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It's a single curse – and two dangerously obsessed teens – which start the whole thing.
“So we're making this explanation fast,” Yuuko explains, walking backwards so the camera gets a shifting view of the hallway as she moves. Yuuko's died pink hair spirals in twin braids around her head, and her blush is thick and brightens her skin to a disturbing crayon-colored red. She comes to a halt and her friend, Mei, is shown nudging open a door with a suspicious hole under the handle. “ - Because I know some of you are going to be spoilsports and call the police. But this video is going to be great! We're in Natori Shuuichi's apartment, guys! We didn't want to risk getting interrupted or having our footage taken away, so you're all getting this live.”
The camera pans around to view an utterly immaculate room.
“...Wow, Natori Shuuichi sat on this couch,” Mei coos, draping herself over it.
“Uh, did he?” Yuuko wonders. “This place is pretty empty.” She opens the fridge; the camera-angle shows a single take-out box and four sizeable jars of jam, one half-empty. Yuuko opens a few cupboards and reveals a loaf of bread and some tea-packets. There's a single pot and pan beneath the sink.
There are also, weirdly, 20 canisters of salt. “Jeez,” Yuuko mutters. “Do you think he eats it straight?”
“Whatever!” Mei says. “He's very busy, of course; you remember that one interview said he worked over 90 hours the week they were shooting Rain in Matsuyama?” She clutches her hands to her chest.
“Right,” Yuuko agrees. “Anyway, I bet he has a special diet or something. Oh – look, there are some messages on the phone. Play them, Mei!”
Mei walks over and taps the phone.
“...Natori Shuuichi,” rasps a low voice, clearly overlaid with some sort of mechanical voice synthesizer. “Paper-wielder, head of your clan - I curse you. May all your endeavors turn to rot. May spirits find and haunt you. May hounds and watchful eyes dog your steps. May you suffer harm to your loved ones. May you - “
Mei pounds the 'pause' button with wide-eyes. She and Yuuko are silent for a minute.
“...Did someone send a curse to Natori Shuuichi?” Yuuko shrieks at last. “Over the phone?”
“Is that a thing that happens to celebrities,” Mei asks, also gawking. Her hand twitches, and after a moment she hits 'next'.
“Child of the paper-wielders,” hisses a different voice, distinctly female. “A thousand years of curses on your line. All your efforts shall be corrupted by your own hand, and - “
Mei slams the 'delete' button, halting the new diatribe. She yells at the phone, “Bitch!”
“...So this is super weird,” Yuuko says. “And I am going to have so much to say about people harassing poor Natori-chan!” She seems to see nothing hypocritical about defending the man while standing in his illegally-entered apartment. “But, I'm reading the comments for this video on my phone, and one of you jerks has already called the police. So let's check out the bedroom real quick, since I'm sure that's what everyone wants to see anyway...”
“Oh my god, yes,” says Mei, excited again. She jumps around Yuuko to a thin door and flings it open.
Yuuko comes up behind her.
“...That's not a bedroom,” says Mei faintly.
Dozens of sheets of paper lie grouped haphazardly on the floor. But the mess is obviously deliberate; a can of black paint stands in the corner, and a circle with strange symbols spiderwebs through the middle of the arrangement, painted neatly over individual sheets to connect into a single figure. Strings of paper dolls hang silently from the ceiling in looping, continuous arcs, and three empty jars with their own inscriptions rest near the wall alongside a stick covered in white tassels. Ofuda hang in the center of each wall.
“...We're sure this is Natori Shuuichi's place, right?” asks Mei finally.
And that's when the police arrive.
The video of two girls skulking through Natori's apartment goes viral within a day. Natsume feels nausea clenching at his gut as he watches it again and again. People have generally agreed that the first phone call, clearly stating Natori's name, confirms that the place is his. Other people say that the video a hoax, but the very public arrests of the two perpetrators contradicts this idea.
Natsume tries calling Natori himself, but he's not exactly surprised when it goes unanswered.
So he pretends not to care about celebrities and their lives when all his classmates gossip about the video. It will blow over, he thinks. People find out weird stuff about stars all the time.
No big deal.
Weeks pass and for awhile Natsume thinks this will be true. Natori hasn't been seen in public lately, according to the gossip-rags, but now people are starting to talk about some health minister who likes to dress up as a cat. It's really only the pop-magazines or Natori fan-sites which continue to speculate.
...Not that Natsume is familiar with those, of course. He's just been... researching.
Anyway, Natori Shuuichi has long been one of Japan's most darling celebrities. And with this recent fuss Natsume has gotten accustomed to seeing his friend's face splayed across televisions and magazines when he walks through town.
But this latest magazine cover – depicting Natori being strangled mid-air on a side-walk – sends a chill through him.
“Hey, I heard about that,” says Nishimura, following his gaze. He and Kitamoto step around Natsume, picking absently at their treats from the bakery as Natsume drops his own sata andagi and swoops to clutch Sensei to his chest. “Apparently some reporters were following him and he just went nuts in this forest. I guess he's known for practicing his acting in public? But then he just lifted up into the air and started getting flung around...”
The air didn't lift him up. Youkai don't show perfectly on pictures, but they're visible enough. A huge blue creature with one eye closes a three-fingered hand around Natori's throat while Hiiragi beats at its legs. Natsume swallows.
Next to him Kitamoto nudges Nishimura. “But there's probably an explanation for it,” the boy adds, in a warning tone. “We shouldn't judge people even if we can't understand why they're acting... like that.”
“What – Oh! Oh. Yeah. Not our business.” Nishimura peers at him. “...Hey, are you okay, Natsume?”
“What – yes! Um, I just remembered, I forgot something. At home. Homework.”
“But we don't have any - “
“And studying! I'll see you tomorrow.”
His friends look fondly indulgent. “Okay,” Nishimura agrees wryly. “Remember you're coming to my house tomorrow...”
Natsume waves one hand as he sprints away.
He avoids Touko-san and drops Sensei in his room, then retrieves a phone. The cat is settled comfortably on his futon when Natsume returns. “That Natori is going to be trouble,” Sensei predicts. “You should just stay clear of this, Natsume.”
“Natori-san is my friend,” Natsume says, dialing. “I have to know if he's okay.”
“Tch. You don't have to do anything.” He watches resignedly as Natsume lifts the phone. “You care too much. It's going to get you in trouble one day.”
It has – more than once – but Natsume shrugs. He listens as the phone rings... rings...
A small click.
“Natsume,” says Natori warmly. “You have no idea how nice it is to talk to someone who isn't a reporter.”
There are reporters outside Natsume's house.
Shigeru-san wakes him early and Natsume doesn't know what to think. He stares outside, aghast at the dozen reporters occasionally flashing cameras at the house. A few of them even have the stereotypical black microphones.
Shigeru says, “They're asking about your friend Natori-san.”
But Natori doesn't answer the phone this time. Shigeru joins them, and together with Sensei they crowd around a computer as Natsume runs a search for Natori's name – and his own.
“Oh my,” Touko-san gasps, and Shigeru puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.
There's another video.
And this time, Natsume is in it too.
The footage is a bit grainy, half-shrouded by leaves and foliage as it follows Natsume and Natori through a forest. They walk close, Nyanko-sensei meandering at their heels. Someone must have actually been stalking them.
"...Exacerbated because of the curse from those calls,” Natori is saying. “Being caught twice, after all these years – it's not a coincidence.”
“Will the curse wear off?” Natsume asks
“Eventually,” Natori responds. “Usually I just wear some protective sigils when I take my messages, but having it repeated on the internet like this, news stations... it's gained strength.” He sighs. “ - If I can find this youkai, he might be able to help take it off.”
“You shouldn't be talking to weird youkai when you're cursed,” Natsume reproves. His voice sounds scratchy and irritated on the screen.
But Natori only laughs. “You're one to talk!” he teases. “Hiiragi was telling me that you helped a dragon get home the other day?”
“What – no! It wasn't a dragon, just. A wyvern.” The last part is mumbled, and Natori laughs again. Natsume defends himself: “Anyway, if you'd just tell me the youkai's name - “
“Thank you, Natsume-kun,” Natori says. On video his look of affection is blatantly obvious, and he knocks shoulders with the teen at his side. “But I don't want you trying to help. It's dangerous. And not just because of the youkai – an old friend called and told me some exorcists are getting uneasy about all this attention.”
“You think they'll come after you?”
“Maybe. People have tried to kill me before, old enemies of my clan, so they'll just have even more motive now.” Natori stretches his arms behind his head, apparently unbothered. “But presumably my leg will get chopped off well before I die, so I probably have some time.”
“Don't joke about that,” Natsume huffs, pausing to tug Nyanko-sensei to his chest.
“I can keep safe. Don't you trust me, Natsume?”
“No.” Natsume turns to Hiiragi – to thin air, it would seem to anyone else. “But I trust you to watch over him. Anyway, Natori-san, other exorcists seem to do more damage than the youkai. If the Matobas...”
“I at least trust that Seiji-kun would tell me before demanding an execution! He likes his dramatics.” The actor grins and reaches out to lay a hand on Natsume's head. “Anyway, I've put up as many protective spells as I can, so please don't worry about it. Let's talk about something happier. How are things going in the forest...”
The clip ends.
Natsume doesn't know how to explain any of this.
But Touko-san puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezes, and just says, “Well. We're going to have to figure out how to get Takashi to school, Shigeru. Or, do you think they would mind if he skipped a day?” She presses a hand to her cheek.
“I think we should probably all skip,” Natsume sighs. “...I'm sorry, Touko-san.”
She levels a finger at him. “Oh, this isn't your fault, Takashi-kun! Anyway, this gives you more time to study for that test I know you have tomorrow.” She smiles at him, teasing.
And Natsume lets himself smile back.
He loves the Fujiwaras more fiercely than ever.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” says Natori sheepishly. Over his shoulder the reporters are going nuts; Touko-san opens the door wider and lets him in.
The door closes on Sasada and Hiiragi stalking around the media, vaguely threatening.
Touko-san guides Natori to a chair, bombarding the actor with questions to cut off his apologies: has he been alright? Where is he staying? Are the reporters following him, oh, if they're being trouble...
“I'm used to it,” Natori laughs, looking a bit more like himself. “But I'm sorry to bring this on Natsume...”
“It's not your fault these people are so curious,” Touko-san sighs.
Shigeru nods in agreement. “And, well, we know the two of you can't stop... seeing what you see.”
Natsume stiffens, eyes wide. It's the first time the Fujiwaras have alluded to knowing about his ability. But the full meaning of the moment is lost on Natori, who nods gravely. “Still,” he says, “I had hoped not to draw attention to Natsume... Other exorcists are interested in him, too.”
Touko-san sends Natsume a quick, worried look. But she keeps smiling and doesn't ask questions. “I'm sure you'll keep him safe,” she says, making Natsume flush furiously.
Even as Natori agrees that, yes, he will.
Of course he will.
Hinoe finally helps them break the curse. Natori is appropriately grateful, though a bit baffled at her obvious disgust with him. “Woman always like me,” he complains to Natsume, honestly taken aback, and Natsume laughs at him.
The reporters vanish after a day or two – the youkai around Yatsuhara have taken to crowding them and tugging at hats and sleeves, making them uncomfortable even though they don't understand the source of their own feelings. Natsume sits with Nyanko-Sensei and the Fujiwaras as they watch Natori's next interview go live.
“...It was really all just a misunderstanding,” says Natori, smiling charmingly. “The messages were just jokes from some co-stars of a little film I'm working on – although I'm afraid it's been canceled, of course. The room was just to help me practice my acting in an atmospheric space. I'm very into method-acting, you know.”
“But what about the conversation with that boy?” the interviewer asks.
“Oh, I wish people would stop hounding Natsume. He's a good friend, but he was really just helping me practice my lines...”
Natsume leans back, sighing.
Not everyone will buy it. But he knows, from experience, that most people prefer to believe pretty lies over the truth.
“Hey, Natsume,” says Nishimura the next day. His friends were a little sore that he hid his friendship with “NATORI Shuuichi, Natsume!!”, but forgave him almost immediately. “Have you seen the latest video about Natori-san?” He hands over a magazine.
On the cover Natori-san holds his hands in the air, half of Urihime's face visible on the side of the page. Across from him Matoba, clad in a traditional kimono, points an arrow straight at Natori's face.
Natsume covers his eyes and groans.