Chapter Three: Exceptionally Stupid

2013 – Summer

Sumiko had returned after her birthday unharmed and ecstatic, begging Gojou for more lessons and Natsumi to let her fight cursed spirits. It was hard to tell her no when she was buzzing with excitement, but she felt like she had to. Even Gojou had agreed that she wasn't ready to fight cursed spirits. It was the most reasonable Natsumi had seen him be, she had been relieved and nearly grateful because it was much easier to tell Sumiko no when there was another person siding with her.

The feeling was quickly dashed when Gojou told her that one of his students had died a week later. It was an accident, a miscalculation in the mission. A higher grade spirit than they had anticipated, but the kid had died all the same.

For the first time, Gojo joined one of the kid's sleepovers. She hadn't been a huge fan of the idea, but she didn't have a good reason to tell him no. It wasn't like they didn't have the space. After the kids had gone to bed, piled in Sumiko's room, the two of them had sat at the kitchen table and he was far more honest with her than he had been before.

This wasn't the first student of his that had died, and it wouldn't be the last. It was just the way it was, he wanted it to change, he was fighting the higher-ups when he could, using every bit of leverage he had available. Still, change was slow and the children (because really a sixteen-year-old was a child) who weren't strong enough died. It was survival of the fittest in the worst kind of way. The mortality rate of sorcerers, young sorcerers especially, was so high that it made her feel sick.

Sumiko knew that people died. Sometimes they didn't get there in time and regular people died, and sometimes sorcerers died in the line of duty, but she didn't understand the severity of it. Megumi did, had for many years, but Sumiko was still naïve, still hopeful.

"She's idealistic," he told her. "She wants to jump into it and start helping people. Start 'doing the right thing'. I'm less worried about her dying and more worried about what happens when she sees how horrible it is."

"How could that be worse?" Natsumi asked. "How could anything be worse than her dying?"

He hadn't given her a real answer, just a vague explanation that curse users existed. Some shamans decided to not just abandon the fight against cursed spirits but to instead turn their talents against non-sorcerers. Sometimes for money, sometimes out of anger, and sometimes because they blamed them for the existence of cursed spirits. It was the piece he had left out, that neither he or Sumiko had ever told her.

Non-sorcerers created cursed spirits. Sorcerers were the only ones able to exorcise those spirits, and sometimes they died trying.

Natsumi felt sick. She thought that cursed spirits just existed, that they cropped into existence through some twisted form of evolution, a pest that could never quite be exterminated. They had never told her they were created because of the uncontrolled cursed energy, derived from unchecked human emotions. She felt like it was her fault. How many had she created over the years? She had spent nearly her whole life filled with resentment and self-hatred, anger constantly sitting in the pit of her stomach for almost a decade.

She tried, much harder than she ever had before, to keep her emotions under control. That included trying to have more patience for Gojou. He was still insufferable, and one honest and serious conversation did not make him less obnoxious. It did make her a little more tolerable of his antics, however annoying she found him.

Natsumi felt like she was doing pretty well at not letting her emotions run her life as much until Sumiko got sick.

Sumiko hadn't been sick before, not more than a small cold. Natsumi wasn't sure if it was a sorcerer thing or a genetics thing because she and Ichiro hadn't been prone to sickness either growing up. She was sick now though, unable to keep food down for very long, and a fever that was exacerbated by the recent heat wave.

She had spent two days barely sleeping, trying everything she could to get Sumiko to keep something, anything down. They spent half the night in the bathroom, Sumiko heaving and Natsumi rubbing her back. She didn't know what to do, everything she had tried wasn't working and she was at a loss. There was no one she could ask, she didn't have any friends that had kids and Gojou was out of town again. She wasn't going to call Tsumiki in the middle of the night and Sumiko didn't want to go to the hospital, she was afraid that her grandmother would find out about it. The older woman checked in a few times a year, and Gojou warned them that they kept tabs. They weren't being actively followed, but they were being monitored and it had gotten worse once Gojou had gotten involved.

Natsumi headed to the drugstore after the last bout of nausea, to try to find something that would help. She could barely think straight from the lack of sleep, but she made the drive with little incident. It had been easier to leave Sumiko in bed, cell phone well within reach, than drag her sick and sweating out of the house.

The air conditioning had finally gone out because of the heat wave, and it wasn't helping matters. It was hard to tell how much of Sumiko's fever was from being sick or because of the insane heat. All the open windows and fans weren't helping circulate the air in that old house.

She was panicked, she was exhausted, and she was too hot to think straight. This was how she found herself sitting on the floor of a drugstore, crying because she couldn't figure out which of these medicines she had tried and which of them she hadn't. She wanted to call someone, she felt so alone and Sumiko was so sick and what was she doing? Who had let her think she could do this? She should tap out, she should call Sumiko's grandmother and ask her for help. She should take Sumiko to the hospital.

"Fuck!" she yelled, it was late and she was tired and she needed to do something. She couldn't drink or break things and she wasn't even supposed to be getting upset. She had to stay calm so her cursed energy didn't get out of whack so she didn't bring home cursed spirits because that definitely wouldn't help Sumiko.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

She looked up, tears still falling down her face, her panic momentarily interrupted by shock. It was the man from the mall, the one who had been responsible for the twin girls. She hadn't seen or heard from them since that day, not that she had really expected to call. He stood over her and in her delirium she swore he was taller than before. He wore loose-fitting pants with a dark blue t-shirt and looked wholly unaffected by the pervasive heat.

If Natsumi hadn't already been flushed from the heat she would have blushed from embarrassment. She'd worn her sweaty house clothes, more concerned with getting to the drugstore than her appearance. She regretted that now as her clothes clung to her sweaty skin.

"What are you doing on the floor?" he repeated again. He didn't bother with the false smile this time, looking at her with clear judgment on his face.

"My niece is sick," she said.

Getou glanced at the medicine she'd been looking at and back at her, waiting for the rest of her explanation.

"I haven't slept," she admitted. "She keeps getting sick and can't keep any food down. I don't know what to do. I don't have anyone I can call. She doesn't want to go to the hospital and I don't want to make her go. Not if I can fix it." She started crying again, "But I can't fix it, and she has a fever and it's hot and – "

He crouched, ignoring her, and sorting through the medicine she had in front of her. "The twins were similarly sick a month ago. She probably has the same bug."

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you," he tossed a few of the boxes she had pulled out in the basket slung around his arm, and put the rest on the shelf.

"Why?"

"You helped Mimiko and Nanako, this," he gestured at the basket, "makes us even."

She wiped her face against the sleeve of her t-shirt, and stood up, trying to regain some dignity. An uphill battle considering she had been crying on the dirty floor in a public place. "Oh… How are they?"

The look of disgust in his eyes told her it was a battle she would not win. "They are fine."

"That's good," she muttered and looked away. She couldn't fathom why he didn't like her, she wasn't the most likable person, sure, but she hadn't done anything to him. If anything, he seemed to hate her from the moment they had interacted, when all he knew was that she'd helped the twins. Contempt didn't feel like the appropriate reaction.

Getou turned his back to her, and she wondered how he could stand that long hair against the back of his neck in this heat. His hair was long and thick, and as pretty as it might be she couldn't imagine it was comfortable. He didn't look back at her as he walked, leading them down another aisle, he was debating different teas when she glanced at the other items in the basket.

There, right next to the medicines he'd grabbed were tampons and painkillers. The twins were a little young, but it wasn't impossible, she had been not much older than them and Sumiko had started about a year ago. The issue was she knew very few girls who used tampons that young, especially the kind he was buying. She should mind her business, really, because she could be wrong, maybe he had a girlfriend or maybe he was married (though she hadn't seen a ring, so it was doubtful).

"Are those for the twins?"

"What?" he looked at her irritated, and then glanced at the basket. "Well, they aren't for me."

She pursed her lips at his tone, "I didn't think they were for you."

"Then why did you ask, if you knew the answer?"

"Well I don't know, maybe you have a woman friend or something."

"That's not any of your – "

"I never said it was," she cut him off. "I was asking, because I'm assuming it's their first time?"

Getou glared at her but didn't answer.

"If it's their first time, I doubt they will feel comfortable with tampons. That's sort of… major league and they're still in the minors," she laughed at her own joke, trying to lighten the tension.

It didn't work. "Make your point." He was far more irritated by this conversation than she thought he should be, but that seemed to be his general reaction to her.

"You're buying the wrong things."

"I'm not an idiot, I know what products women use – "

"Women. Not eleven-year-old girls. I'm assuming only one of us has been a teenage girl before?" she paused and watched him grind his teeth. "That makes me the expert, and I'm telling you, you're buying the wrong thing. Let me help you, because I'm sure this is awkward enough as it is, and if you buy the wrong thing it'll be worse and you'll have to be back here again."

"Fine," he bit out. Getou threw the box of tea aggressively into the basket and walked past her, heading toward the other side of the store. She followed him until he stopped in front of the section where the feminine products were kept. "Which ones?" he gestured to the wall of options, the barest blush on his face.

He was embarrassed, probably also angry because he was interacting with her. Even discounting the loathing in his eyes, everything in his body language said he did not like her. She felt it was undeserved, she was genuinely just trying to help, even if he couldn't see that. Natsumi reached into the basket to grab the tampons and put them back, but he flinched away when she reached out. She raised an eyebrow and he scowled at her, his eyes still filled with that intense anger.

"Okay then," she mumbled and let it be, he could put them up if he really wanted to. "Okay, so…" she trailed off into an explanation of what was best at their age. She might have gotten a little too specific with the different kinds and absorbencies, but seeing as he would have to buy them in the future he would need to know. "Also, always buy like, way more of this stuff than you think they need. Having extra is never bad, one of those better safe than sorry things."

"The medicine? Is that right?" his tone still had an edge to it, but it wasn't quite so belligerent.

She hummed as she peeked in the basket, "Yeah, that's a good one."

Getou walked away again, his back rigid as she followed him to the counter. She expected him to separate out the items, but he paid for it, clearly serious about making them even. It was a petty thing, insisting on paying since she had paid for the girls lunch, and she knew that's exactly what it was, but she wasn't going to argue with him.

Natsumi stayed behind at the counter for a moment because without the distraction Getou had provided, she felt the panic and the fear once again and she needed… something. She would be up all night again, there would be no way she was going to get any sleep. She looked at the cigarettes behind the clerk and her hand twitched. She hadn't smoked in a while, trying to give up drinking and smoking at the same time wasn't exactly a great idea but she had been trying. Intermittently since Sumiko had moved in with her, she tried to lessen her drinking and stop smoking, it wasn't good for her to be around. It mostly resulted in Natsumi sneaking cigarettes like a teenager and secret night drinking.

She gave in, if she could only have one then the cigarettes felt like the lesser of the two evils. At least she could still drive while she smoked. She bought a pack and stepped back into the sticky humidity. Getou had waited for her, not as if he had much choice when he had the medicine she needed, that intense glare still on his face. It should have made him less attractive, that angry look on his face. It didn't, and she found herself embarrassed all over again.

His eyes flicked to the cigarettes in her hand, but he said nothing as he held out the plastic bag. She couldn't be sure if he wasn't a chatty guy or if he just hated her too much to speak outside necessity. She held her hand out and he dropped the bag in her hand, avoiding any contact with her.

"We're even now."

It felt like an unnecessary statement. "Not that it matters, I doubt we'll see each other again," she said.

"Hopefully not."

"You really, really don't like me."

He didn't answer, but then it hadn't really been a question. His lip was curled in disgust, the same intensely angry glare and if she didn't know any better, she would think he wanted to kill her, just for standing there.

Then she remembered the news story. The man who had harassed the girls had been found dead in his home. A string of victims. No witnesses and no suspects. She had wondered about it at the moment but then dismissed it. Just because he had contempt for her, didn't mean he was a killer. The few times she had thought about him or the twins in the past few months, she had dismissed it. Maybe she didn't remember it quite right, her imagination had gone wild. Maybe she had projected her own anger and rage from the day onto him.

Looking at him now, the rigidity in his body, the clenched jaw and hands balled tightly against his thighs. She remembered why she thought had done it. He walked away, having reached his limit for their interaction.

"Can I ask you something?"

It was stupid. She shouldn't ask, for so many reasons. Either he didn't do it and she was going to look crazy for asking him, or he did do it and he might kill her, he might take it as a threat.

Getou barely paused in his stride but did not turn, waiting for her question.

"I saw that guy on the news. The one that bothered the girls in the music store." It was stupid. This was so stupid. But then, no one would ever call Natsumi smart. "Someone killed him."

He turned, slowly, shoulders pulled back, and the look on his face sent a chill down her back. His expression was empty as if he wasn't even there. "Oh?" His eyes… the rage and contempt were gone. They were ice cold as he waited for her to continue, to accuse him.

"Did you have anything to do with that?" What was she doing? Of course, he did it, he wouldn't be looking at her like that if he was innocent.

"Of course not." His tone was flat, no sincerity, no defensiveness.

What had she really expected him to say? No one would admit to murder. She shouldn't have said anything at all, she let her curiosity get the best of her and she hadn't really thought. She just wanted to know, because… because she was glad, he was dead.

"Well… if you did," she said slowly, watching him just as carefully as he was watching her. He never took one step forward, and she could feel a chill around her from the emptiness in his expression. There was a sudden chill in the air, a cold empty feeling that matched the look in his eyes. It had to be in her head because she knew the air was humid and sticky, had been just a moment ago. But she still felt the cold, as if she had suddenly been plunged into ice water. "I wouldn't blame you," she said, remembering vividly what she had thought that night.

His eyebrows raised slightly at her admission, but his expression remained relatively unchanged. "You wouldn't?"

"No, I wouldn't. I think… He hurt a lot of girls. He was a principal at a middle school. Even if you didn't know that before… he… It was fucked up. When people do shit like that, they deserve what they get."

His lip twitched faintly. "That's an interesting way to look at it," his body was still rigid, his eyes were still cold, but his tone was almost… amused.

"I never claimed to be a good person," she said. "If there's one less creep around to hurt little girls, then I'm not going to complain."

"What would you do if someone hurt your niece?"

"Oh, I would be in jail," she didn't even need to think about it. "I'm not calculated enough to get away with cold-blooded murder, but I am stupid enough to beat someone to death in the moment."

They were quiet, it was late, so late and there was barely anyone else out. Natsumi was stupid, she had always been stupid and impulsive, even when she tried hard not to be. She waited for a moment, to see if he would say anything, stop her from leaving, but he only stared at her. His lips in an almost smile, looking at her with that cold expression. When he didn't move, didn't say anything, she started to turn, ready to run if she heard his steps follow her because this was the height of stupidity.

"Do I get to ask a question?" he still sounded amused.

"Uh… yeah," she stopped in her tracks, turning back to face him fully.

"If you thought that a person was capable of murder, why would you confront that person about it? Doesn't that seem… exceptionally stupid?"

"I am exceptionally stupid," she answered. "I didn't think about it all the way through to be honest. I was just curious and I wanted to know. I thought about it months ago, I just kinda forgot until just now."

His eyebrows raised again, "So you thought you would just ask because you were curious?"

"Pretty much."

He laughed, empty and hollow. "You are exceptionally stupid."

Natsumi didn't understand why. "I told you I was. No one ever believes me, they think it's a joke. Talk to me for long enough, though and you realize I really am dumb as hell."

"So, I've gathered," he shook his head and turned around. She could feel the chill start to fade, the heat suffocating her again. It was all in her head, it had to be. "Goodnight, Matsuda-san."

"Goodnight." Natsumi turned, quickly, dug her keys out of her pocket, and stuck them between her fingers. She was stupid, so stupid. It was the sleep deprivation and hysterics before. She wasn't that girl anymore, that girl that chased dangerous men, and he was dangerous because there was no way he had been telling the truth. He killed that man and they both knew it. Natsumi continued to berate herself all the way to the car, never looking behind her because that only ever slowed you down.

Natsumi didn't see him turn back to watch her flee around the corner to her car. She never heard him mock her. "What an odd, monkey."

The medicine helped a few hours after Sumiko took it, her fever had gone down at the very least. She hadn't eaten anything yet, but so far had been able to keep the tea down. Natsumi sat on the floor, watching her sleep, delirious enough that she wasn't quite sure the night had really happened. She rubbed at her arms, the chill was gone but the goosebumps remained, each hair standing on end.

It had been stupid to confront him whether she thought it was true or not. A horrifying dangerous choice, the kind she couldn't make anymore. She wasn't that girl anymore, couldn't be that girl even if she wanted to and she didn't. There was so much that she had done that she was ashamed of, things that Sumiko would never know, that no living person knew.

Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn't find Getou attractive, and even more so now. Natsumi, at her very worst, was self-destructive and there was always going to be the broken part of her that wanted what was bad for her. Like the cigarettes, like the drinking, like dangerous men who murdered others because they hurt someone they loved.

She really couldn't blame him, who knew what that predator would have done to the twins if she hadn't been around, if no one had done anything. The last thing she had seen on the news was that they had been investigating the disappearance of several girls at the middle school where the man worked. They were looking for bodies, and everyone knew it, they just hadn't wanted to say it. That man deserved to die, and she hoped it hurt.

She couldn't blame Getou, not at all, but that didn't mean she should be anywhere near him.

It was a good thing she would probably never see him again, and an even better thing that he couldn't stand her.