A/N: This is my entry for day 1 of Yatone Week on tumblr. The prompt was Angels/Demons. I have a fic for every day, including the bonus day, so I hope you will look forward to them as well! Please drop a review if you liked it! They inspire me to keep writing.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Yato didn't know if this was what people called love at first sight. But whatever it was, its pull was a force to be reckoned with. A force plucking on the strings of his soul when he first saw the boy with the blond hair.
The boy with the shoulder bag that was too big for his small frame. The boy who stood alone beneath a street light, a heavily creased envelope in one hand, the other hand in a tight fist. It was a staring contest with a postbox, with tears and red eyes, and he was losing. His eyes darted between the red metal receptacle and what he held in his hand. His legs were locked to the pavement. Just one more step closer and he could slide his letter into the slot. It would be picked up tomorrow, likely reach its addressee that same day. But he wasn't taking that step. He was a lone landmark in the pale silver island painted around him by the street lights. A quivering, crumbling peak dusted white with the falling snow.
But the boy's shadow was twisted, the hand that held his letter was a scythe-like claw – sharp nails the length of the fingers they grew from. Papery wings, each as long as he was tall, protruded from between his shoulder blades. The joints and fingers of his wings were crooked, jagged, and the membrane resembled moth-eaten rags. Dark shapes flitted about the boy's head, whispering despair and darkness into his ears. It would not be long before he lost himself to their corruption.
"Kill... Kill. Kill...him. Kill. Kill... yourself... it's easier... to kill yourself," the ayakashi said. "Just do it."
Yato could hear the phantom's curses as crisp as the night air that chilled his skin. He wondered if the boy was holding onto a suicide note, mailing it to his family so they couldn't find it until the deed had been done.
It wasn't his business – the kid hadn't dialed the god's number – and there was nothing he could do about it, Yato told himself. If someone let themselves become corrupted to the point that they were going to kill themselves, then they were too far gone. That had always been Yato's policy. Until the boy with the blond hair pulled Yato into his orbit, reeling him in.
Yato stayed where he was for the time being, cloaked in the shadow of a nearby house. The boy unclenched his fist and held the letters in both hands, one on either end. He held it up level with the delivery slot. Then he shifted his weight, as if he were about to move, but he hesitated. One of the ayakashi dancing around his head shriveled with a hiss and a squeak, ultimately disappearing with a soft pop. Perhaps the kid wasn't helpless after all. Not that it made much of a difference – not when Yato lacked a shinki to cleanse his taint.
The boy attempted to wipe at his tears with his shoulder. It wasn't very successful. He sniffled. He was just a kid.
Suppressing a groan at himself, Yato appeared before him.
"Hey, kid, the postbox isn't a vacuum. It won't suck the letter out of your hand. You've actually gotta put it in," Yato said, not knowing why he chose words. Did he think he was being funny, trying to lighten the mood? Or was he just being a dick? Probably a little bit of both.
The boy stumbled backwards, surprised by Yato's sudden appearance.
"I know that!" he snapped back, whirling to face him. His amber eyes were shiny from the tears he'd shed. His features were pale and washed out by the lamplight. "What's your problem? Who are you?"
Yato didn't miss a beat, cracking a grin. "I am a god."
"Oh yeah, of what?" the boy spat.
Calamity, death, destruction. Yato willed his grin to remain steady. "I help people in need! Fast, affordable, and reliable, delivery god Yato is at your service!"
"I didn't ask for your help," the boy scoffed. "What do I need your help for?"
"I don't know, you tell me." Yato countered, his blue eyes like ice as he met the kid's gaze. His smile wavered, just a little. There was return address on the envelope, Yato noticed.
The boy glared at him silently.
"Perhaps you need a little push, or perhaps," Yato paused for effect, "you're hoping someone will stop you."
The boy opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, grinding the words between his teeth. His eyebrows curved down at a harsh angle. He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He looked at the letter in his hand, one last time, then he tripped forward – his feet caught in invisible mud – and slammed the envelope into the mail slot with a muted clang. His shadow smoothed itself back into the lines of a human and most of the remaining ayakashi suddenly dissolved into a whirlwind of black smoke that dissipated as it rose skywards. One or two small stragglers hung wordlessly to the sleeve of the boy's coat.
Perhaps it wasn't a suicide note after all, Yato thought.
"I can solve my own problems," the kid said. His amber eyes burned with distrust.
"I can see that," said Yato, not elaborating despite the boy's puzzled expression. He reached into his pocked and pulled out a tiny rectangle of paper. "But just in case, here's my card."
The boy eyed for it a long moment. His fingers twitched as if to take it. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder. It looked heavy.
"Thanks, but I don't need it," he finally said.
"Maybe not." Yato shrugged. "But it doesn't hurt to take it. Just in case. You can throw it away later if you want, but I want to see you take it."
Yato waved the card in the boy's direction, his smile beginning to fray at the edges as one of the straggling ayakashi began to stretch into a snake and embraced the boy's neck.
The boy snatched the card out of his hands and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "There, I took it. Now leave me alone."
He didn't wait for a reply before he walked off his little silver island and out into the surrounding darkness.
Yato watched his dark silhouette disappear around a corner, knowing the boy would never call, and only then did he let his mask fall. He was afraid he hadn't done enough save the boy – after all, he didn't really do much of anything at all – it would become yet another failure that haunted Yato's conscience. If only he'd had a shinki. But there was nothing he could do for the boy.
Yato's phone rang. He had a nagging feeling he already knew who it was. He answered before the first ring had even finished. She'd be mad if he ignored her again.
"Umm, Yato," she said on the other end, "I think I found you someone who wants to be your shinki..."
tbc – part 2 will be posted on day 4