If he told her honestly, she would believe him. He knew that. She was like the Fujiwaras, caring about him before they'd even gotten to know each other very well. Even if he could gain the courage to tell them, or her, about himself-- about the things he went through, they cared too much. The kind of life he lived, if he didn't make an appearance on the community for a while she wouldn't think anything of it. At home, that smile Touko wore when she saw him come home covered in dirt, thinking he'd just gotten into some kind of nonsense with his friends. If they knew, all it would do is cause trouble. He didn't want to see Roze cry, just like with Touko and Shigeru.

Was it cruelty not to trust someone with knowing who you were, even if it meant that they wouldn't have to be terrified that you weren't going to come back alive?

Even so, he wanted to tell her. As he stared out the window, the sunlight glittered in the droplets on the window. It was still drizzling slightly and Nyanko-sensei was asleep in the corner. Natsume glanced over to the cat, briefly leaning over to pat his head, then reached for the notebook that the community had come to inhabit. Even if he couldn't tell her, he could still talk to her. He wouldn't ever give that up, as long as she was willing to put up with his lies.