XI. Direction and Perception
"Don't rip off my precious hair!"
Matoba slows the motion of the brush going through his hair. A green gaze pierces him from the right side. Glancing back to the brush, Matoba notices several strands have been pulled between the bristles. Oh.
There is a small growl from Natsume's throat.
"Alright, alright." Matoba concedes, petting down from the top of his head to gather the hair to the side. It is then offered to the demon. "Try to find me a little earlier so you can be the one to brush."
Natsume looks to the side, embarrassed and a little irritated. Quietly he responds, "I did try," before taloned fingers reach to the offering.
Although Natsume has been serving the Matoba clan head for a long time now, he consistently loses direction in the manor. Maybe it is because the residence is large and enchanted with seals. Even as a servant for the household, perhaps the seals still affect him. He hasn't admitted to any of this—how embarrassing would that be. Waiting for a wandering attendant, Natsume will follow after as if he too knew the way.
And of course, it happens again.
Of all times to get lost, it is right before an assignment at another exorcist's residence. Because of this, Matoba is about the manor, preparing and gathering materials, leaving Natsume behind in his unprepared frenzy.
As such, Natsume is irritated. Matoba should have instructed him to collect what was needed as well. The master is going to be late for this job. Before their departure, the demon hoped to have Matoba's hair for a short time. Taking upon the duty of tracking the exorcist, Natsume finds himself in a section of the third floor (maybe the second floor?) never previously explored.
Bothered, frustrated, and anxious, clammy fingers stroke the lilac ribbon cascading down his collarbone. This human will need to compensate. For now, this works.
It is not long before Matoba finds Natsume—far from the spot he told him to stay. There is a small crease between his brows, but it eases immediately upon the sight of the demon. Relief softens his lips. (Not hurt, not frightened—far from the initial concern.)
"Did you need my hair that badly that you are running around looking for me?" It is not hard to miss the small flush on Natsume's cheeks. It is also much too easy to tease him. Matoba adjusts the bag strap on his shoulder to gather his black hair mussed from prior activity. WIth a grin and the thick ponytail in hand, Matoba offers, "Would you like it now before we leave? Unfortunately I do not have a hair brush on me, but if you promise to be gentle, I will allow your excessively sharp nails."
The silver-haired demon balks and blushes at his master's words. The fingers tending to the ribbon squeeze, not pulling away. (A little too late.) "I don't need it now," Natsume counters, brows furrowed.
Noticing the silk ribbon, Matoba smirks to himself before tossing the hair back and adding, "I suppose the contract is not beneficial to you anymore now that that ribbon has become the substitute."
Natsume pushes his lips out, turning his head to hide a red face before nodding. "You're right. It's useless."
Natsume doesn't like accompanying to other exorcists' residences. The feeling and scent and atmosphere are different. There are unfamiliar talismans and prayers used to guard the estate and its inhabitants, but most of all, they are used against those that don't belong.
Like Natsume.
When a seal is placed around his head, his lips twitch. It's different than the usual. Someone else's handwriting and spirit is within that ink and it doesn't settle well with his spirit. The effect pulls heavily down on his body. Natsume clenches his fists to test its pressure and influence. A flexing that simple is difficult—his powers and freedom are greatly diminished.
Matoba recognizes the distress and softly ruffles Natsume's hair for reassurance. "I apologize, Natsume. The exorcist requires this seal to be used. It will be removed immediately once we're away from the property."
The genuine pet to his head makes Natsume's eyes flutter. With both hands, he takes his master's hand and weakly squeezes in response.
'Thank you.'
Overtime, the demon recognizes that not only is the seal restricting, but the energy contained makes him restless and itchy. There is only so long he can play with the master's hair before being gently reminded he is conducting business. Having recently a confrontation with the exorcist, Natsume decides to pull away to avoid another possible vulnerable session. With the limitations set by the precautionary seal, Natsume resolves to wander the building to expel the accumulating energy as the humans attend their exorcist meeting.
The residence isn't difficult to navigate. The Matoba manor is much more expanse. Yet, with this strange seal on him, the youkai finds himself increasingly disoriented. He furrows his brows and tsks. The halls and walls before him melt and bend, forcing him to pause a moment to consider another hall to walk. A thought crosses his mind, and Natsume scratches the thin tie around the back of his head. It doesn't budge. Unfortunately only his master can remove the seal.
Hearing voices outside, Natsume approaches a window to peer outside, lifting the seal to see better. There he finds the exorcists dispelling from the building. It looks like their meeting has ending. Green eyes scan the guests for his master. (Maybe Natsume can wash Matoba's hair for making him wait this long and donning another exorcist's seal.)
Of all things, Natsume will first tend that long, black hair.
Except—when Natsume turns around, the hallway has since changed and startles a gasp from him. Although there is a sinking feeling inside his chest and stomach, the demon dismisses it. He can find his way back; the house is much smaller than his master's. But, there still remains the compounding effects of the blessed house, placed talismans, and the seal around his head. Although the power in the seal is nowhere near the master's level, it is effective in hindering.
It's not long before fatigue and confusion exhaust the demon. With stunted breathing, he wipes sweat from his temple and peeks into a room, hoping someone (Master) would be there.
Nothing.
Exhaling, frustrated and anxious, Natsume dismisses that fleeting and effortless hope. He has become accustomed to convenience. He shouldn't expect these desires so easily in an unwelcome place.
A hand reaches to pet the silk ribbon around his neck.
Several more yards away, he tries another room to find it bare and dark. Natsume whips his head to the side, thinking that if he can follow along the windows, he can locate an exit. Outside is also bare, and quiet besides a few distant birds' calls.
No one.
Taking a shuddering breath, and a step back, Natsume carries further down the intentional maze of halls. The touch of the ribbon grounds the building panic—but—he can't help the inevitable. After several more turns and runs of confusion, a harsher coldness strikes Natsume. Desperately, the demon tries to remove the seal from frantically untying to ripping with nails. There are no tears, no wrinkles, no regained control.
He is stuck with this seal, caught in a trap to deceive youkai from invasion, separated from his master—the only being that has supported and understood him for so long—
An attempt of an inhale. A choke nearly catches.
Back against the wall lined with windows, Natsume slides down. He grips the silk ribbon, thumbing the smooth texture. A single item, nothing like many thin strands to pinch and pull and pet down. Hair would have been better in the end. It is a physical piece of Matoba, his master. Tugging a little more on the ribbon, dragging it down from his neck to feel more of— ...Yes. The precious, precious hair. Silk-like and strong and lustrous and aromatic and mesmerizing—to bury his face into, breathe in, know and feel his master there (breathing and warm and content)—
No.
The strand of hair wouldn't, or ever, be enough. Natsume doesn't miss the hair, doesn't fear that he will never return to it. It's Matoba.
"Natsume." The voice is just faintly covered stern.
The demon blinks up moist green eyes, one shielded by the paper seal. There, approaching not too far off, is his master, wearing a facade that hardly masks his panicked concern.
Natsume grimaces, relieved, but fights back his smile and tears not now wanting to explain. The concern makes him both happy and upset. The lilac ribbon is looped again around his neck and Natsume rises to meet the man.
"Because of the protection talismans here, I got lost," the youkai begins, an anxious heat filling him. Is this an explanation, or an excuse? It is not like he intends on this each time. "And I also… get lost at home, too."
Matoba considers the shiki's words and withdrawn frame. That shouldn't be happening in a place that is welcome. "I understand. You will still feel this place's effect, but it won't inconvenience you as much as this. You won't get lost if you're with me, right?"
When hands reach around his head, the demon flinches. But then the seal lifts, ice firing down his spine, mind unfogging, and restraints lifting. Nothing is crushing or confusing or inhibiting him any longer. The fingers are delicate and mindful to not knock against the protruding horns. It makes Natsume nervous and excited. Maybe Matoba should bump into them, not be so careful with him.
"No, I won't." Despite the heat on his cheeks, Natsume nods, eyes since dried. When was the last time he was able to see his master with both eyes like this, without a seal obstructing view? It is both liberating and vulnerable. He wants to keep looking, but also shield himself away from the exorcist's gaze. There's no longer a barrier, a distinct line that separates them.
"I will see what can be done at the manor. No wonder you sometimes miss out on your hair rituals." With a chuckle, Matoba turns about the hall, and Natsume naturally falls in step behind.
Green eyes catch the sway of the man's black hair against his back. A taloned hand reaches out, but it insteads grabs ahold of the black haori. Matoba doesn't say anything, and Natsume edges closer in stride, chest squeezing and full. Now, with the man's back to him, the realization is finally allowed to wash over him, causing a grimace both heartfelt and pained.
He loves Matoba.
