He wants the loquat because he wants, like most people, to be happy.
Matoba is Matoba. The exorcist world is dying, families are losing their power, but there are still those who want to see the Matoba house brought to its knees, and even in a world like this where the competition is not what it used to be, it's still crucial to maintain the family's power. One slip could reveal a fatal weakness. A single crack could bring the whole house down.
Matoba is Matoba. A fifteen year old boy knows the histories of all the notable exorcist families, because he has to. If you're Matoba, you have to keep tabs on everyone. The Natori house was once powerful enough to rival the Matobas; their proprietary paper techniques allowed them to commune with the gods. Now all that's left of them is a child who knows nothing of his own legacy.
"The Matoba clan might not always be at the top, either, you know."
"Ahaha, I don't know about that... I won't let it fall." It's not allowed.
Every month, a hideous dark mass of a creature comes after him, trying to eat his eye out of his skull. Every Matoba head for countless generations has lived with this. The previous head's face was unrecognizable by the end. A fifteen year old boy is already preparing to take on the role with unwavering confidence. A single crack could bring the whole house down.
Exorcists gossip, exorcists scheme, they plot against each other and try to gain power. Youkai are unpredictable and dangerous; they can be powerful, but they often impose themselves on humans and cause them to suffer. If you can learn how to control them, you can wield that power. You must not let the youkai catch you, or the Matoba's power is no more.
Matoba Seiji is the head of the notorious Matoba clan, dispatching dangerous youkai with ease, spying on other exorcists, keeping the enemies of his clan in check, always carrying the umbrella when he needs it, always with that smile on his face. Matoba has perfectly mastered the art of protecting Matoba.
At twenty-two, he's been doing this for a while now. The small talk, the plotting, the bribing, the arrows, the umbrellas, the monthly visits from a creature hellbent on devouring your eye, it all becomes part of a routine, and at the same time, it gets tiresome.
Incidentally, Matoba Seiji likes sweet things. Incidentally, Matoba Seiji has a fondness for cats. These are essentially fun bits of trivia about him; they're not evidence of anything.
Incidentally, sometimes it seems like he's going out of his way to help people without them knowing. It's just easier that way; it's just more efficient.
None of this means anything. Maybe Matoba is the hard ground in winter: dry and barren, all life asleep underneath, waiting for spring (winter has been going on for years now). Maybe he's a summer harvest: the product of deliberate and painstaking cultivation under the heat of the sun. Maybe he's the spring: full of potential, just starting to blossom. Maybe he's the fall: dying, though he doesn't know it. Maybe people aren't like seasons at all; they're actually more complicated than that.
Summer is loquat season. Under the blazing heat of the sun, in the damp and sweltering air, the sweet loquats are ripening on the branch. Years ago, Matoba Seiji would admire them every day on the way home from school. It's wonderful how something so sweet and delicious could come from nature. Years ago, someone else was there, and they both got to taste the loquats. It's funny how things don't always work out.