a human,” the small youkai said, the ‘obviously’ clear in its voice. “With a big stick that he hit the ground with sometimes!”

A cane, maybe? As far as Tooru knew, no one currently at the temple needed a cane, although there was one older woman in a wheelchair – someone’s grandmother, she thought, but she hadn’t caught whose. She was one of the few not outside at the moment. But then, I suppose this temple is not really all that wheelchair accessible. The main building had a ramp on the back side, she thought she remembered seeing, the wood noticeably far newer than the rest of the building, but she was pretty sure it was the only one that did.

So. Maybe someone new? Maybe someone else who had actually survived?

“Do you think you could lead me to him?” Tooru asked. “Well, us, really. Tanuma will need to come, too.” Did she have any paper in her bag that she could use to make a mobile circle? The little green youkai was big enough that she probably needed some sort of support for it, too. Maybe she could borrow Watanabe-san’s sketch pad?

Shadow loomed.

“Well, this is much more pleasant,” Misuzu boomed from well above her head. Tooru jerked back in shock, sitting down abruptly. She wasn’t sure whether it was due to the daylight or the fact that in the much larger circle she could see his full head and about half of his body instead of just his face, but Misuzu looked so much bigger than he had the previous night.

“Sorry,” she called up to him, as she hastily regained her feet and brushed off the back of her skirt. “I guess it still isn’t big enough? Are you all right, with only half of you being visible like that?” Assuming he was proportioned more like a horse – as that one front hoof seemed to imply – than like a dragon, she thought he might have been able to fit all the way into the circle if he had been the only one there. But with tens of other youkai scattered at various points across the half of the circle nearer the temple, and a handful of people on top of that, there just wasn’t room for him to move farther in without knocking someone over.

Though she noticed she wasn’t the only human hastily standing back up and trying to pretend nothing had happened. She was frankly surprised that no one had screamed and run; something she ascribed mostly to the fact that none of the youkai had batted an eyelash when Misuzu appeared – of course, they’d been able to see him coming – and that Tanuma, who now stood near a disgruntled-looking Hinoe and a pair of very rowdy looking youkai, had not reacted at all.

Misuzu looked downwards, and rumbled what seemed to be a laugh. “Fear not, young one, I will come to no harm in this position. A truly intriguing invention, this circle, and quite convenient for the situation we find ourselves currently in. I thank you for allowing us its use.”

She was probably blushing. She hated it when she blushed. “It was no trouble, really.”  

She wondered if Tanuma had felt a bit like this, when he’d told his classmates that he could (sort of) see youkai. She’d only been keeping this circle a secret for a little less than two years, and had only been paranoid about it since Natsume had told her that it was forbidden the previous year. But it was still firmly a part of her life, along with her grandfather’s storehouse and all her memories of him, that she’d never really shared with anyone other than Natsume and Tanuma.

It was … weird, to know that now, everyone she knew (everyone left), knew too. Good, she thought? But … weird.

Misuzu’s attention briefly left her, removing an almost tangible weight as he looked around. “Is the priest here?” He looked back down and asked.  

“I thought –” But when she looked around, she didn’t see him either. “Tanuma!” she called. Her friend looked over, said a few quick words of farewell to the youkai he’d been standing with, and carefully picked his way around lines etched in dirt and youkai small enough to step on.

“Where’s your father?” she asked, once he reached a comfortable conversational distance.

He made an uncertain face. “I’m not sure. I thought I saw him out here earlier, but …” He looked up at Misuzu. “You wanted to talk to him about purifying this area?”

“If we are to live as close neighbors, aware of each other’s presence to a far greater extent than in the past, I suspect there will be many other details to work out,” Misuzu said. “But yes, I believe that to be the most critical.”

More aware … The familiar yearning stabbed Tooru, but she pushed it aside. “Everyone knows you exist, now, but Tanuma’s still the only one who can reliably see you, so how …?”

“I really can’t,” he immediately demurred. “Not well enough to do any good. And my hearing is even worse.”

“Ah, now that was a matter I desired to discuss with you,” Misuzu turned his great head to look directly at Tooru. “My eye is not as accurate as some, but it appears to me that while some minor spark of power is required to invoke these circles, once they have been activated, they no longer need additional power to stay in operation. Can you confirm that that is true?”

“Um,” Tooru said. She tried to remember whether her grandfather’s notes had said anything. She didn’t think so. How could he have known something like that about something he had thought was just as much of a dead end as the rest of his efforts? “I don’t know. Probably not? I don’t think … I’ve never gotten tired from drawing them, even back when I was drawing a lot and leaving them scattered around.”

Or maybe she’d just never noticed. Looking back, large parts of that year felt blurred, like she could only view her memories through the clouded glass of her constant fear. Only a few things stood out: a couple of times her circles had caught youkai willing to stick around long enough to chat with her and offer her advice; an overheard phone conversation between her parents about her, wondering if they should get her to see a psychiatrist (nothing had ever come of it, but she’d never known if that had been because her father talked her mother out of it, or if her mother had simply forgotten to follow up); meeting Natsume and the events that followed.

She remembered a dragging exhaustion that had overtaken her sometimes; a bright, almost manic clarity at others. But she didn’t think either had been connected to the number of circles she’d drawn. The manic clarity had most often appeared when she thought she’d mad a breakthrough; the exhaustion usually after long spells of nothing, when she when she could no longer hold at bay the fear that there was no way out. That maybe she should stop even trying, and just do her best to enjoy what little of her life she had left.

At one point, about nine months in, she’d even tried to convince herself that she was lucky: how many people knew the date of their death, after all?

But to call herself lucky, to admit defeat, meant dragging down the last five people she’d named, too. And no matter how hard she’d tried, how silent she’d become, there’d always been five others. And even at her lowest points, she’d never accepted that. Not if there was something, anything she could do to save them.

“Taki?”

She blinked, looking at Tanuma, then back up towards Misuzu. “Sorry. Did I miss anything?”

She hoped not. It would be pretty sad if she had somehow failed to notice the large youkai’s booming voice.

Tanuma shook his head. “You just looked …” He stopped, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Thankfully, Misuzu interrupted before he could make up his mind. “It is for precisely that purpose that I wished to engage your aid, young one. Should you and your compatriots agree, I suggest that a number of these circles be laid out in more permanent fashion in various places across the grounds of this temple, for improved communication and to give us a way to request, or receive requests of aid, when the two of you are not available. Should these circles draw on your energies, however, I would not desire to burden you unduly.”

“But … I thought you youkai didn’t really like the circle, or being visible to humans,” Tooru said. “And what if – I don’t know if you heard what happened to me, but if any other youkai are going start cursing people just because they were seen, I don’t think I can …”

And she hated saying it, because she loved the idea of being able to just talk to youkai at any time; having circles scattered about would still be a far cry from being able to see properly, but it would at least be something. It was probably as good as she would ever get.

But then she remembered that moment of horror, of malice, and the blurred year that followed, and if she ended up being the catalyst for something like that happening to someone else …

“A curse, for such a paltry reason as that?” Misuzu asked. He drew himself up, somehow managing to appear even more imposing. “Should any of my compatriots be so ill-mannered as to act in such a way, they will answer to me.”

Looking up at the giant horse-like youkai, Tooru couldn’t help but feel at least a bit comforted. Even the youkai who had cursed her, as large and frightening as it had been, might have had second thoughts about crossing Misuzu.

And … being able to really see youkai. Not having to hide, and worry, and pretend she was unaware of this entire world that she’d never been able to properly see.

“I’d be happy to,” she said, before she could start having any more second thoughts. “Assuming your father doesn’t mind?" She looked at Tanuma, who appeared to be lending no more than half an ear to the conversation, turning slowly in place, peering above and around the other inhabitants of the circle. It was fuller than ever now; less than half of the people who had perched on nearby stairs and walkways remained in their previous positions. “Tanuma? What's wrong?”

“Hm? I doubt he’d mind,” he said absently. “Where is he, though? He sounded so enthusiastic this morning, and surely he wouldn’t have left ...”

Tooru closed the remaining space between them – thankfully, there were no other tiny youkai in the way – and laid a hand on his arm. He stilled, turning his focus on her. “I’m sure your father is fine, Tanuma. He’s probably just inside, checking up on people.”

She didn’t know Tanuma’s father well – she’d only met him the previous day – but even what little she’d seen of him reminded her strongly of Tanuma, and she knew her friend’s tendencies towards trying to make sure everything and everyone was all right. That this was his home, she felt sure, only increased his sense of responsibility.

Tanuma’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “You’re probably right. It’s just, now that I’m back, and he’s here, I.”

“Worry?” she offered, unable to entirely suppress her smile. She sometimes wondered if worrying was Tanuma’s default state of being.

“Yeah.” His eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, but your family isn’t – and I was just – I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. He would probably have gone on stringing together borderline incomprehensible sentence fragments forever if she hadn’t. He didn’t look terribly reassured, but subsided.

Probably just as well. It scared her, just how fine she was. On the way home, she’d been able to dismiss it as just being good at compartmentalizing. As de facto class representative for her class, she couldn’t have fallen apart, not with everyone depending on her.

But now they were back home. There were adults around. They didn’t need to worry about as much anymore, and her responsibility in particular was gone. She had never really been the sort to break down publically, but if she’d wanted to find a handy corner to freak out in private, there was the entire forest surrounding them to choose from; even with sixty-odd people populating the temple area, she could have found an empty corner if she’d searched hard enough.

But she hadn’t needed one yet. She was worried, of course she was worried, about whether her family was all right.

She thought she was worried.

She had to be worried. Because she loved her family, she did. It just.

Some part of her wondered, very quietly, if it mattered.

That same little part of her that got jealous of Natsume’s shy, uncertain happiness when Touko-san fussed over him.

(Oh how she hoped that Misuzu was right, that Natsume really was still alive somewhere. That Touko-san and Shigeru-san were still alive, too, just under the power of exorcists powerful enough that even he would hesitate to cross them. And it was wrong, wasn’t it, that she felt so much more strongly about that than she did about her own family?)

Or even right now, a little bit jealous of the way that Tanuma brightened when he saw his father, exiting the main building with a contemplative look that looked like it could have been plucked from Tanuma’s face; of the quiet pleasure and undeniable pride that wiped away any other expression when the priest saw his son.

She did hope her family was alive out there somewhere. She just wished that she thought it would affect her actions in any way.

The priest stopped several paces away and craned his neck upwards, adjusting his glasses so that they glinted briefly in the sunlight. “Be welcome to my temple, you and yours. You are the Misuzu my son told me of, yes?”

“Indeed,” Misuzu rumbled. “I and mine appreciate your welcome, priest, particularly in light of the experiences that lie between us.”

Tanuma’s father made a dismissive gesture, as though to indicate that it was all water under the bridge. “I hear you had some requests of me?”

Misuzu hunkered down, although if he was trying to bring himself properly to the humans’ level, he was doomed to failure.

Raised voices distracted her as Misuzu and Tanuma’s father began to speak: Kitamoto, standing just inside the circle, vehemently arguing with his sister, who stood just outside. She thought their parents were the couple sitting nearby, leaning into each other in a way that Tooru associated more with young couples in the park than with, well, parents. Nishimura stood a bit further into the circle, watching the argument with crossed arms and an amused look on his face.

One of Tsuji’s younger brothers ran past, stopping and starting constantly as he investigated everyone and everything; the other dragged Tsuji himself not far behind, the class representative trying hard to look resigned to the treatment, but unable to completely hide his own fascination.

Behind them, well outside the circle, Watanabe-san and Yoshida-san conversed quietly, heads bent over the former’s sketchpad. Maybe she should go offer her advice, now that the circle was complete? She glanced back towards Misuzu.

“— My son mentioned that you had requested I do a more thorough purification of this area. How broad an area were you thinking, and will the weaker – youkai be all right?” Tanuma’s father asked, head tipped back to look up at Misuzu.

“Were some of the weaker inhabitants of this forest to be caught in your purification wave directly, they would doubtless be exorcised,” Misuzu said. “To walk on previously purified land is uncomfortable, but preferable for many of us to being consumed.”

“I see,” Tanuma’s father nodded. “Perhaps we should set up a schedule, then, to ensure that everyone is safely out of the way.”

“A wise suggestion.”

What was power, Tooru wondered. Was the sort of spiritual power Tanuma’s father wielded really so different from that possessed by someone like Misuzu or Natsume? It seemed it would have to be, to affect youkai so badly. Or maybe Tanuma’s father was just really strong?

Would the purification waves affect her circles? Or would her circles affect them?

Maybe her grandfather would have known; he’d spend most of his time chasing down old legends through shopkeepers and exorcists – the latter mostly self-styled, she suspected; she doubted that the real thing would have been willing to share anything meaningful with someone who wasn’t in the know – but he’d told a few stories about interviewing priests, too.

I need to figure out a way to get my hands on my grandfather’s notes. There’s so many of them, though, we’d need a car or something to carry them … And I don’t know how long it’ll take me to sort through the rest of them on my own, even if I can probably go a lot faster since I won’t have to worry about school.

Guilt stirred. She really ought to have read more of them by now. Some things she couldn’t avoid; homework, for example, which had only gotten heavier this year. But she had a couple of light novel series that she liked reading. She usually home-made her lunches. There were a thousand little things she spent time on, that added up to a normal life but that she could probably have stopped doing if she’d really been serious about finishing sorting through her grandfather’s things.

She’d just always thought she’d have more time. And, aside from the circle, she’d never honestly expected the information there to be actually useful to anyone.

“Taki?”

She turned. The four remaining members of her class stood not far away, looking at her.

“You were cursed?” Shinohara asked. Even here, even now when they were relatively safe, she still kept her clarinet with her. Tooru couldn’t remember ever having seen her without it. “Was that why you never talked to anyone first semester last year? Were you cursed not to speak?”

“That can’t be it,” Hosoya said. He fiddled with the left earpiece of a pair of glasses Taki could not remember having seen him wear before. Though hadn’t he worn glasses that first year of middle school? “She – er, sorry. You did talk sometimes, like during class. You just avoided everyone otherwise.”

“It really surprised me, how different you were after summer break,” Shimoda agreed. He looked away, rubbing a hand through his dark brown hair and making it stick up even worse than before. “Um, in a good way. Not that it was bad when you were so quiet! Well, except, I guess if you were cursed to only speak during class or something that would be bad, but you weren’t bad –”

“It wasn’t just last year,” Nonomiya interrupted, her eyes narrowed in thought. “It was right after the fall festival our third year of middle school, wasn’t it?” She was the only one of the four that Tooru had shared a class with in middle school; she hadn’t shared a class with Hosoya since elementary school, and Shimoda and Shinohara she thought had come from different middle schools entirely.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Shimoda asked. “We could have –”

Hosoya smacked him on the back of the head. Tooru blinked. Hosoya hadn’t really struck her as the sort to do that sort of thing, but – weren’t he and Shimoda both in judo club? “Made fun of her because we thought she was making things up? Idiot.”

“What was the curse, Taki?” Nonomiya asked. “Was there anything we could have done?”

She hesitated, but … did it really matter anymore? There was no real reason to keep it secret; she’d kept it quiet mostly because she’d assumed no one would believe her. (A small part of her had wondered if anyone would care.)

“… I was stupid,” she finally said. “Grandpa had just died, and I found the notes he’d made about a circle that could be used to let anyone see youkai, so I started drawing it. And it worked. So I kept doing it.”

It had hurt, the first time she’d seen something clearly other wander through her circle. A small tengu, mask and robes both too intricate to be real. She’d wondered for days afterward if she’d fallen asleep and dreamed the entire thing, because if her grandfather had had the means of seeing youkai all that time and still not managed to, she should have tried sooner. It just seemed so incredibly unfair that something her grandfather had worked his whole life to find had just … fallen into her lap, with barely any effort at all.  

“And then –”

An immense shadow; a grin that stretched far wider than any facial expression had any right to; a loud voice that pronounced her doom with eager malice.

Her words dried up; she made a helpless gesture. “It – he – said that he’d give me 360 days, and if I hadn’t managed to catch sight of him again in that period of time, he’d eat me.” Shinohara gasped, one hand coming up to her mouth; Shimoda and Hosoya looked grim; Nonomiya’s fingers twitched, as though reaching for a bow she wasn’t carrying. Honesty forced her to continue. “And the last five people whose names I’d said.”

“Oh,” Nonomiya said, eyes wide. “Oh. So that time, just after the fall festival, when I called out to you, and you responded, but then got this horrified look on your face and ran away –”

Tooru nodded. “You were number three.” Things had blurred together after that – each time she said someone’s name had prompted a new wave of horror, a new burden of guilt, but once they fell out of the top five she’d tried to forget, because she couldn’t bear to consider how many people had come so close to being hurt because of her. Because she hated herself a little bit more whenever she felt relieved when someone she was particularly fond of fell off the list.

But the first five names? She didn’t think she’d ever forget those.

“I’m sorry,” she said. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But it helped, a little bit, to say it. “You weren’t in the final set of people. But you were number three.” She looked towards Hosoya. “I said your name a couple of times, too, first semester last year.” Shinohara. “I said your name once, too.” Shimoda. “I think I managed to avoid ever saying your name, but I think there were a few times that I snubbed you instead.” She bowed. “I’m really sorry that I got you involved in my mess.”

“Sounds like it was that youkai’s fault to me,” Shimoda crossed his arms. “I mean yeah, I would have liked to have known. I mean, at the very least, if I – if we’d known, we might have been able to help out. Maybe come up with code names to use for each other instead? Do you think that would have worked?”

“I’m sorry I never – we weren’t close, but when you ran away in middle school I thought it was something I had done.” Nonomiya looked down. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to rebuild things, after.”

Tooru smiled, a little shaky. “You’re not mad? That you might have died, and never known why?”

Hosoya rolled his eyes. “Well I don’t know about Nonomiya, but of course I’d have been mad if I’d died. Well, except I’d be dead, I suppose. I don’t think I’d have been mad enough to come back as a ghost. Wait. Are ghosts real, too? Like, in the Tanuma-can-sort-of-see-them sense?”

“I’m not sure,” Tooru admitted. “He’s never mentioned seeing any, but it never occurred to me to ask.”

“Not important I guess. The point it, no one died. Why should we blame you for protecting us?”

“But if not for my curiosity, it never would have happened.”

Hosoya shrugged. “A circle that would let me see youkai? I’d totally have played with it too, and I didn’t even believe in youkai until … six days ago?”

“Definitely,” Shimoda agreed.

Tooru laughed, feeling oddly free. “Thanks, guys.”

“How did you break the curse, though?” Nonomiya asked. “Those seem like incredibly unfair conditions to me. I mean, if he didn’t want you to see him, he could just never step into one of your circles, right? Did you trick him, somehow, like the stories about bowing to kappa?”

… Right. That’s why I should have kept my mouth shut. “Um.”

“Natsume-kun helped you, didn’t he?” Shinohara asked quietly, clutching her clarinet case just a little bit tighter.

“Natsume?” Shimoda looked in her direction with a considering frown. “You mean the kind of weird transfer student in Class 2?” His eyes went wide, and his head whipped back to look at Tooru again. “Oh.”

“He was never a liar, was he?” Shinohara asked. She bit her lip. “Those times he freaked out at nothing in elementary school. There really was something there, wasn’t there?”

Tooru blinked. “You knew Natsume in elementary school? What was he like?”

“Um. Really quiet. Nervous.” Shinohara ducked her head. “I … I heard something once. One of the times that he freaked out about seeing something. And the teacher asked if anyone else had seen something and I didn’t raise my hand, and then everyone started treating Natsume-kun like the weird kid and so I always wanted to apologize to him for it, but I … I just …” Her knuckles were white. “And now he’s gone. I thought, maybe, at some point, I mean, we go to the same school again so there’d be plenty of chances, right? But now …”

Tooru hopped a couple of lines and hugged Shinohara, who stiffened even more. “It’s all right.” She backed up, giving the other girl her space back. “Natsume … he doesn’t really speak about what things were like when he was younger, not to anyone, as far as I know. But … he wouldn’t blame you. Natsume’s not like that. He’d probably say that there’s nothing to forgive.” And smile that quiet, tentative smile, like he couldn’t quite believe that anyone had thought it was even a question. Like he was so used to people treating him like a liar that he didn’t quite know how to handle when someone accepted that he was telling the truth.

Shinohara sniffed, wiping the palm of her hand across her eyes. “Thanks, Taki. … Oh, I’m sorry, for going on like that.”

“… And you might still have a chance,” Tooru added, tentatively. “Misuzu said. He seems to think that Natsume is still alive somewhere. If he’s right. If we can find him and bring him home. You might have another chance.”

“I hope so,” Shinohara said, and smiled. “He’s your good friend, isn’t he? I’m so glad that he’s happier now. Was. Hopefully will be again.”

“Is there anything we can do to help? With getting him back,” Hosoya asked. He fiddled with his glasses again. “It’s not right, to abandon someone to … out there.”  

“Tanuma and I are trying to figure that out,” Tooru said. Mostly Tanuma. Her classmate’s faces fell. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do, though,” she added hastily.

“Please don’t be reticent about asking,” Nonomiya said. “We … we feel like there’s not a whole lot we can do. So, if there’s anything …”

In hindsight, maybe it had been arrogant of her to think that she was the only one feeling helpless in this situation. She’d at least had some idea what to expect, after all. “I’ll let you know.”

She kept forgetting that she wasn’t alone anymore, now even less than before.

“Soushi and hishi?” Tooru said. Tanuma nodded. She shook her head. “It doesn’t sound familiar, but … there’s a lot of my grandfather’s stuff that I haven’t gone through yet.” The two of them sat on the steps up to the building that she shared with several of the other girls and a couple of their mothers. Tanuma had been clearly uncomfortable when they first sat down, but there was no one in there at the moment, and as one of the more remote buildings, it was about as close to privacy as they were likely to get.

Tanuma sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of. Maybe we can look when we go by your house – whenever we go back into the town. This afternoon, I guess? I’m not … I know we need to, but …” He wiped his hand across his face and knocked his glasses askew. He made an incoherent noise of frustration as he straightened them.

“Still not used to them?” Tooru asked, trying hard for sympathy instead of amusement. She’d find and wear a pair in a heartbeat if she thought they’d do any good, but it was hard to focus energy when there wasn’t any at the source to begin with. And she far preferred being amused at Tanuma’s problems with his glasses to thinking about just how much else they needed to do.

“They’re getting more comfortable,” he said. “I wish I’d remembered to put them on when I rushed outside last night. Maybe then I’d have been able to see Misuzu and Hinoe, and we wouldn’t have had to make your circle public.”

“I’m just as glad it happened this way, I think,” Tooru said. “It’s nice not having to hide it. And, well, you saw how excited everyone was earlier. I think it’s important, that people be able to communicate.” She shoved away the stray but what if –? that kept trying to intrude. Misuzu had promised. “Did your father and Misuzu figure out where all the circles were going to go?”

Tanuma nodded. “They’ve got a preliminary plan. I think my father’s talking with some of the other adults, trying to come up with a way of making them semi-permanent that we can accomplish with the supplies to hand. He’ll probably come talk to you soon, but Misuzu said you’d already agreed?” Tooru nodded. He shook his head. “Everything’s changing so fast. I just wish Natsume …”

Tooru leaned into him. “I know.” It felt more awkward here, at home, or about as close as she was likely to come, than it had when they were on the road. But it helped, to feel his warmth at her side, the reminder that Natsume might not be here but the two of them were. “We’ll figure something out. We’ll find him.”

Tanuma lightly leaned back.

She winced. “… Speaking of Natsume. My classmates know.”

Tanuma shifted. She suspected he was looking at her – imagined she could feel his eyes on her – but didn’t look back. “They – I guess someone overheard me mentioning my curse to Misuzu, and they were asking me about it. I didn’t mean to say anything, but Shinohara – I don’t know if you know her, she’s got short-ish blonde hair and carries her clarinet with her everywhere – she apparently went to elementary school with Natsume, so she put two and two together.”

Tanuma was silent for a long moment, then sighed again. “I suppose it’s no surprise. It’s probably more surprising that no one else has realized.”

“They’re probably trying not to think about him. Like everyone else who’s gone.” Tooru said.

She still hadn’t returned the hand mirror she’d borrowed from Mio-chan. And she knew she wouldn’t have cared. But.

“Yeah.” A light breeze blew through her hair. Somewhere nearby, she could hear several birds calling at each other. “… What was Natsume like?” Tanuma asked. “In elementary school.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across Tooru’s face as she finally looked back at Tanuma. “I asked the same thing.” It faded away. “She said he was quiet, and kind of nervous. That he would freak out at nothing – well, she thought it was nothing at the time; at least she knows better now – and the other kids tended to avoid him.”

“No bullying, though?” There was something hard in Tanuma’s voice, beneath the sorrow; he stared into the forest, face set.

Tooru shrugged. Even pulling Shinohara aside afterwards to interrogate her further, the other girl had only remembered so much. “Not as far as she knew. But she … I guess she felt guilty about not defending him in class one time? So she tried not to pay attention to him out of guilt. And he was only there a few months.”

“… That’s something, I suppose.” Tanuma shook his head. “I guess either way, there’s nothing we can do. He made it through. He made it here.”

“Now we just need to help him make it back.” Tooru grabbed Tanuma’s hand and stood, nervous energy suddenly running through her. Mildly surprised, he let her pull him to his feet as well. “Come on, let’s go see if anyone’s figured out what order we’re visiting houses in yet. Do you think we could ask the youkai to help? Only if it doesn’t put them in further danger, though.”

“I’m not sure they understand maps,” Tanuma said, taking a couple of quick steps to catch up as they headed back towards the more well-traveled areas of the temple. “But it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Oh! Which reminds me, apparently there’s an old man with a cane, somewhere near a pond …”

Chapter Text

Sutra. Why would chanting sutra – without, it sounded like, any outwardly directed intent – have an effect on those creatures?

Shuuichi strode through the trees, paying only just enough attention to the path to keep his face out of the way of any low-hanging branches. He’d initially volunteered to take a look at one of the more distant buildings as an excuse to get away for a while, from a home that, once too large and empty, now seemed far too small and full of people he just didn’t feel like dealing with.

But the conversation he’d just had made him doubly glad that he’d been in a quiet place. Where he could sit down.

Maybe it’s another form of passive defense? I know that quite a few of our spells and techniques around expelling possession have been derived from the sort that priests use; I wouldn’t be surprised if some of our wards were, as well.

Although exorcists now existed as a separate group, and had for hundreds of years, there was still more crossover than Shuuichi, at least, had expected going in. Of course, it made sense in hindsight: they all dealt with the supernatural, after all. Some simply did so more directly and more frequently than others.

Expelling possession is definitely not defensive, though. So would that not work against those creatures?

Does it require having power? Tanuma-kun has a little bit, if not enough to usually count. He’d probably have mentioned it if the girl could see, though. So is this something that anyone could do?

He nodded distractedly to a couple who looked a few years older than himself. Son and daughter-in-law of one of his father’s coworkers, if he remembered correctly. He’d picked them up the previous day, one of the last groups.

Even if it is, do we have anyone here who knows any sutra in the first place? I certainly don’t.

He’d always been much more interested in finding out what worked than in digging to find the roots and try to puzzle out why.

Now, staring down at the mass of shadow that blocked the front gate, his wandering feet having brought him here without any conscious decision on his part, he found he regretted that oversight. Maybe if he knew why, he’d know how to fix this. How to get rid of that thing. How to get rid of them all.

He rested his fingers against the bars on the gate, the gap easily wide enough to fit an arm through. He wondered what would happen if he did, if he just stuck his hand through the bars and through the wards and into the air above the creature.

What would happen if the smoke touched him, but not the shadow?

If the shadow jumped, like it had before, could he pull his hand away fast enough to avoid getting hit?

If both shadow and smoke touched him, would he disappear instantly, the way his film crew probably had? Experience a slow encroachment, like Ginro and Benihimo?

Would the wards protect the rest of him, or would the creature be able to use his body as a conduit to breach the wards and attack everyone else?

If he could just find out more –

“Master, what are you doing?”

Hiiragi approached him from behind, almost stalking.

“Nothing.” Shuuichi tucked his hand behind his back and turned to face her. “Just … looking. The wards still seem to be holding.”

“As Sekihara-san reported over breakfast,” she said.

“I just finished a fascinating conversation with Tanuma-kun.” Shuuichi glanced back over his shoulder. The back of his neck prickled from the creature’s nonexistent (as far as he knew) gaze. “He believes they’ve found a way to … hm, perhaps not fight. But more actively defend against these creatures.”

Hiiragi fell still. Surprised? She crossed her arms. “No.”

Shuuichi blinked. “No what?”

“Whatever he told you, you’re not going to try it. Certainly not alone.”

“Are you ordering me around?” He really was getting too lax with his shiki, wasn’t he? Natsume would probably smile.

Natsume.

“Your safety is important to all of us, Master. I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from making it difficult for me to keep you safe.” Her mask turned towards back towards the house. “Sekihara-san and Souji-kun would not appreciate you leaving them to deal with this on their own.”

Shuuichi winced. “You don’t fight fair.” Even less fair than she used to; when had Hiiragi learned so well what gave him pause? He gathered together scraps of injured pride and sighed theatrically. “You don’t even know what Tanuma-kun told me.”

“It’s clearly not free of risk.”

“Ahaha, I suppose that’s true enough.” He eyed her. “Surely you didn’t come out here just because you feared I would do something foolhardy?”  

Hiiragi settled, hands behind her back, and spoke in an oddly stilted tone that made the suspicious part of Shuuichi’s brain – so, really, most of it – sit up and take careful notice. “Benihimo reported to Ginro that a … visitor is at the northern border of the wards, and desires to speak with you.”

Shuuichi raised an eyebrow. “Youkai?” Not waiting for her response – who else would be coming from the forest, into which Benihimo had disappeared as soon as she could? – he turned back towards the house, and the heavily wooded hill at its back. “Show me.”

He passed a few more people on the way, coworkers of his father who still seemed at a loss as to how to react to him. They’d been willing enough to cooperate when he’d collected them from their homes – thankfully without any of the drama that had accompanied his rescue of the Takumas – but years of regarding him as their coworker’s strange, unfriendly son didn’t disappear so easily.

… To be fair, he was still pretty unfriendly.

“Did either of them say anything else useful?” He asked quietly, once they were alone again.

Hiiragi shook her head. “An envoy, perhaps.”

“That polite? Seems unlikely to be anything else.”

Shuuichi passed the main house without slowing, and Hiiragi looked back. “Should I retrieve anything for you?”

He touched the glasses he no longer went anywhere without, and the pocket in his pants where he had stashed a handful of his paper dolls. Probably good enough. “It wouldn’t do to make our visitor wait for too much longer.” Shuuichi rolled the sleeves on his old grey shirt up just far enough to hide the fraying cuffs. “Nor to go into the meeting too blatantly expecting trouble.”

He shot Hiiragi a bright, insincere smile. “As long as everyone plays nice, I’m sure there won’t be any problem.” And if they don’t, we get to see how strong the wards really are.

“Playing nice”, of course, led inevitably to “Natsume”, and the tangled ball of rage and loss that he'd done his best to put out of his mind the past several days, because he just. He couldn't.

And he feared that if he looked at it too closely or for too long, not even Hiiragi would be able to convince him to hold back from doing something drastic to the creature that loitered smugly just outside their gates, no matter how futile a gesture it turned out to be, no matter how great a risk to himself.

Calm down. Tanuma-kun seems sure he’s alive.

Which was ... odd. Shuuichi supposed he himself had been the one to point out that Natsume tended to be almost as good at getting himself out of trouble as he was at getting himself into it, but the last time they’d talked, it had sounded like Tanuma and his classmates had effectively written Natsume off.

(The way he had. Because hope hurt and helplessness burned and it was just ... easier that way.)

What had changed his mind? Getting home safely, and no longer feeling quite as burdened by the responsibility for his classmates’ lives?

(He wished he’d known better what to say to help alleviate the boy’s guilt. He wondered if what he’d said had made any difference at all.)

... Or had home had everything to do with it? That was where the youkai who Natsume knew best lived. If some of them really were bound to him, they’d have known if anything happened to him.

(It still seemed so impossible, though, running counter to everything he thought he knew about his friend. And Urihime had searched and found nothing.

He’d almost succeeded at dismissing it as just his over-active imagination and suspicious nature. And yet.)

“Master,” Hiiragi murmured, and Shuuichi dragged himself back to the present as the occasional stands of trees began to give way to untamed woods as they neared the edge of the wards.

The wards shimmered dimly in the corners of his eyes, from a cursory examination strong and whole. With his attention focused on his other senses, he felt the youkai envoybefore he saw her; presence politely restrained, but strong.

Probably not strong enough to overpower the wards if she turned out to be unfriendly, though he might start worrying if any equally powerful friends showed up.

The envoy faded out of the woods, looking mostly human. She wore an ornate, layered kimono in autumnal colors, long sleeves not quite covering slender and far too long fingers. Her long black hair had been pinned up into an elaborate hairstyle, and her skin was so pale that Shuuichi did not initially recognize her distant, still expression as a mask. Like her fingers, her neck stretched just far enough past human to be clearly not.

Unlikely to be a rokurokubi – she’d be hiding her neck as normal length. Probably not a kami, either. And if she wishes me ill, she’s doing a good job of hiding it.

This “playing nice” thing might just work out after all.

He sketched a careful bow. “My name is Natori Shuuichi. Hiiragi said you wished to speak with me?”

Her voice was quiet and oddly hollow. “You are the head of this human clan, exorcist?”

“For matters relating to youkai, yes.”

The “clan” had expanded significantly in the last several days, but as Shuuichi knew of no others among the refugees with even a hint of power, much less any with the level of both power and training he possessed, the choice of proxy still could only meaningfully be either himself or Sekihara-san.

That first night, he’d chosen to come home instead of going back to his apartment, knowing it meant picking back up a mantle he’d long tried to ignore.  

The least he could do was act like it.

“Very well, I suppose that will do,” the youkai said. “You may call me Momiji, exorcist.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. Perhaps not as powerful as she seemed, to give him so obvious and simple an alias.

He schooled himself to patience as the silence stretched. She had requested this meeting; he would not do her the favor of showing too much curiosity as to the reason. Especially not if his suspicions were correct.

She bent her long neck forward, giving the impression that she was peering at him. “You know of that which appeared recently, and has proven itself a threat to us all.”

“I do.” He allowed himself a wintry smile. “The rather obstinate visitor blocking our front gate is somewhat difficult to ignore.”

“Indeed.” Her head tilted, again a few degrees past human normal. “Your exorcist wards appear to provide adequate protection against them, and I hear that not all those allowed within your wards are... bound.” She spat the final word like it caused her personal offense.

I thought so. “They are not,” Shuuichi agreed. “Although Benihimo once served my friend, he is no longer capable of holding her bond.” He shifted to the balls of his feet, hyper-aware, as he continued. “We dare not, of course, risk weakening the wards. But should … certain of our neighbors slide in through the cracks, we are prepared to look the other way. As a gesture of good faith.”

The youkai who called herself Momiji stilled. “And what would this ... gesture cost?” She drew up to her full height, at least fifteen centimeters taller than Shuuichi. “We will not be bound.”

Though the exorcist in him bristled at the ultimatum, Shuuichi had to admit to reluctant respect. That she had risked the approach at all told him more than she’d probably have preferred about their desperation; to make demands even then ...

She was very lucky that he was not Matoba.

“Knowledge of those creatures, if you have any, or if you find out anything helpful,” he said. “We will, of course, share what we find out, too. And your words that you will be on your best behavior.”

He drew himself up, too, staring at the demurely downcast eyes painted on her mask with his best expression of sincere resolve. (He hadn’t done ‘sincere’ much, lately. He missed it. Missed acting in general. He’d forgotten how exhausting it could be to act the part of ‘himself’ for so long.)

“The majority of the humans in my care cannot see your people. They have agreed to allow you in, because of the threat against us all, but I will not tolerate mischief perpetrated against those who cannot defend against it.”

He had no idea how Sekihara-san and Takuma-san – he suspect both of them had been required – had managed to convince his father, grandfather, and a growing number of other highly opinionated adults to agree to that. Especially given how skeptical they both still were.

Honestly, Shuuichi shared their skepticism. He really didn’t know whether the extra eyes, the extra sources of potential information, would be worth the potential havoc this could unleash.

But while he knew he was no more Natsume than he was Matoba, he also knew which one he’d rather resemble.

And if they could get even a few more trustworthy eyes … well. Sekihara-san and Souji-kun were the only others who could see, and Souji-kun was still so young. If Momiji were to accuse them of also being desperate, he couldn’t entirely deny it.

“That is all?” Disbelief threaded her hollow voice. “You are far more lenient than rumor has painted you, exorcist.”

Shuuichi grinned sharply. “You will find I am not at all lenient to those who threaten me or mine.”

Silence.

A bark of laughter that seemed very out-of-character for her current appearance.

“Very well, exorcist. On behalf of my followers, I accept your terms. Should any of them cause undue trouble to your humans, I will ensure that they are dealt with.” Steel underpinned her words, and Shuuichi experienced a moment of disconcerting optimism. Perhaps this would work out smoothly after all.

Fool. You know youkai better than that.

Shuuichi bowed. Shallowly, but her acceptance of his terms seemed to call for some response. “Then know that you and yours are welcome in my home.”

“I thank you, exorcist.” Momiji inclined her head, though the rest of her neck stayed stiff and tall.

A sudden breeze sprang up. Shuuichi shielded his eyes. When he looked up, she was gone.

He blinked at the place she had stood, allowed himself a mildly aggrieved sigh, and turned to leave.

As the trees slowly thinned back out and the furthest of the outbuildings came into view, Shuuichi turned to Hiiragi and raised an eyebrow. “What did you think?”

“She appeared willing to deal in good faith,” Hiiragi said. “I have no doubt there will be problems, but perhaps fewer once the first few troublemakers are dealt with.”

Shuuichi nodded. “It was … quite a risk, for her to approach us alone. I wonder what happened to her most loyal retainers.”

“Eaten?”

He winced, remembering black-wreathed arms and the glint of the sun against Hiiragi’s blade. “Probably.”

They circled a building, and their grand entrance gate came into view, drawing his eyes. A flash of movement, and Hiiragi stood in his way, arms crossed. “No.”

“No what?” Souji leaned against the railing surrounding the veranda on the building they’d just passed, curiosity bright in his eyes. “Are your shiki supposed to talk back to you like that? Uncle’s never do.”

At his side, Hiiragi ... settled, hands behind her back, head high. He suspected if he could see her face, it would be equally aggressively neutral.

“Each exorcist’s working relationship with their shiki is different,” he finally said. “It’s highly dependent on the personality of the exorcist, and to a lesser extent that of the shiki.” He slanted a wry glance towards Hiiragi. “Personally, I would prefer to be told off when I’m not thinking straight instead of being obeyed unthinkingly.”

“... I guess that makes sense,” Souji said.

Sometimes I wonder.

Occasionally, late at night, in his more paranoid moments, he worried about just how dependent he had become on Hiiragi. How much he trusted her judgment – more than his own, sometimes. (Although yes, even he recognized that going after those things with no backup would be foolish, probably fatally so. No matter how satisfying it would be.)

Speaking of backup. “Do you know where your uncle is now?” he asked. “Or Takuma-san?”

“They’re in the west storehouse,” Souji said. “They asked me to go get a scroll from the northeast storehouse, but I couldn’t find it. Do you know where it is?” He quoted a very familiar title.

Shuuichi laughed.

“Isn’t that –?” Hiiragi asked.

“Yes.” He jerked his head. “Meet me around front, we can get it and take it back to your uncle together.”

“Okay!” Souji dashed off.

As they followed at a slower pace, Shuuichi eyed Hiiragi, wondering what she’d thought of the exchange, but not sure how to ask. It felt like crossing an unspoken boundary.

She kept her own counsel. Facial cues were of course useless, so all he had to go on was her relaxed stride, arms loose at her side.

As they approached the stairs, Souji bounced down them two at a time to meet them. “Where are we going?” he asked. “The south storehouse? That’s the only one in this direction, right?”

“That’s right, but that’s not where we’re going.” Shuuichi said as they turned towards the main house. “That particular scroll isn’t in any of the storehouses. It’s one of the ones that I left in my room the last time I visited.” Although even after taking a quick look at them all, he still only had the vaguest recollection of pulling them out. Most of the exorcisms he’d done those first couple of years, while he was still finding his feet and figuring out how it everything worked, blurred together after a while.

“Oh!” Souji shot forward; faltered. “Um, where is your room?”

Shuuichi tried to suppress his smile. “You mean you haven’t already investigated every room here? It would be difficult to mistake for anything else.”

“That would be rude!” Souji sounded a bit too horrified. Shuuichi raised an eyebrow and waited. The boy deflated. “... Not the main building, though. Natori-san and Na – um, your father and grandfather are, um. Kind of scary.” He bit his lip, looking afraid that he’d said something unforgivable. “They’re nice, though! Your grandfather helps me with my homework sometimes, when my uncle is away.”

Shuuichi resisted the urge to wonder what had been wrong with him, that his own relatives would rather help raise some complete stranger’s child than their own. Because he knew the answer was “nothing”; that the question wasn’t worth the breath it would take to ask it.

He was just off-balance because this was the longest time he’d spent here since high school. That’s all.

“I’m glad to hear they’re treating you well,” he said. His family’s issues weren’t the kid’s fault.

He left the door open as he entered his room and walked over to his desk. When he glanced up, Souji stood just inside the door, looking around and up, attempting not to look as curious as he clearly was. “You are welcome to come in, you know.”

“Oh, um. That’s OK.” Souji said. “It’s very – are these all your favorite actors? Is that why you decided to become one?”

Shuuichi crossed his arms, turning away from and leaning against the desk to survey the room. “They were my favorite actors when I was in high school. I wouldn’t say that they all qualify still.” He pointed at one of the posters tucked into a corner. He hadn’t noticed it before, or he probably would have taken it down. “For example, that guy’s an ass. Brilliant actor, but if I nev –”

He probably wouldn’t ever work with the man again.

He had a hard time seeing that as a silver lining, though.

He turned back to the desk, destabilizing the pile as he poked through it. “I wouldn’t say any of them made me want to be an actor, per se, but I certainly used them as inspiration. Ah, here it is.” He plucked the scroll out from the middle of the stack.

Halfway down the corridor, Souji spoke again. “Why did you decide to become an actor, then? It must be hard, doing both that and being an exorcist. Uncle said that most exorcists are either independently wealthy already, or take jobs that don’t require much thought and are tolerant of the occasional absence, like my dad did. And you’re a Natori.”

Funny, how Souji acted like that was a good thing.

How could he explain to a boy who had lost both his parents that Shuuichi had wanted nothing more than to get as far away from his own family as he could; to leave his own, unique mark on the world? Or how much more comfortable it was to occasionally step into someone else’s skin?

“Sitting around the house doing nothing sounds dreadfully boring to me,” he said airily. “I enjoy travelling, meeting new people … I’ve made a lot of contacts in other parts of the country that I doubt I would have ever met otherwise.”

None of whom had responded to the queries he’d sent out the day after the event had occurred. He hoped his hishi had simply been thrown off course or destroyed by wind or rain, but …

Maybe he should send Sasago or Urihime to check on everyone after all. Just in case.

“I guess that makes sense. But don’t exorcists come to gatherings from all over? Couldn’t you make contacts there?”

“Only those who are willing and able to travel, and who aren’t nursing a serious grudge against the organizer of the meeting or any of the other prominent figures expected to attend.”

Isuzu-san wasn’t the only person he’d met who’d rather kill Matoba than look at him.

A glance down at Souji showed him looking confused. No surprise, given that he’d never had to deal with the tangled web of old alliances and older hatreds that was the exorcist world. Shuuichi could barely even remember what that sort of ignorance had been like, but then, he was Natori. No one would have ever let him forget it, so he made sure to never let them forget it either.

Their arrival at the storehouse distracted Souji from any further questions. He rapped twice on the doorframe before opening it. “Uncle? I’m back! Shuuichi-san helped me find the scroll you asked for.”

Sekihara-san looked up as Shuuichi’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting. “Good, thank you. I hope he wasn’t any trouble?”

“Not at all – I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you and Takuma-san.”

His former mentor appeared from behind one of the tall shelves, eyebrows raised. “News?”

Shuuichi quickly summarized both his phone conversation with Tanuma-kun and the meeting in the woods with Momiji.

Takuma-san whistled quietly. “News indeed.” Sekihara-san had stood very still during his report, clearly listening intently; he now appeared to be thinking just as hard.

“Have the three of you made any progress?”

Takuma-san and Sekihara-san exchanged glances. The former removed his glasses, cleaning them with a corner of his shirt. “Not as such,” he admitted. “Nothing in any of the bestiaries that we’ve looked through has seemed similar enough to even give us a good place to start.”

“Ah.” Having expected as much didn’t make the news – or lack thereof – any easier to hear.

“Sutra, though.” Sekihara-san mused. “Purification is extremely effective against most youkai, but a funerary chant?”

“I wonder if anyone has tried,” Takuma-san said. Sekihara-san looked at him. “If it has no effect, it would be proof that they aren’t linked.” He frowned. “But then, what would be the link?”

“Death?” Souji suggested, and shrank in on himself slightly when they all turned to look at him. “Well, those things kill people, so ...”

“It’s worth considering,” Sekihara-san said, bestowing a proud smile on Souji that made him flush and duck his head. He looked back up at Shuuichi. “Go on. We’ll keep looking, but in the meantime I suspect you have a few letters to write.”

Shuuichi smiled. For once, he was actually looking forward to contacting Matoba. “Do either of you have contacts you’d like me to pass the message along to as well?” As always, he felt awkward bringing up exorcist-related matters in front of his former mentor. Even though the reaction was particularly foolish with Takuma-san here in his storehouse, spending countless hours looking through exorcist-related materials.

Takuma-san shook his head. “I’ve … fallen out of touch.”

“You could look them up in the phone book.” Souji offered. “Like Shuuichi-san suggested I do with my school friends.”

Takuma-san looked startled. “Ah. I think it’s not precisely the same thing. I doubt anyone has changed – well, I suppose that’s not necessarily true, either.” He looked rueful. “I doubt anyone looking for me through mundane means would find me here.”

“Long out of touch or not, I suspect they would be pleased to know you and Tsukiko-san still live,” Sekihara-san said. “And the wider we disseminate this information, the better for us all.” He turned to Shuuichi. “You need not contact anyone on my account. Those of my contacts still active are all currently leaning on the Matoba clan’s offers of hospitality.”

“Hm, the same is likely true of mine as well,” Takuma-san looked vaguely amused, and Shuuichi had a sinking suspicion as to why. There were downsides to having a mentor who still remembered what he’d been like as an angry, melodramatic teenager. “Few care to be quite as ... overt about their opinions.”

True. There was a certain freedom to being part of a clan that no one expected anything of in the first place.

“Still –” Sekihara-san said.

Takuma-san flapped a dismissive hand. “I’ll think about it, make a list.” He looked at Shuuichi and paused. In a stilted voice, he continued, “If I were to write out a short post-script –”

“I’d be happy to transcribe it,” Shuuichi said hastily, almost as uncomfortable being asked as Takuma-san looked to be for having to ask in the first place.

He could have written the notes himself – neither the paper dolls the hishi spells were bound to nor the ink required power to see – and just have Shuuichi send them, but the ink bound tighter, and the power infused the paper better, if the message was written as well as sent by someone with power.

And with as unreliable as hishi could sometimes be, they couldn’t afford to squander any advantage they could get.

“I appreciate it,” Takuma-san said.

Shuuichi shook his head. “It’s no trouble. Do you want to just come by if you think of anyone?”

“I’ll give you my list at dinner, if I don’t see you before then. Ah. Have you informed your grandfather that you’ve successfully allied with the youkai yet?” Takuma-san frowned. “It might be a good idea to mention the other part, too. He or your father probably have a better idea of if anyone living here has applicable training.”

“... No,” Shuuichi said. “I came straight here.”

Sekihara-san and Takuma-san exchanged a look. “If you want to get started on your list, I can pass on the message,” Sekihara-san said, and turned to Shuuichi. “So that you can go ahead and get started on the first round of letters.”

Shuuichi’s pride had its limits, and he freely acknowledged (to himself) that being forced to deal with his family was one of them. “I’d appreciate that.”

Shuuichi carefully laid his brush down on its stand, tip lifted and still glistening with residual ink. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and stretched, wincing as he heard his back crack. He’d never been good at the sort of still focus that brought the best results out of pre-written spells. He didn’t have the patience, though with practice he’d learned to fake it.

That’s the last of them for now, at least. He carefully picked up the paper doll, a bit larger than the ones he usually used for messages, and carried it over to the bed, setting it down next to the rest of its nearly-identical fellows.

The paper still wasn’t large enough to fit much more than ‘Chanted sutra repels the shadow creatures. Reason currently unknown.’ But at least that was better than nothing.

He twisted his waist in both directions, prompting another couple of cracks in protest, and settled back at his desk for the one he’d been putting off: Matoba.

For this, he drew out a standard-sized piece of uncharmed paper and a ballpoint pen. He could not deny that the Matoba complex was currently about as close as their region had to a central exorcist headquarters.   The short notes that he’d be sending out to everyone else contained what he thought was the most important information, but for Matoba and those with him, he wanted to make sure he passed on as much as he could recall. They might see something of import that he did not.

And that was more important than how much it galled him to play nice.

Especially after hearing Urihime’s news: that Matoba had had the Fujiwaras had been kidnapped. Even though according to Natsume’s companion, they’d chosen to remain. Even though he knew that Matoba would take as good care of them as he would of his own, or better, if only for the leverage they could give him over Natsume. (If Natsume was even still alive.)

It burnt, that he was just sitting here and letting Matoba get away with it.

His pen hovered, four separate pointed allusions to forcefully invited guests fighting for dominance. But eventually he sighed, decided to at least pretend to be the better man, and simply signed his name instead.

“Sasago.”

His blindfolded shiki swirled into visibility at his side. “Yes, Master?”

He folded up the letter, slid it into an envelope, and handed it to her. “Deliver this to Matoba, please. Nanase-san is also acceptable if you run into her first.” He hesitated. “If the opportunity arises, see if you can find out how the Fujiwaras are doing. But don’t do anything suspicious.” I’d rather Matoba not realize that I know, if he’s still unaware.

“Yes, Master.” She slid through the cracked-open door and disappeared, only the sound of rapidly receding footsteps left to mark her passage.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as he listened to her go; thought of a young man who was desperately afraid, yet still managed to be far braver and more determined than Shuuichi thought he himself had ever been; who he wished he could help with more than words of hollow encouragement.

He opened his eyes, leaned forward, and picked up another paper doll, reorienting his mind back towards stillness.

Isuzu-san. If village is fine, I’d appreciate your assistance –

Chapter Text

Tooru unlocked the door to her house, glad she’d remembered to bring the key, and stepped out of the way as Tanuma poked his head inside. “Entrance hall is clear,” he said.

“Good.” As far as any of them knew, the creatures didn’t appear inside enclosed structures. But they still knew so little. And none of them were inclined to take chances.

She followed him into the house, pulling out a spare pair of guest slippers as he began to toe off his shoes. “Just a quick once-over should be fine,” she said as she followed. “We’ll be spending most of our time in the storehouse. You’d be able to feel it if any of them were in the rest of the house, right?”

She glanced briefly towards the corner as she stepped into her own slippers.  Her mother's sat just how she remembered them, tumbled sideways where she'd nudged them out of the way when carrying a box inside a couple of days before the trip. 

Such a small thing, but it still hurt.

Tanuma slid the door to the living room open and peered inside briefly. “I think so,” he said. “It’s a big old house, but it’s not that big. But … there’s so much we don’t know …”

“It’ll be fine,” she said, because someone had to. “This house supposedly has some sort of wards, right?” Fluffy-sensei had called them half-baked and incomplete, but if they were enough to cause someone like him trouble, then surely … “So if … the exorcist is right, the entire place should be safe.”

None of the rest of the group appeared to have followed her into the house, but sound carried and she’d left the front door open. They still hadn’t decided if it was all right to share Natori-san’s identity, although Tanuma had told his dad, just in case.

“I know,” Tanuma said, shoulders hunched defensively as he peered into another room. “I just …”

“I know,” Tooru said, and put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped. “But the rest of you also have a lot of ground to cover before sunset. Why don’t you take a look in my room and call that good enough?”

“Your room?” Tanuma’s face flushed briefly, before comprehension dawned. “Oh. Packing?”

Tooru nodded and took the lead, trusting Tanuma to say something if she was about to step into anything. “It’s here – last one on the left.”

This glance was the shortest one yet, to Tooru’s amusement. She looked in after him – but no, she hadn’t left a spare bra hanging off her desk chair or anything. Her room looked like it was in the same normal, slightly cluttered state she’d left it in. When she closed the door and looked back towards Tanuma, he was looking up the stairs.

“You don’t need to look around upstairs,” Tooru said. “It’s fine.”

Upstairs held her parents’ room, and her brother’s, and the empty room that used to be her grandfather’s, long since stripped of anything that would have reminded her of him. She almost never went up there except to clean.

“You’re sure you don’t want to check …?”

“If anyone was up there, they’d have heard us. And my mother was in Osaka.”

Even driving, the trip would have taken most of a day, and Tooru didn’t think her mother normally rented a car. Without one …

She started back down the hallway towards the entrance, Tanuma reluctantly following behind.

“Clear?” A girl with short, dark blonde hair asked as they rejoined the group of around fifteen people who had accompanied Tooru and Tanuma to town. Sanada-san, one of Tanuma’s classmates, if Tooru remembered correctly. The group mostly consisted of their classmates, hoping they’d find something if they revisited their homes, but a few adults had come along as well. They had claimed to be along to help with navigation, but Tooru suspected it was also because everyone was a bit wary to let anyone completely out of sight, anymore.

She’d carefully stayed out of Tanuma’s argument with his father about whether the older man would come with them; in the end she suspected he’d only folded because Tanuma had pointed out that starting on the purifications they had discussed with Misuzu would make everyone safer.

“Well, I didn’t look –”

“It’s clear,” Tooru said. “You should probably get going, if we’re going to make it back to the temple before sunset.” They’d tried to leave extra time for each stop when drawing up the plans, but things always seemed to take longer than expected.

Tanuma hesitated, then shook his head. “I want to take a look at the storehouse, too.”

“Tanuma …” But her friend had that stubborn look on his face that told her she was doomed to lose the argument, so Tooru sighed instead. “Fine.”

“Send him back once you’re done with him, and we’ll get going from there,” Sanada-san said. “You’ve still got my phone number, right?” While it had run out of power about the same time as everyone else’s on the way back, her phone happened to be the same model as Ogawa-san’s, and his brothers had had the foresight to bring their chargers to the temple with them. 

Unfortunately, they’d been in the distinct minority, from what she’d said on the walk over.  Most of the rest of the adults hadn’t even thought about bringing little things like chargers with them, which had caused tension tempered only by everyone’s overwhelming relief at each other’s safety.

Tooru still couldn’t quite believe that she’d missed all those discussions the previous evening.  But then, she'd been worried about Tanuma and his reactions at dinner, and afraid that they might lose the chance to find Natsume, and trying to distract herself by helping clean up after dinner, and just ... tired. So perhaps it wasn’t so surprising.

“Right, and you’ve got mine?”  Sanada-san nodded. “Don’t be surprised if no one picks up; the phone is pretty far from the storehouse.”

Sanada-san shrugged. “I’ll leave a message if it comes to that.”

Messages. She should check those. “Good luck with your search.”

“Thanks, you too.”

When Tooru started towards the storehouse, circling the house, only a small subset of the group followed:

Yoshida and Watanabe, who had come along solely to help out with the storehouse search. Watanabe’s attempts to reproduce Tooru’s circle had led to more questions over lunch, the brown-haired girl exhibiting a painfully nostalgic curiosity about youkai once she’d broken through her shyness. When both she and Yoshida – Tooru got the impression that neither of them went much of anywhere alone anymore – convinced their mothers to let them come, Tooru hadn’t had the heart to say no.

Nonomiya, whose aunt was among the missing, but who had only agreed to come after she heard about the storehouse search. “At least this is something I can do to help,” she’d said, gaze steady. They’d passed by her house on the way to Tooru’s and found it empty; Nonomiya had simply shrugged and asked that they wait a few minutes while she gathered a few things.

Nishimura, who had attempted the same sort of calm at the sight of his own empty house, but whose downturned head, shaking fists, and overly stiff movements had made it obvious even to Tooru that he was more affected than he wished to pretend.

Kitamoto, who had overridden both his parents’ and his younger sister’s protests to come along with the search group – for Nishimura’s sake, she suspected – and who, upon arriving at her house, had quietly suggested with another glance at Nishimura that they stay and help.

And of course Tanuma, who kept easy pace with her, clearly remembering the way.

It didn't seem like it had been nearly a year, since those two afternoons the three of them had spent cleaning and chasing youkai.

She’d always kind of wondered if Natsume would like to look through some of her grandfather’s materials. He’d probably have gotten far more use out of them than she would, and she knew her grandfather would have been thrilled.  But sometimes, seeing the way his expression could just close up, she’d wondered if maybe she was just projecting.

She’d always meant to invite them over more often, Natsume and Tanuma both, but had never been quite able to find the right words.

So many opportunities she’d let just slip through her fingers, believing even as she watched them fall away that it was all right, that there’d always be a next time.

And there will be, she told herself firmly.

She unlocked the door to the storehouse on automatic, the others crowding around her. Even as she pulled one of the doors open, Nonomiya took hold of the other, and heedless of Tanuma’s requests that they let him go first, the other four crowded forward, eager to see the interior of the building.

Oh. Right. “Um, there’s a –”

Someone shrieked, and in unconscious imitation of Natsume and Tanuma, all scrambled away, slamming the doors closed behind them and staring at her with betrayed eyes. “—kokeshi guarding the entrance,” she finished lamely. “Sorry?”

“I think I lost a year of my life,” Nishimura declared, clutching at his chest, for the first time since their visit to his house behaving like his normal self. “How do you deal with seeing that every time you go in?” Then he froze, most of the life in his demeanor draining back away.

Tooru forced a shrug, wishing she knew the right words to say. “Just used to it, I guess?”

Even as he hovered near Nishimura, Kitamoto found the time to glare suspiciously at Tanuma. “And what are you laughing at?”

Tooru glanced up at Tanuma. He wasn’t quite laughing, but he certainly seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face. “Probably just glad that he wasn’t the only one who reacted that way,” she said.

“Hey,” Tanuma protested, “anyone would be frightened, seeing something like that pop out at them!”

Yoshida hesitantly reopened one of the doors, looked inside, and then pushed the other back open with greater confidence. “It’s not really that bad, as long as you’re expecting it,” she decided. “Wow, there are a lot of scrolls and books and things in here. Which are the ones we needed to search through?”

“None of them, just yet,” Tanuma said pointedly, slipping between Kitamoto and Watanabe to enter the building, looking around as though seeing it for the first time. “Ground floor seems clear,” he said, and disappeared deeper into the storehouse, probably to check out the second floor.

“Pretty much everything,” Tooru said as they waited. “That shelf over to the right – I’ve gone through most of the stuff on there already.” Neatly stacked journals covered about half the shelf, the rest taken up by a variety of the smaller objects that her grandfather had always been particularly fond of collecting. “Otherwise …”

“Start with everything and pare down from there?” Kitamoto said.

“Pretty much.”

“How is it organized?” Nonomiya asked, joining the others in peering through the door.

“If my grandfather had a system, he never told me,” Tooru said.

A clatter of steps distracted them all, and soon afterwards Tanuma reappeared. “Second floor looks clear, too.”

“Then you should get going,” Tooru said, resisting the sudden urge to ask him to stay. “You can find your way back?”

Tanuma simply nodded, instead of treating that question with the disdain it deserved – her house might be large, but the yard was no maze. “Be careful.”

“You too,” Tooru said. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

As Tanuma disappeared around the corner of the house and out of sight, Tooru turned back to her group, all watching with expectant eyes. “All right.” Maybe if she acted like she knew what she was doing, she’d figure it out. “Nonomiya, Nishimura, why don’t you just shove your bags somewhere out of the way. After that …” she faltered, fell back on honesty. “I don’t really know how to divide up the search. Just pick a section that looks interesting, I guess?”

And apparently, that was enough.

Watanabe and Yoshida quickly disappeared off to the left, Kitamoto and Nishimura to the right, and Nonomiya’s focus seemed to be a shelf not far away from the one Tooru stood in front of.  She quickly scanned its contents to refresh her memory. She thought she remembered at least one of these journals mentioning something about shadow …

“Hey, what’s that?”

Tooru followed Nonomiya’s gaze upwards. “Ah, that was a doll my grandfather picked up, some small town in Hokkaido I think he said. The old grandmother he got it from apparently said that it was supposed to bring luck to the house by scaring away malicious spirits.”

Nonomiya laughed. “If I were a malicious spirit, I think I’d have been frightened off by the kokeshi long before I saw this doll.” She reached up, then hesitated. “Is it all right if I pick it up?”

Tooru nodded. “It should be fine.” She raised her voice. “Hey everyone?” Heads popped back around their respective shelves. “If you see something that looks unusual, please don’t touch it without asking first. Especially anything hanging on the walls, or anything that looks like a seal. Most of the stuff in this storehouse is harmless, I’m pretty sure, but …”

“Will do,” Yoshida called back, already withdrawing.

Kitamoto stayed where he was for a bit longer. “There’s a story there, isn’t there?” he asked. He glanced towards Nonomiya and suddenly looked a bit apologetic.

The taller girl had a speculative look on her face. Tooru did a mental headcount. Nishimura, Kitamoto, and Nonomiya knew. Yoshida and Watanabe she suspected did not. Though Yoshida had been in Natsume’s class – she doubted she’d be surprised.

The more people who found out seemed perfectly fine with it, the less her and Tanuma’s shared worries about revealing Natsume’s secret seemed meaningful, and the harder a time she had remembering what she could say to whom. But she still couldn’t quite make herself not care.

“There’s always a story,” she said. “Some more interesting than others.”

Kitamoto laughed. “I suppose that’s true enough.”

Yoshida and Watanabe both poked their heads back around the corner at that. “… You can’t just leave us hanging after saying that,” Yoshida said. “What kind of interesting story? Did you meet another youkai?”

… I suppose I walked right into that one.

“… I was cleaning out the storehouse last year when a piece of paper with an upside-down drawing of a kappa on it got knocked off one of the walls upstairs,” she said. “I didn’t think much of it at first. Well, other than that the kappa was adorable.” She got a couple of strange looks for that. Why didn’t anyone else have any taste? “But then it started becoming clear that something had started haunting the house – running footsteps, rapping on walls, that sort of thing.”

“That sounds scary,” Watanabe said.

“It was,” Tooru admitted. She’d put on a brave face when Natsume and Tanuma had come by the next day, but she’d been really worried. It hurt, knowing how much was out there that could harm her and those she cared about, and also knowing just how powerless she was to stop any of it.

Sometimes, she thought she might almost agree with whatever exorcist had decided that things like her grandfather’s circle should be forbidden.

“How did you break the haunting?” Nonomiya asked. “It wasn’t with that doll, was it?”

Tooru laughed. “Unfortunately, that doll didn’t even keep the haunting from spreading to this storehouse. No, a … passing youkai helped me deal with the problem.” It didn’t feel quite right to refer to Fluffy-sensei that way, but it was sort of true.

From Kitamoto’s sharp look – because of course he and Nishimura were listening too – she suspected he’d guessed what she really meant. Though she doubted he knew much about Fluffy-sensei, so maybe he just thought she meant Natsume?

Nonomiya, at least, seemed unaware. “How did you pay him? Helpful youkai generally demand payment, right? Er, or her, if it was a female youkai.”

Only when he’s in disguise, was Tooru’s involuntary thought, remembering the silver-haired girl who’d accompanied Natsume on one of his few other visits. And had eaten just as much, too. She wished she had that sort of metabolism. “Luckily, he was pretty easy to satisfy,” she said, grinning at the memory. “He almost completely cleaned me out of yokan, though.”

The others laughed, though Kitamoto looked the slightest bit confused. Probably wondering why Natsume would do such a thing. He didn’t quite eat like a bird, but you almost had to force him to admit that he wanted seconds.

Well, that was fine. If he was curious enough to ask her later, she’d tell him the full story then.

“In any case,” she added, when everyone continued looking at her. “It’s best not to get into that sort of situation to begin with, right? So let’s try not to disturb any more wards or seals.”

She didn’t know him well, but Nishimura seemed like the type who would normally give an over-exaggerated salute and say something like “Aye, sir!” or “Mission accepted!” Instead, he just nodded, and disappeared back out of sight behind the shelving units. With a clearly worried look on his face, Kitamoto followed, and Yoshida and Watanabe disappeared not long after.

Quiet returned, and for a while Tooru could almost pretend she was alone with the shelf she stood in front of and the memories that tugged insistently at her with everything she looked at or touched.

“Did you want to go check out your house? You two seemed to be in and out really quickly, before.”

Tooru started at Nonomiya’s sudden question, almost dropping the scroll she'd half unrolled. It was one of the ones her grandfather had shown her, when she was about seven and far more interested in the fantastical drawings than the difficult words that covered the rest of it in cramped script that she could barely read even now.

“My mother’s shoes would have been in the entrance hall if she was home,” she said. “Even if she hadn’t noticed us wandering around.” She rolled the scroll back up and put it in the ‘leave behind’ pile. Nostalgia made it nearly impossible to pick her hand back up, but if she let herself factor that into her criteria, they might as well just pack up the storehouse itself and bring the entire thing with them. “She had gone to Osaka for business, so even if she survived …”

Nonomiya looked ... sad, and Tooru wondered what she saw in her face. And it didn't matter, not really, not nearly as much as everything else they had going on right now. But when she smiled and said “It’s fine, really,” that just seemed to make things worse.

Finally, her classmate sighed. “You should check your answering machine for messages, at least, don’t you think? And didn’t you mention, a couple of days ago, wanting to call your... father and brother, wasn’t it?”

Once we get back home, could you call your dad? She suddenly remembered Tanuma saying that first night. Time and a hundred more immediate troubles – and, if she was to be perfectly honest, a desire to speculate about the fates of the rest of her family as little as possible – had encouraged the request to quietly dissipate from her concerns, but now that she had been reminded and was in a position to do so …

She huffed a sigh, sparing the shelves a brief longing glance. “You’re right.” She raised her voice. “Hey everyone? I’m going back inside the house to check around and make some phone calls!”

She got three general acknowledgements in response, followed by Nishimura poking his head back around the shelving units to pin her with an oddly intense look and an even more oddly quiet “Good luck.”

The house felt no less expectantly silent the second time she entered, still slightly musty-smelling, and dim in the areas between the windows.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the red light on the answering machine blinking its announcement of new messages. She couldn’t even begin to describe the emotion that rushed through her (because it really didn’t matter), but she had to steady herself against the wall before she could proceed.

She flicked the hall light on and stared down at the phone for another moment that felt like forever – one new message – before she could bring herself to start the playback.

“Tooru? Please pick up, this isn’t funny. I know, I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while, but I’ve been busy and – anyway, that’s not important right now. Tooru? Mom? Please tell me you’re there? I just met Dad for lunch, but I turned around and now he’s gone, and he’s not picking up his cell phone, and the streets are way too empty for this time of day and I just – I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe I’m going crazy like Grandpa. But just – just call back, OK? Let me know you’re fine.”

The floor looked a lot closer, and all other sound muffled. A pleasant automated female voice spoke, but the meaning behind the words was beyond her current abilities to comprehend.

She scrambled back to her feet, doing her best to push through the fuzz, just as the automated voice fell silent.

He said Father had just disappeared. The thought flowed like molasses. So it must have been that first day. But if those things are over there too ...

She glared at her shaking hand as she picked up the receiver, disproportionately upset at her body’s betrayal. Her world narrowed to the receiver in her hand and the notepad sitting next to the phone, numbers listed in her mother's careful handwriting.

Her mother’s work phone rang until it switched over to the answering machine. She listened to the entire recording, just in case it had changed. (Though if her mother had been – available – to do that, why would she not have just called home?)

That’s one down, then. Her mother occasionally remembered to leave a note with her hotel and room number when she knew she’d be gone for an extended trip, but with Tooru gone on the school trip, she must not have bothered.

Tooru pressed the hook a bit harder than necessary, waited for the dial tone, and typed her brother’s cell phone number.

Nothing, not even an automated message. Just an odd clicking noise.

With increasingly fast fingers, she typed in her brother’s work phone number, then his home phone. Each garnered the exact same reaction. She bit her lip, staring at her father’s phone numbers, in pride of place at the top of the note, then dialed each of them as well.

Still nothing but that same clicking.

She leaned back against the wall, trying to figure out how she felt. Struggling to feel anything at all.

Maybe … maybe the entire phone system is down. Maybe it went down sometime after my brother called. Maybe he’s still alive, over there, just … there’s no way for him to contact me anymore.

Does it really matter, either way? I probably won’t ever see him again.

I probably wouldn’t have seen him again for years anyway. Would I have really noticed the time passing? Would I really have expected anything else?

The dial tone's quiet repetitiveness poked through her distraction, like a subtle itch someplace she couldn’t scratch. She looked at the receiver in her hand, seized with a sudden desire to call someone else. Someone who would answer.

Tanuma.

She suddenly really wanted to hear Tanuma’s voice. He’d want to know that they had additional signs that this phenomenon had gone beyond Japan, even though by now, she suspected everyone else had come to the same conclusion as she had.

That if it wasn’t worldwide, they’d have known. Someone would have come. Maybe not all the way to their little town, maybe not immediately … but they’d have seen some sign.

But … he didn’t need to know right away. The other group didn’t need her distracting them at a possibly critical time with news that could wait.

With progressively less enthusiasm, she worked her way through the remainder of the contact list: a handful of friends of her mother, two aunts and an uncle, none of whom she’d seen since her grandfather’s funeral. She vaguely recalled them seeming nice enough – all of her distant relatives had – but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pick them out of a crowd.

Her Aunt Kyoko’s phone was disconnected – gone or dead, she had no way of telling. The same with all her mother’s other friends.

The answering machine picked up on her Uncle Saburo’s phone, but she couldn’t leave a message because the recording was full, and the automated response was so aggressively generic that she doubted it would have done any good.

When her Aunt Hitomi’s phone also clicked over to the answering machine, she almost just hung up. But before she could pull the receiver entirely away from her ear, she realized the message sounded – odd. Rushed.

“You have reached the phone of Taki Hitomi. I’m not able to come to the phone at this time. Hopefully it’s because I’m out of the house trying to figure out what in the world has happened, and not because I’ve disappeared too. Please leave a message; even if you have nothing to say, it’ll at least let me know that I’m not the only one left.”

Tooru’s mind went blank as the recording started; she scrambled to figure out what to say. “Um. Hi Aunt Hitomi, this is your niece Tooru. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m alive, but I haven’t been able to contact the rest of my family, or Uncle Saburo or Aunt Kyoko. Do you know about anyone else? Oh, but don’t call back here, I’m actually living at a nearby temple now with … most of the rest of Yowake. We think.” She rattled off the temple’s phone number, thankful that the number had been easily memorizable.

“Um. Please be careful, there are invisible creatures that will make you disappear if you step in them. I think they might smell a bit rancid? But that might just be me. Go to purified ground if you can, that seems to keep them away for some reason. And find an exorcist if you can, they might be able to see them.” She took a deep breath. “I’m really glad to hear that you’re all right. If you are still all right? Maybe you should include a date in your answering machine message? If you haven’t already evacuated somewhere else by now.”

“Um. Sorry. I’m babbling. But please call back, to the temple? I’ll call again if we find out any more –” A loud beep cut her off.

Right. Message limits.

She blew out a breath, put the receiver back on the hook, and looked at the notepad.

Finally she sighed, tore out the piece of paper underneath, and copied down just her aunt Hitomi’s number, then folded it up and tucked it into a pocket. Might as well go ahead and pack before I head back. She turned a slow circle, staring far enough into the distance that she couldn’t really see the corridor anymore, beginning to bid the house goodbye.

She wondered what it said about her, that that was probably what she’d miss most.

“How did it go?” Nonomiya asked as Tooru stepped back through the door to the storehouse, blinking rapidly at the abrupt change in light level.

“The good news is that my brother and one of my aunts lived at least long enough to call home and change answering machine message respectively.” Tooru attempted a cheerful tone, turning back to her shelf and picking up the next journal – hand-bound, it looked like one of the early ones – so that she didn’t have to look at anyone else. “No news on the rest of my family. Oh, except my dad is confirmed gone, my brother’s message mentioned that.”

“I’m so sorry,” the other girl said quietly. Tooru looked at her, wanting to ask her how she could say that so sincerely, with her parents far further away than Tooru’s brother, if they’d even survived, and her only other remaining family gone. She’d probably actually spent time with her aunt, too. Like a real family. 

But she knew that some questions were best left unasked, so she pushed down her bitterness at the thought of things that could have been. (And here, surrounded by her grandfather’s things, it was impossible to avoid remembering him, to wonder what he would have thought of what the world had become. To wish he was still here with her – because surely he, of all people, would have survived?)

She turned abruptly back towards the bookshelf, and hoped desperately that her expression hadn’t been too revealing. She’d always had a problem with that. “Thanks. … I’m sorry too.” A quick glance. “About your family, I mean.” She picked up another random journal, stared at it blankly for several seconds, put it back down. “The bad news. The bad news is, I tried to call both my brother and my father, and there was no connection. It’s like the entire Singapore phone system is just. Gone.”

“That’s … not good.” She heard Kitamoto’s voice, and looked up to see that the rest of their small crew had gathered back around. He laughed, briefly, bitterly. “Though I guess that’s a clear answer on whether this affected other parts of the world.”

“Any other conclusion would be foolishly optimistic.” Watanabe agreed, pulling the journal she held closer to her chest. “We should make sure to let everyone else know once we’re back up at the temple. I don’t know if anyone was still hoping for help to come, but … we should face the fact that we’re probably on our own.”

“Not entirely,” Tooru disagreed. “There are still other people alive. And we … we’ll figure out a way to stay in contact somehow, even after we lose the phone system.” Everyone winced; it was another fact of their new lives that everyone knew was coming but no one really wanted to acknowledge. “We can overcome this somehow, if we come together.”

“If.” Nishimura stressed the word, face surprisingly dark. “Your mysterious exorcist friend hasn’t seemed all that interested in getting involved in our problems so far. Why would that change? Why would anyone else care, either, about a handful of people in a dinky little town in the middle of nowhere?”

“He has his own problems to deal with,” Tooru said. “It sounded like he was taking people from the surrounding area into his house, too. And with the distance, it’s really not convenient –”

“And he doesn’t know anyone for whom it would be convenient?” Nishimura interrupted. “If there’s this whole other exorcist world, they must be all over the place, right? Surely some of them would be around here.” He snorted. “Unless they’re all so busy worrying about themselves that they can’t be bothered to care about us.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Tooru said, though she wished she were as confident as she sounded. She knew so little about the exorcists, after all – and even Natori-san, the only exorcist she could say she knew personally, what did she really know? His public persona, a single phone call, and the fact that Tanuma seemed to trust him, more or less. Not much.

“That’s hardly fair,” Kitamoto said quietly. “Think about Natsume. He’d never abandon us, not if he had any choice.”

Tooru winced, glancing at Yoshida and Watanabe, both of whom looked entirely too thoughtful. So much for that.

“But he’s not. So I guess we’ll never know.” Nishimura looked down. His fists clenched. “And what do we really know about him, anyway? Turns out not much, right? Maybe he’d have been just like –”

“Don’t you dare.” Tooru barely recognized her own voice. Wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been coming out of her own mouth. Nails digging into her palms the only thing keeping her from marching over and slapping him. “Don’t you even dare say that. Natsume would be here if he could, and if you don’t know that, then you’re not nearly as much of his friend as I thought you were.”

Something like regret flickered across his face, extinguished by growing anger. “Oh yeah? Well maybe I’m not, since unlike some people, apparently I wasn’t good enough for him to tell any of his secrets to!”

“What secrets?” Tooru spat. Recoiled, appalled. Tried for calm, tried to dislodge the bitterness whose claws had reached deeper than even she’d realized. “Natsume never tells anyone anything he doesn’t have to. You must have seen that. I … he helped me once. He saved my life. I don’t think he’d have ever told me anything either, if he hadn’t had to.” If I hadn’t backed him into a corner and shoved my knowledge in his face.

And what would it have been like, if she’d never learned? If she’d never gotten involved with her grandfather’s circle, had just continued living a normal life?

She couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t want to.

“Question whatever else you want,” she said, anger draining into exhaustion. “But don’t you dare question Natsume.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, forcefully shoving the storehouse door back open and stalking across the yard, not really seeing anything in front of her. She stopped at the wall and turned, wishing she had a good, secret place to hide. But that had always been the storehouse, for her – find a far corner, and neither her parents nor her brother had ever been willing to dig far enough through the general aura of creepy to find her.

Her grandfather had never minded. But she’d never minded being found by her grandfather.

She finally slowed to a stop on the far side of the house, near a tall tree. She leaned against it, then sat, her back turned to the house. She stared at the wall that surrounded the yard, and tried to fight her way back to calm.

Slowly, embarrassment crept in around the anger, around the frustration, around the how could he – I can’t believe he’d – he’s supposed to be Natsume’s friend! She buried her face in her hands, hoping the feeling of fingers in her hair, of palms against her eyes would ground her enough to let her think straight. I’m just tired. Nishimura just … overreacted, you know he doesn’t really mean it, I overreacted … everyone’s tired and stressed.

The right thing to do would be to get back up, to go apologize, to go back to sorting through the storehouse.

But the task loomed in front of her, large and expanding the more she thought about it. There was so much in that storehouse, and what if she made the wrong decision? What if she left something important behind? Tanuma was depending on her to find something.

And what if I can't? What if there's nothing to find, and when we lose the phones we end up on our own after all? We have Tanuma, we have his dad, we have my circle, we're not completely helpless ...

But what if it wasn't enough?

Try as she might, she couldn't see any way how it possibly could be. Not in the long run. Not up against an entire world of hungry, malicious things that most of them couldn't see coming.

It’s just … it’s too big.

She drew in a shuddering breath. So … what. Am I just going to give up? Lay down and die just because I can’t see any way out of our current mess? Tell Tanuma never mind, it’s too hard, maybe we should just stop?

Do you really think Tanuma would accept that? Do you really think you’d be able to accept that?

Another shuddering breath, slightly calmer than the first. She raked her fingers through her hair as she raised her head, staring at the wall again, the light almost unnaturally bright.

No. Tanuma’s not going to give up, you know that. And you’re going to be there with him. Even if there’s nothing you can do. Even if there’s nothing anyone can do. At least you will have tried.

“Taki?” Nonomiya leaned into her field of view, offering a hand up and a concerned expression. “Are you all right?”

This breath somehow managed not to shudder at all. She accepted the offered hand and tried on a smile. “I’m fine. Sorry for running out. Is Nishimura –?”

“The idiot’s fine.” Nonomiya tossed her head, ponytail swishing with the movement. “He wanted to come, but I thought you might actually slap him if he put his foot in his mouth again.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “I … like to think I wouldn’t have. But thanks.” She eyed her classmate. “This sounds weird, but … have you been keeping an eye on me? Today?”

“Was it that obvious?” Nonomiya asked wryly. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable, just …” She made a helpless gesture. “I want to feel like I’m doing something, you know? And you seem to know what’s going on, and I still feel bad about … well, you know. Besides, you just learned your whole family is probably gone.”

“So did Nishimura,” Tooru said. “So did you.” She bit her lip. “How are you holding up?”

“What? Fine. I’m fine.” The other girl shook her head again. “I mean. I wish it had been otherwise, obviously. But …” she shrugged. “Sometimes life just doesn’t work that way.”

About to push the issue – surely she wasn’t really that calm about it? – Tooru closed her mouth. That would be rather hypocritical of her, wouldn't it? “Yeah,” she agreed quietly, and looked back towards the house. “I guess I should get back to work. Anything interesting come up?”

Nonomiya shrugged again, rueful. “Not really. Without you there ...”

For a wild moment, Tooru wondered if this was how Tanuma felt. Why should her presence matter, beyond specific questions about the storehouse and its contents?

But Nonomiya followed her like it had never occurred to her to go ahead, and when she stepped back into the storehouse everyone turned to face her, questioning and in one case apologetic. “Taki-san, I’m sorry, I –”

“Don’t worry about it,” she told Nishimura, almost sincere. They didn’t have time for hurt feelings, especially not hers, not with everyone looking to her – why her? – like they thought she was in charge. “I’m sorry for yelling, too.”

She looked from face to face of her classmates, meeting everyone’s eyes, and resisted the urge to take a deep breath. I’m in charge. Okay. I can do this. “So what has everyone found so far? Anything of interest?”

Amazingly enough, it seemed to work. Not perfectly – everyone was distractible; Watanabe too hesitant to ask for clarification, Nishimura still occasionally shot repentant glances in her direction, and if Nonomiya asked her about the history of one more random object, distracting everyone else again …

But slowly the likely-looking texts piled up, stacked neatly just outside the door so that they’d be out of everyone’s way. By the time the others returned, they had a comfortable armful each.

Tooru scanned the group, but only saw two people she didn’t remember from earlier: an older man, hair cut short and entirely silver, who held a cane in his right hand more like a weapon than an assistive device, and a frazzled-looking young man with short black hair and rectangular glasses a bit too large to be fashionable, who clung to a couple of what looked like college textbooks like a lifeline.

“Any luck?” Tanuma asked, quietly hopeful after catching sight of their full arms.

“We hope so, but we didn’t stop to read any of them in depth,” Tooru said. “We only sorted through – what, about a third?” Nods and shrugs. “So even if none of these help, there’s still plenty left to go through.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary,” he said.

Further down the road, under the cover of the other quiet conversations taking place, he asked, “Your family?”

“One of my aunts may still be alive,” she said. “She changed her answering machine message, at least. I left a message telling her to call the temple. If we hear back – but she lives in Hokkaido, I’m not sure how we’d be able to –”

“We’ll figure something out,” Tanuma said, and Tooru wished she could sound that sure, even though she knew Tanuma probably wasn’t sure at all. She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to put on an act for her sake, but wasn’t that what they were all doing, really? “We can at least let her know to try and find purified areas.”

“I mentioned that.”

“Good.” Tanuma’s hand touched her shoulder for a moment, butterfly-soft. “She’ll pull through.”

Tooru attempted a smile, withering before fully bloomed. “Thanks.” She blew out a breath. “I also have confirmation that at least the mass disappearances happened in Singapore, too.”

Tanuma flinched. “That’s ... where your dad was?”

“Both my father and my brother. My brother lasted at least long enough to leave a message, but ...” An armful of books made it difficult to hug herself, as the chill ran down her spine again. “None of my calls back got through. Not to a busy signal or an answering machine or even an automated wrong number message.”

Tanuma’s stride hitched, his face going as bleak as she’d ever seen it for a long moment before he exhaled what must have been a deep breath. “That’s ... bad.” He slanted a look her direction, looked away. “I’m sorry about your father. Your brother –”

He stopped. Blew out another long breath.

“I can hope he’s fine.” Tooru took pity on him. “But I’ll ... I guess I’ll probably never know for sure.”

Tanuma nodded, still not looking at her.

Suddenly unable to keep looking at her friend, curling up on himself defensively like he thought it was his fault that the world had gone crazy – like he thought there was anything he could have done to prevent it – Tooru turned her eyes upwards.

The sky had turned a deep blue, slowly descending towards full dark; a few scattered clouds interrupted its color only briefly. She once again marveled at how quiet the street seemed, with no noisy neighbors or cars rushing past. It was … she thought she might have found it peaceful, if she didn’t know all too well what this quiet had cost.

It’s so strange, that so many people are gone, but the rest of the world remains.

She blew out a breath of her own, feeling the panic from earlier clawing around the corners of her brain. But surrounded by people, with Tanuma at her side …

It’s too big, but …

“We’ll just have to do what we can, and hope that’s good enough,” she said quietly, mostly to herself. I think …

“I guess that’s all we really can do,” Tanuma agreed. Startled, she looked, and saw him looking back.

He offered her the shadow of a smile, and she tried her best to respond with a real one.

With everyone else’s help, I think I can manage that much.

Chapter Text

Takashi squinted, trying to get a good look at the ground racing below them. He couldn’t lean out too far without risking losing his grip, and while the mask protected his eyes from the wind, he still couldn’t see quite as well with it on.

“Are we almost there yet?” The little fox shouted from where he sat curled between Takashi and Takabane’s thick, charcoal-grey fur. Kai’s follower reminded Takashi of the beast god that he and Natori-san had cooperated to capture during the Moon-splitting Festival, though with none of its crazed wildness.

Takabane wasn’t safe, of course, any more than Sensei was. But he could speak, and reason, and he seemed happy to do this favor for Kai. So Takashi clung to his dark-furred back and tried not to wish it was narrower and white.

It didn’t really work.

Having the little fox there helped a little bit, a warm reminder of happier times, and someone he would protect, even if he still didn’t know quite how or from what. Having Kai there, too, sitting farther forward on Takabane’s back, looking like holding on was a suggestion rather than a necessity.

“I think so,” Kai shouted back. He leaned out far enough that Takashi clenched his fingers against the urge to jump forward and drag him back to safety. “I’m seeing houses, now, and – oh, look, there are train tracks. But where’s – oh.”

Takashi hesitated in the brief silence that followed, but asked, “Where’s what?” even though it felt like one of those answers that he really didn’t want to know.

But turning away and pretending a problem didn’t exist never worked. And he might not want to know, but he suspected he needed to.

“… I found a train,” Kai said, almost inaudible in the wind.

Takashi leaned out and squinted again. The derailed train sprawled half-on, half-off the track, the lack of anything human in or around the wreckage sending a chill down his spine.

If most people have disappeared, I guess emergency services have better things to worry about. … Except they’ve probably disappeared, too.

“… We could land and take a look,” Kai suggested, clearly reluctant.

Takashi wanted to bury his face in Takabane’s fur (in Sensei’s), but all that would do is squash the little fox. “No, it’s fine,” he said, as Kai looked back towards him. “Let’s keep going.”

Kai nodded, and Takashi thought he saw a reflection of his own fear and unease and sorrow in his friend’s face.

They flew on.

Takabane settled to the ground so gently that Takashi almost didn’t feel it. (Sensei always landed almost hard enough to throw him off. Takashi suspected it was intentional.)

He sat up, stretching arms and back that had grown too used to their previous cramped position, and let the little fox climb into his arms before sliding to the ground.

The asphalt felt strange under his feet, his thin socks providing barely more protection than being barefoot. He set the little fox down, half-expecting him to dash over to the handful of taxis parked in front of the station. Instead he stayed solemn and quiet, clinging to one of Takashi’s hands with both of his own.

Takashi tore his gaze away from the too-still cars to consider the station itself.

Kagomedake-mae Station marched above the entrance in broad characters, a small bird’s nest tucked into the largest open space in the ‘dake’. The name niggled at Takashi’s memory; he could have sworn he’d heard it before.

The station itself looked vaguely familiar, but only insofar as it looked much like many of the small stations he’d been through in his years of being passed around from relative to relative. Small, quiet enough that he could almost pretend the lack of human presence was normal, the sort that typically only local trains stopped at, with two platforms or perhaps as many as four. He didn’t think he’d ever actually been here before.

He turned back towards Takabane, looking up into his broad, wolf-like face. The little fox’s grip tightened. “Thank you for bringing us here.”

Takabane grinned, mouth opening to expose rows of sharp, white teeth that gleamed in the weak sunlight. “It is my pleasure to perform this minor task,” he replied. “Kai-sama asks so little of us that one sometimes wonders why he suffers our presence.”

Takashi glanced at Kai, still standing at Takabane’s side with one hand fisted in his fur, his face rapidly flushing. He thought of his youkai friends back home. He hoped they were all right, although he trusted their ability to take care of themselves.

Well. Most of them.

… Misuzu and Hinoe and Chobihige would keep them out of too much trouble.

… Probably.

“Perhaps he finds your presence to be service enough?” he offered. Kai called Takabane and the others ‘followers’, but knowing the lonely young god, Takashi thought he probably also meant ‘friends’. But then, what did he really know about how connections between youkai worked?

But Kai nodded, and Takabane rumbled a laugh. “So this is the sort of human friend you make, Kai-sama? I am somehow unsurprised.”

Kai’s flush faded as he snuck a look of his own at Takashi. “Natsume is special,” he said. “Taki is special, too. I hope we get to see her again.” He grinned up at the charcoal-colored beast. “She’d have to make a lot of cookies to fill you up, though.”

Takashi had to look away. When he considered their likelihood of ever seeing his friend again – or of her being in any position to bake cookies even if she had somehow, miraculously survived …

He wished he shared Kai’s blithe faith, when sometimes even moving forward felt like too much, when he let himself wonder if maybe it would be better to just … not try.

“I look forward to it,” Takabane said with another toothy grin. He lifted his head to look around, though Takashi noticed he kept the part of his torso that Kai had only just stepped away from deliberately still. “So this is a human train station. It is ... quieter than I had expected.”

Takashi winced. “The trains and cars and people usually make the noise. Without anyone here …”

“I see,” Takabane said. His tail flicked, wafting a small breeze towards Takashi. “So is this the place?”

Takashi glanced back at the frustratingly familiar sign and shook his head. “No, sorry. I hope you’ll be willing to put up with us a while longer?”

Takabane yawned, pink tongue uncurling through the gap between his front teeth. “I said I’d help, didn’t I? Where do we go from here?”

“I’m not sure,” Takashi admitted. “I’ll have to look at a map.”

“Then let’s look for one,” Kai said, smiling up at Takashi. “There should be one in the station, right? It’s been a while since I’ve been to one.”

“There should be,” Takashi agreed. He hesitated a few moments more, but when everyone looked at him expectantly, he turned and started walking towards the station. Kai dashed forward to walk at his side, and Takashi looked back when he started hearing light thumps behind them.

Takabane met his gaze, blinking slowly. “I am also curious about this map,” he said.

Takashi wondered if there would be enough space. He doubted Takabane also had a manekineko form, after all.

As they crossed the road, the little fox shifted closer to him, until Takashi had to concentrate to avoid tripping over him. He stopped and knelt. “Is something wrong?”

The little fox shook his head vigorously. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, voice shrill and full of bravado.

Takashi could understand his fear; there was something about this place, how empty it was, that put him on edge, too. He almost took the little fox at his word, knowing that sometimes pretending not to be scared had been all that allowed him to act brave.

But even then, what he’d really wanted was someone else to see how afraid he was, to reassure him that everything would be all right.

He couldn’t give the little fox the reassurance he probably needed, but he could at least open his arms and smile.

The little fox launched himself at Takashi, who caught him and stood.

At his side, Kai smiled wistfully.

Takashi circled around the empty taxis, the little fox clinging even tighter to his neck. He could feel him shiver.

From the front, the station building almost appeared to be two separate buildings, sharing a roof that covered the open area between them, the front wall a row of barely-there glass doors that sat, wide open. Ticket machines lined the right side of the corridor, a large map of the general area posted above them. Beyond them he could see, a bit hazy through his mask, the turnstiles blocking the exit onto the platform.

He stepped over the curb and stopped, arrested by a gentle tug at his shirt. Still in the street, Kai looked as afraid as the little fox felt. “What’s –?”

“I don’t know,” he said, face pinched. “I – there’s just something –”

Takabane roared, leaping past them and into the corridor, avoiding the ceiling by mere centimeters. “Kai-sama, stay back!” He swiped a large paw through wisping smoke, so diffuse that Takashi hadn’t even noticed it before the large youkai attacked.

No. Not wisping. Even as he watched, the smoke thickened, converging on Takabane’s paw like a living thing, and he was struck with a sudden, paralyzing fear.

He tried to push it away. He’d been chased by far worse, why should he be so afraid of a bit of smoke?

But his feet wouldn’t move.

The floor of the corridor swelled.

No, not the floor, and why had he ever thought it was? He’d never seen a train station with a floor that deeply black, why hadn’t he noticed it before it rose and kept rising, reaching out to eat Takabane with its thousands of tiny, ravenous mouths and –

“GET BACK!”

Takashi tumbled backwards, struck by the wind of something’s – someone’s? – passage; unable to regain his balance with the little fox clinging so tightly to his chest.

White and grey and red and ravenous black and feathers and fur and –

Someone blocked his view.

He scrambled to his feet, clinging to the little fox now almost as hard as he was clinging to him, and glared at the unfamiliar youkai standing in his way. “Let me –”

“Stay back and let my brother work,” the youkai said, white-feathered wings spread broad enough that Takashi couldn’t see anything, just hear chanting resonating through the air. “Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” He looked perhaps a year younger than Takashi, with extremely short medium-blue hair, and wore an ornately layered ceremonial outfit, primarily white and red.

“Don’t talk that way to Natsume!” Kai said. He stepped in front of Takashi and glared at the other youkai.

“It’s all right, Kai,” Takashi said. He laid a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “I think he’s just trying to help.”

“But –”

“So you have at least some sense.” The other youkai settled his wings. “Good. Now stay here.”

Kai jerked as the other youkai turned and left; would have probably chased him down if not for the hand on his shoulder.

Takashi watched the other youkai settle a short distance away from the first and begin chanting as well, his higher-pitched voice blending with his brother’s.

The smoke roiled as thickly as before, but at a distance; about a meter of clear space encircled Takabane’s paw that it seemed incapable of passing.

The ravenous blackness still clung to Takabane’s fur like a leech; and the beast himself sat, fur bristling, lips pulled back in a painted snarl. The other youkai, his straight black hair just a bit longer than Takashi’s own, stood almost close enough to touch both, seeming unafraid of either shadow or beast.

“We should probably let them be,” Takashi said.

“But – Takabane –”

“I think they’re here to help.”

“... I know.” Kai slumped beneath his hand. “But he’s my follower. I should –” He shrunk even farther in on himself. “... But I don’t know what to do.”

Takashi wished he did.

“Hopefully they’ll let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

The little fox’s head finally lifted from Takashi’s chest. “Is it gone now?” He gazed up at Takashi, starry-eyed. “Did you make the scary monster go away, Natsume?”

He shook his head. “If the thing over there is what you meant,” the little fox took one look, squeaked, and hid his face again, “then no, I couldn’t do anything.”

Like always.

“But those two seem to have it contained. I think we’re safe for now.”

The little fox lifted his head again, looked over at the two youkai next to Takabane, still chanting, and pushed against Takashi. On his feet again, he wasted no time in reclaiming one of Takashi's hands. “It’s not as scary anymore,” he said, and quickly added, “Not that I was afraid! A real man is brave!”

Takashi certainly had been. And though he could move now, and think again, that strange youkai still set him on edge, worse than anything he’d encountered before. It didn’t feel like a person, not the way all the other youkai he’d met did, from the tiny dust youkai who hid under his desk when he didn’t clean often enough to the huge malicious ones that tried to eat him.

It just felt … hungry.

“... Do you think Takabane will be okay?”

Takashi squeezed the little fox’s hand. The youkai who had brushed them off stood, legs firmly planted, in front of Takabane and his companion, hands in a ward-off position. With their combined force, neither smoke nor shadow seemed capable of entering that meter of clear space. None except for the stubborn coil wrapped around Takabane’s right forelimb.

“He should be fine,” Takashi said.

Kai shot him a look that seemed grateful. Takashi just wished there was someone here to reassure him, or that he was half as certain as he'd tried to sound.

Takashi settled on a bench with a clear view of Takabane and the two winged youkai, after a paranoid check of the surrounding area for any more of those … creatures. The little fox almost immediately tucked himself against his left side; Kai sat close enough to his right that he could feel his warmth.

“Do you have any idea what that … creature is?” Takashi finally asked Kai.

The young god shook his head. “... I think it might be one of those things, though. The ones that I’d heard rumors about.”

“The ones that killed everyone?” Takashi asked, making himself stay still.

(It felt wrong to sit here doing nothing. Even though he had no idea what he could do. Even though he'd been trying to convince Kai that it was the best thing for them to do.  Even though he knew nothing anyone could do would bring anyone back.)

(There were some things he could never reach, no matter how hard he wished.)

Kai nodded and bit his lip. “I’m not sure, though. I mean, it would have to be really powerful, to eat that many humans, wouldn’t it? And that – it feels wrong, but” he waved a hand, looking frustrated, “don’t you think it should be worse?”

That horrible fear echoed, and Takashi shuddered. “I’m glad it wasn’t,” he said.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t, you mean,” a sharp voice interjected. The youkai from before looked slightly less put out by their presence than he had earlier. “The platform must have been pretty empty, that day.” He jerked a thumb back towards the entrance to the station. “Your friend will be fine, no thanks to you.”

“Kiriasa.” The other youkai’s voice was resigned, a bit tired, and – Takashi realized as he saw him for the first time – familiar.

“… Sorry, brother,” Kiriasa muttered, looking at his feet with an expression more mutinous than fully apologetic.

“Aoi?”

His friend, looking far more at home in ceremonial garb than he ever had in a school uniform, frowned. “Do I know you?”

Takashi blinked, and pulled his mask aside. He’d almost forgotten he was still wearing it. “It’s me.”

Aoi raised both eyebrows. “Natsume! What are you doing here?”

About to return the question, Takashi paused, and instead asked sheepishly, “… Where is here?”

Aoi pointedly turned to look at the station sign and back. “I know you know how to read human characters,” he said.

Takashi shot him an exasperated look. “That’s not a whole lot of help when I don’t know where it is relative to home. We were trying to find a map when, well …” he gestured towards the station, and Takabane, limping towards them. His right forelimb had been wrapped in a crude bandage that looked like it came from the same cloth as Aoi and Kiriasa’s outfits, but he looked otherwise whole.

He stopped a short distance away and settled, half-turned so that he could keep one eye on their gathering and the other on the station. Kai quivered, looking torn, before shooting Takashi an apologetic look and dashing to Takabane’s side.

Aoi watched him go. “As always, you have an interesting taste in friends, Natsume.”

“Look who’s talking,” Takashi retorted.

“How dare –”

Aoi raised a hand and, surprisingly, Kiriasa settled. He laughed. “Fair enough. Where is Master Nyanko?”

Takashi flinched. “Safe at home, I hope,” he said quietly.

Aoi studied him. “Perhaps a better question would be, what happened?” His face grew distant as he looked past Takashi towards the empty cars and neighborhood beyond. “Aside from the obvious.”

Takashi drew a breath, but realized he had no idea where to begin. That day, when the world had irrevocably changed in his absence?

“I … got lost,” he finally said. “And I’ve been trying to find my way back ever since.”

Aoi seemed to consider this, and finally shook his head. “I suppose the long story can wait. The important part is that you’ve made it this far.”

Takashi glanced down at the little fox’s head, and over at Kai, who stood talking in a low voice to Takabane, one hand on the large beast’s neck. “I never would have without them,” he said. “… What now?”

“We’ve got that one,” Aoi gestured negligently back towards the station, “trapped for the time being, but I’d recommend not sticking around for too much longer. If your companion is up to flying a short distance further, you’re welcome to take refuge in our shrine. You’ll be safe there.”

“I –” have to get home, Takashi wanted to say, but how selfish would that be, when Takabane had already been hurt helping him?

“Thank you,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d watch over Takabane for me. I need to ...”

… What? Walk? When he still didn’t know where he was, when he knew so little about how different the world had become?

“You need to spend the night with us, even if you stay no longer,” Aoi said flatly. “You need a good night’s sleep. And how long has it been since you’ve had a proper meal?”

“... I've been eating,” Takashi protested, stung by the implied insult to all the other youkai who had helped him get this far. “I’ve slept.”

“Do you know these people, Natsume?” Kai asked as he returned to Takashi’s side, looking a bit less worried than before. “Can we trust them?”

“Excuse me?” Kiriasa asked. “Who just saved you?”

“Aoi’s a friend of mine,” Takashi said.

They exchanged a look: Kai skeptical, Aoi amused.

“… We should probably go with them, then,” Kai said. “I’m sorry, Natsume, but Takabane really does need to rest. Maybe by tomorrow he’ll have healed up enough to keep going, but …” He looked upset. “I’m so sorry, I’m getting in your way again –”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Takashi interrupted. “You’ve done everything you could, and it’s not your fault that we didn’t know. I’m sorry –”

“… This is just pathetic,” Aoi said. “Kiriasa, why don’t you head back, let everyone know we’ll have guests.” He looked towards Takabane and pitched his voice to carry. “If it will not pain you unduly? The trip is not long.”

“I will be fine,” Takabane said.

“Good, then it’s settled,” Aoi said. Kiriasa took off, flight path aimed straight for the forested mountain slope not far beyond the train station, and Aoi began pointedly herding the three of them back towards Takabane. The little fox clung close to Takashi, eyeing Aoi with suspicion equal to, if not greater than, Kai’s.

“I’ll be your guide,” Aoi said. “We can continue our discussion once we’re back at the shrine.”

Takashi sighed. Aoi certainly hadn’t changed. “Thank you,” he said.

“Idiot, I was worried!” Takashi heard as he slid off Takabane’s back for the second time that day.

“Who’s that?” Kai asked. “Is she ... she’s human, isn’t she?”

Takashi watched the girl with long blonde hair punch Aoi in the arm, which he bore with far more grace than Takashi would have expected if he hadn’t known them. “She is. She’s an old friend of Aoi’s, Sonokawa Kaoru.”

As though speaking her name had summoned her, Kaoru strode over, hand firmly holding Aoi’s. He didn’t look too unhappy about being dragged. “Finally, someone else who doesn’t give me a headache squinting,” she said. “... Natsume, right?”

“It’s nice to see you again, Sonokawa-san,” he said.

“The world has ended, you might as well call me Kaoru like Aoi-chan does.” She knelt next to him. “How adorable! Is he tame?”

“I’m not a pet!” the little fox protested, tail bushing out in offense.

“He’s a friend of mine,” Takashi said. “He’s a kitsune, he just looks like a fox to, um.”

“Normal people?” Kaoru offered.

“She can’t see?” Kai asked. “But –”

Kaoru squinted at Kai. “Is someone else there? I thought I heard something.”

“She can see a little bit, but only certain youkai, ones on the right wavelength,” Takashi explained.

“Ah, I see.”

Kaoru jumped. “Where did you come from? Have you been there all along? You’re also a youkai, right?”

Takashi could see no difference between the way Kai looked now and how he had before; it brought back a shadow of his old frustration with being unable to tell whether anyone else could see what he could.

As certain people had demonstrated previously.

It felt strange, though, to be on the other end of things – not, for once, the person whose sight was being called into question.

“Nicely done,” Aoi commented, looking down at Kai. “Can you maintain that form for long?”

Kai shrugged, smiling a little bit at the attention. “It’s best if I can take a break every couple of weeks, but it’s not that hard.”

“Can you do that?” Kaoru asked Aoi. “Or the others? I don’t really care about you, I can see you already.”

“Only a few of the most senior of the assistants, and of course Doutaka-sama himself,” Aoi said.

“Boo,” Kaoru made a face. “I’m so glad you two – three, that is – are here. It’s been pretty boring, having only Aoi-chan to talk to.” She eyed him like she was considering punching him again. “Especially when he keeps having to leave to do work.”

“What –” Takashi stopped himself. He knew he needed to know more about what had happened to everyone else, but he couldn’t quite make himself ask.

“Do you live near here?” Kai asked.

“I live here now,” Kaoru said. “Aoi-chan brought me back a couple of days ago.” She sneezed. “I’m just glad I was home sick, otherwise I’d have been with the rest of my class in Okinawa.”

Takashi shuddered, deeply thankful that their class trip had stayed closer to home. He never would have made it even this far, otherwise.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think I’m contagious anymore,” she said cheerfully.

“Oh! No, I didn’t mean ...” Takashi trailed off as Kaoru started laughing. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he finished awkwardly.

“So am I! Do you know how hard it is to drive when you’re sneezing your head off and your sinuses feel like they’re about to explode? It’s a good thing Kagomedake wasn’t further away; otherwise we’d never have made it in a day with the number of detours and stops we had to make.”

“You drove?” Takashi asked, and wondered why he was so surprised. It certainly made more sense than Aoi carrying her the entire way. He wasn’t sure the crow youkai could even pick Kaoru up, given how easily she’d trapped him before. “Um, your parents did, I mean?” Kaoru was only a year older than him, so she shouldn’t have her license yet.

“My mom is gone,” she said, voice matter-of-fact. “And my dad ran off with his secretary four years ago, so we don’t really talk. Didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” Takashi said.

Kaoru smiled. “You’re sweet. In any case, my mom was teaching me to drive, even though my birthday isn’t until next February.” The expression twisted briefly, before she clearly made a point of shrugging it off and continued brightly, “I won’t win any awards, but driving’s pretty easy when you’re the only car moving.”

Takashi looked at the ground, wishing he was better at knowing what to say. Wishing, too, that he was as good at shaking off his melancholy as Kaoru seemed to be. He ought to be better, he ought to know better by now that nothing lasted forever.

He just. He’d hoped …

“Come on, I’ll show you where everything is,” Kaoru said, jerking her head back towards the shrine. “And you can tell me if I’m about to run into anyone. Aoi-chan sometimes just lets me.” She glared at her boyfriend.

Aoi appeared to be failing to suppress a smirk. “It’s funny. And if they’re not keeping track of where they’re going well enough to avoid it, they deserve to be run into.”

“Jerk.” But despite her tone, Kaoru still hadn’t let go of Aoi’s hand.

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t stay,” Takashi said, and meant it. Seeing another human … If someone like Kaoru, whose could only see on certain wavelengths, was alive, surely that meant that Natori-san really was fine.

Maybe even Tanuma?

But if Tanuma was alive, he was still probably trapped back in the city; Takashi couldn’t imagine what it would take to get all the way back home, on foot, alone.

Maybe Takabane would be willing to take another trip, after he healed. Maybe he could go back and check, just in case. Although how he would know, either way, if Tanuma really was gone …

“You should spend the night at least,” Kaoru said. “Get a good night’s sleep and some food. You’re too skinny.”

Kai snickered.

Takashi glared, distracted by memory echoing piping, hurtful words. “You set them on me.”

“I thought you were hunting me!” Kai protested. "Besides, it was a distraction tactic, I didn’t expect a bunch of grade school kids to actually drive you off!”

Kaoru snickered. Aoi smirked.

“They were really mean!”

“You really are too good-natured for your own good, aren’t you?” Aoi asked, still smirking.

“I know, right??” Kai agreed.

Takashi turned a pleading look towards Kaoru, who said “Children can be frightening,” with sparkling eyes and a too-solemn face.

He wanted to laugh, happy despite everything that these two very disparate set of friends liked each other. Even if their point of agreement was making fun of him.

He just wished …

He wished –

Kaoru stepped forward and slapped him (too hard) on the back, releasing Aoi’s hand to do so. “Come on, I’ll show you around the shrine, like I said. Things will look better after you’ve rested.”

Aoi approached Takabane, speaking to him in a low voice and pointing to the forest behind the shrine buildings. The beast youkai nodded and leapt into the air, flying off with the same less-graceful but still strong undulations that had marked their short trip from the train station to here.

“Will they, though?” Takashi asked, not intending to say the words out loud, but unable to make himself take them back.

Kaoru peered at his face, and he wondered what she was seeing. She shrugged. “They're at least unlikely to look worse. You’re safe here. Aoi-chan and the others will protect us.”

“What was that that you did earlier?” Kai asked Aoi as he rejoined them. “The rumors I’ve heard made it sound like there was no way to fight back against the new creatures, but you two were. – That is what that thing at the train station was, right? It felt …” he shuddered, and Takashi flinched in sympathetic memory.

“You truly haven’t encountered any of them before now?” Aoi asked, shooting Takashi an odd look. “I grow increasingly interested in this long story of yours.”

“We can have story time all around,” Kaoru said. “After you eat.”

Takashi hated to admit it, but the food – the first human food he’d eaten in … had it really been almost a week? – really did help. Kai also seemed to enjoy the change; Takashi wondered for the first time what the young god had done for meals when he’d been posing as human. And while all the unfamiliar choices initially overwhelmed the little fox, after some exploratory taste-testing he dove in with gleeful abandon.

Not all the food at the table was prepared in human fashion, but apparently enough of the inhabitants of the shrine were fond of human food that it hadn’t been an uncommon sight even before Kaoru – and now Takashi – had arrived.

And inhabitants there were. The low, long table could seat about twenty, and was nearly full. Takashi sat near the head of the table, the little fox on his left, Kai on his right. Aoi sat across from him, Kaoru to his right, and only a couple of the most senior of the students sat between their group and Doutaka-sama himself.

Takashi explained the path that had brought him here between bites, until his story had finished and he was truly full; where Touko-san would have gently urged him to eat more, but accepted his refusals, Kaoru (and occasionally an amused Aoi) just blithely refilled his plate anyway.

Touko-san …

But he pushed the melancholy away; if Kaoru, whose mother had disappeared in front of her eyes, could be strong enough to act like it didn’t matter, then surely the least he could do was pretend that thinking about the Fujiwaras didn’t make him feel like he was being ripped apart at the seams.

Aoi looked towards the head of the table. “Seigen is unaffected too, then.”

“It is good to have further evidence that this encroachment is likely limited to the human world,” Doutaka-sama said. The protector of this shrine and Aoi’s master, the youkai looked like a venerable older man; still vital but with grey starting to overcome the black in his hair and bushy beard. He had a narrow face and eyes that reminded Takashi of Aoi’s; he’d have thought there was a family resemblance if he hadn’t known they weren’t related.

While Takashi could only really feel Kai when he got angry, Doutaka-sama’s carefully leashed power rolled off him like a blanket just a bit too heavy to be comfortable. Takashi suspected that if he did mean their little group harm, there would be little he could do to stop him.

Still, Takashi trusted Aoi, and it was clear that he thought highly of his master. And Doutaka-sama had let Aoi go, and let him bring Kaoru back with him. Sensei would doubtless berate him for being too trusting, but he thought they were probably safe here.

“Fuyou,” Doutaka-sama said.

“Yes, Master?” Midway down the table, a youkai looked up, her short fuchsia hair puffing around her head like a blindingly bright cloud.

“You hail from near one of the stable gates to Seigen, do you not?”

“Yes, although I have not traveled there in many years myself.” She looked perhaps a year or two older than Aoi, but Takashi got the feeling that the true gap between their ages was far larger. Perhaps because of the calm, unhurried way in which she spoke.

“I would like you to deliver a message to Kamuriki,” Doutaka-sama said, and raised a hand when she started to rise. “After dinner, or even tomorrow morning is fine. It is not a short flight.”

“Will he help?” Another of Doutaka-sama’s students asked. He sat near the end of the table, and looked about the same age as Kai.

“According to young Natsume’s report, he is already helping,” Doutaka-sama said, gently reproving, “by taking in all those who find their way to his world.”

Not quite all, Takashi couldn’t help but think, even though he knew wouldn’t have stayed either way.

“And how did you come to be here, young one?” Doutaka-sama addressed Kai. “Do you not fear for your lands in your absence?”

Takashi didn’t know whether Doutaka-sama was a god or simply a powerful shrine guardian – nor, when it came to it, did he truly understand the fine lines dividing the two to begin with. But it was clear that Doutaka-sama recognized Kai for what he was and did not, entirely, approve.

Kai straightened in some indefinable way, fearlessly meeting Doutaka-sama’s eyes. “My lands are fine. I trust my followers with their protection,” he said. “I would not be doing my part to protect them if I pretended the rest of the world did not exist, so when Natsume brought me word of what had happened, I thought it best to seek the truth.” He paused, then added with stubborn loyalty, “Besides, Natsume is my friend.”

A friendship Takashi had once thought irreparably broken. He was so incredibly, gratefully glad to have been proven so very wrong.

“Hmm,” was Doutaka-sama’s only response.

“Like I said,” Aoi said with a shrug, his smile edging into a smirk, “Natsume has very interesting taste in friends.”

Doutaka-sama raised an eyebrow at his apprentice. “That much,” he observed dryly, “was already obvious.”

“Oh, what did he say?” Kaoru leaned forward. “Someone said something to Aoi-chan, didn’t he? He’s got that look on his face.”

“Ahh …” Takashi had begun to think that he wasn’t entirely useless in social situations anymore, but he had no idea what the right answer was in this case.

“Doutaka-sama was making fun of him,” Kai said, pointedly not looking in Aoi's direction. Takashi assumed he’d remained human-visible for Kaoru’s benefit.

Aoi glared.

“Tell me more,” Kaoru said, grinning.

Something soft thumped against his side. Takashi looked down to see that the little fox had finally lost his battle against post-meal drowsiness. He absently shifted his head into a more comfortable position for both of them, and looked up into Aoi’s knowing, smug eyes.

“We have plenty of extra space,” he said blandly.

Takashi inclined his head, reluctantly acceding to the inevitable. “Thank you.”

After tucking the little fox into one of the futons that one of the younger apprentices had brought, Takashi returned to the adjoining room, where Kaoru, Aoi, and Kai waited.

Kaoru sighed as he sat. “I’m so jealous of you, Natsume. Being able to actually see and hear everything.”

“It’s really not that …” he trailed off, not sure himself how he wanted to finish the sentence. “It’s frightening sometimes, too,” he finally said.

It was one of those things he had never known how to say, to Tanuma and Taki. How to warn them off without just worrying them about him. The last thing he wanted was for them to worry.

No. He knew, now, that that wasn’t true. He’d worry them in a heartbeat if it just meant he could have them back.

“Well, obviously,” Kaoru said, matter-of-fact. “But at least if I can see something coming, I can get out of the way.”

“They mostly ignore you if you can’t see,” Takashi said, struggling to re-focus on the conversation.

“The kokuei don’t.” Kaoru looked at her lap, her hands clenched, white-knuckled. Her voice, already quiet, dropped further. “They don’t care about anything but destruction.”

“Kokuei?”

She smiled at him, a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, that’s what Aoi-chan calls those things that eat people. Like the one at the train station.”

Kai leaned forward. “You know what they are?”

“That’s what Doutaka-sama calls them,” Aoi said. Takashi and Kai’s attention both snapped to him. “He says that they’re great wells of negativity taken form, but,” a shrug “that's all he's said.”

Wells of negativity … “How do we fight them?” Takashi asked. “There is a way, right? You were able to hold them off before.”

“Right now, holding them off is about the best we can do,” Aoi said, voice deeply frustrated. “Occasionally, if the victim is strong and the encroachment hasn’t taken too deep of root, we can also force them to release their hold on one they’ve captured, like with your follower,” he nodded to Kai.

“Thank you, again,” Kai said. “Takabane thanks you, too. He doesn’t think he would have made it if not for your and Kiriasa’s intervention.”

“He wouldn’t have,” Aoi said. Kai stiffened. “Believe me. We found that out the hard way.”

“But you can hold them off, at least? Can you teach me?”

It felt like an imposition to even ask, but not asking was even more unthinkable. He’d wanted to find a way to protect his friends and family even before all this happened. Even if … even though they were gone, if he could learn a way to keep it from happening to anyone else … if he could at least gain the power to protect someone …

“Please?”

“I can teach you what we know,” Aoi said, expression wary for reasons Takashi didn’t understand. “I was planning to, anyway. But … be aware that it may not do any good. It may take you a long time to master it, if you even can.”

Takashi straightened, meeting Aoi’s eyes. “Please,” he repeated.

“Teach me, too,” Kai said with equal gravity.

Aoi slanted a glance towards him. “Hm. You might find it easy. Or you might find it far harder than Natsume.” He turned his attention back to Takashi. “And? What are your plans after this?”

Takashi faltered. “I … was planning to try and find a friend of mine,” he said. “But … I … This is more important, isn’t it? And … I don’t even know if he’s still alive. If he is, he’ll probably be fine for a while longer. And if he isn’t, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

It felt like something was tearing him in two. He still … more than anything, he wanted to find Natori-san, even if only out of a childish desire to not be alone. (Even though he knew he wasn’t alone, that he had Kai and the little fox and now Aoi and even Kaoru with him, it was different.)

A childish belief that if he could just reconnect with one part of his old, human life then maybe, somehow, everything would turn out all right after all.

“A friend?” Aoi asked.

“An exorcist,” Kai said, wrinkling his nose. “That's why Natsume thinks he might still be alive.”

“An exorcist?” Aoi repeated, eyebrows raised. “You keep surprising me, Natsume.”

Kaoru looked between the two. “Wait, like in the old stories? Exorcists are real?”

“Too real. Ugh.”

“Can this exorcist be trusted?” Aoi ignored Kai’s interjection.

Takashi hesitated. Thought about the arguments they’d had, the way he’d treated Kai, the way he sometimes got that look and Takashi couldn’t quite ignore just how big the gap in their points of view was.

But also about how he’d trusted him, so many times. The good they’d done together.

At first, I wanted to make you my ally, to draw on your strength. But now I’m glad you could draw on mine.

“Not with everything,” he admitted slowly. “But … more than most.”

Aoi nodded, and turned his gaze on Kai. “You’ve met this exorcist, too?”

Takashi winced.

“He tried to exorcise me,” Kai said. Looked at Takashi, and sighed. “But … Natsume says he gave up. Because Natsume asked him to. And he … cleaned up after a mistake I made. So I guess he’s not all bad. Probably.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Aoi said dryly. “In that case – will you take me to him?”

Takashi blinked. “What?”

“It solves both our problems, does it not? I can start teaching you to control and divide your energies on the way – it’s an essential first step, with how greedily the kokuei feed on youryoku. And you – well. We’ve been considering how best to spread what techniques we do have, but it is difficult to know who is safe to approach, especially in times like these. If you know an exorcist, Natsume, one who will listen to you … please take me to meet him.”

“Us,” Kaoru said.

“Kaoru, you’ll be safer –”

“In a shrine in the mountains whose inhabitants I usually can’t see?” she interrupted. “I might be safer, but I’d also be bored out of my mind. Besides, I want to help.” She leaned slightly, placing her hand over Aoi’s, resting on his knee. “And like I keep saying. I’m not going to let you go.”

Aoi stared down at her hand for several moments, conflict clear in his face. He shook his head, turned his hand to clasp her fingers, and looked back towards Takashi. “Us.”

Takashi looked at Kai. It seemed like the perfect solution to him, but he’d already been so selfish …

“I don’t mind,” Kai said. “But Takabane said it would probably be a while before he recovered, and even though he can fly with that leg it would be better to let him rest, so I don’t know –”

“Then that’s an even better reason to bring me along,” Kaoru interrupted, sunny as her grip on Aoi’s hand was tight. “I’ll drive!”

Chapter Text

Ta-ta ta-ta ta-ta.

Touko finished stacking their dishes from lunch and sat back. She saw no reason to be sloppy just because they couldn’t see the servants who took them away. “Those didn’t sound heavy enough to be normal footsteps,” she said. “Though how we’d be able to hear them if they weren’t …”

About to open the door, Shigeru paused. “I think some youkai have ways to make themselves heard, even to people like us,” he said. “Remember last year, when Takashi-kun wrecked his room? A few days before that, I started hearing the sound of footsteps on the second floor when there wasn’t anyone around.”

“You think our house was haunted?” Touko asked, suppressing a shiver.

“Even then, I wondered,” he admitted, and flashed her a wry smile. “Particularly knowing what we know now, it certainly makes far more sense than assuming he did it out of some youthful need to act out and test his boundaries.”

“Very true,” she agreed. For all he’d grown more comfortable with them over time, Takashi-kun was still far too inclined towards diffidence. Shigeru pulled the door open and stuck his head out. “Do you see anything?”

“Nothing,” he said, shutting the door. “Whoever or whatever it was, they’re apparently gone now.”

Something flickered, like movement in her peripheral vision except right in front of her, right as the door closed. Touko stood and squinted. Had it been just her imagination? No – there it went again, closer this time, right about eye level. She reached out, but caught only empty air.

Shigeru looked at her, a question in his eyes, but before she could explain her increasingly foolish-seeming behavior, he seemed to catch sight of it, too.

After several more attempts on each of their parts to catch something that might not even exist, Shigeru successfully caught it between his hands. He paused, before folding them open. “I hope – what if it was alive?”

“Oh.” Touko’s heart sank. They knew so little, after all. “Well, we can hope it wasn’t.”

And certainly it didn’t appear to be, when they looked down at the slightly crumpled paper doll, one of its long arms still waving slightly in a nonexistent breeze.

“I wonder what it was for,” Touko said, poking at it. “And why we couldn’t really see it before, a piece of paper this size.” For if their room hadn’t been so otherwise still and calm; if she hadn’t been so primed to the idea that something strange might be going on, she doubted she’d have noticed it at all.

“Perhaps some sort of spell,” Shigeru said. He flipped the doll over, and they both stared at the neat writing revealed.

“A phone call seems like it would be far more convenient,” Touko said blankly, still processing the message.

Oda-san: Chanted sutra repels the shadow creatures. Reason currently unknown. - Natori

She felt like she ought to be more surprised that the personable young actor was also involved – but it provided a compelling explanation for his vaguely ominous comments when he’d called her the day this had all started. “We should try to find this Oda-san,” she said. “Or someone. If they don’t know about this already …”

Shigeru nodded. “I could go alone ...”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “I appreciate the thought, but I’d rather not go insane from both boredom and worry.”

Despite himself, Shigeru smiled.

The hallway outside their room stretched into the distance in both directions, lit primarily by light from the occasional high window along the other wall. It was also utterly empty.

And much as Touko appreciated seeing sights other than those same four walls for the first time in what seemed far longer than three days …

“Do you think we’ll be able to find our way back?” she asked, as they moved from one mostly-identical and still deserted corridor to the next.

“Hopefully we’ll find someone who can point us in the right direction eventually,” Shigeru said, and smiled down at her. “But even if not – we’ve got everything important right here with us.”

Each other. Touko smiled back.

After a seemingly endless succession of corridors only interrupted by a flight of stairs that, with shared looks and shrugs, they’d descended, they finally exited out into a large, tall-ceilinged room that looked like some sort of meeting hall.

Also empty.

“Perhaps there are youkai here, and we just can’t see them?” Touko said quietly. It just didn’t seem like the right sort of place to raise one’s voice in.

“If so, maybe one of them will do us the favor of finding someone we can talk to,” Shigeru said as they left the room for what was unmistakably the entrance hall. He knelt to take a better look at the contents of the shoe stand, and suddenly laughed. “Very proper, that young man is.”

“Oh?” Her husband stood, a pair of familiar shoes in each hand, and Touko shared the laugh. “We shall have to thank him later.”

She shaded her eyes as they stepped out into the bright sunlight, and gasped as her vision cleared up. A handful of buildings sat scattered across a broad clear area, some clearly teahouses, a few larger. Beside and behind them she could catch glimpses of the occasional small pond; one was clearly visible, a bridge over it connecting a nearby building and a small open-air gazebo. Somewhere, she thought she could hear a stream gurgling quietly.

Impeccably maintained paths led to and at times between each of the buildings, branching like one of the trees that occasionally stood, alone and majestic, in easy viewing distance of the buildings.

And although the main road extended from where they stood straight across the clearing before disappearing into the woods on the far side, the area gave the impression of being far larger than what little they could see here. “How large is this place?”

“I suspect we’ll see soon enough.” Shigeru held out a hand. “Shall we explore?”

She placed her hand grandly on his, and with shared grins, they set off down the path. She fancied that she could feel the years melting away; she’d loved their quiet, complacent life, but she couldn’t deny the excitement of not knowing what might be around that next corner.

I just wish Takashi-kun was here with us, too. Or that we at least knew …

They turned right at the first fork, circling around what was indeed a beautiful small teahouse, shutters left open as though there were people in there, right now, invisibly sipping tea and admiring the view.

For all she knew, there might be.

It was a disquieting thought, that they might not be as alone as they seemed; though one that did not hold quite as much power in the bright mid-afternoon sun as it had in those endless empty corridors. Even knowing it was most likely a false comfort, and that if there was any danger, they would be far more likely to encounter it here, outside.

But we can’t stay hidden in that room forever. I couldn’t do that to Shigeru, even if I were willing to do it to myself. So we will just have to continue to trust Matoba-san’s protection, and hope that we can recognize the boundaries before we stumble through them.

Surely Matoba-san would have warned them if only their room, or only the building they’d been in, was protected. Unless he was so used to spending time with others who could see that it hadn’t occurred to him to mention it.

She wondered if Takashi-kun had ever wished he could live with someone else who could see, instead of with her and Shigeru. Whether he’d ever resented them for causing him to have to hide such a core part of himself.

(She could say that he hadn’t had to hide, that he shouldn’t have, but after the life he’d lived? Who knew how many times he might have tried to tell people before, and been rebuffed for his troubles? She couldn’t blame him for giving up, if he had. Given the state he’d been in when they first met, she often thought it a wonder that he trusted them with anything at all.)

They circled another empty building; stopped to admire a small pond, a small shishiodoshi clacking rhythmically against the rocks.

Shigeru sighed. “Perhaps we should return. I’m beginning to think we’ll have more luck finding someone inside than outside.”

Touko was beginning to wonder if they’d find anyone at all – but her husband knew that as well as she did. “I suppose we should,” she agreed.

As they turned back onto the main road, she had to stop for a moment and stare. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the main building looked even larger on the outside than it had felt from the inside, looming over even the trees surrounding the estate.

“… Or perhaps not.” Shigeru said ruefully.

A flicker, off to the right. Touko stiffened.

“What is it?”

“I thought I saw – ah! Over there.” She looked back towards Shigeru. “I think it might have been another paper doll.”

“It’s worth a try,” he said. “Between those two buildings?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Beyond those buildings was another, and beyond that the clearing began giving way to forest, the trees growing slowly denser as they continued down a path no longer quite as impeccably maintained.

“Are you sure this is the right direction?” Shigeru asked.

“No,” she admitted ruefully. Looking back, she could no longer see any of the buildings; if not for the path they walked, she would have wondered if they’d left the compound entirely. “If you want to turn back …”

“Oh!” He sounded surprised. “No, I … think I caught sight of it, too. Further ahead.”

The path began sloping noticeably downwards and they slowed further, paying careful attention to where they placed their feet; the last thing they needed was to trip and injure themselves.  As Touko began to once again wonder if they were truly on the right track, the forest surrounding them abruptly stopped, and they found themselves at the edge of a moderate-sized clearing.

Well. That explains where everyone went.

People clumped in small groups here and there across the clearing; even their low murmur of conversation sounded strangely loud after the last couple of days of isolation.

The largest group by far gathered near the center of the far side of the clearing, spaced just far enough apart that she could see they stood in front of a gap in the thick twisted rope that connected the rest of the trees on that side of the clearing. It reminded her of the shimenawa she saw in shrines, and she wondered if it served to ward off evil spirits – or youkai in general? – in the same fashion. The ground in front of the group appeared to have been cleared of grass, the dirt aggressively flattened and smoothed, though it was difficult to tell much more than that.

She also spotted their host among their number, his back turned towards them, long black ponytail instantly recognizable.

“Ah,” Shigeru said. “I think the other paper doll found its recipient.”

Off to their left, a tall man with slightly shaggy medium-brown hair and a slight stoop stepped away from the group he’d been chatting with, raising a hand in perfunctory apology, something small and white in his other hand. He read it quickly, shook his head, crumpled it up absentmindedly, and tucked it into one of his long sleeves.

“What?” Shigeru jerked a step forward.

Touko laid a hand on his arm. “It might be unrelated,” she said, “or he might have already known.”

“You’re probably right. It does look kind of like they’re setting up a trap, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm. That seems dangerous; I hope no one gets hurt.”

“I’m sure they know what they’re doing, dear. They can probably all see ... whatever it is that they’re trying to trap. Youkai, do you think?”

“Or maybe those other things,” Touko said. “This seems like a lot of people if they're planning on confronting something they already know how to deal with. Oh!”

On some unseen or unheard signal, the group gathered around the gap scattered, leaving Touko and Shigeru with a clear look at the preparations. Now only a handful of people stood to either side of the gap, in a slightly curved line that bent around the start of a broad design carved into the flattened dirt.

The design itself looked less like a tool than a work of art. Six nested concentric circles formed its base, two sets of three separated by a large gap, each line etched deeply into the dirt. They appeared so perfectly circular that she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d used a giant compass. In the spaces between the first and third, and fourth and sixth circles, elaborate designs had been drawn, sometimes smooth curves connecting outer to center to inner circle, sometimes what looked like either scribbles or characters from some unknown language.

Most curious of all, in line with the gap in the ropes, a gap had also been left in the design etched into the ground.

“Quite a sight, don’t you think?” Touko blinked in surprise at the man who had just spoken, wondering how he’d approached so close without either her – or, from the way he stiffened, Shigeru – noticing. “Say what you like of the Matoba clan, but there’s no doubt that they have one of the best libraries, and that head of theirs is surprisingly well read given his youth.”

The other man paused and looked closer, seeming to really notice who he was talking to for the first time. He ran his fingers down a short, neatly trimmed goatee that matched the deep black of his hair. “Hm, I don’t believe we’ve met. You must have traveled a fair distance; I thought I knew everyone in the area by now.” He inclined his head slightly. “Adachi Kazuhiro, and this is my primary shiki, Rafuku.” He gestured idly to his right, clearly a familiar gesture.

A chill trickled down Touko’s spine, though she did her best not to let it show on her face. It was, somehow, far more disconcerting to know a youkai stood in front of her, instead of feeling a sudden gust of wind or hearing the patter of footsteps and simply … wondering. Especially when every sense she possessed persisted in insisting that there was nothing there.

“I’m normally based out of Nagano, but I visit this area pretty frequently. I was considering moving here, to be closer to where my son – lived.” The man looked away.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Shigeru said quietly, a moment before Touko would have.

Adachi-san shook his head. “I should count myself blessed that my daughter-in-law and grandson are still with us, and that they made it to one of the satellite estates safely. They should be safe there. Not everyone was so lucky.”

“It must be difficult, to be separated from them at a time like this,” Touko said. Takashi-kun.

“… Pardon me if I intrude, but …” The other man looked uncomfortable.

“Our – son, Takashi, was on a school trip last week,” Shigeru said. Touko doubted even she would have caught his brief hesitation if she hadn’t already known the more complicated reality behind that truth of both of their hearts. “His – companion seemed to think he would be unaffected, but we haven’t been able to contact him since.”

Touko wondered if Takashi-kun knew how to send messages via paper doll, the way Natori-san had. She’d never thought he’d had much interest in that sort of esoteric knowledge, but he’d hidden so much else …

If he does know some means of communicating with us and hasn’t because he’s afraid of revealing his abilities, we will have words the next time we meet.

“Fujiwara Shigeru,” her husband continued. “And this is my wife, Touko.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Adachi-san said, and smiled a bit grimly. “Would that it were under better circumstances.”

“Indeed,” Shigeru said.

Except without these circumstances, they probably never would have.

Alerted by some signal to which she was blind, Adachi-san turned to look back down towards the circle. “Ah! It’s starting.”

Someone flew out of the woods at an impossible speed, hovering about a meter above the ground. He touched down lightly on the opposite side of the circle, and three people nearby turned towards him, speaking quietly. No one else reacted at all, too busy staring towards the gap in the trees.

Suddenly the handful of people standing nearest to the trees sprang into motion, dragging pointed sticks covered in seals across the hard-packed dirt to complete the design of the circle.

Everyone surrounding the circle stepped back, putting several meters of space between themselves and it, and at their side Adachi-san breathed a relieved sigh. “Good. The wards are holding.”

Touko squinted, and immediately felt foolish. No amount of squinting would change the fact that she couldn’t see.

“It’s my first time seeing one,” Adachi-san said. “Probably the same is true for most of us, since I’ve heard that they appeared mostly in more populated areas.” He shook his head. “It looks less … intimidating than I expected, but I think I’ll still stay back here.”

He looked towards Shigeru, though it seemed to take deliberate effort to pull his eyes away from the circle. “Have you seen one before?”

Shigeru shook his head. “Quite a few of my coworkers disappeared almost simultaneously, but as far as I know there was nothing else around when it happened. Then Matoba-san ... took us in, and we’ve been here ever since.”

“Ah, the initial disappearances? They must be related, but no one I’ve talked to was actually looking at anyone when they disappeared.” He raised an eyebrow, the question clear.

Shigeru looked faintly rueful. “I’m afraid I wasn’t either. Although even if there was anything to see, I wouldn’t have.”

Adachi-san looked from Shigeru to Touko, surprised comprehension beginning to dawn. “You don’t mean you –” He stopped, shook his head. “I apologize, that was rude. It’s an uncomfortable subject. I shouldn’t have reminded you of what you lost, not when just living here must be painful.”

Shigeru exchanged a confused look with Touko. “I admit I do prefer my own home, and the isolation has been wearying, but we have been treated fairly.” He looked back at Adachi-san with that careful expression he sometimes used when he was confused, but hadn’t quite figured out the right question to ask. “But that’s not what you meant by ‘loss’, was it?”

Adachi-san looked more confused than ever. “You mean you don’t –”

A commotion near the circle dragged all three of their attention back.

One man, of medium height and a bit stocky, with mussed dark blonde hair and a short beard, took several steps towards the circle before turning around and re-engaging in discussion with several other people. He gestured in an exasperated-looking fashion, but none of them raised their voices loudly enough for Touko to hear them clearly.

Adachi-san leaned forward. “Is that Itou-san? He’s a braver man than I.” He shot an oddly suspicious glance their direction. “I assume you don’t know him either?”

“As far as I know, aside from Matoba-san you’re the only person we’ve met here,” Shigeru said.

Adachi-san shook his head, as though he’d confirmed an assumption he still couldn’t quite make himself believe. “He’s from one of the Matoba subsidiary clans, I believe. We’ve never worked together directly, but over the course of twenty-odd years in a business as incestuous as this, it would be almost more difficult not to have learned each other’s names and faces.” He eyed Shigeru and Touko again, and added pointedly, “The exorcist business, that is.”

So they call themselves exorcists. It made sense – and was almost a relief to have a name to put to this group, these people who shared Takashi-kun’s abilities, but seemed so much harder. She wondered just how deep Takashi-kun’s connection to them ran.

Perhaps we should have that discussion with him about associating with strange people after all.

Below, Itou-san threw his hands up in disgust, clearly refusing to argue any further, and stepped over the first line of the circle. Touko held her breath, but he expertly weaved his way through without smudging a single line. I suppose exorcists would probably be used to that.

He paused in the large empty area between the two meticulously drawn circles, and held out a long, thin piece of paper, black writing on it no more comprehensible than squiggles at this distance. With a snap of his wrist, he threw it towards the innermost circle, where it appeared to stick to empty air for a couple of seconds before dissolving before their eyes. The gathered crowd murmured, dismayed. She didn’t know exactly what was happening, but it didn’t take much imagination to assume that that had not been the hoped-for outcome.

“Did something happen?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Adachi-san said grimly. “It appeared not to have any effect.”

Itou-san gestured dismissively back towards the other gathered exorcists and raised a hand as though to request quiet. The gathered exorcists fell still, as did he, for the space of several breaths. He raised his head, began chanting, and started walking forward with slow, measured steps.

As he crossed the first line of the inner circle, shouted protests arose. Touko caught a couple of “Stop!”s, one “What are you doing?!”

“What is he doing?” Adachi-san asked. “The circle can’t protect him if he –”

The other man stepped into the final circle, voice raising almost to the point where Touko could pick out the words.

He stood there for several seconds, chanting, and she watched, heart in her throat, wondering if it was working. Wondering if she’d be able to tell anything either way.

The chant faltered.

He stared down at his legs and started shaking them in turn, as though trying to kick something off. Seemed suddenly to notice his arms and shook those too; almost frantically using one hand to try and brush something off the other arm.

He kept trying to chant, his voice higher; stopping and starting suddenly as though he kept forgetting his place.

All other conversation had stopped as everyone stared at – whatever it was that she and Shigeru couldn’t see.

He appeared to wrench himself away, and turned and leapt towards the edge of the circle. Touko watched, hoping –

He bounced off.

Silence.

He raised a hand; laid it against empty air as though he could feel a wall there. “Matoba-san.” Though he didn’t shout, in the silence, his voice was clearly audible.

The young black-haired man stepped forward, even as everyone else stepped back. He held a bow in his left hand. “Itou-san,” he said. “How does it feel?”

“… Cold,” the man said after a moment. He raised his hand and looked at it for a moment; curled it in front of his throat as though trying to grasp something. “Cold and empty.”

“Anything else?”

“I – no. No, I just – it’s so – Matoba-san, please.”

The young man raised the bow, nocking an arrow with a piece of paper set just behind its head, and aiming – Touko thought just past Itou-san, though from this angle it was difficult to tell for sure. “Hold still.”

“… Thank you.”

Matoba-san loosed the arrow.

Itou-san disappeared.

“Shit,” Adachi-san breathed; grabbed Shigeru’s arm and pulled him backwards, even as something that felt like an oddly insubstantial wind pushed her.

“What happened?” Touko asked, and immediately felt foolish. That wind-yet-not struck again, pushing her back almost to the tree line.

Not far away, Adachi-san finally released her husband’s arm, his eyes still locked on the circle and the group of upset people surrounding it. Matoba-san was an oasis of calm, clearly attempting to restore control to the rest of the group, but just as clearly not quite managing it yet.

“… Shit,” Adachi-san said again, with resignation and relief instead of terror. He raised a hand, clearly shaking, to his face, but then seemed to have forgotten what he’d intended to use it for and let it fall back to his side.

“What happened?” Touko asked again.

“The – creature consumed Itou-san,” Adachi-san said distantly. “It – at first it appeared to be taking its time, almost. But when Matoba-san shot it – it exploded. It completely overran the inner barrier. The outer barrier seems to be – if Matoba-san hadn’t insisted on a dual-layer barrier I don’t want to think what would have happened.” He took another shaky breath. “The outer barrier seems to be holding,” he said, seemingly unaware of the repetition. “But the creature is … it looks larger now.”

“What are we – are they going to do? Surely not just leave it there? Inside the wards?”

Adachi-san shot her an odd glance. “So are you the exorcist, then?”

Touko blinked. “No, I can’t see … youkai, any more than my husband can. But that’s what those are, right?” She pointed to the ropes. “Wards?”

“… Oh.” Adachi-san looked briefly chagrined, and Touko considering pointing out that being unable to see youkai didn’t make her blind – but now wasn't really the time. “Yes, they are. There is a fallback layer just behind us, but it’s temporary; I wouldn't want to depend on it for long.”

Touko looked behind and up, and spotted the wards plastered against several of the nearby trees a meter or so above eye height, characters and designs in black ink contrasting starkly with the white paper. They seemed far less substantial than the ropes, hardly a barrier at all … but then, what did she know about any of this, really?

She turned her attention back to the circle below. Most people appeared to have settled somewhat, though they all still gave the circle a wide berth. Matoba-san stood closest to it, conversing with a young man she thought looked like the one who’d come flying in before. Luring the creature in?

The other young man nodded. He reached out and grasped at thin air, then threw himself upwards and sideways as though mounting a horse. She blinked, eyes unable to properly focus, trying to tell her simultaneously that he was riding something and that he was still there on the ground. As he lifted off, the disorientation faded.

He hovered his way slowly over to the gap in the trees. On the ground, a couple of men erased a couple of symbols in the outer circle, then backed away inhumanly fast. The young man hovered a moment more, then with a whoop sped off into the forest.

Adachi-san exhaled explosively. “That kid has way more guts than sense.”

“Did the creature follow him?” Shigeru asked.

Adachi-san nodded. “Thankfully. The barrier weakens most on the side the symbols were erased, but I suspect the creature could have broken through in any direction if it really exerted itself. We must count ourselves lucky that it decided to go for what appeared to be the easiest, juiciest prey.”

“Will that young man be all right?” Touko asked.

Adachi-san laughed bitterly. “That’s a good question, Fujiwara-san. Probably. He’s slippery, and that dragon of his is more so.”

Touko’s breath caught. A dragon.

When she was younger, she’d been fascinated by them. She’d mostly put that fascination away, as she’d grown up and moved on to other things. But … a real dragon?

I wish I could see it too.

A couple of people wrestled what looked like the original rope back into place. Touko assumed that that meant that the wards had been re-sealed. “Will the dragon be all right, getting back through the wards?” she asked. “Oh, I guess he’s a … shiki? Like, um, Rafuku? And they probably have some sort of special dispensation?” She hoped she’d at least gotten the name right, since she had no idea where to look. She doubted the shiki was still standing at the man’s right the way he had at the beginning of the conversation, not with everything else that had happened. Actually, come to think of it … “Was Rafuku the one who pushed me back, before?” she asked. “Can you thank him for me?”

“Her,” Adachi-san corrected with a slight smile. “She says that thanks are unnecessary, but appreciated. And yes, shiki should have no trouble crossing the wards unless they are explicitly banned.”

So there are polite youkai, too.

She wasn’t sure why this, of all things, came as a surprise, but then, the only youkai she’d ever actually talked to was Nyankichi, and, well. Polite was not the word she’d use.

The young man from before flew back into view, above the trees and well to the right of the path he’d taken when he left. He crossed the tree line without pause, then slowly hovered back to (disorientation) the ground. A mob surrounded him again, some appearing concerned, most congratulatory.

Off to the side, she thought she spotted a long black ponytail just as it disappeared into the trees. She turned to look back at Shigeru, who raised an eyebrow and smiled ruefully. He made a little shooing gesture and turned back to Adachi-san. “Perhaps you could introduce me to an Oda-san?” He held out the paper doll. “I suspect this information is moot, now, but I would like to ensure that it reaches its proper owner nonetheless.”

As Adachi-san turned to point the other man out, Touko smiled and slipped away.

They do always end up being your strays, too.

Unlike the path they’d taken to get to the clearing, the trail Touko followed now barely deserved the name. She was also uncomfortably aware that there was no guarantee she was still following Matoba-san at all– he could have left the trail and she doubted she'd have been able to tell the difference. Still, the occasional glimpse of rope-wrapped trees reassured her that she was at least still within the wards.

The trail ended in front of a small building – about the size of one of the teahouses, or perhaps even smaller – nestled in the depths of the trees only meters away from the edge of the wards.

The door lay open, shoes tumbled sideways, as though their owner couldn’t be bothered to straighten either one. And beyond the entrance, Matoba-san paced, tightly controlled fury radiating off him with such force that Touko found it hard to resist the urge to take a step back. Or leave entirely; she doubted he’d be happy to have her – to have anyone witness him like this.

He stopped in front of the door, half turned away, paper – a letter? – crumpling in the hand that had only minutes before held his bow. “Why,” he asked, the syllable crisp and only just loud enough to reach Touko’s ears, “must I always be the one to make the sacrifice?”

A heartbeat of silence.

He breathed out, long and slow, and began to smooth the wrinkles back out. “So faith, it seems, is either unrelated or insufficient …”

In the process of turning, he caught sight of Touko for what was clearly the first time; his polite mask slammed into place so quickly and thoroughly it almost hurt. “Fujiwara-san. Might I ask what …?”

“I’m so sorry for what just happened,” she said. “You must be –”

The slight smile dropped away, and when he spoke, his voice was a bit too even. “Itou-san’s loss is one I would prefer to have avoided, but his death has at least served a purpose in teaching us what will not work.” He folded the letter, tucked it away, and took a step closer. “I would suggest you and your husband return to your room. As you have just seen, it is not precisely safe.”

Even as she flinched at the coldness of his words, she couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t had to think to come up with the name of the man who had died. That he’d waited to lash out until he was alone, and even then exerted firm control of himself, refocusing on the problem at hand.

His parents ought to be proud. If they were around anymore, which given that he was the head of a clan …

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, because someone ought to at least remind the young man of that much.

For a moment, the visible side of his face looked far too old. Then he just looked angry.

“It is, however,” he said crisply, “my responsibility. Good day.”

With another gust of wind-but-not – and what did it say about her life, that she could now recognize when she was being pushed around by youkai? – Touko found herself standing well away from the building, hair in slight disarray, the door firmly shut.

… That could have gone better.

Chapter Text

“This is it?” Kaoru asked, bringing the car to a gentle halt not far from the gate to the Fujiwara house. She threw it into park at Takashi’s nod and leaned back. “Finally.”

They’d been in the car for most of the day, barring a short break for lunch; even as a passenger Takashi was more than ready to get out of the car for a while.

Though, looking at the silent house, part of him wondered if staying in the car forever would be so bad, if it meant not having to live this particular nightmare of his.

But the back door had already opened, Aoi stepping out of the car to stretch. His wings briefly unfurled into existence before just as quietly fading away.

The little fox tumbled out not long after, staring up at Aoi’s wings. After a quick glance at Takashi, Kai followed.

He put his hand on the door handle, but still couldn’t quite …

Cool fingers touched his right arm, and he looked over at a, for once, solemn Kaoru. “You’ll be all right,” she said.

He smiled; hoped it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “I know.”

He would. And sitting here avoiding things wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“I remember this house,” the little fox said, staring up at the nameplate on one of the gateposts. “It was a nice place. Everyone was as kind as you, Natsume.”

“Yes,” he said. The little fox looked up at him, and he let a hand fall to his side, to be quickly grasped by his friend’s much smaller one. “They were.”

Kai, Aoi, and Kaoru following quietly behind, he approached the door. Unlocked. He slid it open.

The entrance hall sat quiet and dark, the house behind it echoingly empty. Takashi toed off the geta he’d borrowed from Aoi’s shrine – Aoi had had a spare pair of shoes, but Takashi’s feet were too large for them; the geta had been better than nothing – and retrieved guest slippers for everyone else.

The motions were soothing. Familiar. Normal. He could almost pretend that Touko-san was just out shopping; that Shigeru-san would be home later in the evening, tired but content.

“I’ll just be a couple of minutes,” he said, starting down the hall. “If you want, you four can wait in the kitchen? It’s right –”

He stopped and stared.

Surrounded by what looked suspiciously like cleaned-out dishes of leftovers and at least one bottle of sake, Sensei sat curled up in the middle of the kitchen table, sleeping quietly.

He was just sleeping, right?

Takashi crossed the kitchen; his hand hovered over Sensei’s head as he watched him breathe, when Aoi said, “Master Nyanko! It’s good to see him well.”

Sensei’s eyes snapped open.

“What the hell took you so long, idiot?!”

After clearing the table of the remains of Sensei’s meals, the six of them settled in the kitchen, Takashi nursing a sore chin and Sensei a sore head.

He didn’t know why Sensei was grumbling; he should know better than to surprise him like that by now.

As he started water heating for tea – it didn’t seem quite right, to sit in Touko-san’s kitchen and not offer any – the others regaled Sensei with an abbreviated version of the parts of his adventures they knew about.

Which, unfortunately, were most of them.

“What sort of idiot lets himself get kidnapped?!”

“The sort of idiot whose bodyguard stayed home,” Takashi shot back. “Because of some sort of terribly important business involving sake, if I recall correctly.”

“He really is your bodyguard?” Kaoru asked. “When Aoi-chan told me about Master Nyanko, I was expecting someone ... bigger.”

“Excuse me?!” Sensei spluttered.

“It’s really cool that I can understand when you talk, though,” she said earnestly.

“Are you condescending to me, paltry human?! I will –”

“Do nothing, or I will put you back on a diet.” Takashi glared at Sensei as he started placing cups in front of everyone. He turned his attention to Kaoru. “This is a borrowed form; his real form is a great deal more intimidating. For what it’s worth.”

He sat down, attention back on Sensei. “More to the point, what happened here?” What happened to Touko-san and Shigeru-san, he wanted to ask. Couldn’t quite make himself.

“Like I know,” Sensei said. “After that Matoba brat’s shiki snuck up on me –”

“Doesn’t that mean that you were kidnapped, too?” Kai asked.

“How was I to know he’d be there? Normally crazy stuff only happens when this idiot is around.”

“Why was Matoba-san here?” Takashi asked. “Did he have something else he wanted my help with?” If so, surely he was too busy to deal with it now, with everything else that had been going on.

That was one visit he wasn’t sorry to have missed.

“For you, obviously.” Sensei rolled his eyes so hard it looked like he was about to strain something. “He showed up quickly enough that I’d guess you were one of his first stops after everything went down. Or, since he couldn’t find you, for insurance.”

“Insurance?” Takashi asked. He leaned forward, suddenly, barely restraining himself from grabbing his companion. “Touko-san and Shigeru-san. They’re alive?!”

It seemed too good to believe. And yet.

“What, you thought they were dead?” Sensei asked. “Nah. That Matoba brat seemed to be taking pretty good care of them, from what I saw before I got the hell out of there.”

“They’re with Matoba-san?” Takashi asked.

Of course they were.

Knowing that they were at least alive was – far more than he could have hoped for.

But given that, of course they would currently be in the hands of one of the people Takashi currently least wanted to see.

“Matoba – of that exorcist family?” Aoi asked, eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me he’s one of your friends, too, Natsume.”

“Yeah, the one with the eyesore of an eyepatch. The head of the clan or whatever,” Sensei said.

Takashi resisted the urge to respond with immediate and forceful denial. “I … we’ve worked together, briefly, in the past,” he admitted grudgingly. “But I don’t think we’ll ever be friends.”

Sometimes the gap was just too wide.

“Hmm.” Aoi looked thoughtful for a moment, but all he ended up saying was, “Let us hope that your friend Natori is more reasonable.”

“Is Natori-san all right?” Takashi asked Sensei. “I guess you probably wouldn’t know, but …”

“Yeah, he’s fine. He sent that irritating black-haired shiki of his here looking for the Fujiwaras.”

“Urihime?”

“Like I can be bothered to remember their names.”

Takashi sighed and let it be. “And he’s really doing all right? He’s not in danger?” Or at least, no more than anyone else.

“It’s not like we sat around and had a long leisurely chat over tea,” Sensei said. “Stop worrying so much. If anything tried to attack him, he’d probably annoy it to death.”

“He’s not that bad, Sensei.” Usually.

“Weren’t you planning on calling him?” Kaoru said, still eyeing Sensei with fascination. She hadn’t tried to tackle-hug him yet, thankfully. One Taki was more than enough.

Taki.

“You haven’t heard from anyone else, have you?” He asked. “Taki, or Tanuma … or Hinoe and Misuzu and the mid-levels and everyone?”

Sensei yawned, pushing an empty casserole out of the way and settling even flatter against the table. “I haven’t seen anyone but that sparkly brat’s shiki. Those guys probably ran off into the forest or something.”

“You didn’t go looking?”

Sensei eyed him disdainfully. “The forest,” he said, “doesn’t have leftover casserole.”

Given the array of dishes that had been on the table when they'd arrived, Takashi wasn’t sure this house did anymore, either.

“He’s probably right,” Aoi said. “Our shrine is nearer to town, but we have seen many passing us on their way to the deeper mountains.”

“There were a lot of newcomers on my mountain, too,” Kai said. “I’m sure your other friends are fine, Natsume.”

Takashi made an effort to smile, at Kai especially. “Thanks. I’m sure you’re right.”

Maybe he’d go looking for them, once he’d found Natori-san.

(Once he had Touko-san and Shigeru-san back. He still couldn’t quite believe …)

Or maybe they’d find him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But for now …

Takashi stood. “I’ll go get Natori-san’s phone number.”

Climbing the stairs, walking down the hallway, taking that first step into his room: all were far more difficult than they had any right to be. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been home – here – alone. And he even knew, now, that this was just a temporary loss.

Natori-san will help me find Touko-san and Shigeru-san and get them back, won’t he? After all, he said that he wanted to help me out sometimes, too, and he doesn’t seem to like Matoba-san much.

He might be too busy, though. Who knows what he’s had to deal with, this past week?

Takashi shook his head and stubbornly attempted to avoid thinking as he dug through the stacks of paper on and beside his desk, searching for Natori-san’s note.

… He sent Urihime here. He wasn’t too busy for that.

He finally found the note wedged between a couple of textbooks, the sight of Natori-san's handwriting oddly nostalgic.  Picking it up with careful fingers, he headed back towards his friends. 

"What does the blinking light mean?" he heard the little fox ask as he started down the stairs.

"That's a telephone," Kaoru explained. "The blinking light means that someone left a message."

"There are messages?" Takashi asked, rushing the rest of the way down. Touko-san rarely let answering machine messages sit for long. "Those must be new."

"Maybe someone was trying to call you," Kaoru said. She pressed a button on the machine. Takashi rejoined everyone else, Aoi shifting sideways to make room for him, as the machine began to speak in its mechanical voice. Three messages.

The first message was from a woman whose voice and name sounded vaguely familiar; Takashi thought Touko-san might have had her over for afternoon tea on Sunday a few times. Her voice sounded confused; the time stamp on the message was less than an hour after Takashi had been kidnapped. As the closest person to the phone who could write human script, Kaoru scribbled down the woman's name and phone number.

The machine fell briefly silent, and Takashi found himself holding his breath.

Another message, from that same woman, later that day, sounding considerably more stressed. She mentioned coming by the house and not seeing anyone; not seeing anyone in general, and Takashi flinched in sympathetic, retroactive fear. He hoped she had not continued going out, risking herself against an enemy she wouldn't have realized existed and wouldn't have been able to see coming.

Another brief pause.

Date and time: fairly late in the evening, the day after the world had gone wrong.

“This is Natori Shuuichi,” the answering machine said, the words distorted and strange and so tired that it made Takashi want to find someplace to hide, but still recognizably Natori-san’s. “If you get this message, please ca –”

Silence.

“What happened?” Kai asked, leaning closer. “It just stopped talking.”

"It looks like it turned off," Kaoru said, poking at the power button. "Did it break?"

Plenty of light still streamed through the window, but Takashi stepped back to flip on the overhead light just in case it would help.

Nothing happened.

"Help me pull this out," Kaoru told Aoi, lifting one side of the small desk that the phone sat on. "Maybe the plug fell out."

Takashi flipped the light switch several more times. Still nothing.

"I think -"

Kaoru, who had just started talking again, stopped, and Takashi found himself once again the focus of everyone's eyes. "I think the power died."

“Seriously?!”

He shrugged helplessly. “Maybe the light burnt out, but Shigeru-san doesn’t usually let that sort of thing go unfixed for long.”

Kaoru stalked past him, back to the kitchen where she flipped the switch several times there as well, starting at it like it had mortally offended her. "When will it come back on?"

"... Will it?" Takashi asked.

"It's been a week, why would it just run out now?"

"How does electricity work?" Aoi asked, looking from one to the other.

“Um.” Takashi looked at Kaoru. She was a year ahead of him in school, she probably knew better, right? “It’s a bunch of tiny particles that … move through wires?”

“Where do those particles come from? How do they know where to go? ”

“Um.”

“A difference in voltage causes charged particles - I think usually electrons? - to be attracted down the wire,” Kaoru explained. Takashi suspected his face looked as blank as the rest of their group’s. "Batteries, for example, are portable sources of voltage difference, so if you connect a wire to both terminals -"

She seemed to finally recognize just how blank everyone else looked, and broke off the explanation. “Anyway. I don't really know much about real electricity.  I mean, it's generated in power stations and transferred over power lines, but I don’t know how or where it’s stored or why it would just stop. After a week.” She crossed her arms and frowned. “I guess you’re right, though. If the power station stopped working or something like that, it’s probably not going to just start again unless someone makes it.”

She sighed. “So I guess that means no power. I don’t suppose you have a cell phone?”

Takashi shook his head. “I’d have used it by now, if I did,” he said dryly.

“Heh, fair enough. I don’t either, for the record.”

“Cell phones run on batteries, so they’d be unaffected?” Aoi said, eyes narrowed, clearly thinking.

“Right. Though I guess the cell towers themselves probably run off electricity, so it might not work anyway –“ Kaoru shook her head again. “Sorry. Just. What do we do now?”

Takashi closed his eyes. At least he’d gotten to hear Natori-san’s voice, if briefly. At least he knew he had survived.

But unless he wanted to wait and see if Urihime came back …

Besides, Touko-san and Shigeru-san –

He looked towards Aoi. “I know you came along to talk with Natori-san, but …”

He really was selfish, wasn’t he? Even though he knew that they were probably safer with Matoba-san than they would be with him …

Aoi met his eyes for a long moment. “You don’t have another way of contacting your exorcist friend?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I doubt we’d have traveled here if you’d known of a faster way.”

Takashi nodded. “Wait – Sensei, did Urihime say anything to you?”

“What, like where the brat’s living now?” He sauntered past Takashi and scrabbled his way onto the table, knocking the phone off in the process. Takashi flinched, but the little fox jumped in and grabbed it before it could hit the ground. “She said something about him being back at the main house.”

“Where is that?”

“Like I know?” He yawned. “Why would I care about what a handful of humans are doing?”

Takashi considered responding; sighed instead. It was no use, arguing with Sensei in this sort of mood.  "Then no, I don't," he told Aoi.  "I might be able to find his apartment again, but since he's not there ..."

“And you don’t know any other exorcists?” Aoi asked.

Takashi shook his head. “I’ve met a couple others, but I don’t know anyone well.”

He suddenly thought of Takuma-san and Tsukiko-san. Had they survived? Were they safe now?

He wondered if he’d ever find out.

“… This exorcist, Matoba. Can you trust him?”

"To do what?" Takashi asked, his tone far more bitter than he had meant it to be, remembering an arrow striking Sensei that he still didn't believe had been an accident.

"You can trust him to have his own plans. You can trust him to attempt to use you in those plans. You can trust him not to care about the wellbeing of anyone who does not factor into his goals."

"And if he does want something from you?"

Your relatives would be very worried about you, wouldn't they?

"He finds a way to convince you to do what he wants."

"So you think he took your family under his wing not for their protection, but simply as a way to have leverage over you?"

"After he found out from Touko-san that I was out of reach ..." Takashi shook his head. "I don't know, I mean, there's no way he could have known I was still alive, right? And he does claim to want to protect normal humans from, well ..."

"Us?" Aoi asked dryly, saving Takashi from having to finish the sentence. "And presumably the kokuei now, too."

Without waiting for a reply, Aoi sighed and crossed his arms, looking at Takashi again. “And yet you still want to go. To the home of someone you don’t trust, into something that may be a trap.”

Several years ago, Takashi thought he’d probably have just given up, too uncertain of what he saw and thought to be willing to stand up for himself. Even now, something in him quailed, those old instincts to hide, to not make waves, to create as small a footprint in others’ lives as he could, to not be a bother, fought for control.

But he made himself meet Aoi's gaze anyway. Because some things really were that important. "I can't not," he said. "I understand if you don't want to come with me, and I really appreciate your help so far. I – there's a former exorcist I met once, I might be able to give you directions so you could see if he survived, and then Kaoru-san could –”

Takashi stopped as Aoi rolled his eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. “I’m not going to abandon you, sheesh.”

“But your plans –”

The crow youkai shrugged. “This Matoba’s still an exorcist, isn’t he? And if he’s as powerful as rumor paints him, he might be an even better ally. If we can convince him to listen.”

“I can’t promise –”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Anyone has a problem with Aoi-chan, they can take it up with me,” Kaoru said, crossing her arms. “This Matoba guy wants to protect normal humans, right? How’ll he be able to do that if he doesn’t know how?”

“Assuming he doesn’t,” Aoi said mildly, smiling at Kaoru with a fondness that shone.

Takashi looked at the other three members of their group. “I – maybe you should –”

He wanted to keep them with him, now that he’d found them again. But to ask them to keep going along with his selfishness ...

“I’m coming with Natsume,” the little fox said, latching onto his hand again and glaring upwards, clearly offended that Takashi had ever thought his answer might be anything else.

“As am I,” Kai agreed. He glanced towards Aoi. “If Matoba wishes to cause trouble for any of us – or for your family, Natsume – he will have to go through me, too.”

Aoi inclined his head in clear acknowledgement.

Sensei sat on the small table and yawned again.

“Touko-san won’t be able to make any more fried shrimp if she’s still being held by Matoba-san,” Takashi blurted, not entirely sure where the words had even come from. They were the sort of thing he’d say to convince Sensei of something normally, yes, but Sensei had to know that there was no way he could back up his promise. Where would they even get shrimp, anymore? And with the power out, even if there was any in the freezer, it would have gone bad long before they got back.

But Sensei perked up. “Well, why didn’t you say so before? I need to pay that brat back for kidnapping someone as noble as myself, anyway.”

Takashi smiled.

“Great! I’ll drive,” Kaoru said. “… Where are we going, again?”

“I don’t know the human name for it,” Sensei said, and gave the group a clear once-over before shooting Takashi a disgruntled look. “All of them?”

“Please,” Takashi said. “If it’s not too much?”

“Nothing’s too much for my noble self!” Sensei puffed up in indignation at the very thought. “… I'd better get a lot of fried shrimp for this.”

“As much as we can get,” Takashi said. “I’ll even give you my portion.”

“And everything Nanatsujiya has left.”

“… What’s happening?” Kaoru asked Aoi in a low voice.

“I believe he is offering to transport us there himself,” Aoi replied. “We thank you, Master Nyanko.”

Sensei’s look at Takashi said clearly, See, some people know how to address me properly.

“… I’ll see what I can do, Sensei.”

“But how will we all fit?” Kaoru asked, again in an undertone.

“Are you doubting my noble self?!”

“There shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll see,” Aoi said. And winced, at his unwise choice of words.

Takashi frowned. Would Kaoru be able to see? And if she couldn’t, would she be able to feel Sensei’s fur well enough to hold on? So many times, he’d seen normal people simply walk through youkai, never noticing a thing. Or avoid them, with no explanation or apparent recognition of what they’d done, their brains somehow incapable of processing the youkai’s presence.

Different wavelengths, Sensei had said once. What if, despite matching well enough with Aoi’s to be able to see him, she was sufficiently mismatched from Sensei that her hand would just slip away?

From the thoughtful look on her face, she seemed to be wondering the same thing. “Are you sure that will work?”

“If you can’t hold Master Nyanko, you can hold me instead,” Aoi said, that soft look back on his face.

“Anyway, come on! The fried shrimp awaits!” Sensei said, and bounded towards the door.

Following his self-described bodyguard and his friends out the door, Takashi tried not to worry too much about what came ahead, or dwell too much on how quiet and dark the house seemed.

They’d figure something out somehow. Even Matoba would be reluctant to mess with Aoi and Kai, he thought. Hoped.

If he was wrong …

Kaoru-san won’t be the only one he has to face.

“Excuse me?”

Shuuichi looked up from the scroll he’d been skimming. After a moment’s hesitation, he added it to the discard pile instead of just putting it down; there’d been some interesting information in there, but nothing even tangentially related to those creatures, and he doubted the second half would be any different. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Er. Yes. I heard you were the person to talk to if there was something … strange going on?” The man at the door said, clearly having a hard time dragging his attention away from the shelves of books and scrolls and other things that lined the storehouse. He looked about ten years older than Shuuichi, with neatly trimmed black hair and unfashionably round glasses. Another of his father’s associates, he thought, but couldn’t quite recall the man’s name.

Sekihara-san and Takuma-san had looked up, too, he noticed. Shuuichi waved them back to the work as he stood. “I am indeed.” He ushered the other man out of the storeroom. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m not sure exactly, it might just be my imagination,” the man said. “But Tanaka-san, who’s staying in the room next to mine, mentioned he had started hearing something similar, so I thought …”

Shuuichi suppressed the urge to ask him to get to the point. He knew from experience that doing so rarely ever worked; most people who came to an exorcist were already uncomfortable enough.

The light breeze, pleasant on this borderline-too-warm day, suddenly kicked up as a handful of small grey-green youkai dashed passed, a small wind spirit in hot pursuit. All of them were laughing, so it didn’t appear that intervention would be necessary.

“Was that –” the other man asked, even tenser than before.  It had been an uncommonly strong gust.

“A handful of small youkai,” Shuuichi said. “Nothing to be concerned about. You were saying?”

He remembered thinking how crowded the place had seemed a couple of days ago; it seemed doubly so now that the youkai had started appearing everywhere, too. Thankfully, neither normal humans nor most youkai seemed inclined to brave the storerooms most of the time. Even if their need for information hadn't been so great, he’d probably have joined the research team for that relative peace and quiet alone.

“Well, I thought I heard knocking sounds late at night two nights ago, but it is a pretty old place, so.” Shuuichi nodded his understanding. A handful of people had come to him and Sekihara-san after that first night with reports of strange noises and sights. If any of them had been caused by youkai, they’d unfortunately had the sense to clear out well before Shuuichi got there.

The previous day had been quiet, and Shuuichi had begun to hope that the youkai really did know better than to push their luck.

“Then yesterday, I kept misplacing things. I mean, maybe I just put them down somewhere and forgot? But then I’d find them in places I’d be willing to swear I’d never have thought to put them.” The man sounded frustrated. “Then last night, I kept hearing that knocking sound again, except louder. I’d get up and go to the door, and it would stop, but by the time I went back to bed again …”

Shuuichi nodded. “And you said that … Tanaka-san heard the knocking, too?”

The other man nodded. “I asked him if he was missing anything, and he didn’t think he was, so maybe I really did just forget …”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” Shuuichi said, and smiled reassuringly. “You did the right thing, coming and talking to me.”

The other man smiled uncertainly back.

Luck was, for once, with him. When they reached the other man’s rooms, the mischievous youkai in question – about half his size and mostly humanoid – was holding a picture frame and laughing to itself as it prepared to hide it under the futon. Shuuichi didn’t even bother with any special techniques; he just walked over and grabbed the youkai by the back of its yukata, picking it up and ignoring its squawks.

“I’ll take care of this for you,” he said, before picking the picture up – the man, looking several years younger, surrounded by several other people his age in a karaoke room barely large enough to fit them all – and holding it out. “You’ll probably want to put this back.”

The man squinted at the – to him – empty air beneath Shuuichi’s other outstretched hand. “So it really was …?”

“Yes. Let me know if you have any more trouble.”

“Sure,” the other man said. “And … thanks.”

“None are necessary.” It was, in some ways, his fault, after all.

“You can’t do this!” The youkai started squalling, as they exited the building and Shuuichi looked around, trying to figure out what to do next. It was mostly harmless; hardly worth the effort of exorcising. But an example of some kind needed to be set. “Momiji-sama will hear about this!”

“And what will she hear of?” A familiar hollow feminine voice asked, as the youkai herself approached. Perhaps out on another of her walks, which she claimed were to help her familiarize herself with the area; Shuuichi had run into her in passing several times the previous day. She inclined her head. “Exorcist.”

He returned the gesture and, after a hard look at the mischievous youkai, set it down. His arm had been getting a bit tired, for all that it didn’t weigh nearly as much as it looked like it should. “I caught this one in a human’s room, messing with his belongings. It may also be responsible for making noise these last two nights, disturbing their sleep.”

“I see.” She bent her long neck to peer at the other youkai. “And?”

It laughed. “That guy’s face, when he kept losing his stuff –” Shuuichi swore he could feel the temperature drop. Certainly the other youkai felt something, too. “Aw, come on, it was just a bit of harmless fun –” And colder still.

“Leave.” The nearby trees rustled more loudly. Possibly coincidentally.

“But, Momiji-sama –”

“BEGONE!”

Shuuichi watched the cowed youkai flee. “Was that not a bit harsh?”

“Exorcist. Do not think me a fool who does not recognize on how thin a thread our agreement rests.”

He inclined his head, acknowledging her point.

Natsume, he thought, would have protested further.

He wasn’t Natsume.

“Natori-san?”

He turned. The other man stood at the door to the building he’d just left. “The lights just went out. Do you think …?”

Shuuichi glanced towards Momiji, raising an eyebrow.

“I suspect you will find that that is no doing of ours.”

Unfortunately, she was right.

Dinner was rushed, cold, and noisy. Shuuichi let most of the discussion of next steps flow past him. There wasn’t a whole lot of new content there; only the urgency had changed.

Luckily, the storehouses could be sufficiently lit with natural light during the day, and this time of year, days were long. Their investigations shouldn’t be too badly affected, as long as they weren’t pulled off onto one of the other projects being planned.

The sun set with slow inevitability, and people started moving inside. He smiled briefly as he heard – someone’s college-aged son, he thought? – complaining that he hadn’t gone to bed this early since elementary school.

Yet as sunset slid to dusk and then neared full dark, small lights began to pop up, here and there: kitsunebi, glowing in merry shades of blue. Shuuichi watched them closely, but they did not appear to be attempting to distract or lure anyone away. They simply floated in a slightly ragged line along the edge of the courtyard, providing – not enough light to read by, perhaps. But enough to navigate by.

This might just work out, after all.

“Heh.” Shuuichi jumped. How had his father approached so close without his noticing? “I guess those youkai of yours are good for something occasionally.”

They’re not mine, he could have said. Or Some of them are good for a great deal more than a handful of pretty lights.

Or Why couldn’t you have realized that twenty-four years ago?

But that was an argument Shuuichi had tired of years ago. So he just made a noncommittal noise and looked upwards.

The stars would be bright, tonight.

Chapter Text

One arm firmly wrapped behind her companion’s neck, Isuzu Saori fought to keep her hair out of her eyes with her other hand, peering downward as they approached their destination.

They appeared to have passed the bulk of the town; quiet houses and darkened shop fronts for the most part giving way to fields, some clearly left untended for far longer than the previous week. Ahead, small stands of trees began to give way to the forest that was their goal.

She’d seen no sign of movement, human or otherwise, on their way in.

Disappointing, but not unexpected. This would likely be a short trip.

Kichou swooped downward – her arm tightened – and hovered above the road just long enough to satisfy them both as to its safety. He set her down and she turned to watch as his broad wings – the same brown-speckled yellow as the butterfly from which he derived his name – folded away, leaching color into the simple yukata he wore. With his wings gone, only the chalk-white of his skin and his antennae kept him from looking completely human.

That and the fact that other humans couldn’t see him, of course.

“Thank you again for bringing me here,” she said.

“It was my pleasure.”

She turned towards the stairs that ought to lead to their destination, quickly redoing the ponytail that had become hopelessly tangled during their long flight. The Natori clan head’s directions had been surprisingly good for someone who claimed never to have visited the place.

She started the climb, Kichou’s quiet steps behind her nagging like an old injury flaring up on a rainy night. It had been … a long time.

Flashes of movement occasionally drew her eye to the forest now surrounding them. Youkai, no doubt, though it surprised her to see so many. Back in the village, they’d mostly disappeared back into the deep forest and mountains.

“Exorcist”, she thought she heard, in the quietest of whispers. “Careful. Exorcist.”

I’m not! she wanted to scream, Not anymore! Never again!

Never again.

Yet as a human who could see, as someone with all her training, coming as she was at the behest of an exorcist, was there truly any difference?

Natori is not Matoba.

She did not know him well, but that much she thought she could depend on. He was no friend of Matoba, though he did not despise the man as deeply as she did. She wondered sometimes if anyone could, when the bitterness clutched at her throat until she feared she’d choke on it. Then sometimes it would ebb away until she felt almost normal, almost like before.

But after ‘before’ had come ‘after’.

No, Natori was not like Matoba. He’d left her the space to grieve, this past year; to recover, to slowly begin relearning how to live. When the world had fallen down around them all, he’d sent Sasago not with demands, but simply to find out whether she and those near her were well.

And even this – this almost pathetically simple task had been phrased as a request, not a command.

Simply: I have friends in Yowake. Would you go to them? Talk to them? Teach them? Learn from them, whatever they have to teach, and take it back home to share with your people?

A part of her had seriously considered denying him, simply to see what sort of steel his velvet glove masked. But in the end, curiosity had won.

She paused, a step above Kichou, leaving them about the same height. “You should go.”

She didn’t know him well; had not even known of his existence until four days ago, when he had emerged from the forest with a request for aid. They were companions in adversity, nothing more.

But she would not allow a youkai in her care to come to harm.

Never again.

His antennae twitched, though his facial expression remained calm. “I believe I shall stay.”

“You don’t know what we might encounter –”

“Nor do you.” He raised an eyebrow pale enough to be almost invisible. “Am I your shiki, to obey your every command?”

“No.”

“Then allow me to know my own path.”

Her glare met his determined stare; there was no knowing how much longer they might have continued standing there had a polite cough not drawn both their attention.

“Hello,” said a young man with shaggy black hair and thin-rimmed glasses, once he had their attention. “If you’re looking for Yatsuhara Temple, it’s just up these stairs.”

The young man’s eyes appeared to be flicking between Saori and Kichou, who’d stepped to the side to get a better view of him. Could this be the Tanuma-kun who Natori had mentioned? He appeared to mostly fit the description. The glasses were new, but if he was truly as weak as Natori had implied, not entirely unexpected.

“We are,” Saori said, placing only the slightest of emphasis on the first word to see how the boy would react. As far as she could tell, he didn’t.

“Then you are both welcome,” he said with a smile that did a terrible job of hiding the tense set to his shoulders. She wondered why. Perhaps he just had a nervous personality. “Please, come with me.”

“I am curious how you learned of our approach,” Kichou observed idly, as they followed the boy up the stairs. “Unless we are keeping you from some errand?”

“A few of the youkai in this area let u – me know that they’d spotted strangers, so I came down to take a look,” he said, demonstrating he could apparently hear as well as see. “It’s not … precisely safe, off purified ground, anymore. … As I’m sure you have already discovered.”

“I hear it is you we have to thank for the knowledge that purified grounds mean safety,” Saori said. The boy’s steps faltered. “You are Tanuma-kun, correct?”

He stopped, turning to look back at them. “Yes, that’s me. Sorry, did I not introduce myself?” His apparent embarrassment seemed sincere. “And I wouldn’t say … I mean, really it was my dad who …” He paused, eyes widening. “How did you know that? Did Natori-san send you?”

“I have come for my own sake,” Saori said pointedly. She was no lackey. “But I am acquainted with Natori-san, yes.”

“So you are an exorcist, too?” Tanuma-kun asked. “I – we have so many questions, especially now. We lost power earlier this afternoon.” He shot her an uncertain-looking smile. “If you’re still here, you’re welcome to join us for supper, but it might be cold.” Another quick glance towards Kichou. “If you, um, eat human food, you’re welcome to join us too?”

“I appreciate the thought, but it is unnecessary,” Kichou said.

“Let’s see what the evening brings,” Saori said. Although even cold food, prepared properly, would have little difficulty competing against the crackers and dried fruit that were all she’d brought. “Your power is out? Have you checked the breakers?”

Tanuma-kun shook his head. “We tried that. You flew in, right? We’re guessing it’s out all over town, now, but we haven’t checked yet.”

“I don’t remember seeing any lights on,” Saori admitted. She checked the cellphone she’d borrowed off Kimiko, a girl who’d been home from college visiting her sick mother who lived in town, and who’d suggested she bring it along just in case. Out of range.

“We think the entire region probably lost power at about the same time,” Tanuma-kun offered. “And, well, cell towers run on electricity too, I guess. That’s why –” he hesitated. “Never mind. It can wait.”

Saori raised a questioning eyebrow, but Tanuma-kun had already turned to continue up the steps.

The stairs led to a broad open space, grassy in spots, packed dirt in others, with what looked like the main building of the temple right in front of them and the hints of several other buildings, further back, in its shadow. About what Saori would have expected; very similar in construction to any number of other temples she’d seen.

Less common was the sheer number of people: mostly adults and teenagers around Tanuma-kun’s age, some younger, a very few far older. If the entire remainder of the village she’d come from had gathered in one place, she thought it would look a bit like this.

A few of the smallest children kicked a ball back and forth across the packed dirt, shrieking happily. A couple of the adults seemed to be keeping an eye on them; most of the rest gathered in small groups, talking quietly. A few people stared at Saori and her companions – doubtless only seeing her and the boy – but not as many as she had expected.

A very familiar unevenness beneath her sandal; she reflexively lifted her foot and only belatedly remembered there was no circle here to accidentally ruin by scuffing the wrong lines at the wrong time.

Or was there?

Eyes narrowed, she turned her attention away from the human inhabitants of this place. There, another line, blurred but not entirely erased. Over there, an area of dirt too smooth compared to its surroundings to be anything but intentional.

And, quickly fading away under the feet of the children, a deeply etched symbol that had her struggling not to show the surprise on her face as she revised her estimation of the size of – whatever it had been – sharply upward.

She suddenly wondered if everyone was paying quite as little attention as she had thought.

And found herself very curious about what they had tried so hard to hide.

“Your town –” Tanuma-kun said. Were his words a hasty attempt at distraction? Was his tenseness due to more than discomfort at interacting with a stranger? “Will it be all right without you? Not that we don’t appreciate you coming! But if it’s at the expense of others …”

“I would not have left them unprotected,” Saori said. Perhaps, then, in her grief and rage – but she was better now. “A handful of lower-level exorcists from former Natori subsidiary clans live in the area; the survivors are safe in their hands.”

“That’s good,” he said. “… What’s a subsidiary clan?”

He truly knew so little about their world.

Saori summarized the relationship as they rounded the far side of the main building, Tanuma-kun hopping several lines dug clean and deep into the dirt with the slight awkwardness of a beginner.

The barest hint of power tickled across her skin as she followed. Chrysanthemum ward, fairly weak but quite stable. Why leave this up, when they’d made a point of hiding the other?

Behind the main building, a group of adults clustered around a broad, shallow hole in the ground that sat about halfway to a smaller satellite building. One looked up as they approached: a kind-looking bald man, wearing the black robe of a priest.

He smiled warmly. “I see you found our visitor.”

“Visitors,” Tanuma-kun corrected, to Saori’s surprise. Though perhaps she should have expected it – she doubted he’d drawn the ward around the main house in secret. Much less whatever the erased lines had been. “This is, um.”

“Isuzu Saori,” she said, and bowed. “My companion is called Kichou.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” the priest told her right shoulder. Incorrect, but not an unreasonable guess, given Tanuma-kun’s position to her left.

“She’s an exorcist,” Tanuma-kun added, “an acquaintance of Natori-san’s.”

“Ah, and how is that young man?”

“He seemed well, the last time we talked,” Saori said. She indicated the hole. “If you don’t mind my asking …”

“Trying to build a fire pit,” said a man with short black hair and an easygoing smile. “A few of us own grills, but no one’s really in the mood for another trip back to town at the moment.” Echoing Tanuma-kun’s earlier offer, he said, “You’re welcome to join us for dinner, though it may be … interesting.”

“I’d love to,” she said. Those lines had piqued her curiosity. And she supposed there was also Natori’s request to consider.

Tanuma-kun made a relieved sound. She glanced towards him and he flushed, but straightened and met her gaze. “Um. Feel free to say no, I’m not trying to make you feel obligated or anything. And I don’t even know if it will do any good. But. If there’s anything you can teach us. Will you? Please?”

“Us?”

“I want to learn, too.” Saori turned to face a girl with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair who looked around the same age as Tanuma-kun. “I can’t even see, but … if there’s something I can do, I want to know.”

“Probably several others, too,” Tanuma-kun said, looking vaguely apologetic. “People are interested.”

“Your talents truly are public, then?” Saori asked. That seemed the most likely explanation, though remembering her own high school years, she wasn’t sure even a situation this dire would have been enough to convince her to make that choice.