.
.
"A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow." -Elbert Hubbard
.
1.
Blood dripped down the tip of Hikki's blade, leaking into the crushed green grass where the bodies were lying splayed and cut open. Quietly, Yato wiped a smear of blood on his cheek with his thumb, frowning a little at his handiwork. There were three offerings this time, a young girl and two older women, their bellies sliced and bleeding. Silently he knelt and pulled up the dead girl's head by her hair, holding Hikki like a knife and sawing off her ear.
Yato. There's someone behind you, Hiiro said, and Yato turned sharply.
Kazuma was standing behind him, pale and trembling. His eyes were wide and his hands gripped the fabric-covered bento shakily.
Yato cursed to himself and tossed the ear into his satchel.
"Return, Hiiro," Yato said, and Hiiro gleamed and appeared beside him. "Take these back to Father."
Hiiro smiled and took the satchel from him, delicately tucking it into her sleeves.
Kazuma stood still as Hiiro passed him, humming and smiling quietly.
Yato turned his back to him. Already the bodies were starting to cool.
"Well," Yato said, still not looking at him. "What do you want?"
He could hear Kazuma jump a little, gripping the bento in his hands before tentatively walking forward.
"I have another offering," Kazuma said. He knelt and offered the bento to him. Wordlessly Yato took the bundle from him and unwrapped the cloth: three rice balls, still warm and steaming from the kitchen. Yato frowned, then covered them again.
He walked around to another corpse, nudging it with his foot. "Your master. Does she kill people like this?"
Kazuma's eyes were still lowered. "I have only seen her kill phantoms, Lord Yato."
Yato's eyes narrowed. "You know why I take these?" He motioned to the ragged stumps that used to be their ears.
"I- I assume they are trophies, Lord Yato. Spoils taken at the end of war."
"Are you frightened?" Yato said. Kazuma shook his head.
"No."
Yato watched him. Kazuma stayed with his head bowed, his hands in front of him in a gesture of supplication. "You know why I killed them?" Yato said, finally.
"I do not know, but I'm sure Lord Yato has his reasons." Kazuma kept his eyes trained on the ground.
"And what if I decided to do the same to you?" Yato said. Kazuma kept his eyes lowered.
"Then it would be no less than I deserve," Kazuma said.
xXx
.
He kept coming, even after all that. Yato was surprised. Even though Kazuma had heard he was a vile god, he had never come face-to-face with Yato's handiwork.
"This doesn't bother you?" Yato said. He stood at the edge of a burning village, watching as a plume of dark smoke curled into the night air above them. Kazuma shook his head.
"It is not my place to judge a god's actions. A god's will is always just."
Yato turned to look back out into the fire, watching the embers floating on the updraft and rising into the inky sky.
"You shouldn't hang around me," Yato said. He glanced back at Kazuma, who still lingered behind him. "I'm a god of calamity. No good can come from the likes of me."
"I do not believe that to be true, Lord Yato," Kazuma said, quietly. "You may be a god of calamity, but there is still good inside of you."
"Tch." Yato turned away from him, frowning. "Fifty-two people," Yato said. Kazuma raised his eyes.
"Yato-sama?"
"Fifty-two people. That's how many died in that fire."
Kazuma looked out. The fire crackled. The smell of thick smoke rose and filled their lungs.
"Then may their spirits find their way back to the Far Shore," Kazuma said, and he clapped his hands and bowed.
xXx
.
Yato was walking along the residential areas of the city when he heard it - the sound of someone banging on a roof.
"Kazuma?" Yato said. Above him, Kazuma was sitting on the roof, the sleeves of his kimono tied back with a white sash across his shoulders.
"Yato-sama," Kazuma said, and he peered at him from on the roof. "You are visiting Bishamonten's shrine?"
"I was just passing through. What are you doing?"
"Repairing our roof," Kazuma said. He smiled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Now that I can draw a borderline, I thought I would prepare Bishamon-sama's compound so that we could reside in the Near Shore properly."
"You're thatching it wrong," Yato said. Kazuma blinked.
"Yato-sama?"
Gracefully, Yato leaped upward, landing on the roof next to Kazuma and squatting beside him.
"You didn't bundle this straw right," Yato said. He tugged at the thatch material, frowning. "You gotta bundle this first before weaving it, otherwise everything will leak."
"Oh."
Yato felt the straw between his fingers. "The thatching isn't dry enough," Yato said. "The damp will cause it to mold."
"I see, Yato-sama."
Yato began tugging the bundles of straw out from beneath the wooden beams, rearranging the underlayer before weaving in the straw.
"W-what are you doing, Yato-sama?"
"What's it look like?" Yato said. He grunted. "Pull out that thing of thatch and throw it back into the basket."
"Yes, Yato-sama."
They worked silently for the rest of the day, the heat of the sun beating down on them. While Yato's talents were mostly in killing, he was good with his hands, and he knew enough about most things that he could approximate an expert's work. A waste of time, his Father had called it, when Yato watched the workers in the village work along the pier.
The roof was finished. Yato and Kazuma sat on the dirt ground, breathing heavily. The day was warm and dusty sunlight filled the afternoon sky.
"Ne, Kazuma?"
"Yes, Lord Yato?" They were sharing a bento; more rice balls and a flask of water, although Kazuma seemed to have the foresight to have packed enough for both of them.
"How did you know I was going to help you?"
Kazuma glanced up at him. "You mean today, with the roof?"
"No," Yato said. Kazuma looked back at the rice ball in his hand.
"I didn't," Kazuma said. "I suppose I expected you to kill me for my insolence."
"I could still kill you now, if that's what you wish," Yato said.
"That isn't my wish, Lord Yato."
They chewed their rice balls, thoughtfully.
"You packed a lot," Yato said. "Do you normally eat this much?"
"No, Lord Yato." Kazuma smiled, his eyes creasing into two half-moons. "I brought more in case I ran into you."
"Huh," Yato said. Kazuma offered him another rice ball.
xXx
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2.
Increasingly, Yato found himself spending more and more time with Kazuma. What started as a series of polite offerings and chance passings-by soon evolved into something like friendship. He found himself looking forward to their shared meals, of how Kazuma would shake his head at him while he drank his fill at the tavern.
Yato was drunk, and swaying unsteadily at the table, while Kazuma delicately sipped his cup of sake, watching him. He had already emptied two bottles of sake and his face was flushed, red, and even though he was fairly sure Kazuma wasn't moving, the image seemed to swirl and double in front of him, making Yato feel vaguely nauseous.
But something was bothering him. Yato couldn't quite put it into words.
"Ya really think there's some good in me?" Yato said, finally. He struggled to keep his eyes in focus.
"I do," Kazuma said. He hesitated. "I sensed it when I first came to you."
"Tch." Yato sniffed, wiping back his hair. "You're really stupid for thinkin' that, Kazuma. I'm a god," Yato said, and his voice rose. "A god of killin' shit."
"You do not have to kill if you don't want to, Yato-sama."
"Aggh! Don't call me that!" Yato said.
"Don't call you what?" Kazuma said.
"Yato-sama. Yato-sama. I ain't no 'sama.' I'm no one's lord."
"Then what do you wish me to call you?" Kazuma said, bewildered. Yato waved his hand.
"Yaaa-to," he said, stretching out the vowels.
"Y-Yato?"
"Yeah," Yato said. He grinned and scratched his name with a chopstick. The characters were clean, precise, but somehow his mind wandered back to Sakura and suddenly he couldn't smile.
"Yato-sama?" Kazuma leaned over to look at him.
"I told ya not to call me that," Yato said.
"Forgive me, Yato," Kazuma said. "Is something wrong?"
Yato stared darkly at his name scratched into the wood.
"I want to be good, Kazuma," Yato said. "But I'm afraid I don't know how."
Kazuma folded his hands over his lap again, quietly.
"Do you know my master's nature, Lord Yato?" He lifted his eyes, meeting his. "Hers is the nature of war and combat, and the nature of her wishes is such that those who lose can die."
Yato stared at his bowl, silently. Kazuma picked it up and began filling it with rice.
"A god is no more good or evil than a storm is," Kazuma said. He spooned the rice carefully, pressing his ladle against the grain. "The rains may cause flood and devastation, but so too can crops wither from drought. I believe the answer may lie in how it's balanced," he said, and he handed Yato the bowl.
The rice was warm. The chopsticks felt like weapons in his hand, and for some reason Yato felt disgusted.
That night, he walked along the river, mulling over Kazuma's words. His Father had always said the universe was a game of give and take, but for some reason Yato wasn't so sure.
xXx
.
"Yato," Hiiro said. "Father said you shouldn't play with him anymore."
Yato grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. It was dark but the hue from Hiiro's kimono seemed to glow eerily in the moonlight, as if she were a wraith or wrathful spirit. He had managed to avoid Father for a few months now, but Hiiro found him again, sitting alone at the bank of the river and skipping stones along the water.
"I don't like that shinki, Yato." Hiiro's eyes looked out into the river, whose surface was fractured by jagged moonlight. "You stopped giving presents to Father and you sit by the river and sulk."
"I don't want to talk about it right now, Hiiro," Yato said. Hiiro smiled.
"Poor, poor Yato," Hiiro said, softly. "That shinki is only around you because he couldn't pay you. Only Father and I can truly love you."
"I don't want to talk about it, Hiiro!" Yato said. Hiiro smiled.
"Does he remind you of Sakura, Yaboku?"
Yato jerked his head up.
But he was sitting alone again at the riverbank. Hiiro had already gone.
xXx
.
3.
Kazuma was running. Blood dripped down his temple as he ran, his chest and arms catching the sharp branches of dead trees. Behind him, Hiiro floated serenely, the white of her kimono almost glowing in the dark woods.
"Kazuma," Hiiro said, and her mouth stretched into a smile.
"Bakufu."
Kazuma slammed forward, hitting the ground.
Hiiro walked toward him, lifting her fingers into a halberd.
"Hikki!" Yato said, and Hiiro whirled around, shocked, before she transformed into his sword.
"Kazuma," Yato said, and the spell broke. Kazuma coughed and wheezed as Yato helped him stand.
"Hiiro!" Yato said. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
In his mind's eye, Hiiro pouted.
"We were just playing, Yato."
"The hell you were playing! You almost killed him!"
"I would have killed him if you didn't interfere."
Yato gritted his teeth, throwing down his sword.
"Yato-sama, it is all right." Kazuma held his side. "Please do not trouble yourself over me. I'm fine-"
"Didn't I tell ya not to call me that?!" Yato said. "Stop callin' me 'Yato-sama,' I told ya, it's just 'Yato'!"
"Forgive me, Yato," Kazuma said. His face grew pale.
"Kazuma?" Yato said. Kazuma's eyes rolled back. "Oi! Kazuma!"
"Looks like the blight is what will kill him," Hiiro said, smiling.
"Dammit, Hiiro, what did you do?!"
"We were just playing with Father's wolves." Yato's eyes widened in horror when he saw the bite marks across Kazuma's side. "He was quick enough to draw a line, but Father's masks helped break them."
Yato cursed and hefted Kazuma over his shoulder.
xXx
.
The blight was already spreading. Yato could see it steaming through the fabric of Kazuma's kimono.
With difficulty, Yato began yanking back the layers of Kazuma's robe. The fabric stuck to areas of open wounds where the blood had dried, and what was once crisp white fabric was now bloody and saturated. He tossed the outer garments to the side and winced at the sight of bruised and macerated skin, the meat of his stomach chewed up and tinged with blight, which burned into his skin like acid. Yato cursed silently and dipped a cloth into holy water, pressing it into Kazuma's wound.
Slowly, Kazuma's eyes opened. "Y-Yato...sama?"
"Don't talk. I'm cleansing your blight."
"Forgive me." His eyes fell closed. Yato cursed again.
He had dragged Kazuma into a nearby shrine. The moon was out, and phantoms were close. They could smell the blight seeping off of Kazuma's skin, and they were circling around them hungrily.
"Y-Yato-sama..."
"I told ya not to call me that."
"Y-Yato. My master. She can tell...I'm injured. I think...I think she may be looking for me."
"Well she doesn't have any other weapons, right?" Yato wrung out the cloth.
"Yato-sama. She'll kill you," Kazuma said. Yato leaned back on his haunches and frowned.
"Well what would you do if I killed her instead?" Yato asked. Kazuma's eyes widened.
"I won't," Yato said. He sloshed the cloth into the bucket. "It isn't much, but you have the Yatogami's protection. Have faith in that, Guide Kazuma."
He saw Kazuma swallow, then nod weakly.
It took the entire night before Kazuma was completely healed, and Yato watched darkly as Kazuma hesitantly limped out into the sunlight, one hand against his side and looking out toward his master. Bishamonten had descended into the mortal realm, and before Kazuma could say anything she ran toward him and threw her arms around him. Yato watched as she hugged him tight, then pulled back to admonish him, angrily.
Yato wondered what she was saying. From the looks of things, she was probably yelling at Kazuma for hurting himself, angry at him because she was worried about him. He watched as Kazuma stood in front of her, head lowered and his arm clutching the wound on his side, but Yato could see the slight dusting of pink that had risen on Kazuma's cheeks.
"Did you know, Yato, that chouki is just a nail?" Hiiro's voice was smooth, placid, like the still waters of an unruffled pond. "Such a useless shinki with no way to protect her."
"That's enough, Hiiro," Yato said, and Hiiro appeared beside him. "I don't want you attacking Kazuma again."
"Even if it was at the request of Father?" Hiiro looked up at him with innocent eyes. Yato looked out into the horizon, at the motes of dust that was skirting the air.
xXx
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4.
"Yato. That is a terrible idea," Kazuma said.
It was in the middle of the Edo Period now, and they were walking along the harbor, where Kazuma had met and traded with a few Dutch merchants. Nearly a century had passed since Kazuma first came to him, and it had become their habit to share a meal together, walking along the pier. "Why?" Yato said. "You're always sayin' I need to get my name out there-"
"I meant in terms of cultivating new believers. Not putting the stories of your exploits in the form of puppet theater."
"People like puppets," Yato said. He chewed on a stick of squid as a group of dutchmen walked past them. "And why do ya gotta be so negative, anyway? The story of the rounin god Yato! There's action and romance and star-crossed lovers-"
"I take umbrage at being referred to as your 'lover,'" Kazuma said.
"Oi! I wasn't talkin' about you, Kazuma! It's called artistic license! And your face is so pinched anyway, it's no wonder that stupid woman won't lie with you."
Kazuma ignored him, speaking in quiet Dutch to one of the silk merchants set up along the harbor.
"Anyway, I figure kabuki's where the money's at," Yato continued, as Kazuma thanked the merchants in Dutch and tucked the parcel of silk under his arm. "Since bein' a traditional storyteller didn't work out so well." He remembered his short-lived stint as a rakugo, kneeling on the stage with his paper fan and trying his best selling the story of the great god Yatogami and his esteemed rival Bishamon.
"It didn't work out well because you are from the Far Shore, and you cannot expect an audience to actually notice you," Kazuma said.
"I know, Kazuma! That's why I'm gonna be a kabuki playright! So no one needs to notice me, they just gotta watch the puppets mouthin' my words!" Yato frowned at a Dutch merchant walking past them. "The hell is that?" Yato said.
"What?" Kazuma said.
"The circle of glass in that guy's face."
"That's a monocle," Kazuma said.
"A what now?"
"A corrective lens meant to be worn over one eye." Kazuma peered around. "They also sell thread-loop spectacles, which are dual lenses. I believe they help sharpen one's vision by refracting the light."
"Oh," Yato said. That made sense. Occasionally he would see the memories of a certain shinki, but the images would be blurrier than what Yato was accustomed to seeing. "So how come you're not wearin' them?" Yato said. Kazuma gave him an odd look.
"Why?" Kazuma said. Yato waved his hand.
"Y'know...cuz your vision sucks and you can't see-"
"My vision is fine," Kazuma said, frowning. Yato snorted.
"Yo Kazuma! You're good at 'grasping the things around you' or whatever, but I guarantee without it you'd be practically blind."
"I can see an ayakashi from a hundred kilometers away," Kazuma said. "I can find a torn spirit within a swirling storm."
"How many fingers am I holdin' up?" Yato said. Kazuma frowned at him. "Okay, fine, what's that sign say?" Yato said.
Kazuma sighed. "That is the sign to the tavern that we're walking toward."
"Okay, fine. And what's the phrase written under it?" Yato said. "Ha! You can't see it, can you?!"
"You are a god. Naturally a human's eyes would falter," Kazuma said.
"Yo," Yato said, tapping a Near Shore human on the arm. "Can you tell my friend what that sign says?"
Yato watched with glee as the Near Shore human didn't even so much as squint before reading it off to them.
"See, Kazuma? That Near Shore human could see that sign better than you!"
"Yato I hardly see the point-"
"Yo, how many spots are on that cloth?" Yato said. "How many fish are in that bowl? Ha! See?! You're usin' your ability again, aren't ya?!" Yato said, as Kazuma's eye glinted as he looked around. "You're like a blind guy feelin' his way around."
"Are you done?" Kazuma said, sourly. Yato raised his hands.
"I'm just sayin'. Maybe those spectacles will do you some good."
xXx
.
As it turned out, Bishamonten broke Kazuma's glasses within the first week.
"Holy crap, Kazuma, you look like one of those Europeans!" Yato said, as Kazuma fiddled with the threaded loops, tugging it behind his ears. The frames were round and delicate and the lenses were suspended precariously on the bridge of his nose. "Now ya just gotta wear some of those western clothes I see everybody in. It just looks weird seein' a pair of spectacles and a kimono."
Kazuma was treating Yato to dinner again, and Yato couldn't help but notice a giddy energy that seemed to radiate from him, smiling a little as he read the menu off the board.
"Yato. May I ask you something?" Kazuma said. Yato looked up, slurping his ramen. "How did you know I couldn't see?"
"Mm. Ya couldn't do spells unless you were close to someone." Yato chewed noisily. "I figured ya couldn't see the kanji."
"You're right; I couldn't," Kazuma said. He set down his chopsticks, delicately.
Kazuma had gotten scarily good at casting spells. A century ago, after being attacked by Hiiro, Yato was fairly certain that he would never hear from Kazuma again. He was sure his master would get wind of Hiiro's exploits, or else find out that Kazuma was consorting with Yato. So it caught him off guard when Kazuma found him a few days later, his hair bound up in a scarf and carrying another satchel of food.
"Yato-sama. May I ask you something?" Kazuma said.
They were sitting around the shrine again, sharing a few slices of fresh oranges beneath the shade of a tree. "What is it?" Yato said.
"What was that, that your nora used to bind me?"
"Oh, Bakufu," Yato said. "It's a shinki spell. It's used to bind your enemy's name."
Kazuma hesitated. "And...if I were to use it back on her?"
"It wouldn't work." Yato took another slice of orange. "Nora has more than one name. It wouldn't work unless you know all of them."
"Nora are powerful, aren't they, Yato?"
Yato lifted his eyes. It was the first time Kazuma didn't stumble over the honorific. Kazuma smiled.
"I want to be powerful," Kazuma said. He lowered his eyes, shyly. "My weapon form is a small nail, I'm no use otherwise to my master."
"Is Bishamonten gathering more shinki?"
"Yes," Kazuma said, and he hesitated. "Yato," Kazuma said. "My master has decided to look for you."
"Oh?" Yato said. "She wants to grovel in front of me in thanks?"
"She wants to kill you for slaughtering our clan."
Yato stared at the oranges in front of him.
"Yato," Kazuma said. "I will tell my master you acted at my behest. I am just a coward who wanted to stay by his master's side, and these years of peace were given to me falsely. I will rectify this," Kazuma said. His eyes flashed. "I promise you I will make amends."
Kazuma stood. He re-tied the scarf around his head, bowing.
That night, Yato stared at his little bowl of fruit. Over the last year, he had killed scores of humans and cycled through at least a dozen shinki, but Hiiro and Kazuma remained his only constants. Yato picked through the bowl and realized Kazuma had hand-picked only the sweetest pieces of fruit to give to him.
"Hiiro," Yato said, and Hiiro appeared beside him. "I need you to help me with something. Something only you can do."
xXx
.
"Bishamon-sama," Kazuma said. His head was bowed, his hands in front of him in a gesture of supplication. "There is something I must tell you..."
But the wall to Bishamon's compound exploded; Yato stood wielding Hikki, hooded blue eyes cutting through the darkness.
Bishamon stood back. "Magatsukami."
"Your lap dog found me, Bishamon." Yato saw Kazuma's eyes widen imperceptibly. "But I see you have no weapons. And here I looked forward to cutting you down."
"Kazuma, get behind me," Bishamon said.
"But Bishamon-sama-"
She yanked him by the arm, throwing him behind her. "Is it not enough that you killed my family?! You dare come to my house and threaten me too?!"
"Bishamon-sama, wait!"
"Hikki," Yato said, and Hiiro exploded in a tsunami of water, slamming into Bishamon and throwing her against the wall.
She was drenched, crouching in the corner. She looked up at him glaring. Yato's eyes narrowed.
"You're weak," Yato said. "I heard that you haven't been granting wishes, that you've been holed up in Takamagahara sulking. You're starting to lose believers," Yato said, and he could see the anger on Bishamon's face, the white of her knuckles shaking as she clasped her hand into a fist. "I wanted to fight the war god Bishamonten. Not a weak and frightened little girl."
"Damn you, Yatogami," Bishamon said. Kazuma crouched behind her, stricken.
"Come find me when you have weapons," Yato said, and he turned.
"A weak woman like you is not worth lifting my sword."
xXx
.
"Yato-sama!" Kazuma was running toward him, cutting through the field. "Yato-sama, wait!"
Yato turned. Kazuma stopped, hunching over his knees and breathing heavily.
"Yato-sama," Kazuma said. "Why did you stop me? Why did you pretend to attack her? Yato-sama! Don't you realize what you've done?!"
Yato looked out into the field. The tall grass shivered with each gust of wind, while dark clouds gathered with the threat of rain.
"She will kill you," Kazuma said. "Yato-sama, do you understand? She won't stop until she destroys you!"
"And what would she do to you?" Yato said. He turned to face him. Kazuma's eyes hardened.
"I would gladly die if it's by her hand," Kazuma said.
The wind whistled. A few drops of rain scattered on the ground.
There were no shinki who were loyal to him. Each stab and quick slice through flesh brought only shock and horror, and almost all of his shinki stung him. And why shouldn't they? When everything that Yato did was abhorrent, when he was a scourge to human kind, a raging spirit with a blood-stained name.
And yet...
And yet, somehow, Yato did not drive away Kazuma.
"Dammit!" Yato said. He rubbed his scalp in his hands. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!"
"Y-Yato-sama?"
"You are so stupid," Yato said. Kazuma started. Yato's eyes flashed. "Dontcha realize if you're on her side, you can keep her away from me?!"
"I do not understand," Kazuma said. Yato glared.
"She trusts you, right?" Yato said. "Regardless of whether or not you tell her, that master of yours will go and try to find me. So I need you alive, you understand? I need you to divert her attention away from me!"
"You..." Kazuma hesitated. "You want me to lie to my master?"
And the sky opened, rain starting to fall.
xXx
.
What the hell was Yato thinking, asking that of him? Of course Kazuma wouldn't help him! Why should he? He was loyal first and foremost to his master.
In the end, everyone always leaves him. The humans who prayed fearfully for vengeance. His shinki, terrified, stinging him at the first sight of blood.
"Do you understand now, Yato?" Hiiro's voice echoed softly in his ear.
"You're right," Yato said. "I'm just a god of calamity. Maybe I took that job from you knowing your master would try to get rid of me. Maybe it's for the best," Yato said. "Maybe the world would be better off without me."
"That isn't true," Kazuma said. Yato turned to look at him. "Whatever you may have done - whatever you may still do - you still saved my master's life. And you will always be my benefactor."
Kazuma stepped forward.
"I believe this world is better with you in it than without," Kazuma said. "Even if the Yatogami does not believe it himself. I promise you, Yato," Kazuma said.
"I will hide you from my master."
xXx
.
5.
Becoming an idol was supposed to be his ticket to the top, but despite his awesome singing voice and super sexy dance moves, no one actually noticed him. "Well of course they don't," Kazuma said. "You're a god from the Far Shore competing with Near Shore idols. Of course you'd be relegated to the background."
They were sitting in the middle of an empty stadium, looking out at what was supposed to be Yato's awesome debut concert, but was rendered empty except for the few pigeons and scattered flyers crumpled in the bleachers. Unsurprisingly, Kazuma was the only person to buy tickets to Yato's concert, and when the spotlight came on and Yato skated to the center of the stage, he deflated visibly when he saw Kazuma sitting patiently on the bleachers.
"By the way, Yato," Kazuma said, and he pulled out a small box. "I believe I found the answer to your shinki problem."
Yato took the box from him and opened it. "Fingerless gloves?" Yato said. Kazuma nodded.
"For when you handle them in weapons-form," Kazuma said. "If you dust the inside with talcum powder, it will help dry up the excess moisture."
"Dammit, Kazuma! My hands are not sweaty!"
"I wouldn't know," Kazuma said. "I am merely operating on second-hand information. You have never handled me."
"Like I'd want to handle you," Yato said, and he stuffed the gloves back in his pocket.
They walked down the street, not saying anything. Yato slung his rollerskates over his shoulder and tugged at bandana, frowning. The night was growing cold and already Yato was regretting wearing his cut-off jean shorts.
Kazuma glanced back at him. "Why aren't you changing out of your idol outfit?" Kazuma said. Yato shrugged.
"Ain't got nothing better to change in," Yato said. Kazuma shook his head.
"I worry about you, Yato," Kazuma said. "A god can go without rest or food, but that's assuming he can draw on the faith of his believers."
"I'm still here, ain't I?" Yato said. Kazuma smiled.
"Whoa!" Yato said, and he stopped in front of the store window. "Look at that!"
"Look at what?" Kazuma said. Yato was standing in front of a clothing store, looking at a jaunty store mannequin modeling a track suit.
Yato pulled out his mostly empty bottle of coins. "A few more wishes and I could probably get a sweet outfit like that!" Yato said. Kazuma sighed.
"Yato. I'm telling you. You need to start charging more," Kazuma said.
"Oi! Five yen is the perfect offering for a wish!"
"We're in the middle of an economic bubble. Surely you'd think it's reasonable to raise your price."
"What are ya, my pimp?" Yato said. He hugged his bottle protectively. Kazuma sighed.
"Yato. I am simply offering you my advice," Kazuma said. "You have no other shinki to guide you."
"Hmph. Like I'd take the advice of a four-eyed perv."
They walked, not saying anything. Around them, the street was quiet. Near shore humans walked past them, some carrying shopping bags while others chatted happily amongst themselves. It was a nice night, as far as nights go, and there weren't any phantoms or wandering spirits nearby. But Yato was still depressed about his failed concert, about the shinki who left him, and about the fact that his father made him kill some half dozen people the week before.
"You okay?" Kazuma said. "You seem more down than usual."
He kicked a rock. His sneakers were worn and he could see the thread around his soles were fraying. "You know, maybe I should wear these stupid gloves," Yato said. "Ugh! Who am I kidding? No shinki's ever gonna wanna stay with me!"
"That's unusual," Kazuma said, lightly. "I was under the impression your shinki left because they couldn't handle your greatness."
"Can it, Kazuma. Can't you tell I'm friggin' depressed?"
"Well you did suffer quite a few blows," Kazuma said. "That terrible concert on top of losing another shinki-"
"Anyone ever tell ya you're terrible at pep talks?" Yato said. Kazuma shrugged.
"What I mean to say is, I find it admirable that you never give up." Yato raised his eyes and watched as Kazuma kept walking steadily, the sound of his footsteps echoing on the pavement. "I'm sure you will find yourself a good shinki soon enough."
"You've been sayin' that for centuries, Kazuma. And you and Hiiro are the only ones I got."
"The last time I checked, I was not your shinki." Kazuma smiled, wryly. "Do not take it to heart. Even the Binbougami, who was born of a curse, is lucky enough to have her own shinki."
"Tch." Yato shoved his hands in his pocket. "Easy for you to say. All my shinki hated me."
"Not all shinki, Yato."
"Well the stray's like my sister, she's like friggin' obligated to hang around me."
"I was not referring to the stray, Yato."
Yato looked up. Kazuma was standing in front of him, quiet in his sincerity, and if Yato were drunk, he would probably start to laugh or cry or both. But Yato wasn't drunk; he just grinned and nudged Kazuma against the ribs, walking forward.
"Oi," Yato said "You don't count unless I get to call you 'Kazune.'" And Kazuma laughed, holding open the door.
A few days later, after failing his audition and finding out the local restaurant he had stuck his autographed picture in threw out his frame, one of Tenjin's shinki walked up to Yato carrying a package. "Ano, someone left this in our shrine, but it's addressed to you." Yato took the package from the girl and tore open the paper.
It was the track suit, a gift receipt taped to the tissue paper.
xXx
.
6.
"What are you two idiots doing?" Bishamon said. She was standing outside Kazuma's room, frowning with hands on her hips as Yato and Kazuma played Street Crasher on Kazuma's playstation, hunched over their controllers. "Don't you realize you're being really loud?"
"Oi, Bishamon! Can't you see we're playin'?"
"I see my Kazuma is thrashing your avatar. How long do you plan on staying in my house?"
Yato was still surprised Kazuma had agreed to play with him. Somehow, this type of game seemed beneath him, but after Yato complained that Yukine wouldn't play with him, Kazuma was the one who picked up the controller.
They took their game and snuck into Hiyori's place, because her brother had a playstation and Yato knew they wouldn't get caught. Yato clapped his hands gleefully as Kazuma cast a spell on Hiyori's parents, making sure they stayed asleep so that the noise from the videogame wouldn't wake them up.
Now they were sitting on Hiyori's brother's bed, wailing on each other while their thumbs furiously tapped on their controllers.
"Hey, Kazuma."
"Yes, Yato?"
Yato tapped his thumbs on the controller. "Thanks for playin' with me."
Kazuma tapped the buttons, smacking Yato's avatar with another 20-hit combo.
"No problem."