This will be Natsume's first exorcist meeting. Typically they're set on weekdays (as exorcism is a profession to these people), but Natsume is still a high school student. When Matoba suggests an upcoming one to be organized, Natsume sternly refuses to attend one, especially if it is on a weekday. Expecting such an answer, Matoba smiles and reminds Natsume that he is his apprentice; it is crucial to his spiritual development. He plans the first autumn meeting the following Sunday.

Under Matoba Seiji's guidance and exchange of his teachings, Natsume Takashi attends.

The past few sessions (that recently increased to a few weekday afternoons) is instructed in preparation of the meeting. As is typical with cultured business, there are rules and guidelines, certain things to say and not say, gestures that are encouraged and ones to avoid. (Such as asking a guest's identity when they are clearly wearing a mask. Or too much involvement with a shiki unless it was newly possessed, thus attracting expected attention.)

There is a lot of information to digest and a lot of it provokes questions and wonder in Natsume. Of course the inquires were curious and to be expected, as this is new to him, but they are still expressed in bias of ayakashi. Matoba is used to being provoked by Natsume's opinions, but when it concerns the business he works in, his reputation will be dangerously influenced by his charge's actions. He will have to make sure that the boy at least keeps his perspective of morals to himself.

Meeting attire is business casual, but often, and suggested by the prominent Matoba clan, kimono should be worn. "It's reminiscent of the older exorcist days," he explains; one shouldn't forget one's roots.

He offers Natsume a kimono, but the boy declines; his uncle had given him one of his. "Good." Matoba smiles slightly. Unsure how to interpret it, Natsume looks away. "But I'll have to provide you a haori with the clan's insignia."

Natsume wants to decline, but Matoba's adamant tone cuts through the rising objection. Little by little, he's becoming more a part of the exorcists, not humans, and of the Matoba clan, not his family. But it's hard to object to those that protect you.

Natsume puts his hands out and receives the iconic black haori infamously known by youkai. His amber eyes catch part of the white embroidered bullseye and passes a hand along the threads.

This will be his first exorcist meeting as a willing participant, as Matoba's apprentice, as a newborn exorcist.

"What if Natori comes?" Natsume chokes out, the tightness in his throat unrelenting.

Matoba understands the fear, and having Natori attend so early wouldn't be productive for that reason and more. He regards Natsume's hands quaking in his lap (wrinkling his uncle's dark red kimono), before steadying his own hand to finish the strokes on his writing. "Ever since I have taken you in, he hasn't made an appearance at a meeting. I have a checkpoint before entering the manor; you don't need to worry." He pulls his brush back and studies the letter for any imperfections or impoliteness. There are none. Proud of his skill, Matoba smiles to himself.

The brush is placed on its bed as the ink dries. Natsume worries his bottom lip, waiting for more reassuring words from Matoba.

The exorcist rises from the chabudai, taking the paper in hand. "I'll prepare some tea to ease your nerves." He motions for Natsume to rise and the boy follows, his frame curling into itself. "I can positively assure you that he won't trespass."

Lavender with some catnip is chosen, and Natsume watches Matoba brew the tea. It's only when the exorcist works with tea that Natsume studies the exorcist's fingers closely. They're slender and unexpectedly strong. He has seen the man practice his archery while he himself rested. He often wears gloves to prevent burns and callouses, but there are times he forgets to wear them. After returning from a sudden outing (exorcisms or hunting), his fingers are noticeably red and thick. It's fascinating to Natsume how someone can do such laborious things, yet look so refined when preparing tea. It must be an illusion.

Natsume hasn't noticed his hands went cold until he feels the warmth of the teacup melting into his palms. He sips, careful not to down the diluted mellow flavor because of his frayed nerves. When glancing at the exorcist, he notices the soft smile directed at him; Natsume looks away embarrassed. He's not used to that kind of look, whatever it is, and especially from this man.

He feels the tea take effect, nestling into tense muscles and a throbbing mind. Sometimes his heart picks up, but he remains unbothered. It's preferable than the spinning thoughts and fears.

Sometimes his breaths deepen, eyelids droop, and he falls into a dreamless sleep. It happens often, but Matoba reassures Natsume when it is brought up. The stress, the lessons, the tea all contribute. It's nothing to worry about. A natural phenomenon, besides the dreams he can never recall or the faint smell of smoke when he awakens. Something always feels off when he comes to, so Natsume blames it on his ever-persisting uncertainty. Matoba has been accommodating and careful ever since he offered protection to Natsume.

Natsume gently blows the surface of the tea, hoping the ripples would distract him from lingering doubts. It just might be his nerves of the upcoming meeting, after all.

Matoba regards the boy sipping from the cup for a moment. "Come to the Shuten Room when you're finished. I want to prepare and debrief you a little more before the meeting begins."

Natsume watches the exorcist leave from the small kitchen, regarding the bullseye insignia on his back and the black sleeves flowing behind him. The blond lifts his arm and pinches the sleeve before crumpling the silk fabric in his palm.

He hasn't thought that this man was capable of tenderness. Maybe it's because he's his apprentice, but Natsume wants to believe that Matoba could be a changing person.

It's hard to dismiss the chatter around the grand hall, of exorcists and their practices and businesses, mundane catching up, but a consistent trend of the Matoba clan influence often surfaces. Every time the name buzzes by, Natsume can't help casting a look to the polished man. He isn't sure if Matoba doesn't hear or is used to this sort of gossip now; he carries on undisturbed with his mingling. It's not like all the gossip is in bad taste. The clan is reputable for reasons of power, support, and ruthlessness. Adding to that, the current leader himself adds much more to that equation—

Natsume has strayed from Matoba after a small duration, but remains in close distance to listen. He catches the man's lips quirk, readying a witty response.

—his charm.

The fact that Natsume knows what that expression means embarrasses him. He covers his mouth with a black sleeve and turns away, hoping it will mask his confused grimace. But the fact that Natsume enjoys that wit (although it can become aggravating overtime) troubles him further. (Is he always looking too closely out of habit or interest?) It's not just the personal charm Natsume reveres, but his business demeanor. It's intimidating at first, but it's cool, collected, and sure.

He mentions this once to Nyanko-sensei, as a hopeful test to lighten the youkai's temper towards the exorcist, that there are nice qualities to detestable people and silver linings. But Nyanko-sensei spat in disgust. "What sort of garbage are you suggesting? Someone shows you a little kindness and suddenly they're a redeemable being. You then let that someone use and misguide you; look where that made you end up—" Unfortunately, the fight that followed and its tasteless ending were expected.

Natsume doesn't bring it up again. Instead, he keeps the secret admiration hidden.

For the time being, he will have to play along with Matoba's exorcist meeting requests and talk among the people and ayakashi here. Looking around, a lot of the exorcists seem preoccupied, but it's not hard to miss their curious glances and unsettling whispers. Humans are difficult to talk to.

Natsume spots an ayakashi alone by one of the expansive windows. Its attention seems lost in thought as its small eyes peer outside. (But ayakashi are also.) Regardless, he introduces himself and decides that maybe he can learn to improve his understanding.

"Your apprentice is very interested in ayakashi," a female attendant comments to Matoba, her head nodding slightly in the direction of said person.

Matoba looks over the vast room, beholding his charge talking with a shiki of the Fuse clan. He bites his cheek, somewhat humiliated and angry that the boy would still do this despite his warnings. But Matoba is resourceful; he wouldn't let himself be defeated by this small blunder.

"Actually, ayakashi are his specialty," he offers when turning around to face her. "He's unlike any other medium I've worked with. His abilities are much more natural and powerful. He can blend in effortlessly with them."

"That sounds quite useful," remarks the woman, taking in the boy from afar.

"It can be." Matoba nods before moving on with a small shrug. "Unfortunately, he often finds himself in danger. Hopefully I can help resolve him of such troubles."

Not receiving a reply right away, the exorcist becomes curious, turning around to see the young woman continuing to assess Natsume. One could not hear from their distance, but Natsume's soft and kind expressions could be clearly seen. "Is it perhaps because he looks and acts otherworldly?"

Matoba's lips twitch slightly and huffs out a bitter chuckle. "...Yes. That is a reason."

How long does it take to prepare someone? Natori has fucked him before, so he must be fine by now. It's been two weeks since he last saw Natsume. That's enough time to stretch his patience.

Matoba has prohibited Natori from entering the estate unless he is summoned. But he needs to check on the situation, and Natsume. He needs to see Natsume again. Natsume will be ready for him again.

Natori sweeps through the halls as quietly as he can. It's a Sunday; not many attendants or shiki would be roaming around the estate (from what Natori remembers when he visited the place when he was younger). It was a Sunday last time Natori was summoned; Matoba must be working with Natsume around his school schedule.

The room should be the same. It's secluded in the back of the east wing, a location not as reinforced as the west with enchantments and barriers. Sane ayakashi don't dare travel to the direction of the rising sun. The winds that sweep by effectively carry off and dilute the tainted smoke of the incense Matoba burns after sessions. Humans aren't as prone to picking up the smell of emotions, deceit, and veiled sex. Although, neither human nor ayakashi can detect those through the mask of enchanted smoke.

Natori nears the hall of the reserved room. The hall itself is dark; lights unlit despite the autumn's setting sun. The shoji allows light to pool through its thin paper into the hallway. There's no sound, no shuffling, no voices, no gasps, no moans. But Natori approaches all the same (as if there were those distinct signals). He makes sure his bare feet pad lightly, hopefully noiseless down the wooden floor, closing in on the room.

His heart hammers in his chest; he begins to feel sick with anticipation and lust. There is no sound that comes from the east wing room, yet he rests a hand on the door's handle. Inside, the sound of a cloth garment slides against the floor; Matoba must know he's here and may be about to acknowledge his unannounced arrival.

"Matoba?"

Natori's actions and breaths halt in stupefied horror — a voice much too soft and wary. Why isn't Matoba in the room? Why is Natsume still conscious? Is this not the day Matoba prepares him?

Natori retracts his hand, nearly stumbling over his feet upon backing away. Another shift in the room — he sees a figure shadowed against the screen.

"Do you need help opening the door?"

Natori darts down the hall from the way he came. As he rounds the corner, he hears the shoji slide open. He braces himself for a scream, but instead hears the shoji slam shut and charges into another figure. Ceramic cups clang against each other and thankfully the iron kettle does not crash nor spill.

"Why are you here?"

Natori reflexively pulls back, about to apologize profusely, but notices that the one he crashed into is Matoba. He's not supposed to be here. (He just wants to see him, make sure this is real, that Matoba is keeping his word.) Before Natori can find a reason (an excuse), the two exorcists hear dry retching down the hall.

Matoba sighs heavily, but holds Natori's attention from straying down the hall. "Are you here because of the arrangement? That business can easily be dealt with by a phone call or letter."

(It's not that, not that.) Natori swallows to prepare his throat, but it's harsh and dry and instead feels like heartburn. "I want… to help."

Matoba raises his brows. "What sort of help could you give? Right now, I don't need you ruining my hard work and causing the boy to also get sick from the tea I give him. Don't ruin your pathetic opportunity and my compensation because of your untimely impulsivity."

The message is reinforced when a frail groan carries down the hall. Natori furrows his brows and clamps his teeth together. The younger exorcist watches, unsure of the other's conflict and feelings. (Of helplessness? Of longing? Of anger?)

Matoba takes a step next to Natori. "Now I have to explain to him that that person was a member of mine who mistook the room." He blinks over to Natori, his carnelian eyes cast forward, conflicted in thought and circumstance. The older man refuses to speak (his mind races instead), so the clan head continues.

"As for you wanting to help, I really can't allow that. It's too risky in the matter of his guardian beast and your compulsivity. You would compromise all the progress I have done with him." Black hair spills over his right shoulder when the exorcist leans closer to Natori, their arms resting against each other's. "You're free to listen because I'm afraid watching will only make you jealous." Matoba blows a teasing whisper against Natori's jaw. "You're really desperate, aren't you?"

The black-robed exorcist pulls away with the conflicting touch of warmth, but Natori has to know — with an unintentionally hard grip on Matoba's arm, Natori asks, "Why did he get sick?"

What a stupid question, Matoba muses with a smirk. He shakes his arm, signaling the other exorcist to remove his hold. "Didn't you know?"

Natori waits, watching the muscles in Matoba's face for any lies. But it's all mocking, like it has always been between them — both from infamous clans each known for their own fault of cowardice or deceit.

"He gets sick from the mere sight of you."

Matoba turns to the direction of the hidden eastern room. Natori stretches out his hand, to hinder the upcoming session, but his fingers are sliced by the tip of the retreating man's ponytail. His elegant, but simple, dark robes flutter behind him, tea set stable and noiseless by his steady movements. Entering the room, Natori catches Matoba's eye soften when addressing Natsume.

The screen is softly shut, barring out those unwelcome and uninvited to refuge.

One finger.

He has to start with a measured pace. He knows Natsume has taken more than this (all accumulated in one night), but that is too much too soon. The boy would recognize the aching sore, and that would be the end of Natori's, including Matoba's, exchange. Preparation must be timed with a mindful pace, generous with lubrication and stretching, and ensuring that the recipient receives a reward for enduring this.

Natsume's muscles are understandably tense at the beginning. (He hasn't been touched there since his violation.) But gentle coaxes of hands, peppered kisses to his face, and soft requests yield his resistance. Every time he tightens, Matoba passes a hand down his hip, squeezes his hand, pecks his forehead. Sometimes the man has to request him to relax (as much as his reflexive muscles could). Natsume is never met with anger or violence.

Natori, no doubt, would want Natsume to reciprocate kisses too, Matoba muses. He casts his eyes over Natsume's sweaty face, pants and lips both dry. He has Natsume rinse his mouth with water, not wanting the residual drug to affect him also. (A note he will have to remind Natori of.)

Matoba removes his finger from the boy's asshole to instead introduce him to practiced kissing. He's sloppy and a novice. With each correct reciprocation, Matoba pets down Natsume's back or leg or waist. With each independent kiss, Natsume receives a stroke to his dick.

Reintroducing a finger, Matoba nuzzles his face against Natsume's jaw, pecking lightly. Natsume shivers in his grasp, pressing his fingers into the exorcist's arms. (Never are bruises or cut left behind.) The finger sinks in, held and pushed and swallowed by the allowing muscles. Experimentally, Matoba curves the digit, pressing against a spongey wall.

Immediately, the blond gasps and twists from the new pressure, beginning to feel his climax peak. Matoba notices his hand becoming wet with precum and gently coaxes Natsume to remain on his back. To reach orgasm, the finger is pushed in shallowly as the other hand tenderly pulls and strokes the boy's arousal. Natsume comes with a stuttered gasp, hands twisting into the sheets with raised hips.

Matoba pets down Natsume's thigh as he recovers, bleary and worn-out. He checks his heart-beat, his pulse: nothing abnormal. Matoba wipes the sweat from Natsume's face and cleans the release from his stomach with a cloth.

Sandalwood incense is lit and distributed throughout the room. Natsume slightly stirs on the futon, descending into a fatigued nap. Matoba waits a half hour before opening the outside doors, airing out the confiding smoke to the eastern winds.

Notes: I thought to share some thoughts of this series since this is the last part. I hope you were able to catch what I mention, or even bring up something that I have overlooked.

As for the significance of the title, I wanted to tie this last part to the cycle of karma. Upon my search, I discovered that lotus flowers symbolize karma in Asian traditions. The flower carries its seeds as it blooms; the seed the cause, the blooming the effect. You can read more about it with a simple web search, but there isn't anything deeper (like relating to Buddhism, besides 'karma') that I intend. Unless there is somehow a connection I am not aware of.

It's funny; the Matoba and Natori clans' reasons for infamy have reversed and instead reflected on Seiji and Shuuichi as individuals (although each both stay true to their clan's flaws). Seiji (as will be read in further chapters) will not admit to his faults because of his fear of facing repercussions, all the while easily lying. Shuuichi began this ordeal by deceiving and misguiding Natsume. He is a coward by continuing this and also avoiding punishment.

When I was outlining the last part, I found that these chapters have similar themes to Part 1. This theme is "firsts", as to when Natsume first drank sake and now his first exorcist meeting. Both are seen as instances that have no lingering effects, but there is certainly a domino effect that happens because of these.