Nyanko-sensei had actually wanted to go back out that night in search of what Natsume had flung out the window, but he'd managed to firmly haul his inebriated cat back from the sill and that had been that.
Until the next day, that is.
.
.
"Is this is, Natsume?" Sensei's pawing at a glass marble he'd found on the side of the road. Natsume doesn't even bother answering him. It's embarrassing enough as it is. Nyanko-sensei leaps onto his shoulder, uttering a muffled, "Catch!" from around the marble in his mouth. Natsume manages to, miracle of miracles. He holds it up to the light. There's a twist of red suspended at its center, like folds of cloth.
"Pretty."
"But not it."
"This probably would've shattered if I'd thrown it out the window, so no."
Nyanko-sensei snorts. "As expected of human things."
Natsume rolls his eyes and sets the marble down on the low well they're passing.
"Hey!"
"What?" Natsume asks, bewildered. Sensei springs down from his perch and snatches up the marble again. He gives Natsume the stink eye before scampering back the way they came.
Natsume is left perplexed.
.
.
"What about this?" Sensei's brought him a worn puzzle piece. It lands with a satisfying clack as it's dropped onto his desk. An odd but welcome distraction from his algebra homework.
"No, Sensei." He lets out an amused huff. "Why did you think it would be this?" Nyanko-sensei sniffs indignantly.
"You humans place value on the silliest stuff, how am I supposed to know?"
"Is the great and powerful Madara admitting that he doesn't know something?" Sensei narrows his eyes, ear flickering irritably. He tips over Natsume's pencil cup before he hops off the desk and out the window. Natsume laughs for real this time.
The wooden puzzle piece is a chip of azure sky. A fine line of black indicates the wings of a soaring bird.
I bet the rest of the picture is nice, Natsume thinks, placing it next to the marble on the windowsill.
.
.
Sensei doesn't stop there. Natsume's never seen his cat so determined.
A little silver bell that doesn't ring anymore. A strip of lavender satin ribbon. A horse-hair paintbrush. A delicate earring without its backing. A small, sturdy two-minute hourglass filled with pink sand. A lightly-scuffed lacquered comb decorated with a floral design. An obsidian-colored twenty-sided die. A pair of cat-sized mittens (socks?) that Touko delightedly washes and presses. ("They'll be great for winter!" she beams.)
They've all been vetted by Natsume. And each time he responds in the negative but still, they're sticking around. A little museum curated by cat sensibilities, or rather by an all-powerful yokai's sensibilities.
It's rather charming.
.
.
One day, he comes home to a yokai drinking party in full swing up in his room and the Nyanko-shaped rock tucked between Sensei's paws next to his favorite sake cup. Natsume slides his door shut with a little more force than necessary when he catches the smug look on Nyanko-sensei's face. He goes downstairs to spend a quiet evening with Touko and Shigeru.
When all is quiet, he ventures upstairs. Sensei is curled up on his favorite pillow, the rock still nestled between his paws.
Natsume smiles despite himself.