The voices were soft, light, airy and musical. It might have been music, floating on the wind, the words only imagined. Almost a song, the lyrics of which were more impressions than anything spoken, more feelings and emotions than actual words.

"Searching… Searching…" the voices sang.

For what? The question needn't be asked, for the song revealed all. Mournful, desperate, weak, despairing. Aching of an endless journey, carrying on for that single note of hope. Their goal. Their star in the sky, the dream at the end of a rainbow.

A home. They were searching for their home, sure in their faith that it existed. That they would know home when they found it. Love, safety, protection, warmth.

"Searching… Searching..."

The wispy, musical voices, despite their weariness, their long, long, almost never-ending journey, still believed. They sang, in just that one word, not just their aching loneliness, but their hope and faith that home existed. That they would find it when the time was right.

Natsume found himself reaching out to the beautiful, mournful, hopeful voices. In what way, he wasn't sure, for he somehow knew this was another of his dreams – or, rather, another's dreams reaching out to him. Perhaps it was foolish, but his heart ached in empathy and yearned to reach out and comfort the voices, to welcome them, ease their pain, sure up their hope.

And the song changed.

Ringing with joy, love, hope.

Home.

…

Natsume blinked open his eyes, smiling gently at the remnants of the dream in his mind, heedless of the tears running down his face from being so wrapped up in pure emotion.

Home. Joy. The end of the search, the journey.

It was still dark, the sun not quite up yet. Nyanko-sensei was curled up at his side, snoring loudly and obliviously as usual.

Whose dream had that been? Natsume allowed his eyes to scan the room, trying to find the owners of those wispy, musical voices. Something small, he was sure. Delicate, innocent in its purity.

"Home!" he heard, the tiny voices exactly as they'd been in his dream, only now so full of happiness and satisfaction. A joy so pure and sweet his heart ached for them. A pleasure so strong, their presence glowed like sunshine, strong and bright, warm and safe – only not to his physical eyes.

He closed his eyes, still trying to find them. To follow their warmth, the source of those sweet little voices.

"Home! Happy! Safe!"

His arms? Why would they be there?

Natsume opened his eyes and held out his arms. There they were. He smiled in greeting, not that they would know. Or would they?

On the underside of each arm, about midway between wrist and elbow, were dark green shadows of vines, much like a Natori's lizard 'tattoo'. They seemed to bask in his attention, the little tendrils and leaves squirming in delight.

Natsume laughed at the childlike happiness. "Well," he chuckled, "long as you don't curse me or anything."

The spirit vines probably didn't understand the words, but seemed to grasp the meaning behind them as they quickly sang to reassure that tiny inkling of worry in the very back of Natsume's mind, buried behind the wonder and enjoyment.

"Protect home!" they pretty much cheered. "Never hurt! Safe forever! Good home!"

Natsume couldn't help another bubbly laugh. Feeling strangely satisfied, he relaxed and went back to sleep.

It had been three days.

What could possibly be taking Nyanko-sensei so long?

Natsume didn't even have the energy to be mad. Worried sick? Well, yes.

Morbidly terrified? Uh, yeah.

Wasn't the first time he'd woken up captured in the Matoba main house, but the circumstances were just oh so different.

He hadn't been half-yokai at the time, for one. Which, while it did mean the Matoba clan was no longer trying to recruit him, also meant he had valid reason to fear for his life.

And, after three days, Nyanko-sensei's life. For all that fat old cat's selfishness, he knew he wouldn't leave him to suffer at the hands of exorcists.

And now, being half-spirit himself, he well understood why all sorts of yokai were so scared of the large, powerful clan.

He'd noticed it even before waking that first day of his captivity. The extra senses and power he'd begun to take advantage of these last few months, gone. Blanketed, muffled, suffocated. His vines remained in their dormant state, winding about his arms under his skin, though they had barely moved in the last 36 hours. Certainly they hadn't, couldn't, awaken to serve as Natsume's extra limbs and fierce protectors and helpers.

Natsume panted as he turned his gaze upward to worriedly examine his precious vines, but they appeared as healthy as ever, for all their sluggishness. It was probably their influence that he was still alive at all, given that he hadn't eaten or drank anything since before he'd woken up in this hot, wet room.

Which probably explained why basically Natsume was bound in place in a greenhouse. Glass roof and walls, obscenely high humidity, rich soil he knelt on, the flowers and trees surrounding him. Weird to think he was probably living off photosynthesis.

His gaze and thoughts turned from his vines to the glowing cords binding his hands and arms in place above his head. The cords were wound in a very specific pattern, almost a web, trapping Natsume in the center of an elaborate spell circle.

Freeing himself without access to his vines was now well and truly impossible. After three days, he couldn't feel his arms anymore, let alone his fingers. Unbinding a simple knot would be beyond him.

Despair dragged at his heart. Three days. How long would this go on? What did the exorcists want with him anyway?

The click of the entrance, somewhere behind him, sounded, along with soft, paced footsteps and the swishing of robes.

Matoba.

As before, the slow, unhurried footsteps came to an end just behind him. Even knowing what to expect, Natsume couldn't stop the terrified shudders as Matoba's hands reached out to examine his bindings, then traced the path of Natsume's vines from fingertips to shoulders, highlighting every swirl and leaf, as if searching for something. Apparently the vines had spread even further, as he felt Matoba's fingers drift around the back of his shoulders and across his back, spiraling and crossing in random patterns.

Natsume leaned his head back, screwing up his courage as he caught a glimpse of Matoba's face and single, intense eye following his hands. Definitely looking for something.

Not that it wasn't still creepy, being bound, shirtless, kneeling in dirt, with a strange man's fingers tracing patterns on his back.

"What do you… want?" Natsume barely managed to ask, voice rough from disuse and pain. It wasn't himself, Natsume was sure of that. Matoba had been focused on his vines from the beginning.

Matoba ignored him, or at least seemed to as he continued tracing the vines across the teenager's back. Natsume caught a smirk crossing his face as he felt the fingers draw together and trace a single, winding line back up his back, up the back of his neck, and into his hairline.

Unaccountably, Natsume felt his heart and breathing speed up in almost panic, every muscle in his body tensing as Matoba ran his fingers through Natsume's fine hair, running carefully along the scalp until…

Natsume gasped as every muscle seized up painfully as Matoba's fingers touched… something. Tears sprung to his eyes and he could no longer hold back the whimper as Matoba twisted Natsume's hair around the fingers of one hand to keep him still as he again touched whatever that was, running his fingers across and over it, heedless of the youth's garbled pleading to "Stop, stop, please stop, please…"

Natsume completely lost track of time, though it realistically couldn't have been more than a couple minutes, until the hands left his hair and, and that.

When Natsume managed to get a hold of himself and open his watery eyes, trying to control his stuttered breathing, he almost flinched to see Matoba standing in front of him, watching him appraisingly.

"Tell me, Natsume Takashi," he began, the first words Natsume had heard during his captivity. "Have you ever heard of the Fountain of Youth? The Philosopher's Stone? The Elixir of Life?"

Matoba didn't seem to care for Natsume's answer, not waiting for a reply before he continued on, single eye fastening to some spot in Natsume's hair and glittering in… delight?

"Because you are the source of all those legends."

Huh? That didn't…

Matoba reached out. Natsume yanked his head back, but couldn't move far enough to prevent the exorcist clan leader from touching whatever that was, again sending unbelievable pain shooting through Natsume's system. At least this time the hand didn't linger.

"You will bloom, Natsume Takashi. Bloom a mystical, healing flower that legends claim to be a cure to any ill, perhaps even the secret to immortality..." He trailed off, eyes glowing and satisfied smirk growing.

"And that flower, and any more to follow, will belong to the Matoba clan."

Author's Note: Hope that wasn't too confusing, and hope you enjoyed! To be honest, I really need feedback and honest reviews in order to continue this story! I have a ton of ideas, but really don't even know whether I want to follow them chronologically and have this 'spoiler' with Matoba as a bit of a flashforward, or would you all prefer me to follow the Matoba kidnapping as the main storyline with flashbacks of Natsume developing his powers? Feel free to send me ideas, advice, and requests too!

Also, credit where it's due, to harunekonya for her absolutely incredible story The Human Mask, which served as the inspiration for many of my ideas that I plan to use in this story. Seriously, I think it's as good as the original manga!

Thanks again for reading and hope to have a new chapter for you soon!