Natsume has always been a little strange. Since the first day he transferred into the school, he's always had a certain air around him, like he was a ghost, ready to blow away and disappear at the slightest breeze. His eyes were always following invisible things, always wary, always cautious. He was quiet and smiled that incessantly fake smile, but people didn't pay too much attention to it. After all, both Nishimura and even Kitamoto were drawn to him like moths drawn to a light. And the first time Natsume smiled—really smiled—it lit up the whole room, bubbling it with gentle love and delight.
Natsume's eyes lit up, and his usually pale face glowed with a light flush of laughter. His ringing voice filled the room. Nishimura froze in the middle of telling his stupid, at least in his mind, story and stared with awe at the sight before him. The pure happiness on Natsume's face was contagious and soon the entire classroom seemed to radiate. A gentle indulgence came with the little peace that Natsume's laugh brought. This was the first time anyone had ever heard Natsume laugh. Really, so happily, so obviously happily, that the whole world stood still in this tiny moment in time. It was a little blip in the time stream. The sunlight glittered, making gold and brilliant what was not before. Natsume's eyes twinkled in absolute delight under the sun beams, a shining gold. The entire class hushed at the gentle sight. A few moments later, when Natsume seemed to realize that everyone was smiling at him and he started turning red from the embarrassment, Kitamoto burst into laughter after admiring the miracle before him. Nishimura joined in, and soon the whole classroom was awash in giggles and smiles all around. Natsume's blush only seemed to darken, eyes ducking behind his bangs as he bit his lip nervously with an endearing smile slowly making its way to his face.
It was beautiful.
Sometimes the way Natsume looked at things, was strange. He was always tripping and always falling at the slightest breeze, at nothing. The rumors that had followed him from where he came permeated through the air, and the whole school was abuzz with the whispers. They hung low, like a cloud of gas smothering the classroom, shrouding out the sun. The term, "problem child", sunk itself into his name long before he strode through those classroom doors for the first time. People were wary, afraid. It was common knowledge after all. Bad things seemed to follow him everywhere he went. People lost things, whether stolen or not, no one knew. The bad things stalked him and the people he was with. No one was safe, at least that's what the rumours claimed. He had been passed from distant relative to distant relative, each and every single one swearing he was an unstable child, crazy in the head, problematic. Natsume talked. He talked to absolutely nothing. Natsume Takashi talked to nothing but air.
Natsume was thin, too. A twig, really. His face was pale and a touch strained when he first walked into the classroom. His voice was quiet, his posture slouched. Natsume was like a lost spirit, drifting, ever drifting. The rumors that chained him, kept him quiet; he didn't talk unless talked to. He didn't cause any unnecessary trouble, at least not on purpose, and never spoke out of line. Natsume was always obedient and always polite. Oh, so very polite. The class couldn't help but find that there was something off about Natsume. There was something maybe not necessarily wrong, just something different.
Nishimura wasn't the first person to hear these rumors, nor the last. Even when all the girls giggled and flustered over the soft new transfer student but were almost immediately put off by Natsume's strange behaviour, Nishimura still didn't go down that path. He heard the rumours, but he didn't want to believe them. Yes, Natsume was weird, but as time passed, Nishimura learned that wasn't the only thing about Natsume. Natsume was so very kind and just a tad bit too shy. He was fun, ever caring, and so, so gentle. Always worried and full of anxiety, Natsume hated causing trouble, causing a stir in the air. The rumors that followed him, stalked him into corners, kept him that way: afraid, but ever resilient once he opened up slightly. Despite this, Nishimura and Kitamoto managed to crack that mask ever so slowly. Like a flower blooming after harsh winter snow, Natsume blossomed into the boy that he would've been, had he been raised in the beginning by his parents—or at least the Fujiwaras—instead of those other people. Nishimura and Kitamoto found Natsume even gentler than they had originally thought. He was so kind, always willing to give and give and give, while never expecting anything back. Never daring to hope for a return. Those rumours just simply couldn't be true. Natsume tripped on nothing now and then, he talked to air ever so often, and he seemed distant sometimes. But those rumors did not speak of Takashi. They spoke of only Natsume, grandson of the problematic Natsume Reiko. Whoever had deemed Natsume a problem child did not know him. They never did and deserved not to ever speak to him again. They should never be given the right to see the blossoming young adult that was now under the tender Fujiwaras' wings.
The rumours that had choked Natsume slowly dissipated. They drifted away, unnoticed under the warm summer breeze, the glow of bright sunshine, and the promise of peace. People relaxed, eventually. They knew. Natsume Takashi was a beautiful light in the dark, a shining beacon that had suffered so much pain. Natsume didn't deserve the horrors forced onto him. He deserved to be loved, to have a home, and a family. Friends. Natsume Takashi deserved the whole wide world and more. He deserved all the people that would love him and cherish him. And Takashi found them here, in this small wayside town, far from what he had known. Takashi had found love.