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❧
The late summer air is light and clean. There are traces of Ponta in it, but Tanuma doesn't sense any unknown youkai presences. He breathes the light, clean air in deeply, lets it out easily as he blinks his eyes open to the cloud wisps drifting lazily across the expanse of blue.
Untucking his hands from behind his head, he sits up and looks around towards the laughter that has drawn him out of his unintentional nap. It seems Sasada has finally succeeded in getting Nishimura to let Taki practice nail-painting on him. It's hard to say whether the color dusting Nishimura's cheeks is from embarrassment, too much sun, or the touch of Taki's hands; Kitamoto isn't disguising his amusement, but Tanuma covers his mouth as he smiles.
Then instead of light, clean air as he takes his next breath, he feels his heart in his mouth: Natsume isn't here.
Ponta is, though, sniffing at the remains of the lunch Taki and Sasada brought for everyone. Tanuma gets to his feet, turning to hide his expression from the others. As he does, the sparkle of sunlight playing across the surface of the pond on the other side of a low rise catches his eye. He looks over at the others but they're too involved in the nail-painting (and in Ponta's case, the food scavenging) to notice, so Tanuma pockets his hands instead of waving, and starts his search in that direction.
Summer air rushes into his lungs as his heart goes back to its place in his chest when he gets to the top:
Natsume is there, facing the water. The notebook he always carries is open beside him, pages rustling in a breeze that's doing its best but isn't strong enough to turn them.
Tanuma stands there a moment, uncertain whether to go down to the pond's edge too. Natsume hasn't noticed him yet, and it's possible he doesn't want any company.
"Hey," Natsume says, so softly that Tanuma thinks he must be talking to the pond or something in it, until Natsume glances over his shoulder and their eyes meet.
Taking that for an invitation, Tanuma goes down the slope and drops himself onto the grass next to Natsume. He looks into the water, the surface rippling with the breeze, and maybe with—"Is something here?"
"No." Natsume smiles, glances at him, then back at the water. "I was just thinking how nice it is, being around someone who doesn't find me creepy. Even when I do weird things."
The breeze is carrying diverse notes of laughter over the rise. Tanuma smiles. "Yeah."
As Natsume flips the book closed and starts to put it away, Tanuma says, "Is it all right," and then stops himself. When Natsume looks at him, Tanuma grins. "I was just going to ask about it." He nods towards the book in Natsume's hand. "How it works. I mean, I know each page has the name of an ayakashi your grandmother defeated, and I know you've been giving the names back..." He trails off, uncertain of his own question.
"Ah, well—they're." Natsume pauses; when he continues Tanuma isn't sure the words are what Natsume had been about to say, but that doesn't stop him from listening attentively. "Giving back their names is only right. They're their names, after all. Anyhow, it seems that doing so requires my grandmother's breath and saliva, and since I have some of her DNA, I'm able to do it." He flashes a grin.
"Saliva and breath. That's like a kiss, right?" Tanuma says—and immediately wishes he hadn't. He's going to play it off with a flashed grin of his own, and maybe say something light-hearted about how it's not like he's kissed anyone so how would he know, but his mouth is too slow; too much time has gone by to say anything now.
Natsume is looking at the water again, and Tanuma turns his gaze there too.
"Even though it's called the Book of Friends, the pages are actually contracts," Natsume says.
"Well," Tanuma says when Natsume doesn't continue, "if it's a book of friends, maybe I should write my name in there."
There's a pause after the breath Natsume takes, before he says, "There aren't any blank pages left."
"Ah." Tanuma nods. Despite his sense that Natsume isn't saying all the words on his tongue, the atmosphere feels easy to Tanuma. Whimsically inspired, he takes a pen he sees poking out of Natsume's bag, reaches across the space between them, and writes his name on Natsume's arm.
As Tanuma is hoping he would, Natsume laughs. He turns his arm so he can see the inked characters. "It will be a challenge to give your name back. With the Book of Friends, I tear the page out before returning the name. I don't think I want to lose a limb."
"That's fair," Tanuma says with a suitably mock-solemn expression and a nod to match.
He licks his thumb and goes to wipe off the characters, but Natsume slants sideways, out of reach. "I should have said before: whatever happens to the written name happens to the one the name belongs to. I don't want to see you wiped out of existence!" Natsume smiles as he sits up again, and Tanuma can't help smiling back.
"I guess you'll have to keep it, then."
"I guess I will." Natsume's smile flashes a little brighter before it fades as he tips his head to study his arm again. "But you know, it actually kind of looks like you've placed a mark on me, that I'm yours instead of the other way around.
"Oh. Well, then—" and spontaneously Tanuma holds out his arm before he can give himself time to think. Natsume grins, takes the pen from Tanuma's hand and writes his name on Tanuma's arm.
Tanuma drops his hand from where his fingers have been tracing the characters when Natsume says, "It's not a real contract, of course."
The playful breeze has wandered off without Tanuma noticing until now. The air feels heavy, as if absorbing unspoken words Natsume is expelling with each breath.
Tanuma lets the quiet go on awhile, then says, "You can tell me anything." He swallows. The still air has left the pond's surface glass-smooth, though there's movement in the water beneath it. "You don't have to, but I hope you know you can tell me anything."
Natsume nods. His jaw works, as if chewing words he doesn't know if he should swallow or spit out.
Tanuma returns his gaze to the water, to the shadowy fish which, unlike the ones at the temple, are dim but corporeal. "Don't force yourself," he says quietly.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Natsume nod again. Natsume takes a breath, but it doesn't come back out the sigh Tanuma was expecting. "There are things." Natsume breaks off, and this time a sigh does come. "There's something I want to tell you, someday. Not today, but someday." Tanuma turns to look at him; Natsume's gaze remains fixed on the pond. "I just don't want things to change."
Tanuma holds his breath, lets it out before he goes lightheaded. He looks at the water too. The sunlight is hitting it just right so that he can see Natsume's reflection, his own beside it. "Are you sure things would change?"
"Yeah. I don't know if they would be better or worse, or neither but just different. But..."
"But you're not ready to find out yet," Tanuma guesses.
Natsume confirms it with a nod.
"You don't have to force yourself to smile around me when you're not feeling it." Tanuma looks at the tight grin reflecting on the water's surface. "I like your smile, but I like you when you're not smiling too." His own words make him flinch. "Sorry. I—I'm getting better at talking to people, but I still sometimes..." His words fade out and, with a shake of his head, he lets them.
He glances over to see how Natsume is taking his latest fumble with words—and their eyes meet. Tanuma tries to smile, but Natsume's gaze snaps away. "Sorry," Tanuma says again. He looks away too, past the surface, deeper down where koi tails are propelling scaled bodies through the water. "Sorry for that weird thing I said."
"I like it." Natsume's words are soft but clear, and Tanuma feels his gaze pulled up to the surface again. Their eyes meet in their reflections. "I like being weird with you."
The warmth Tanuma feels as their reflections shimmer and the gaze breaks, the water's surface rippling as one of the koi—white and orange, Tanuma can't help noticing, not red like the ones Natsume described in the youkai pond at the temple—comes up and dares to dance in the summer air for a moment before splashing back down—
The warmth Tanuma feels now is not just from the sun.