Reiko was ten when her uncle broke her arm. That was the first time a human hurt her, but it would be far from the last.

She was used to the scrapes and bruises that came with running from youkai. She lived with the terror and uncertainty of being able to see monsters no one else could every day of her life. Those things, she could handle.

The man who was supposed to care for her breaking her arm was not.

For the first time in years, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She did not try to fight them back. They spilled over, leaving red-hot trails down her bruised cheek and dripping off her chin. Her arm felt numb as she forced herself to scramble away on her knees and good hand. The man stared down at her, his fists still clenched, his face red and eyes cold and furious. There was no pity or remorse in his gaze.

In that moment, she realized that youkai were not the scariest things in this world.

He did not chase her when she ran, arm clutched tight to her chest and each breath escaping in shuddering sobs. In that, at least, he was not like the youkai. The distinction only served to further cement in her mind that she was not safe in either world.

Reiko ran for the forest; it was the only place she knew how to hide in. Rain was beating down, vicious and stinging. Her arm was beginning to throb with every step she took, but she could not bear to stop until she knew that she could not be found by anyone.

The trees rushed past her, their branches whipping at her face and leaving behind thin trails of blood. The underbrush did the same to her legs, cutting into delicate skin. The soles of her bare feet were bruised and just as bloodied as the rest of her.

Still, Reiko did not scream until she tripped and went crashing to the ground. Her arm was caught under her, and the dull throbbing became more like fire injected into her marrow or blades slipping beneath skin and scraping against the bone. A human had been the cause of this pain.

Sobbing, the girl pulled herself towards the nearest shelter from the rain; an enormous tree with thick, low-hanging branches that provided enough cover that the yellowed grass beneath it was still mostly dry. Mud covered her, painting her in shades of rich browns and deep reds. The torrential downpour continued, unconcerned with the plights of a hurt little girl.

Reiko curled beneath the branches of the tree, it's red and gold leaves keeping the worst of the rain off of her. Her arm was already beginning to swell, bruised and bleeding and ugly. Burying her face in her knees, Reiko tried to ignore the raging of the wind and the pain she was in.

She wanted her mother. She wanted to not feel alone and scared. She didn't want to hurt anymore, or to be left alone with a man who felt no remorse, who had become, in one single instant, worse than any youkai she had stumbled upon so far.

But her mother was dead and gone, and she had been alone ever since, and she had been scared all her life. Wishing for something had never done her any good in the past, and it wouldn't do any good now. She was stuck with that man, and her arm was broken and her body was littered with cuts and bruises. She was stuck with an ache that went past her skin and her muscles and her bones, a pain that had nestled itself deep within her very soul.

When something brushed her shoulder, light as any falling leaf, she flinched but did not lift her face. She did not want to face whoever – or whatever – had found her. If it wanted to eat her, then she would let it. She didn't want to feel anything anymore.

"You are hurt," a voice said, right by her ear. It was soft and low, like the whisper of a breeze through the trees.

"Go away," Reiko hissed back, her voice muffled in her knees and rough from her crying.

"You are hurt," the voice repeated in that same low monotone.

Gentle hands touched her hair, pulling it back from where it fell in lank, dirty strands around her face. They brushed over her temples and down to her cheeks, slowly lifting her head with an unwavering strength that did not fit those gentle touches. She gritted her teeth and opened her eyes, and found herself face to face with something that possessed an unnerving kind of beauty, the kind of ethereal features that made her stomach twist with the sense of otherness, even after ten years of seeing strange things.

"You are hurt," it said again. It's voice seemed to rumble deep in her own chest.

Its eyes were a deep and bloody red, but with a strange illumination, like the sun itself was shining from behind its irises. The creature's skin was various shades of brown, with strange glimmering cracks throughout it, shining like bolts of lighting over its body with each movement it made. When its hand wrapped around her good wrist, the fingers were long enough that if it wanted to, they could have wrapped around her forearm three or more times.

"Yes, I'm hurt," Reiko snapped, trying to hide the way her lower lip trembled and act like there weren't still tears clinging to her eyelashes. "What about it?"

The thing tilted its head in an animal-like gesture, blinking slowly. The grip on her wrist tightened, and Reiko's heart began to beat a little faster. Its other hand came to rest against her cheek again and she could feel its horrifying fingers thread through her hair, pressing tight to her scalp, claws prickling over fragile skin without drawing blood.

"How were you hurt?"

"What do you care?"

It seemed confused. She watched as its pupils doubled in size, then abruptly narrowed to slits. There was yellow and green mixed in with that awful, beautiful red, she noted.

"You came to me," it said at last, slow and careful. There were fangs that showed with every word.

"What?"

"I guard this place. You see me. You came to me. The first in many, many, many years." There was a pause. It seemed to hesitate, searching her face. Reiko couldn't help but think that there was something quietly, desperately lonely in its gaze as it whispered, "How can I help?"

Reiko stared back, unblinking. Her own eyes seemed to glow in the fading grey light. Around them, the rain was beginning to slow. The little girl swallowed around the lump in her throat, pushed away thoughts of every bump and bruise and break, and instead thought about what she really wished for.

"I… I want—" her voice cracked, and she had to clear her throat, choke back the sobs that still wanted to escape her lips. The youkai waited patiently, eagerly, its eyes bright with something she could not name. "I want to not be alone anymore. I don't want to be scared."

There was a long moment of silence. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, blocking out the sound of the last dredges of rainfall with the rush of her blood. Her arm throbbed and ached in time to her heartbeat and the creature stared without blinking, face eerie and empty.

Then, slowly, what could only be described as a smile crawled slowly over its features. It looked manic, wild and untamable and unhinged all at once. It bared sharp teeth at her, had her trapped and helpless. She felt tiny and insignificant in the face of such a being, but she did not fear it.

"I can help," it told her.

And then it plucked a leaf from the tree above it and, with mud from the ground, wrote its name.

.

That had been the first time a human had hurt her, and the first time a youkai had helped her. It wouldn't be the last time for either.

.

Ten years later, Reiko stood with a baby on one hip and a disease growing in her lungs that would be the death of her before another ten were up. She had an entire army contained behind the covers of a book, their will and their lives trapped with ink and paper and promises. On that lovingly made cover, in childish handwriting, the wish for a reprieve from her loneliness and her pain contained in the single, hopeful word.

Friends.

Day 5 of Natsume Week, "Ten Years Later" is done! God bless. I've always sort of figured someone had to have taught her about gathering names without the exorcists' rules to interfere. Reiko is such a fascinating character, so here's my attempt at writing baby her.