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The sound of the bowl shattering on the ground was not something that Shigeru expected, at all. He could have sworn he saw Natsume grab it with both hands before Shigeru had turned around, but now he seemed to be standing stiff, arms stretched in an awkward way. Something seemed off about Natsume - he hadn’t made a sound. As if he was holding his breath.
“Natsume?” Shigeru began softly, “Hey, it’s okay. Accidents happen. Just stay right there and I’ll clean this up.” He crouched down, placing the big pieces in his palms. Natsume gasped, loudly. It was as if he had forgotten to breathe.
“Shigeru-san, I’m s-so sorry,” Natsume frantically whispered, face completely pale and hands shaking. But Shigeru reassured him not to worry, and that he would pick up the pieces. As soon as it was safe, he sent Natsume to his room to rest. The boy looked like he had seen a ghost.
Now, Shigeru had some kind of inkling as to what Natsume had been through. Word spread quickly about the quiet, but creepy young boy growing up, and some families weren’t ashamed of how they dealt with his behaviors - when they should have been. It’s no wonder that Natsume is the way he is now, because of that. Shigeru sighs. It was best not to dwell on those things, for the sake of maintaining his blood pressure.
Looking at the damage, he belatedly realized that this is Touko’s bowl. Handmade. Her favorite. He sighed, but then realized he had been feeling idle lately. Maybe this could be a new project to work on in the next couple of weeks. After all, he’d always been wanting to try golden repair.
It was harder than he initially thought.
But Shigeru persisted, and he took it step by step. First, to gently scrape the edges of the broken pieces, creating grooves in the cracks. As he was scraping it, his mind wandered to Natsume. Prior to bringing him home, Shigeru and Touko were both told so many times how unnatural, or weird, or troublesome a kid like Natsume was when he was with their families. Looking at him now, he could understand what they meant - Natsume is not an ordinary kid.
He had lost both of his parents at a very young age, been taken in by several different families, most of whom he did not know much about, had to share his belongings and space with others, learn how to talk to different adults with different expectations and then getting scolded or reprimanded when he could not remember, deal with kids talking badly about him behind his back and bullying him to his face and sometimes physically confronting him, all the while grieving the loss of his own family. No wonder he acted strangely around the people he lived with.
Shigeru moved on to the next step: developing the paste. He put on his gloves and mixed the ingredients together to create a sticky brown paste that would be put on the edges of the cracks. In a way, this bowl reminded him of how they first met Natsume. Even now, Shigeru gets a bit emotional thinking of how Natsume had ended up in the hospital with so many injuries, but thankfully alive. After putting the paste on the broken pieces, he gently fit them together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.
A week later, he came back to it, filling in the creases of the bowl with another brown paste.
Shigeru heard a slight pitter-pattering of socked feet enter the room, and he looked up to see Natsume holding a plump Nyangoro in his arms. Natsume’s eyes followed downwards to Shigeru’s hands where he was holding the sealed bowl. A look of guilt washed over his face, making him slump forward and pout a bit.
“Natsume,” Shigeru started. “What brings you here?”
“I wanted to ask if I could spend time with my friends this afternoon. They’re going to the festival, and asked me to go with them.”
Shigeru hummed, setting the bowl down. “Do you want to go?” he asked gently.
Natsume nodded, hugging Nyangoro a bit closer to his chest and eliciting a harrumph in response. “Yes.”
“Then go and have fun! I’ll let Touko know, so she’s aware. Be back by dusk.”
“Thank you Shigeru-san.” Natsume said, and Shigeru could almost hear him beaming with joy. He turns to leave and takes a few steps before slowing down. “Did you need help with that?” he asks, turning back around. He looked smaller with his furrowed brows and pinched expression. Shigeru bet that he still felt guilty over the broken bowl.
He smiled. “You can help me put the finishing touches on it. I’ll let you know when it’s ready for you.”
Natsume nodded again, this time more brightly. His cheeks were flushed pink, and Shigeru thought of how much Natsume had grown out of his shell while he had been with them. As he began to fill in the gaps of the plate again, Shigeru remembered how timid and soft-spoken Natsume had been when he first came to the Fujiwara household. He had taken such a long time to get settled in his room, to decorate it and truly make it feel like his own space. He had struggled to get comfortable. With time though, he began to open up more, and Shigeru noticed how Natsume’s shoulders relaxed more with each day.
First, it was him asking for seconds during dinner. It started with fried mackerel, then tonkatsu, then chicken curry. Natsume continued to eagerly help clean up afterwards.
Next, it was holding onto keepsakes his friends gave him. Notes, origami, keychains, buttons, stickers - any trinket. He held onto them and cherished them. Enough that Touko gave him a box to place them in to look back on.
More recently, Natsume’s been asking to spend more time outside of the house, being invited to different outings with his friends. Natsume even once planned a hangout at the Fujiwara’s, asking Touko and Shigeru shyly one evening over dinner. It was a success, and his friends had a wonderful time eating and playing games.
Shigeru placed the bowl down. He had finished the first coat. Slowly, the bowl was healing. And with the help of the Fujiwaras, hopefully Natsume was healing, too.
“Like this,” Shigeru demonstrated, picking up the golden dust with the round cotton ball and circling it around the filled cracks generously. “Now you try.”
Natsume took over, carefully dusting the lines with gold and seeing the process truly come to life. It was enchanting. Nyangoro was laying down, peeking at them with one eye. It seemed as if he had a smirk on his face, but Shigeru shook his head. Cats don’t smirk, he told himself.
“There,” Natsume said. “Shigeru-san, I’m done.” Natsume gently placed the bowl down, examining his work.
“Well done,” Shigeru said triumphantly, placing a hand on Natsume’s shoulder. “It looks beautiful. You put the finishing touches on it.”
Natsume’s voice was soft when he spoke. “Thank you for fixing this. I know Touko-san will be devastated that her bowl broke.”
“Well, who knows,” Shigeru wondered. “Maybe she’ll love this version, too.”
And ultimately, Touko did. When they presented the bowl to her, she hadn’t even realized it had broken (they hid it from her so well). She loved the gold accent and embraced her newly fixed bowl. It wouldn’t ever be the same bowl she always cherished, but putting it back together with so much effort, time, care, and patience gave her a newfound gratitude for it.
Later that evening, Shigeru and Touko took a stroll through the neighborhood while Natsume spent the night over at his friend’s house. They talked about him and how he had been adjusting to everything so far. They remarked on how he had made a solid group of friends that he regularly sees and spends time with, including the Kaname family’s boy. Touko noted how close they were, and she was content. As long as Natsume was happy, they were happy too. Schoolwork was a problem at times, sure, but Natsume was usually diligent about catching up. They also spent many outings together as a family, and it helped build connections with him. The Fujiwaras hoped to continue making beautiful memories with their son.
They can’t go back in time and redo what has already happened, the time they never had with him. The things and people they couldn’t protect him from. The Fujiwaras know that. But what they can do is move forward and provide Natsume with all the love and care and patience he deserves. And that has to mean something. They won’t give up on Natsume. And hopefully, Natsume won’t give up on himself either.
Just like the kintsugi, maybe someday Natsume will mend his broken parts and feel whole again.