It's often said that someone's bedroom is a reflection of the owner's real personality.
Nishimura had gone to Kitamoto's room so many times, he knew that guy liked to keep his stuff organized in boxes and cases. His books were categorized alphabetically on the shelves. His school notebooks were placed in boxes according to the years he had passed his grades. Even his pens had their own cases from regular blue ink fountain pens to colored ones and highlighters pens.
Whenever Kitamoto stayed over at Nishimura's house, there's always a pointless discussion about -his- messy wardrobe with stuffed clothes, his bookcase closet, which no one dared to open for more than 2 years, and sometimes about the chips scattered on his study table. So, yeah, what if he's just a bit messier than Kitamoto?
And yet, despite their differences, they understood quite well that Kitamoto, by nature, was the type who likes order, while Nishimura didn't care why he was sleeping with his clothes piled up on the bed and his books scattered on the floor (unless someone hounded him into tidying his corners).
When they first entered Natsume's room, all they could see were white walls, an empty study table, a near-empty closet, an open area in the center where Natsume probably laid out his futon--his room was so bare. It was as if Natsume were afraid to leave any personal traces behind just by keeping all his stuff hidden away in his school bag and the travelling luggage in the corner.
To both Nishimura and Kitamoto, Natsume had always come off as a gloomy and strange person. Seeing his room this way Nishimura and Kitamoto thought it was kind of... pitiful or just sad.
"I've always thought that Natsume would have rock stars' posters in his room," Nishimura commented off handedly, "Visual Kei maybe? Nahh, L'arc~en~Ciel, definitely."
"Or female pop singers," Kitamoto put in his own two cents, receiving an approving nod from Nishimura. "Morning Musume or Hamasaki Ayumi, definitely."
"Eh?" Natsume stared at them.
"Then again," Nishimura continued, "I've always thought Natsume would be the type to hang haiku scrolls and oil paintings on the walls. Flowers and trees. Don't worry, Natsume. I don't think that's bad either. You know what, I'll even help write haiku for you," He took a step forward and slapped Natsume on the back.
Kitamoto snorted. "As if you're good at that, Satoru. You'll probably just write something weird like
[bred in wine
sweet as sun
tonkatsu soup's end]"
Natsume's cat made a sputtering sound that sounded strangely like laughter, before Natsume squished it into his chest with a nervous smile and finally spoke up weakly, "I think it's... delicious."
Nishimura sniffed. "You have no confidence in me. And by the way, that's such a horrifying image, Atsushi! Why did you spoil the tonkatsu with your ill-chosen words? Natsume, don't believe him. I can write a better image about tonkatsu for you. Hand me a paper and a pencil brush, Natsume."
By the end of their stay, they hadn't done much studying together, which had been the initial reason why they had chosen Natsume's place. They had been too busy coming up with haiku poems; Nishimura and Kitamoto competing against each other at first, before pulling Natsume into the game as well.
By the end of the day, Natsume's room had three samples of amateur calligraphs explaining the beauty of food hanging on the wall near the window.
tonkatsu - It consists of a breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet one to two centimeters thick and sliced into bite-sized pieces, generally served with shredded cabbage and/or miso soup. (src=wikipedia)