"So, whadd'ya think?"
Yato prodded Hiiro's shoulder with a finger, nudging her toward the large, colorful gate flanked on either side by statues of enormous, toothy rodents. She tilted her head to the side.
"It's…"
"The best place on the planet?" he supplied.
"Um—"
"The most magical thing you've ever seen?"
"It's kind of—"
"Perfect?!"
And Yato was off like a shot toward the opening gates, leaving the other five in the dust.
Yukine shook his head. "Every. Single. Time."
Hiyori watched Yato ping-pong around the ticket booth, fondness playing with the corners of her mouth.
"At least he's excited."
"How about you?"
Hiiro felt Yukine looking at her, and the bubble of apprehension in her chest expanded, pressing against her lungs.
"It looks...loud," she said.
Hiyori slipped an arm through hers. Hiiro stiffened at the contact, but there was something immediately reassuring about the other girl's touch. During the short time Hiiro had known her, it became evident that Hiyori's radiant kindness was entirely genuine. But there was something else, too: a peculiar, human warmth that drew others to her like moths to candleflame. The unfamiliarity of this feeling threatened Hiiro at first, but now she leaned into it-not unlike a cat bumping its head against a friendly hand.
"It can be a lot," Hiyori said. "Trust me. I didn't have great feelings about this place the first time I came here with Yato and Yukine."
Daikoku, who had heretofore been focusing all his efforts on restraining his mistress from charging the front gate, grimaced an apology.
"I'm not sure we helped with that. But this time it'll be different. Right?"
Kofuku squirmed impatiently in his arms. "Yeah, yeah! I'll keep control of my destructive aura, blah blah blah, now let me go so I can kick some ass at carnival games!"
Daikoku's misgivings were written all over his face as he set Kofuku down. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than she was hurtling toward the ticket booth like a heat-seeking missile.
"We probably shouldn't leave those two alone," Yukine said. Daikoku nodded grimly.
: : :
Once inside the park, Yato dragged all of them to the first open ride: a brightly colored choo-choo train made up of six cars, which seemed to be designed to seat humans no more than three or four feet in height.
"This is a ride for toddlers," Yukine explained patiently, as they got into line behind a family of four. "You won't fit."
"But look!"
Yato pointed at the train winding at a leisurely pace through a forest of miniature trees and waterfalls. At a point near the end of the ride, the train passed right by a real live capyper in a conductor's uniform, who held up his big gloved hand to give all the riding kids a hi-five as they passed.
"His hand must be sore," Hiyori said in concern.
Yato would not be dissuaded. "Yukine. We have to. You and Hiiro can share a car because you're small. Hiyori will ride on my lap—"
"I'll what?"
"—and Kofuku and Daikoku will stay out here, because we don't want anyone getting hurt!"
Kofuku took loud umbrage with this arrangement, but Daikoku scooped her up and walked toward the courtyard full of food kiosks, knowing that her wounded feelings could be quickly and thoroughly mollified through a generous application of frozen yogurt.
Although Yato, Yukine, and Hiiro slid across the ride operator's gaze like mere shadows, he gave Hiyori a sideways glance when she presented her wristband.
"Are you here with your kid?"
"Um." She glanced at Yato in a panic. He shrugged unhelpfully, his eyes already wandering back to the conductor capyper. "Not…really?" she replied.
"Huh. Okay, then! Have fun."
The operator double-checked her wristband and Hiyori slid through the gate, blushing fiercely.
"You could have left your body somewhere," Yukine reminded her. "Then you wouldn't have to deal with...all that."
"I like to play it safe," she said, wincing as the ride operator and several parents stared at her with open curiosity.
Hiiro and Yukine only just managed to fit into one car. He sat behind her, arms resting on either side of the car as she stepped in front of him and settled between his knees. Behind them, Yato and Hiyori were maneuvering the logistics of their own vehicle, which involved a good bit of intricate gymnastics and some swearing on Yato's part.
Hiiro leaned back against Yukine's chest, felt the shallow rhythm of his breathing against her back.
"So—" He cleared his throat loudly. His hands were clenching into fists on either side of the car. "H-having fun yet?"
"I don't know," she said, honestly.
"Me neither," he admitted.
Once Hiyori and Yato were safely inside their own car—which took the better part of five minutes and some intervention from a few of the park staff—the little train chugged out of the station. They began to wind through a scaled-down rainforest, stuffed parrots peeking out at them from the branches of dwarf palm trees.
"I think this is what the capypers' home was supposed to look like," Yukine mused.
"So they're real?"
"Huh?"
"Capypers," said Hiiro. "They look like humans in big hairy su—"
Yukine "shush"ed her frantically, but Yato was too busy drinking in the sight of the capypers' home country and pointing out its virtues to Hiyori to hear his fondest fantasies being dashed to bits.
"No, of course not!" Yukine whispered. "It's just a pretend history to give the whole theme park more marketable real estate. At least, that's what Ebisu told me."
Hiiro nodded. "I see."
"Please don't tell Yato, though."
"I won't."
Across the big courtyard, Daikoku and Kofuku were coming back from the food kiosks. Kofuku had already spilled frozen yogurt down her entire front, and Daikoku's hands were full of napkins, but they both waved when they saw the train pass by the fence. Another glob of frozen yogurt slid down Kofuku's arm, and in a stunning feat of acrobatics Daikoku caught it before it splattered her shirt. Hiiro smiled as Yukine failed to stifle his giggles.
"They're kind of funny," she said.
"Kofuku can be a lot to handle."
"You love her, though."
He stopped laughing, but his voice was warm. "Yeah. I guess so."
"And Daikoku?"
"Yep. They're...family. Or something like that."
"Hiyori too?"
Yukine exhaled quietly, tickling the back of her neck. The train crossed a bridge over a shallow rush of water with several small boats bobbing in the current.
"Yes. That's different, though. She's human."
"And what makes that different?"
He squirmed behind her.
"Why all the hard questions now, huh? Isn't this supposed to be a day of fun?"
Hiiro craned her neck to look at him. The corner of her lip quirked when his cheeks pinked like fresh lilies. "I'm just curious."
To her surprise, Yukine didn't stutter some vague excuse. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Well, it's different because...she won't be here forever."
Hiiro's breath twisted in her chest. "That's a sad way to love someone."
Behind them, Hiyori laughed at something ridiculous Yato said. Yukine's eyes were downcast.
"Yeah. It is."
She turned back to face the front of the car, experiencing a familiar brush of vertigo. Thinking too long about mortality was dangling a foot over an infinite cliff, and even though Hiiro had long since learned to balance on the edge, she didn't like to linger there. Right now Hiyori was alive, and in some time she would not be. If all went well, she would step painlessly through that soft, dark curtain into sleep.
It had been a long time since Hiiro had thought about an afterward.
It had been a long time since she had cared about someone who was not already dead.
Yukine poked her shoulder, nudging her out of her thoughts. "Hey. Stick your hand out."
They were coming around the wide bend in the rails where the conductor capyper waited, gloved hand outstretched.
"What do I do?" she asked, suddenly nervous.
"Nothing! It's just a hi-five."
"Will I get kicked off if I don't?"
Yukine sounded bewildered. "Well, no—but it's kind of fun—"
He cut himself off and sucked in a quiet, decisive breath, then grabbed her hand where it rested on the side of the car.
"We can…?"
Hiiro hesitated for a beat, then nodded.
They were three cars away from the conductor capyper. Two cars. One. Yukine lifted their hands together, his warm palm cupping her knuckles. The capyper's glove was outstretched. Hiiro's hand connected with it.
A shiver of magic burst down her arm, slingshot through her nerves on bright, electric paths.
"Oh," she whispered.
After a moment Yukine let go of her hand, but she still held her arm out the side of the car, even as they pulled back into the little station. The doors of the train swung open and the next batch of riders poured in, but the feeling stayed with her. She could have floated right up into the blue.
"Yukine."
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His color was still a bit high, but Hiiro barely noticed.
"You were right. Capypers are pretty cool."
: : :
Over the course of the next several hours they hit all the high points of the park. Kofuku begged so piteously to be allowed on one ride ("Just one teeny weeny ride, please, I prooomise it'll be fine…") that Daikoku, melting, permitted her to ride the slowest, shortest roller coaster in the park, which promptly popped four bolts and had to be shut down the rest of the day.
"We're going to get our picture over there," Yato announced, once they were ushered off the destroyed ride. His tone brooked no argument.
Hiyori followed the line of his pointing finger and saw a small red building, its gabled roof covered in drifts of real-looking snow. Under a low arched doorway, a capyper in a red, fur-lined suit sat enthroned among stacks of gorgeously wrapped gifts. Yato's eyes were glued to a sign above the door that proclaimed in curly script: "Take a Picture with Capysanta!"
And wrapped like a python around this festive centerpiece curled a massive line of waiting parents and children.
"Yato," Hiyori said, very gently. "It'll take forever to get through that line."
His lower lip began to quiver. She immediately felt monstrous for even suggesting that they bypass Capysanta. She looked to Yukine for aid.
"It's Hiiro's first time here," he pointed out. "Do you really want to make her stand in line the rest of the day, just for a picture?"
Yato could not have looked more stricken had Yukine suggested they dine on fresh capyper shanks. Hiyori felt her resolve crumbling, and knew that Yukine's was doing the same.
"I...I guess we could ask how long the wait is," she said, and Yato's eyes lit up like fireworks.
Three minutes later, he slumped against her shoulder in utter dejection.
"Five hours," he groaned. Yukine stood next to him, shaking his head slowly.
"Unbelievable."
"Maybe there's another one we can take a picture with," Hiyori offered. She patted Yato's head consolingly as he muffled his grief in her shirt.
"We don't have to wait," said Hiiro, who for some time now had not spoken a word.
Yukine shot her an inquisitive look.
"I don't think anyone would even see us if we skipped the line," she clarified. It was true. The whole day, with the exception of Hiyori, their entire group had been all but invisible to the rest of the park-goers.
"So you're saying we should just cut everyone?"
Yukine sounded mildly horrified. Hiyori was tempted to remind him of his brief stint as a teenage felon, but bit her tongue just before the words escaped.
The corner of Hiiro's mouth gave a mischievous twitch.
"Does it count if no one notices?"
: : :
"I changed my mind."
"Hiyori," Yato stretched her name into a pitiful whine. "You promised you'd be in the picture."
"That was before I had to leave my body behind a trash can!"
"Kofuku will take good care of it," Yato assured her.
Hiyori frowned, her nose rankling with the moist, gummy stench of garbage. She looked back across the giant cobblestone courtyard and saw the binbougami giving her a big thumbs-up. Hiyori could just barely see her own shoes poking out from behind one of the big, round trash bins.
"That doesn't exactly reassure me," she muttered.
The plan was this: they would sneak their way to the beginning of the line, edge in front of one of the families, and snap a picture before anything could go amiss. Daikoku, who had been tapped for photographer duty, gingerly dangled the camera by its shoulder strap.
"I never really learned how these things work," he admitted.
The first part of their operation went smoothly. None of them were scolded for bypassing the line, and their group managed to slip inside the little building that housed Capysanta. Daikoku got into position with the camera, holding it as though it were a live snake. Between two families posing, they rushed the throne.
"Out of the way!" Yato barked at the small boy approaching Capysanta. "This is our picture."
The child stared up at him with a completely blank expression, as though Yato were a mildly irritating bug circling his head.
"Come on, Yato, just get in the photo."
Yukine was perching perilously on one of Capysanta's knees. He directed an apologetic glance at the boy's parents, but they were encountering some technical difficulties with their own camera, and hadn't yet noticed their child wandering toward four complete strangers.
"But this brat's gonna ruin our picture!"
The little boy climbed onto Capysanta's other knee and was making unnerving eye contact with Yukine.
"H-hi," said Yukine.
The little boy opened his mouth and pronounced:
"Elf."
Yukine blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You. Elf."
"No, sorry. I'm just a regular kid."
"Elf," the boy repeated, emphatically.
"I'm not an elf!"
"What's an elf?" Hiiro asked, drawing the little boy's attention to her. His mouth fell slightly open, and he pointed at her with a chubby finger.
"Girl elf."
Yukine's ears began to turn scarlet.
"She's not—!"
"Daikoku, please take the picture," Hiyori begged, gripping Yato's arms in a wrestling hold as he struggled to unseat the child from Capysanta's lap.
"I'm trying!"
Daikoku was holding the camera upside down, and as he pressed a random button in panic, the batteries shot out of the device and clattered against the wood floor.
Hiyori groaned. "No."
The little boy, staring wide-eyed between Yukine and Hiiro, began to cry. As the fat, silent tears rolled down his cheeks, Hiyori noticed something that horrified her even more.
Kii...kii…
Daikoku was crouching low to the ground, running his hands frantically over the wooden planks in search of batteries. And behind him, through the door of the small building, she saw them.
It was an entire swarm of waspish, humming ayakashi that had been sucking nourishment from the frustration and impatience of the people waiting in line. They must have been dispersed throughout the crowd before, but the child's distress, compounded with Yato's unmistakable godsmell, was rapidly honing their attention to a fine, focused point.
"Yato," Hiyori said apprehensively, but he was too busy trying to escape her headlock to notice. By now too, the boy's parents had heard his tears, and were rushing forward to placate their weeping child.
As Daikoku scooted along the floor collecting the scattered batteries, he bumped into the mother's leg. He looked up, meeting her astonished gaze.
"Who are you?" she demanded, brandishing an accusatory finger at him. "Are you taking pictures of of my baby?!"
The blood drained from Daikoku's face.
"Am I...? What?! No, no, no no, ma'am, no, I'm just...um—"
"Security!" she hollered. "We need a security officer!"
Yukine slid off Capysanta's lap, dragging Hiiro behind him. Hiyori followed suit, keeping a firm hold on Yato as he fought for freedom.
"C'mon, Yato, we gotta go," Yukine shouted over his shoulder.
"But—"
"No buts! We're officially being kicked out."
They spilled out of the little building, coming face to face with the swelling horde of ayakashi. There were scores more of them now, and they moved with purpose, funneling into a massive, droning column that blackened the sky above the park.
"But I'm on vacation!" Yato wailed.
: : :
After thirty seconds of ruthless slaughter, the five of them returned to Kofuku where she waited on the other side of the main courtyard. Hiyori happily slid back into her body, though her hair now carried the faint odor of nacho cheese and stale chips. Yato dumped himself facedown onto a bench, miserable with grief at having lost the opportunity to properly meet Capysanta.
"How'd it go?" Kofuku asked brightly.
"We got thrown out," Yukine said.
"Technically it was just Daikoku," groaned Yato.
"Ayakashi attacked us," Hiyori added.
"No one ever told me what an elf was," Hiiro noted.
"And we didn't even get a photo with Capysanta!" Yato's voice cracked with agony and he writhed on the bench, ripping at his hair.
Daikoku finally surfaced from the silent resignation into which he had fallen.
"Actually...I did get one picture."
Yato raised a tear-streaked face from the bench. The rest of them gathered around to view the sole documentation of their precious time with Capysanta.
The photo was blurry, but it showed Yato standing in the doorway of the hut, brandishing Sekki. Hiiro was a barely recognizable smudge on the right side of the photo, and there was no evidence of Hiyori whatsoever save for a streak of bright pink that might have been her cord. And in the very back, behind Yato, there was an indistinct red blob where Capysanta had been sitting.
"I don't even remember taking this," Daikoku said.
"At least we got something," breathed Yukine in heavy relief. He hadn't been looking forward to babysitting a brokenhearted Yato as they tried to finish enjoying their day.
But beside him, Hiiro frowned. "Maybe my plan wasn't so good after all."
Hiyori leaped to assure her: "No, no! It was a great plan! We just...had a few roadblocks, that's all."
Yukine nodded vigorously. "Besides, we'd still be standing in line if we had done it the normal way. And now we have a picture with Capysanta!"
"Of Capysanta being attacked by ayakashi," Kofuku corrected, examining the photo closely. "If I had been there, I could have chased them off singlehandedly."
A collective shudder passed through Hiyori, Yato, and Yukine at the mere suggestion of Kofuku's aura contributing to the disaster they'd just escaped.
Hiiro made an impatient noise in the back of her throat.
"Now, can someone please tell me what an elf is?"
: : :
"How you holding up, kid?"
Hiiro opened her mouth to answer Daikoku, but instead her jaw cracked in a huge yawn.
"Me too," he said with a chuckle.
Yato shoved between them, grabbing them both by their elbows.
"You can't be tired yet," he insisted. "There's still the parade and fireworks!"
With some effort, Hiiro mastered another yawn. After hearing about them from Yukine, she had wanted to see the fireworks.
At the last moment, Kofuku insisted on hunting down another food kiosk before they closed for the night. As she and Daikoku left—giving the gathering park-goers a wide berth—the remaining four claimed a clear bit of fence next to the river from which to watch the lights.
Hiiro looked out over the lazy, shallow river snaking its way through Capypa Land. In the waning sunlight she caught the silver glint of fish. The park lights had long since been switched on, and as dusk crept steadily overhead, the bright buildings and streets looked to Hiiro more like an illustration than reality.
An elbow nudged her ribs, and she turned her head to look up at Yato. He was observing her with a thoughtful smile.
"So. Did you have a good time?"
She looked back at the water, which reflected the park lights in its ripples like shivering stars.
"I did."
He breathed out through his nose. "Good."
They shared a bubble of silence, outside of which were noisy teenagers, tired children, laughing families. The swell and tug of all those short lives, strung against the night sky like a shifting, numinous web.
"Did you ever feel like this before?"
The question slipped out of her before she realized it, and Yato shifted next to her. He heard the weight behind the last word.
"Did you?"
Hiiro swung her elbows over the railing, leaning with her chest over the water. They were announcing over the loudspeakers that the parade would begin in five minutes.
"I think we just had a different way of loving each other, back then."
"What made it different?"
Hiiro smiled as Yato echoed her earlier question to Yukine.
"I was just thinking about Hiyori." She paused, letting him adjust to the sudden shift in conversation.
"She doesn't have as much time to make mistakes as we do. We can afford to waste centuries on bad decisions—"
"That's a kinda heavy topic for right before a parade," he interrupted, grumbling.
"—And yet she still loves you."
Yato made an odd wheezing sound, like a stalling engine. Hiiro's mouth quirked as he sputtered in mute indignation.
"So I guess my answer is no," she said, once he'd recovered a degree of composure. "I don't remember ever feeling anything quite like this."
The music started. Some distance down the river, the first of the neon floats were approaching.
She hadn't given Yato a real answer after all, because she still wasn't sure what made it so different. Simply that she had never understood why humans clung so fast to their strong, stupid affections, or what gave them the strength to love with such ferocity during their few short years.
"This must be what they feel like all the time" she said, quietly. "I wish I had known."
Yato didn't say anything for a long minute. Then he put his hand on the top of her head, like he had done often, so long ago. The river was bright and loud with excited families as the floats began to pass by.
"You'll get used to it, kid. You're doing just fine."
On her other side, Yukine pointed out the approaching float. The capyper nearest them was waving right in her direction.
"Do you think he sees us?" he wondered aloud.
Hiiro smiled, raised her arm to wave back.
"I think he does."