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“This kindness of yours will get you killed someday.”
Natsume paused momentarily in wiping an alcohol-soaked cotton ball over a particularly deep cut on Matoba’s arm, considering the thought.
“Maybe,” he decided. The two were sitting in the kitchen of the Fujiwara house, in two chairs that had been pulled out from the table to sit just across from each other.
“There are many ayakashi that would take advantage of such a thing.”
Placing the now-blood-covered cotton ball on the paper towel sitting on the table, Natsume sighed. “Matoba-san, if you’re going to start an argument, can it wait until I’m done?”
Matoba’s ever-present smile widened as he attempted to give an innocent shrug. “What? I’m honestly worried about you. If instead of me, what if it was a yokai knocking on your door, pretending to be injured? You wouldn't have turned it away, would you?”
“Of course not.” Natsume pulled a curved needle from the first aid kit and a sanitary wipe.
“That bodyguard of yours is out again.” His one visible eye glanced around the room.
“Nyanko-sensei will be back soon.”
“Soon enough to protect you from an ayakashi?”
Natsume put down the spool of thread he had started fiddling with, his eyes narrowing. “I can protect myself. And besides, it won't be an ayakashi that kills me, it will be a human.”
“And what makes you so sure?”
Natsume lifted his eyes to meet Matoba’s. “Most ayakashi don’t go looking for a fight, and even when they do, it's rarely to actually kill someone unless they're hungry. You, on the other hand, went straight for the throat.”
“I’ve seen many of my colleagues slaughtered by ayakashi that have sought them out specifically to kill them.”
Natsume freed the end of the thread and began to fit it through the needle. “Because they're exorcists.”
“Exorcists that are protecting their own from a threat.”
A shake of the head. “Exorcists that go looking for a fight.”
“It's the ayakashi that are most often the aggressors.”
“Were you always so childish?” Matoba’s eyebrows became slightly furrowed.
“I hardly think it's childish when–”
“Give me your arm.” Natsume interrupted, not even waiting for Matoba to oblige and grabbing the arm himself.
He cleared his throat and repeated, “I hardly think it's childish when human lives are on the line.”
“And yet here you are, arguing about which side started it. Okay, brace yourself.” Matoba’s expression barely changed when Natsume threaded the needle through the skin of his arm.
The rest of the time it took to stitch Matoba’s arm was spent in silence, Natsume trying to be as careful as he could and Matoba simply observing Natsume in front of him. Natsume could never tell what he was thinking.
Finally, Natsume turned to grab a roll of gauze and securely wrapped it around the newly sewn wound. “Okay, all done. Now get out before Touko-san gets back.”
“So cold, Natsume-kun.”
Natsume glared. “Next time, go to the hospital.”
Something about what he said must’ve been funny to Matoba because his eye crinkled in what seemed like genuine amusement. “Doctor’s orders?”
He sighed. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just get out.”
[+]
“Oh my, Takashi-kun, the first aid kit is missing some bandages. Did you get hurt again?” Touko asked, taking Natsume’s face in her hands and turning it from side to side.
“I-I’m fine Touko-san. Someone came by and asked if they could borrow some bandages, that's all.” Natsume offered a reassuring smile.
Touko didn't look convinced as she gave him another onceover. Finding nothing visibly wrong with Natsume, she sighed and let it go.
“Well alright then. I hope that person was okay. Anyways, what do you feel like having for dinner tonight, Takashi-kun? I was thinking something simple like miso soup but I know Shigeru-san was craving nikujaga the other day.”
“Hmmm…” Natsume’s expression formed a thoughtful frown. “Both sound good. I guess whichever is easier for you.”