Work Text:
The cold wind whistles in Natsume's ear, swaying his school jacket while he sits still. Aftershocks of the initial storm linger in the patter of fine water droplets; falling, clashing, splitting onto the roads and streets. The wooden bench is damp and mouldy around the edges, but he can't bring himself to move.
It's not his first time getting lost, but for some reason he feels like it is.
One moment, he was following the route from school the Fujiwaras told him to follow. The next, thunder bellows and lightning strikes. He stops, compromised and exposed. For the life of him, he can't remember where to go next and he starts to feel very, very small.
He looks around but can't recognise anyone, their faces dark and ominous like the clouds that loom overhead.
"Did he forget how to go home?" "Poor thing," "He's unstable, you know?"
The thunder claps again and he squirms. He has to find something, a station, a shop- anything for him to stop hearing that sound.
A bus stop? Does he even live near one? He hides under the shelter anyway. Bending forward, he forces his eyes shut and breathes shakily. Stupid child, his relatives chide, stop making things difficult.
This isn't difficult, is it? He's been here for almost a month already, most times he'd be asked to leave after a week. He should know how to go to the Fujiwaras' place like the back of his hand by now.
Children's laughter murmur at the back of his mind. They made fun of him as his childhood self squinting at street signs and then at his crumpled map. There's words but they all felt like another language. He can't read it. The children laughed harder. Their voices were high-pitched and vehement, like the incessant thunder roaring in the evening sky.
He crouches lower and covers himself with his jacket. With his luck, maybe a Yokai will find him and take him away, bury him in the massive woods of the Hitoyoshi forest. Fujiwaras can forget, the world can forget the existence of one Natsume Takashi: immobilised by rain, he went to school and never came back.
But the rain stops at some point, and the sun peeks from the horizon.
Someone pulls the jacket off his head, and Natsume stares into eyes coloured brown like the earth on his shoes.
"Takashi-kun?" Touko says softly.
The light delicately grazes the top of her hair, accentuating the wrinkles on the sides of her cheeks. Natsume becomes acutely aware of how much he's staring, at how concerned she looks at him and immediately takes his jacket back with a bow.
"T-Touko-san" he stands, scrambling to find the words, "sorry, I wasn't- you can-"
Touko doesn't say anything and sits down. Natsume sits back down, holding his jacket with wavering hands. A puff of white smoke escapes his lips as he exhales. Touko stares into the distance, her hair neatly tied into a bun. Bits of light poke through thick grey clouds.
He's uncertain how much or how little he's allowed to speak. He appreciates Touko not asking why he's here, but wonders if she already knows. Does this change the way the Fujiwaras see him? A teenager still afraid of thunder, he plucks at the yellow buttons of his jacket.
Touko lightly touches his shoulder, melting away the unspoken fear clasping its cold fingers around his neck, pulling him down. She has the smile of a mother who's reunited with her son.
"Would you like to come home with me?" Touko says gently.
The sun shines with Touko's warmth, extending over the clouds to reassure him that he's not unwanted. Just like that, the rest of the clouds recede from his view.
"Okay," is all he has to say.
It's not the first time he's been lost, but it's the first time he's been found.