Notes:

+ Spoilers for chapter 42. ok so seriously though were you alright after reading that chapter because i was definitely not

+ "kami-san" — can mean "goddess" or "wife." Left it as Japanese because I tried substituting with "goddess-wife" in and that just sounded strange ;T

+ This is the clean version of the story for FFN. If you want the full, please search for the story of the same name on the pseudocitrus account on Archive of Our Own. :)

+ Hope you enjoy (◡‿◡✿)

Wealth

Afterward, Daikoku's hands trembled as they peeled the clothes off her. Kofuku was still shivering — still weak — her flesh still cold. But no matter where he looked, she was unblemished. The blight was gone.

He cried out in relief and Kofuku laughed faintly. She lifted a hand to his head and was glad to find nothing there but hair and human skull. She smiled as he put his hand on hers, fingers curling.

"Kofuku," he said, just to make sure, "how are you feeling?"

"Better," she answered. "A lot better." Though still weak. She laid her head down and inhaled deeply, trying to find enough breath for her next words. "But...you, Daikoku? Are you...what happened?"

Daikoku's normal expression was pretty harsh, but somehow it became even darker.

"I saw the Yatogami," he told her, and looked away. Kofuku eyes widened. This time no amount of air could strengthen her words.

"You...you asked him to...?" Surely — Daikoku had not asked Yatogami to cut their away their precious Daigo-chan —

"I'm sorry, Kofuku," he told her. "I'm sorry I blighted you. Forgive me."

She shook her head, and this time didn't have strength for any words at all. She closed her eyes before Daikoku could see them fill with tears.

Daigo had been her gift to him — to both of them. She hadn't known that something so innocent would have brought him so much pain.

But she should have guessed. Spirit or not, Daikoku was human. And she, the Binbougami, could bring humans nothing but poverty and despair.

:::

They didn't speak anymore about it and the hollow in their conversations was loud. In the tenuous quiet, Kofuku recovered, slowly. It was the first time that she had ever experienced being blighted and when Daikoku helped her bathe and dress, he examined her carefully for any resurgence of miasma.

There was reason for his concern. For some reason, he still remembered Daigo.

Is this how it's supposed to be? Daikoku had thought that the cut of the Yatogami's blade was swift and total. He had thought that he wouldn't remember Daigo — and the way he had failed him — at all. He considered going back and telling Yatogami that a mistake had been made, but he didn't want to leave Kofuku alone. Besides, even if he remembered, everything seemed fine — did he really need to forget? As long as he could control his feelings, Kofuku would be alright. He would be alright.

He treaded his memories of Daigo as if walking around a forest from which phantoms could appear at any time and maim him. Whenever he felt his heart slipping into a dim place he reeled back, and summoned something bright. The memory of the three of them bathing together in the sunlight. The three of them playing games, collecting seashells, playing with Jirou until evening.

Should he tell Kofuku that he remembered? What would that accomplish? Even if she was weak, she wasn't in any obvious great pain, and she hadn't mentioned anything about Daigo at all. Maybe it was easier for her to believe that Daikoku had forgotten. While he considered, he did his best against the overwhelming emptiness in their small home. He occupied himself with taking care of her, cleaning, straightening up. One day he went to arrange the futons in their closet, and when he unfolded one there was a ringing noise — a bell — a bounce. He froze and looked down.

It was a ball. Daigo's favorite ball.

His breath caught — his heart caught. Ignore it! he told himself, but no — Kofuku was in the room and he could tell, even with his back to her, that she had grown very still.

He needed to decide. A thousand thoughts flashed in his head, each too fast to grasp. It took everything to keep his hands and voice still and steady as he reached down. To make a smile, so wide his cheeks ached. To make a laugh. When he finally said it, there wasn't room for regret.

"What's this, Kofuku? A toy of yours?"

After a moment, Kofuku laughed loudly back. "Yes!" She scratched her head, as if embarrassed. "It's sort of immature, but...isn't it cute? I couldn't resist getting it. I always wanted a cute toy like that one." She smiled, brows wrinkled. "For myself."

"Here you go, then." He handed it to her, and she took it and held it to her breast. It stayed there, close, until evening. The next day, it was gone.

:::

Something felt wrong, but Kofuku didn't know how to fix it, and she wasn't sure if she was imagining it.

They barely made eye contact, but she watched him all the time. Sometimes when she looked at Daikoku, she could almost convince herself that he still remembered Daigo, or at least somehow remembered the sorrow of it all. The way he smiled too much, cheeks strained. The way she caught him sometimes staring a thousand miles or years away from where they were.

But maybe, she told herself hopefully, it was just her own biases. Before Daikoku, forced smiles were the only things she was used to receiving from other humans and gods.

Don't be afraid. Be happy. Be normal.

But after one hundred years with Daigo, she could barely remember how they'd lived before, alone together. If anything, she should take her cues from Daikoku, right? Daikoku, for whom they had always lived together alone. Daikoku, who didn't remember anymore a son's laughter in their garden, or the mud of his tiny footsteps in their entryway.

And yet. Kofuku watched Daikoku carefully as he prepared lunch. Did he realize he was making food enough for three? Did he notice the disappearance of the half-sized chopsticks from their drawer?

"Dai! Ko! Ku! Sit closer to me already!" Kofuku patted the empty cushion beside her where Daigo used to sit. Daikoku looked down at it, and she watched his face for any loose motion — for anything that might belay any pain. She tensed, waiting for that white-hot needle to sting her heart.

There was nothing. "Ah," Daikoku said, "sure," and he scooted over, squishing out the last impression Daigo's living weight had left in their house.

:::

Whenever Daikoku let her out of his sight, Kofuku searched their humble property for the things Daigo had left behind. Besides the ball and the chopsticks, there were other little toys — scraps of his drawings — favorite sticks and stones. These she all slipped into her sash when she found them, where their weight nestled against her. One day, a tiny stub of a pencil. The next, one of Jirou's old broken leashes. The next, a tiny, worn pair of sandals.

Even if Daikoku couldn't remember, she was sure he would have questions if he saw these things. Daikoku was super smart — she was sure he could guess what had happened if he had enough evidence. The thought of his face twisted and mutated again with agony chilled her. She could spare him that, at least.

Finally, when she was sure she had found everything, when it was night, when she was sure Daikoku was asleep, she slipped away. The moon was full and made the snow outside glow brightly, but the snow was dry and deep and dusty and she stifled her cries as she stumbled over and over again, sinking calf-deep every step.

It was only when she arrived at the Jirou graves and knelt down that she realized she had forgotten a shovel. Rather than go back and risk discovery, she wrapped her sleeves over her hands and scooped at the snow like that. It wasn't efficient, but it worked. Her fingers burned with cold, but soon her body was hot with effort, her hard breaths clouding and condensing on her cheeks. When she hit ground, it was starting to snow again, and she had to start shaking her head to free it from the snow piling in her hair.

The ground was hard and frigid, and with every few centimeters of depth gained, she lost another to the snowflakes drifting into it. Her fingernails were chipping and clotted with dirt.

No matter. She didn't need to go deep — just far enough to keep ravens and foxes from Daigo's old treasures, which she laid reverently together. Once they were all there, she piled on the dirt she had displaced, and shoved on top of it all a standing stone that had been intended for the next Jirou.

That was it. Everything about Daigo was gone. She patted the ground smooth with muddy sleeves. One last time, she raised her finger and wrote into the dirt.

Daigo.

Her eyes stung. She willed herself to cry here, to get it all out before she returned to Daikoku. But for some reason she could do nothing but stare numbly at the little grave.

By the time she returned home, the snow had already covered it all up.

:::

Daikoku heard her when she attempted to sneak back in. The door had rattled in its frame — her shoes had clattered on the entryway stones — a moment later, she had tripped on something. He smiled slightly, expecting her usual wails — "Ouch ouch ouch oouuuchh!" — but this time she said nothing, only sniffed.

She rummaged around in the other rooms. He heard water splashing, fabric rustling. By the time she made it back to their futon, he had guessed where she had gone, though it might have been obvious even if her clothes hadn't been different and her hands pruny and raw red. Still, he feigned drowsiness. He made his voice slow and rough, as if he hadn't been awake for the past hour waiting for her.

"Oi...Kofuku...what were you doing?"

"Just wanted to take a walk," she replied, before he'd finished asking. He made an incoherent grumbling noise and reached for her hands. They were freezing. He held them in his, rubbing them, heating them up, raising them to his mouth and exhaling warmly onto them.

His perpetual calluses were scratchy, but his touch overall was gentle, tender. Aside from his dutiful bathing of her, it was the first time that he'd really touched her since Daigo had gone. And it was such a familiar gesture — Daikoku had always done this for Daigo, whenever Daigo complained about the cold. Daigo, who he didn't remember — Daigo, who she had just buried, by herself. To her shock and horror she saw Daikoku's hands began to blur. The tears that had refused expression this whole time began to squeeze from the corner of her eyes.

His hands stopped moving.

"What's the matter," he murmured, "what is it," but she didn't answer.

"Kofuku," he called again, "Kofuku, what's the matter," and this hurt the most somehow, Kofuku, that cute name that he had given her, that happiness he had given her that she couldn't return. All she had to offer was the misery that was her only legacy on this world.

It was so unfair. If she was incapable of bringing anyone happiness, then why did she have to have the desire for it?

Daikoku had started trying to heat up her hands again, at loss, and she sniffed, smiled despite herself, heart swelling. There was something incredibly dreamy about a guy with such disheveled hotness like Daikoku harboring such warmth and kindness in those calloused hands. Daikoku really deserved a child — deserved someone he could take care of and love without reservation.

An idea had been growing in her, just a little one, gathering shape and momentum in a dark corner of her mind. Maybe it was time to let it out. She began to inhale deeply, once, twice — again and again, until her voice became steady.

"Ne, Daikoku," she whispered. "I was thinking. If I get reincarnated one day...and become a new Binbougami...maybe you can raise me up. I mean," she said quickly, "you could also leave your name behind, of course — but maybe — only if you wanted. You could raise me up, from a child. I know a Binbougami isn't much, but...you know...I bet I'd become a great one in your care."

And unlike Daigo, she would actually grow. This was something she could definitely give him — something that couldn't backfire. (Right?) It wouldn't be too bad to be reborn. It might even be better. Maybe, if Daikoku chose to stay with her, the new Binbougami wouldn't even be bothered by the dark gazes cast in her direction. With Daikoku at her side from the beginning, the new Binbougami wouldn't even have the chance to make memories of loneliness.

She wasn't looking at him — she was looking at his hands — or even past them, into a place that didn't exist. No matter. Even without seeing her face, he could hear her pain in the way her voice tumbled out of her like shards of broken glass, ragged. Words that hurt to even hold in her mind, much less say.

He felt his chest began to fold over and took a deep breath to still it, to not sting her. Finally he answered, fierce. "What are you talking about? Binbougami this, Binbougami that...I'm not interested in a new Binbougami. Just you, Kofuku."

Her lips pursed. She met his gaze as she hadn't done in weeks, and her eyes were gleamy and red in the moonlight. He moved his hands behind her head and kissed the soft space beneath her left eye, and then the right, combing the tears from her eyelashes.

Aahh, Daikoku was so kind. Too kind.

"You just deserve more," she managed, eyes swimming. "I just want to be able to give you something that will make you happy."

Was she serious? He rubbed his head. "You make me happy," he told her. He almost wanted to shake her. "Just being with you makes me happy. So stop" — he paused, and emphasized it — "stop it with that 'if I was reborn' stuff." He thumbed away the tears from her cheeks, from her tentative, uncertain smile.

"Really? I do?"

"Of course you do. Every day I've spent with you has been happy," he said. "Without you, I'd probably be some dumb spirit still wandering around lost somewhere." He held her face, making sure her gaze met his as he said his next words. "I don't regret a single day."

Not even the ones with Daigo. Could she hear that, even if he didn't say it? He searched her eyes, and Kofuku flushed and couldn't help fanning herself off with a hand, with a nervous laugh.

Was he seriously saying that kind of stuff? Daikoku was way, way too hot. She sniffed, fighting off a lingering sob, and then leaned up and touched her lips to his — and when he pressed back into her she shivered and sighed into him.

He kissed her — perhaps harder than usual — their teeth clicking when their mouths met, his tongue searching for hers, his hands gripping the back of her head and cradling it to his. His long hair had, in sleep, come somewhat loose from its tie and fell in strands that tickled her cheek. One finger caught her hairpin, tugging it free — its beads rattled as it hit the tatami — her hair came loose. As her hair slid down against her body his lips followed, kissing the soft skin beneath her chin — the sensitive crook where her head and neck met — her throat, and the hollow of it. Each time he laid his mouth on her he sucked, leaving gleamy, pale pink patches, stark against her rising goosebumps.

Kofuku shuddered, her limbs feeling fuzzy and floppy as Daikoku continued to kiss her, and before she weakened too much she sat up, reaching back to loosen her sash. Daikoku sat up with her, legs crossed, kissing her coy smile. The sash fell around her waist and he set his big hands to either side of the satin around her neck, easing it back, exposing her.

It felt good. There was the physical feeling, sure — the pressure and the warmth that bloomed across her body wherever he touched. The way her fingers spasmed against their blanket, the way even breathing became difficult and exquisite in its effort. But more that, what she loved was the blush that rose across Daikoku's normally cool face. The glow and focus of his eyes as they roved across her body. His scruffy chin, scrubbing against her as he pressed his face to her in ardor. The small noises he made as he tasted her. The faintest tremble of his hands as they hitched her clothing up to her waist, freeing her legs. The way the muscles and veins stood out on his arms as he grabbed her and hefted her onto his lap.

No human act gave her as much pleasure as seeing his desire. He wanted her; and this was something she could give.

:::

It was over. Exhausted, he let his body collapse partially on top of her, reveling in the silk of her skin and the sight of her chest rising and falling as she panted beside him. After a while she glanced over at him, and, seeing him staring, gave him a carefree smile. He felt his face warm and her eyes widened.

"Heeehhh?! Daikoku! You're blushing?!" So cute! She laughed and for a bright moment, for the first time in what felt like eternity, everything was fine.

"Binbougami," he snorted, and as sleepiness started to crawl over him he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer to him.

"Hmm?" Kofuku rubbed her face against his neck, stroked her fingers over his side.

"It's just ridiculous, that people call you the Binbougami."

"Why?"

"Because with you," he said, "I am wealthy," and he winced as Kofuku began to squeal.

"Hyaaaaaahhh! Daikoku is sooooo dreamy!"