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“Hey, Natsume! Wanna join me to a party this weekend?”
That was the first thing Natsume heard after he placed the phone against his ears. Touko had called him from his room, saying that a friend of his was on the phone. What the boy wasn’t expecting was for that friend to be Shibata, whom he hadn’t seen or heard from in quite a while.
“You see, I ran into some of our old classmates in town today,” the boisterous boy went on, not needing any prompting to further elaborate. “And I kinda mentioned you, and how we’re friends now and all, and they looked super curious! So they asked me if I could invite you to this small class reunion they were planning for a while—you know, to catch up.”
Natsume blinked. You know, to catch up, Shibata said so matter-of-factly, as if Natsume had ever done any “catching up” with any of his old classmates in the many schools he’d been transferred to during his flurry of a childhood. There were just too many people met yet so little connections made, and while not all his experiences were the same, it was just a difference between bad and worse. The elementary school he went to with Shibata, Natsume recalled, was also within that range, without exception.
His face scrunched up in discomfort, but only because he knew Shibata couldn’t actually see it. Regardless, he couldn’t help some of it seeping into his voice. “Shibata, I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t usually go to class reunions—”
“That’s what I thought you’d say, which is why I said you can think of it as tagging along with me to a party instead!” Even across the static of the phone lines, the smugness in Shibata’s voice was clear. Natsume could imagine him placing his hand on his hip as he continued, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you! And they really wanted to see you, so it’ll be a great time.”
Natsume found himself sighing—not an uncommon occurrence when dealing with his far-too-energetic friend. “That doesn’t really—”
“It’s this Saturday, alright? I’ll pick you up at the station at around eleven!”
“What? Shibata, wait—”
Natsume was interrupted mid-sentence by the sound of static beeping, leaving his open mouth to close into yet another sigh.
“Just ignore the brat,” Nyanko-sensei said later, when he made his way back to his room and conveyed the (rather one-sided) conversation to his bodyguard. The cat was lying on his side and dismissively waved his tiny paw. “He didn’t even wait to hear your answer, so it won’t be your fault if you don’t show up.”
“That’s true,” Natsume said, but his face was cast down in thought.
He thought back to how Shibata remembered him after all those years, and even though they went through quite the rough ‘reunion’, he still thanked him and apologized in the end. How Shibata reached out to him yet again after that—to meet, to, talk, to hang out, just like normal friends. How bad he felt when he dragged Natsume into more trouble, and how he insisted on sharing the burden.
Shibata was quite arguably the bluntest among his friends, topping even Nishimura, but Natsume was starting to be able to see his intentions beyond his rough words and pushy demeanor.
Natsume smiled softly and pet the cat on his head. “Sensei, I think Shibata was really happy when our old classmates showed interest in me, and just wants me to have better memories of my past. So… I’ll give it a shot.”
The cat meowed under his hand but still let out an exasperated huff.
That Saturday, Shibata was indeed waiting for him at the station by eleven in the morning. When he saw Natsume get off the train, he grinned widely and waved his hand in the air as if he hadn’t essentially forced him into this outing. Regardless, since he had ended up agreeing to it, Natsume just gave him a sheepish smile and a small wave in return.
“Man, I knew you’d come!” Shibata said as he slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling him toward the exit.
The energetic boy spent their short walk through the town talking to Natsume about how he ran into their former classmates a few days ago and what they talked about at the time, which included, of course, Natsume himself. Oh, but I didn’t tell them about youkai and stuff, of course, he reassured him before moving to his next point, which was briefing Natsume about the reunion and their plans for the entire afternoon. Apparently, their former class president, Ishida, had reserved his family’s restaurant for the reunion, and there was also going to be an after-party at a karaoke place nearby. (Thankfully, Shibata didn’t seem to have any intentions of forcing Natsume into that one.)
With Shibata occupying a good majority of the conversation by himself, the walk went by in a flash. The sukiyaki place soon came into view—a nice, humble restaurant just a few blocks away from the city’s bustling shopping street. In the front, a young man with short black hair and glasses spotted them and waved pleasantly.
“Shibata!” He greeted with a calm smile, before his eyes shifted toward the boy beside him. “And… Natsume, right?”
Natsume returned the polite smile with one of his own. “Hello… Um, Ishida-kun?”
The young man, Ishida, nodded in acknowledgement. “Just Ishida is fine. I hope you’ve been doing well,” he said, before adding with a raised eyebrow directed toward their mutual friend, “And I also hope Shibata didn’t just forcibly rope you into this.”
At that, Natsume laughed lightly, not noticing the way Ishida’s eyes sparked in surprise at the sound. “He totally didn’t,” he said, not an ounce of truth in his voice.
Beside them, Shibata rolled his eyes. “Well, you two are getting along splendidly now, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Ishida said flatly, before gesturing toward the door of the restaurant. “It’s just a small reunion that some of our old classmates pushed for out of the blue—god knows why I was forced to host it,” he added briefly under his breath. “So it’s not like everyone’s in attendance. Most of them are already in there. You two can go on in. I’ll wait out here for the rest.”
After thanking the former class president on the way in, Shibata and Natsume entered the restaurant. The smell of sukiyaki wafted through the air, and the warm lights shone off the smooth wooden tables and flooring. Just as Shibata had shared on the way, the whole restaurant was empty and reserved just for them. Behind the counter, the chefs seemed busy preparing a batch of orders, and in the middle of the restaurant was a group of high school teenagers occupying two and a half tables. The moment the door closed behind them, all heads turned their way and lit up in surprise.
“It’s Shibata—and Natsume!”
“No way, he really came!”
“Huh? Natsume? The kid who transferred out after just three months?”
“Shibata met him recently and became friends, apparently.”
“Wow, really?”
Only the people Shibata met a few days ago were the ones who invited him, so the rest of the attendees were completely uninformed and genuinely surprised by his appearance. Several hushed whispers erupted within the small circle, along with some unfiltered gazes of curiosity and skepticism. It made sense, Natsume thought. Surely, they all remembered him as ‘that weird kid who talked about ghosts and monsters’. Some seemed to wonder if he was still ‘weird’ and if it was okay to bring someone like that to the party, while some seemed genuinely curious as to what he was like now. While time and maturity seemed to have softened and tamed their impressions of him, it was nonetheless a mixed pot of gazes and reactions. Natsume’s shoulders hunched slightly from the attention, until a bright voice called out across the murmurs and whispers.
“Shibata, Natsume, over here!”
The one who beckoned them over was a tall girl with lightly curled hair, and beside her was a boy with loose baggy hair and headphones resting comfortably on his shoulders. Natsume recalled them to be Ichikawa and Kuroda respectively, and according to Shibata’s unfiltered sharing on the way here, they were the ones he met a few days ago who told him about this small reunion and asked for him to invite Natsume over. They often hung out with Shibata when they were kids, though it sounded as if their meeting a few days ago was their first in a long while. In contrast, it seemed as if Ichikawa and Kuroda had been keeping in touch and were actually even dating now.
“Damn, he actually came,” Kuroda said with wide eyes, watching in disbelief as Natsume sat down across the table with Shibata.
“Heh, I said I’d bring him, so I did!” Shibata declared proudly as he puffed his chest out. You say that as if you didn’t practically force me, was what Natsume’s silent glare seemed to say, but Shibata also proudly ignored the piercing look.
“Thanks, Shibata.” Ichikawa laughed before she turned back to Natsume, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers with her elbows propped against the table. Her eyes sparkled in fascination as she asked, “Say, Natsume. Do you remember us?”
Memories of laughing and pointed fingers and hurtful words flashed briefly in the corners of his mind, but he expertly pushed the images and sounds back with a practiced smile. “Yes,” he said evenly. “And Shibata also reminded me on our way here. It’s been a while, Ichikawa-san, Kuroda-kun.”
Though the four of them sat together in one table, the occupants of the other tables clearly still had their eyes and ears on Natsume. As if hearing Natsume speak gave her courage, one girl with a high ponytail leaned over the partition between tables and finally spoke to him.
“Natsume-kun, where do you study now?”
He blinked at the sudden question for a moment but answered after just a beat. “Yowake High. It’s a thirty-minute train ride from here.”
“Yowake? No way! I have a cousin who just enrolled there,” the girl shared, lightly bouncing in excitement.
As if that served as a signal, the others who seemed curious about the boy finally started piping into the conversation as well.
“Isn’t that all the way in the countryside, though? You live there now?”
“Man, I can’t imagine living all the way out there. What about the arcades and shopping districts?”
“You idiot, the countryside has its own charms! I bet it’s really nice and peaceful there—not to mention all that fresh air! All we get here is smoke and traffic.”
“So what kinda stuff do you do there, Natsume? Do you go camping or fishing?”
“Ooh, camping! I’ve always wanted to try that!”
Light conversation began to bubble around Natsume. Unlike the earlier stares and whispers from afar, it was a welcoming sort of attention; they were clearly putting in the effort to talk with him and ask how he’s been, what it’s like where he lives now—and they even had a little chat about that new movie that came out last week.
Seeing the boy respond politely and amicably seemed to make the doubt and hesitation fall from many faces. He may have been a ‘weird’ kid back then, but time has passed since then, and the children have grown—both Natsume and his old classmates. They were now mature enough to know that, at the very least, there was no reason to respond to friendliness and politeness with hostility and skepticism.
Or at least, most of them were.
“Wow, you’re really normal now, Natsume.”
A bright voice cut through the low buzz of lighthearted conversation, and the voices almost immediately died down into silence. All eyes fell toward the owner of that voice, Ichikawa—some in shock, some in disbelief, some in confusion. Only one pair of eyes had seemingly frozen in place, before slowly—fearfully—turning back to the girl across the table. He was met with an expression so bright that it seemed unbelievable for it to be the cause of the chill overcoming his body.
“Hey,” Shibata said in a deep warning tone. He had been quietly watching over Natsume’s growing conversation with their old classmates, and a fond smile had just begun to form over his lips until he was stunned by Ichikawa’s words—but it didn’t take him long to jump to his friend’s defense.
However, as if oblivious to the growing chill in the air, Ichikawa playfully pouted. “What? I’m just saying,” she said as she waved her hand dismissively at Shibata’s pensive expression. “He used to be so weird, screaming about ghosts and monsters and all that creepy stuff like some crazed attention-seeker or whatever, but he’s grown to be so normal and friendly. If anything, I’m praising him!”
Unable to take the straining atmosphere, the girl who first spoke to Natsume from the other table, Mori, offered an awkward laugh. “Come on, Ichikawa-san. You didn’t have to say it like that.”
“Hah, don’t talk as if you all weren’t thinking the same thing.” This time, Kuroda chimed in with a scoff, as if in defense of his girlfriend.
His words, so true yet at the same time so misplaced, brought an even icier silence over the restaurant. Discomfort and guilt and anything in between washed over the faces of the students who were chatting so casually just moments ago. It was true that everyone remembered him as a weird kid, and it was true that many were hesitant about his appearance now because of that. It was true that he wasn’t treated very well in their class while he was there. But—
“B-But that doesn’t mean we need to bring it up now, when everyone was just having a nice talk,” Mori argued back, voice weak and hesitant, not because she wasn’t confident in her words but because she wasn’t confident in her right to say them. She, too, after all, was one of the many others who stared at their odd classmate from a distance, never reaching out, never getting too close.
In contrast to her former classmates’ sour expressions, Ichikawa just rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Why am I the bad guy here? For bringing up something that you all just wanted to tiptoe around? Even though it’s the truth? In actuality, you were all so, so curious about him when he came in—just as much as I was when Shibata told me they were friends the other day! What’s the difference between us?”
“Had to wonder if Natsume was actually sane enough to befriend now, or if Shibata was the one who’d gone crazy,” Kuroda muttered under his breath, to which Ichikawa giggled like it was a funny joke.
Nobody said anything at that point. They all seemed to find the pair’s thoughtless words distasteful but felt far too guilty all the same to feel any right to step forward any more than Mori already had for them. After all, what Ichikawa said was true. They had avoided talking about the past, while she brought it up—but that was the only difference, and they were all the same in the end. They all thought he was weird, they all kept their distance from him, and now, they all hesitated to talk to him until they saw that he was ‘normal’. There was barely any difference between any of them, in that class where nobody treated Natsume well, so nobody had the right to speak up for him—
“Is that why?”
But that would never stop Shibata from doing so anyways—not when Natsume was right beside him, fists clenched so tightly over the bag on his lap that his knuckles started to turn white. Only his hands, which were tucked under the table hidden from everyone else’s sights, seemed to tremble, as if he were trying to hide his fear, but Shibata saw it anyways—because his face had paled more and more each time either of the two spoke up. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were fixated on the table’s surface, as if he could freeze his expression to hide the hurt, but Shibata saw it anyways—because he’s watched Natsume more in the few times they’ve met recently than he ever had back when he was a cruel and thoughtless child.
Shibata saw it all, and he had enough. The sound of his hands roughly slamming on the restaurant’s table resounded across the space, and everyone looked up at him in shock.
“Is that why,” he repeated in a low, boiling voice. “You asked me to bring Natsume here today? To turn him into a side show for your entertainment?”
Ichikawa blinked at Shibata’s sudden outburst before laughing lightly, just a little more strained than before. “What’s with you all of a sudden? Lighten up, will you? I’m just teasing him a bit—you know, just like we used to, back then.” Her gaze glinted slyly as she emphasized the ‘we’, telling Shibata, too, that he wasn’t any different.
But Shibata was different. He knew that and could believe that because Natsume came back for him that day, even after he repaid his good intentions with cruel words just like before. Because Natsume sat with him by that riverside and consoled him with a kind smile. Because Natsume looked genuinely happy when he thanked him for everything, and even accepted his apology that was far too many years late. Because Natsume would visit him and help him anyways despite all his exasperation. Because Natsume came today as well, taking the chance that Shibata had brought to him, and decided to give it a shot together.
But the chance had failed him, and Shibata hated it.
He looked at the people he once called his friends, the people he once bullied Natsume with, the people he had hoped to reconnect with today—with an angry and hateful glare.
“I didn’t bring Natsume here today just so he could go through ‘back then’ all over again.”
That was all he said before he grabbed Natsume’s wrist and pulled the stunned boy out of the restaurant, leaving all their former classmates speechless within that icy atmosphere to deal with by themselves. He didn’t even hear when Ishida called out to them on their way out. The only thought filling his mind was to get Natsume out of that terrible place, accompanied by the slight guilt that he had been the one who brought him there in the first place.
“S-Shibata…”
Natsume finally managed to speak up when they had turned the corner from the street that the restaurant was on. His voice sounded a little hoarse even though he was only silent for a little while—as if he had been choking back on something in his throat all this time. Shibata’s frown deepened.
“Shibata,” the boy said again when he didn’t respond. “Where are we—”
“We’re going.”
“Where?”
“Away from there.”
“B-But… the reunion…”
Shibata’s fast walk came to an abrupt stop, but when he turned around, his face was scrunched up less in anger at their old classmates and more in frustration at the boy in front of him.
“What about it?” He hissed, anger but no bite in his voice. “I went there with the intention of having a good time with you today, but we clearly weren’t getting any of that, so there’s no point in staying any longer. We’re going.”
Shibata was making it plainly obvious that he was mad for him, that he hated what they said and that Natsume didn’t need to pay attention to any of it, that Natsume was more important than they were. But Natsume’s face looked dark and haunted, his eyes downcast and distant.
“I’m sorry,” was the last thing Shibata expected to hear, the last thing he wanted to hear, but he heard it anyways. “I made things awkward for you… Even though you probably wanted to catch up with your old friends…”
Shibata hated it. The Natsume he came to know was more sarcastic, more blunt, more exasperated—more animated and lively and alive. In front of him now, Natsume was back to that small, miserable boy who curled into himself at the back of the classroom to avoid any attention, seemingly ready to fade right out of existence and disappear from everyone’s lives. Being in that place and around those people to hear those words had brought him back to the past, and Shibata was the one who brought him there today.
He hated it.
So much anger and guilt and frustration swirled inside him, but seeing Natsume’s face just made it all boil over and instead left him deflated and tired. His hunched shoulders dropped down, and he let go of Natsume’s hand. The boy looked up at him worriedly—typical of him, even though he’s the one who should need consoling right now. Shibata wanted to let out a dry chuckle at that but instead sighed and slumped down against the edge of a thin metal railing that lined the sides of the street.
“I actually did,” he said, hand on his head and exhaustion in his voice. Natsume winced back guiltily at his admission, but Shibata grit his teeth and went on. “Ichikawa and Kuroda… Well, I’m sure you remember. We used to hang out together all the time when we were kids. We… We all bullied you together.”
Saying it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was a truth that he had no right to feel uncomfortable saying just because of his own selfish guilt. After all, to Natsume, it was a fact that happened—damage that had been dealt—regardless of how Shibata felt about it now.
“We kinda drifted apart after graduating from elementary school, so I was surprised when I learned the other day that the two were actually still close since then,” he said, then added with a wry chuckle, “It kinda felt like I was the only one left out, and I wanted to try and rekindle that connection, you know?”
Still, Shibata immediately shook his head and looked Natsume straight in the eye. Whatever swirling emotions he was feeling earlier, none of it but sincerity was left in the gaze he directed to his friend.
“But more than that, I was really happy when they said they wanted to see you. I thought that I could reconnect with old friends, and introduce my new friend, and we could all have a good time, and…” Shibata clenched his fist over his lap. “I thought that it could make up for the bad memories we gave you, even just a little bit. You know, replace them with good ones, or something.”
At that point, Shibata let out a heavy sigh and hung his head down. “Though that was probably dumb of me. It wouldn’t really change the past, and in the end, it just made even more terrible memories for you. So I’m the one who should say sorry, Natsume. It was a terrible idea for me to bring you here today.”
A silence washed over the two. Shibata couldn’t quite place what kind of silence it was. Was it awkward? Strained? Was Natsume still feeling guilty? Did Shibata trouble him by returning his apology with another one? He thought he wanted to tell Natsume that he was a friend and they were just old classmates, so he felt worse about Natsume having a bad time than not being able to hang out with those guys, but it boiled down to an apology anyways.
“I know.”
It was Natsume’s solemn voice that broke the silence. Shibata looked up in confusion, only for his eyes to widen when he saw Natsume’s soft smile. His small and miserable expression was gone, in its place kindness and understanding and warmth.
“Shibata, I knew why you invited me today,” he said. “I was happy that you thought about me, and I wanted to give it a try too. Maybe it didn’t work out, but I myself wanted to give it a try, thanks to you. So it’s not your fault.”
He felt like crying. Why was he so kind even though he just went through something terrible because of him? He was like this back when Shibata called him a liar too. He came back the next day to warn him again, to protect him, and he stayed till the end for him and that girl he fell in love with. Shibata ended up dragging him into more trouble the second time they met, but Natsume just helped like it was the obvious thing to do and reassured him that everything was fine.
His friend was endlessly kind, and he couldn’t believe he used to be friends with people who could find it in them to be cruel to him. He felt the anger bubbling up in him all over again—both at those people and himself—but he just spat out a “you idiot” instead, catching Natsume by surprise.
Shibata glared at him. “Why are you comforting me? How did it end up this way? Dammit,” he grumbled as he swiped furiously at his eyes. “If it’s not my fault, then it’s not yours either, got it? So don’t talk like I’d rather catch up with those jerks than hang out with you.”
Natsume blinked at that, but just a few seconds later, he threw his head back and laughed. It was that warm and light and genuine laugh that made Shibata feel worlds better just hearing it, and he never knew a sound could be so comforting. “Okay,” was all Natsume said in response, but the smile it was spoken from and the pleasant, guiltless tone that lined his voice when he said it was all the affirmation Shibata needed.
The two sat in silence for a while—one that Shibata could this time identify as a calm and comfortable silence—as they watched the cars go by the street before them. What happened to their former classmates or the reunion didn’t matter in the slightest. Shibata was already formulating their new impromptu plans for the day in his head when Natsume suddenly spoke up, voice soft and almost buried under the sounds of the cars passing by.
“You know, I think there’s a reason why you were the only one who drifted apart from them.”
Shibata didn’t ask what he meant by that, nor did Natsume elaborate. They just sat in their comfortable silence for a little while longer before Shibata all but dragged Natsume around town to all his favorite places until the sun set in the horizon.
The next day, Natsume got a call from Ishida, who got his contact from Shibata, apologizing about the incident. He told him that he had scolded Ichikawa and Kuroda very thoroughly, and that everyone else felt bad that he had to go through that even though he just came to have a nice chat. Natsume insisted that it was okay, and still apologized for ruining the atmosphere, but just like Shibata, Ishida held firm that none of it was Natsume’s fault. The call ended with a promise from the former class president for a free meal at their restaurant anytime he visited town again. Natsume put the phone down with a small smile on his lips and thoughts of bringing Touko and Shigeru over for the treat.
It was a week later when Shibata came over to visit him that he got another message from one of their old classmates—a handwritten letter from Mori. Apparently, she asked Shibata for Natsume’s phone number to personally message him, but after learning that he didn’t have one, the girl instead wrote a letter on the spot and asked Shibata to bring it over to him. In the letter, she said that she wanted to apologize for last week’s incident, that she was glad he was doing better in his new school and home, and that she enjoyed chatting with him. Natsume smiled at the bubbly handwriting and asked Shibata to pass a short letter back to the girl.
Thank you for the letter.
I also enjoyed talking with you.
It was a short and curt letter, one that could almost be misinterpreted as a thoughtless and dismissive response, if not for the phone number that Natsume had scribbled on the bottom—the number to the Fujiwaras’ home telephone. You can call me anytime, the series of numbers seemed to say, softly, kindly, just like the smile Natsume wore as he handed the letter to Shibata to pass to Mori.
“See?” He said with a playful nudge in his voice. “I don’t think it was such a terrible idea after all.”
After all, it turned out that he had gained more than just terrible memories from the chance they decided to take.