Title: Seven Days.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Natsume places himself at the mercy of the elements when he agrees to watch over a tiny shrine for seven days.
Notes: This is probably set in the same continuity as my previous Natsume's Book of Friends fic 'Three Days', while still being completely stand alone. You definitely don't have to have read one to understand the other ^_^
Spoilers: If you've only watched the anime, there is one line that mentions something that is commented on in the later manga chapters only.
Seven Days.
The rain is never-ending. The complicated circle Natsume drew six days ago is now nothing more than a ragged mess of incoherent scribbles that leaks out the protective magic that is supposed to keep him safe. The black forest seems to swallow that power, drawing it out maliciously from the gaping holes in the barrier and draining the last of Natsume's already flagging energy.
One more day. Only one more day.
And the rain is never-ending. His makeshift robes (nothing more than his jeans and a large, white beach towel) are soaked through, and there are large, thick leaves plastered against his hair and neck from the strong winds that roar occasionally through the small clearing. The tiny shrine that Natsume's kneels in front of is barely more than a few pebbles held together with mud, although those pebbles have been here for over four hundred years, and the mud is bound with a magic more powerful than anything Natsume has ever before encountered.
The power is not weather based, and so it cannot stop the late-autumn rain or still the wind. Natsume doubts that it would even if it could, because this is a test of belief and reverence, neither of which can apparently be measured honestly on warm, summer days.
This will be the last time he promises to participate in any kind of ritual, he swears to himself as the wind knocks into him and the rain continues to fall. No matter how weak the youkai who dwell around the protective shrine may be, this is definitely the last time he does something like this. There are safer parts of the forest for the small, fae-like demons to live if they are no longer strong enough to satisfy their protector's demands on their own.
He closes his eyes in irritation, a muscle in his cheek twitching.
Last time. Definitely.
Damn it.
It is only once every five hundred years, and this has been their home since before humans inhibited the lower lands, driving the more dangerous demons deeper into the forests. The small shrine that keeps them safe from detection only requires Natsume's protection and little else, and only for seven days –
The rain starts on the second day, and hasn't stopped once. Natsume dips his head backwards, allowing the cold, heavy drops to slide over his lips and into his mouth even as they also splay across his cheeks and gather beneath his eyes. No food. Nothing to starve off the ice winds. He is allowed to sleep if he so wishes, but then his own barriers will fall and the deadly youkai that circle in the trees will claim both Natsume and the shrine.
It had been different in the past, when the sprites had been powerful enough to take turns keeping the shrine safe throughout the seven days. The thought of the now tiny youkai trembling in fear back in his room hardens Natsume's resolve, his eyes darting back open as something tugs on the on the outer reaches of his magic circle.
No-one should bully others like that; no-one should have to be that scared.
Natsume concentrates, briefly tightening the gaps in the circle so that a spark of magic manages to jump between that battered fragments that still remain. A loud yap erupts from the far side of the circle, but it is followed by an ominous growl. Natsume waits tensely for the counter-attack, but instead there is just a strange scuffling sound followed by silence.
Good. He isn't entirely sure-
Natsume sways and the clearing fades briefly into black before coming vaguely back into focus. Everything is still a touch too blurry; the trees have lost their definition and resemble more a blur of grey than the individual saps and pines they had been just a moment before. His head aches and feels disconnected from the rest of his body, as cold and bruised as it is from his constant state of exhaustion.
One more day. Just one more day, and the youkai can return safely home.
He wishes sensei was here.
The thought slips so unexpectedly past Natsume's mental barriers that it serves as a shock to his system, and his eyes flicker open once again in surprise.
No, he doesn't wish the stupid cat was here, not at all! Nyanko-sensei hadn't wanted anything to do with this, lazily stating that it was the natural order of things for weaker youkai to eventually give way to stronger ones. The memory of their argument only brings Natsume's anger at his so-called guardian back to the surface.
Fine. Nyanko-sensei can be as indifferent as he wants, but that doesn't mean that Natsume has to bow to his belief that it is better to stay out of the 'squabbles' of less powerful entities. Besides, Natsume is more than capable of dealing with something like this on his own; he doesn't need someone so self-serving and selfish that they would let others be picked off one by one just because they don't have sensei's same ridiculous strength.
But, but it would have been nice if – like the tiny youkai before him – he had been able to do this with someone else as well, to not be so alone.
In the rain, the cold, the dark.
Natsume bites down on his bottom lip, drawing blood. The rush of pain leaves Natsume light headed, but it isn't enough to drive away the shadows that crawl through his mind, bringing a different kind of hurt that never seems to leave him for long.
One more day. Just one mo-
Natsume pitches forward, the last of the circle dissolving as he crashes into the ice-hard ground, unable to catch himself in time. He isn't able to force enough energy into his arms to push himself back up, even when a sudden, oppressive hatred crushes down on him with such weight that it forces a scream up from his chest and through his mouth. And then his head is roaring, and there is flash of white and red and more screams, vicious, angry screams that Natsume only realizes belatedly are not his own. It hurts, it hurts and he can't breathe and the hatred is still there, ripping through him and tearing out holes as it goes.
A sob catches in Natsume's throat as his own demons escape through the gaps, twisted faces and vicious hands and violent beatings that never happened because it's Natsume who is bad and not the people who ever take him in and a white, sterile building where people talked in soft, even voices -
Something cold and persistent is shoved suddenly into Natsume's face, and a different kind of weight settles across his chest.
"Wake up, idiot," a deep voice grumbles with the tiniest hint of panic against his ear. The part of Natsume that is being consumed by the dark shadows surges towards the familiarity of the voice, violently dragging himself away from some of the hurt and fear (but never all) and grabbing onto something more solid, more there.
"Sensei?" he asks disbelievingly when he forces his eyes open and finds himself sheltered by Nyanko-sensei true form. With one shaky hand, he reaches for the youkai's broad nose. Even soaking wet and with leaves sticking out at odd angles, Madara is still dizzyingly warm and soft.
"What, you were expecting one of those fairy things to come save your sorry behind? Not likely," sensei says with a snort.
Natsume doesn't reply; he is too exhausted to find the words. Instead, Natsume simply leans up and into Nyanko-sensei when the youkai curls around him, the aches and demons fading into something vaguer, more … healable.
"It's fine," Nyanko-sensei says gruffly when Natsume sits back up, eyes widening in panic. "I got to the youkai before they damaged your stupid shrine."
Natsume's gaze drifts down to the small collection of pebbles and the large paw that sits protectively beside them.
"It's only one more day, right?" Sensei adds, just a shade darkly. "Get some rest."
"I'm okay," Natsume replies automatically, his eyes never lifting from the shrine even as he sinks one hand deeper into sensei's fur, his fingers entwining with the damp strands. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "We should watch over it together, two sets of eyes are always better than one."
Nyanko-sensei lets out an exasperated sigh, and while Natsume thinks he mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like an insult, it isn't murmured quite loud enough for Natsume to catch. Natsume elbows him in the ribs, just in case.
The rain is never-ending, and it falls indiscriminately on them both. The fat drops catch in Natsume's hair and soak through the towel that shrouds his shoulders, but it … it doesn't seem quite as cold as before.