Sometimes Kagura has nightmares.
The scenarios are different, and she can't always catch the tail of the main story, the source of her fear or lock the reason in her memory. After a few minutes her heart stops beating crazily like a wad of blood and muscle, and the darkness reveals around her as an old, gray picture. And then she is able to see - those are the dark lines of the window and the bed, and these are the pale spots of her fingers, knuckles white with strain. A few days later the dream will rot and wash away from her memory by the sand of time, drowned in the maelstrom of everyday thoughts, simple and real.
After all, dreams are dreams, and what can yato be afraid of in reality?
Now Kagura can no longer tell what a nightmare she dreamed of as a child, making her squeeze her hands so hard that Sadaharu the First suffocated. He wasn't the First back then, just Sadaharu, white fluffy rabbit with red beady eyes. Kagura doesn't remember the dream, but remembers the sluggish thin ears and the smell of blood – the ribs punctured his lungs and chest under the pressure of her hands. It was even funny – to forget that dream, the reason that had made her curling like a snail, but not forget the feeling of the lifeless body in her arms.
All the nightmares were different. One time she lost all her strength, the other time she became a helpless child that can't even walk straight, not to mention fight and fire from her umbrella. In her dreams their father had not returned home, and Kagura went to join the Harusame with her brother. And sometimes she dreams that their family has always had only one child, and the name - Kagura - never had arisen in their parents' mind. To be nothing was scary, no matter what.
In reality, her strength has always been with her - and after the First each Sadaharu suffered because of it. Sadaharu the Second, Sadaharu the Third, and countless people and Amanto. Her hugs are too tight, her punch is too strong, her kick is too fast. Yato strength in Kagura lives and rages, demanding blood and pain, and it doesn't matter whose are they. In reality, their mother had died, and later on Kamui saw her as a hindrance, and it was only when she standed in his way. Aside from that he didn't remember, didn't pay attention, didn't mention her by name which she had been given by their parents.
Also, in reality, there were people whom she did not want to lose – ever.
- Hey, glutton, I made a pie with plums. And cocoa. Want some?
Gintoki has a sleepy wrinkled face and the hair which is protruding vortex only from his left side - the result of sleeping on his right side. He yawns from ear to ear and shamelessly scratches his stomach, opening the door of her closet just a bit. The room is lit up by the light from the kitchen - it's past midnight, - and the smell of baking is thick in the air. Sadaharu the Twenty-Seventh has his big wet nose poking in the doorway, and slobbers her hand with happy huff. Even if she squeezes him with all her strength by his thick neck - he will only shake his head and happily bark back. It's not surprising that they both aren't sleeping - surely her cries have awakened half of the house.
Kagura wipes her tears with her palms, rubs her snotty nose and nods:
- And sukonbu.
- Yes, and sukonbu, - Gintoki is already shuffling into the kitchen like an old man, yawning again so wide that you can hear the crunch of his jaw. Did this grumpy Madao once defeat Hosen himself, the King of the Night, yato among yato? Yeah, right.
Sadaharu is clinging with his shaggy side and waggling his tail in the manner of a fan that is made of wool, when Kagura jumps barefoot on the floor. He likes night kitchen snacks with pies and cocoa too.
Reality is much scarier than any nightmare can be, and Kagura is well aware of it.
But it also has good points, and just because of that, it is definitely a lot better than any dream.