There's a strange man lurking by the school gate, with long dark hair and an expensive suit, standing like a shadow in the sun. He's smiling, too wide and too friendly, at the students passing him by.
Kitamoto frowns. He's never seen this person around before.
Beside him, Nishimura throws an arm up in an enthusiastic wave and calls out, "Hey Natsume! Over here!"
The stranger's smile gets bigger, showing teeth, as he turns his head to follow the loud greeting down the opposite side of the road; and Kitamoto would have to be blind to miss the way Natsume's steps stutter, the way his face bleaches of color and his own cheerful greeting falls weakly out of his mouth, when his eyes land on the man waiting in front of the school.
Waiting for him.
Kitamoto's stomach curls uneasily, and his heart beats a little faster. He stops walking abruptly, right in front of the gate, keeping Nishimura right behind him and waiting pointedly for Natsume to catch up. Kitamoto is hardly more than an arm's length away from the dark man, but he waits anyway, his face folded into what he hopes isn't an open glare.
The man doesn't do anything. Just keeps smiling, knowing and amused and seemingly at Natsume's expense, and Kitamoto has to steel himself not to reach out and snatch Natsume across those last few feet between them.
Settles for tucking an arm around his friend's thin shoulders instead, the moment he's close enough, and all but dragging him into the safety of their school.
"Look," one of their classmates says, "that man outside is talking to a cat."
Kitamoto's head snaps up. Natsume has been looking out the window for most of the period, lunch sitting uneaten in his lap.
Trading glances, Tanuma, Kitamoto and Nishimura stand up in wordless unison and move past the desks to cluster at the windowsill. Sure enough, the dark man is right where they left him, and Natsume's fat calico cat is sitting on the top of the wall, just out of his reach. It does sort of look like they're having a conversation, if a cat were capable of that sort of thing.
And maybe Kitamoto is just projecting himself onto the cat, a little bit, but it almost looks like Nyanko-sensei wants nothing to do with the guy.
"Okay, this is creeping me out," Nishimura finally says. "We should tell a teacher to go get rid of him."
"It wouldn't do any good," Natsume replies. "That man can do largely whatever he wants." He sounds distracted, chin pillowed in the palm of his hand. "But don't worry. I know him. He isn't here to cause any trouble."
Kitamoto faces the window again, so he can point his scowl at the stranger who deserves it, rather than at his (incredibly frustrating) gentle friend.
Outside, the cat is sick of its company. It turns and runs the length of the wall before jumping to the ground on the other side, out of sight. And Kitamoto thinks Natsume's cat is probably a much better judge of character than Natsume is – the cat will take a vicious swipe at anyone who tries to hurt it, after all, while Natsume will close his eyes and forgive.
Tanuma is very rarely stubborn, and Kitamoto has never seen him put his foot down the way he does now.
"I'm walking you home," he says mulishly, for the third time. Natsume frowns at him.
"That's unnecessary. I'm telling you it's fine. He's not a – stalker. He's perfectly safe."
"You know, you should really try to sound convincing when you lie," Nishimura says helpfully. "Otherwise we'll just ignore what you say and walk you home anyway."
Natsume throws his hands up in the air, equal parts exasperated and resigned, but he isn't truly angry. There's a softness in his eyes that belies an utter fondness, and something like gratitude in the farthest corners of a reluctant smile as it creeps across his face.
It makes Kitamoto feel five inches taller. Makes him feel like his unwarranted protective streak was maybe a little warranted after all.
Nishimura runs ahead out the door while Kitamoto is still by the lockers, his curiosity getting the better of him as usual – and then he yells. Kitamoto lurches to his feet with his heart in his throat and strides out after him.
"Ohmygodit'sNatoriShuichi," his friend all but shrieks. "Who does he think he's fooling with that hat, I'd know those eyes anywhere. Look, Atsushi, look!"
Kitamoto looks. The shadowy man is gone, and the person standing in his spot is warm in all the places he was cold; smiling out of a handsome face that Kitamoto recognizes from billboards and CD stores.
Next to him, Natsume's shoulders slump in stark, unmistakable relief.
"Natori?" he asks, striding forward to meet the man halfway. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, a little bird told me you might need an escort this evening," Natori says pleasantly, watching Natsume the same careful way some people read the footnotes at the end of a complicated text. His tone of voice is light and teasing, and his kind expression never fades, when he adds, "I can see your friends have that more than covered, though."
Natsume's face flushes, and he blurts, "I didn't ask them to!"
Natori laughs. "All the better, then! Though I really would like this chance to catch up. You boys don't mind, do you?" he asks the rest of them politely.
Tanuma has relented already, looking as relieved to see Natori as Natsume is, dark eyes shining with gratitude. Nishimura is a distraction, patting down his pockets and his bag for a pen and a piece of paper and muttering furiously to himself about an autograph.
And Natsume looks comfortable and content, familiar with this famous actor and fond of him – but he lies so often about so many different things that Kitamoto can't bring himself to take Natsume at face value anymore.
He finds himself looking down at Nyanko-sensei for the final word on the matter.
"What do you think?" he asks, surprising himself – and everyone else, from the looks of it. Natsume's eyes are moon-like, and Tanuma and Natori both stare.
Nyanko-sensei blinks once, then sits up and stretches mightily. After that, it's four quick bounds from the ground to Natori's shoulder, and the man staggers with the unexpected weight. Natsume looks away quickly, but not before Kitamoto catches the edge of his grin, and Nyanko-sensei settles under Natori's right ear, kneading at the expensive-looking jacket and purring loud enough for all of them to hear.
It's that, more than anything, that decides it. "Okay, then," Kitamoto says, finally letting go of all the worry he's been holding. "He's all yours."