Natsume felt blind. All the clarity of his life had suddenly disappeared. Everything had been fine just a few days ago but now he was in a fog and couldn't take any steps without a fear of falling into some strange abyss.

So he let Matoba guide him. He wasn't aware of much at the moment, except Matoba's familiar hand in his, helping him to the end of the lawn and past the gate. He felt void, empty, and couldn't focus on the present-if this even was the present. It didn't feel real. None of this felt real, but Natsume knew, deep down, that this is all his life was. It was all it ever had been.

"...sume...Natsume?"

He felt the full force of reality smack him into the present. He was in the back of a car, and Matoba was next to him. Natsume met Matoba's intensely sharp stare, then looked away again. His eyes glazed over as he unconsciously stared past the rain-streaked glass and at whatever saturated, blurry light trailed by. The hollowness he felt settled in. They didn't speak for a long time and passed by familiar streets and signs.

Natsume was vaguely aware of the tremors in his hand caused by the aftershock. He passively gripped the leather seat, needing something to ground him. He saw Matoba's figure move closer from the corner of his eye and heard the slide of his damp clothes against the leather. A warm hand carefully fell over his shaking one.

He was here, with Matoba. He would be with him for a long time.

The first tear rolled down his cheek. It all hit him at once. He wanted to go back- just back to them. He had felt happiness there, a happiness he wasn't used to, but he had let himself settle into it. He let himself accept it. It took so much time to ravel himself in it, and now he completely unraveled it. He let that happiness go. What if he made the wrong choice? What was Matoba going to do with him now?

He felt the back of Matoba's fingers gently wipe away the remorseful tears. So gentle. He was sure Matoba wouldn't always be like this. He liked his force; Natsume was filled with resistance.

Natsume could finally turn to look at him. Matoba reciprocated with a steady gaze, one laced with watchfulness...and behind that, concern? Matoba was really looking at him, examining every part as if he was looking past the eyes and into his skull. His hand was still on his cheek, and moved down to his neck to brush and intertwine his fingers with Natsume's hair.

"You have so much potential, Natsume. So much that I can't see you waste. I'm sorry."

Natsume blinked. Did Matoba just apologize? "Sorry for what?"

Matoba's lips gently curled. Barely a smile, but it was there. "That you had to let go of them. They're good people, but they don't belong in your world. In our world."

Natsume stared at him a moment longer and relaxed. Then he looked away again. "Our world," he echoed quietly. Natsume felt another caress on his hair before Matoba pulled away his hand. He looked out into the rainy world, eyes tracing the watery reflective streets. He discovered another side of Matoba. He was more complicated than Natsume thought. Maybe Natsume brought out that caring part of him; maybe he was changing Matoba. Maybe Matoba was changing him.

Water droplets pattered the glass, acting as a natural sedative. Natsume was tired, and tried not to think about choices. Tried not to think about if the Fujiwara's would take him back, if they would still love him if they knew. His head leaned against the window and his eyes faltered until his lids fell heavily. He let the world roll away, and dreams took him.

They pulled up to the same mansion as before, Natsume still asleep. Servants with umbrellas waited outside. Matoba didn't want to disurb Natsume, which was ridiculous. He felt sorry, which was...even more ridiculous. He cared about him, and that realization alone was paralyzing. He looked at Natsume with his head leaning against the window and his chest rising and falling peacefully. He had to look away and forcefully opened his door. The servant on his side sheltered him while they stood at a good distance, getting drenched. Matoba left his door open and left the servant behind to close it while he rushed around to the other side to gently open Natsume's door. He unbuckled him with care and Natsume was roused. He tiredly looked at Matoba and rubbed his eyes but Matoba shushed him and picked him up, carrying him into the house while their drenched umbrella servant kept up.

"Matoba..." Natsume murmured.

"Please, Natsume. Rest." Matoba carried him up the stairs and Natsume's head fell back on Matoba's arm, exposing his neck. Matoba stared at it, at his vulnerable state. He laid Natsume down, not bothering to take Natsume back to his guest room, but to his own. He was a selfish person, and in his mind this is where Natsume belonged, and always would.

Matoba undressed Natsume with little protest from the boy, and changed him into clean and dry clothes. He did the same for himself and crawled under the sheets, pulling Natsume closer and inhaling his scent. For now, that was all he needed.

Natori was in a forest. The air was so hot it burned his lungs as he breathed, being pushed onto the forest floor and every wave of fire swept him off his feet. He gasped and gagged. If this was real, he would be dead. But this was all Hiso. He was torturing him. It wasn't just the physical pain.

His father looked down at him, lying on the dirt.

"You'll never be a real exorcist. You're just embarrasing us and bringing us harm."

Natori laughed and coughed up blood. The heat was searing him. It's not real it's not real it's not real.

His father leaned down closer to his face, filled with disgust at his son. Natori looked at him steadily. "I'm dead because of you," he whispered.

Come on, that can't be your worst.

The fire in the trees rose and grew hotter. Hiso was angry. He'd been torturing him, and Natori had been fighting. He wasn't letting him in his head. Natori had never experienced anything like it. This could be hell, if there was one.

Even though he was displaying confidence and retaliation he was almost ready to break. He knew he was possesed. If they had to kill him in the process of stopping Hiso so be it, he thought.

He knew Natsume would find him.