disclaimer 17/01/15: because this was written last year back when only 27 chapters were out, i'm aware this fic's been disproven, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
pairing: yatone maybe? interpret it as you wish to haha.
warnings: self harm ref. and other triggers
a/n: based on flashbacks of yukine's past in the anime (link on profile for reference). influenced by episode 5 and the chapters leading up to 27. apologies for any writing rust (i swear it'll be rewritten when i can!). yukine and yato were a lot harder to write for than i thought; don't ask how many times i had to rewrite this haha, but concrit's still appreciated as always.
"You wanted to know about your past life, right? Don't bother arguing. I can feel it."
…
Yukine had seen this scene before.
He couldn't recall when or where, but his breath shook as his eyes adjusted to the dead light glowing from the far end of the kitchen. It was late at night when his idiot god Yato received a call from a suburban home, but the lights were out. The wind howled outside the windows and the only other sounds heard were garbled voices coming from the living room television.
He never liked the dark. Caught himself clutching Yato's jersey jacket to steady himself.
Yato told him their next client was a little boy, though they didn't see him anywhere. Good thing Yukine could pick out any corner of the kitchen and find the best spots a child could hide; behind the cupboard, under the table, or inside the cabinet under the sink where its door lay open a crack.
He crept over to the sink, crouching down as he heard little whimpers inside.
A lanky figure in a jersey jacket and track pants leaned over him, grinning as he opened the cabinet door. "Delivery God Yato at your service."
The boy inside only clutched his pajama covered knees tighter, no answer. A landline phone stayed buried between his arms and legs. Shaggy black hair covered his eyes, but he glanced up and saw Yukine and Yato crouched down staring back.
"So what's the problem?" Yato continued. "Nightmare? Monsters?"
The boy shifted his gaze to the right, leading to the living room. One hand motioning for the boy to stay in his place, Yato crept over to the living room, Yukine following behind. The television, the only light in the room, flickered on, but it was enough to reveal the shadow of a slumped figure laying in the recliner.
And on the wall behind the figure, eyes blinked. Ayakashi. An easy job.
Or at least it should've been.
Yato grinned. "Come Sekki." One call and Yukine flashed into a katana in his hand. Ayakashi dripped out of the walls and open their mouths, extending teeth out as they growled.
But one step forward and Yato stopped. Yukine swallowed.
His foot knocked over an empty beer can on the floor.
Ayakashi dripped out of the walls and open their mouths, extending out rows of teeth. But Yukine was too busy staring at the empty beer cans scattered on the floor. The rag doll man on the recliner—
Passed out father on the couch. Ayakashi whispered in his ear.
The air drunk of alcohol.
"Yukine, pay attention." Yato clutched the katana tighter as he rushed at the growling Ayakashi. They slashed through them, but the blow cut through pieces of a cabinet too. "Control yourself."
"I'm trying!" Even as a sword, Yukine could feel Yato's sweaty hand. His own shaking self. It was dark, but he'd seen this scene before.
An Ayakashi slipped around them and jumped.
"Behind you!" Yukine yelled, and Yato turned almost a second too late. One sidestep. One swing and they sliced the monster in half. A pit smashed to the floor and Yato winced. Though despite the damages, the enemy was killed off quickly.
Yato only growled after calling Yukine back out in human form. "What was that?" he said. Debris of sliced shelves puffed up clouds of smoke and dust. "I told you to keep it down."
"I didn't do anything!" Yukine glared. "What's the matter with you? I almost slipped out of your hand!"
Yato blinked, looking away toward the damages. Swallowed. "You didn't start remembering something, did you?"
Yukine followed Yato's gaze to a broken sliced pot, dirt smudging the floor. "Remember what?"
Another pause. "Forget it then. Never mind."
The television flickered on. The drunk man on recliner never noticed his kid crawl out from under the sink. The kid's gaze trailed from Yato to Yukine to the broken furniture in the room.
Yukine didn't press any further as Yato collected five yen from the child.
"How much do you know?"
"Stuff like your family life. You had a mother, a sister, your father—though I doubt you'd want to see him again."
…
Yato left a beer sitting on the table, but he hadn't touched it yet. Coming back in the attic, he found reaching over the table to take it.
Yato caught his hand from behind. "Don't."
"Why not?"
"You're too young for that." Then he laughed. "Unless you wanna end up like him, then good luck."
"Him who?"
Shit. Yato quickly grabbed the beer, opening it and gulping down the the entire tin. "Forget it." Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Go ask Daikoku for a juice box or something."
Yukine held his stare. "Him who?"
But Yato's phone buzzed from his pocket, so he answered it, thankful for the interruption. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Yukine pouting. He bit his tongue. The boy's curiosity only swelled up inside Yato's own body.
He'll forget by tomorrow. He nodded to himself. Phone flipped closed, Yato teleported out of the attic and left Yukine alone.
"If you can feel how I feel, why can't I feel what you feel?"
"Because deranged emotions flow one way. To gods from their Shinki."
…
A pot of water boiled in front of him, but Yukine didn't remember what he put inside.
"Hey kid," Daikoku called out from outside the kitchen. "Hurry up in there. You're not gonna earn money by lounging around."
"Not that Yato's any better," he grumbled. The idiot god was only good for getting five-yen jobs—which they hadn't even gotten today. After cooking what he figured to be stew, he carried the pot out of the kitchen to the booth front. Daikoku, a man muscled enough to lift both the pot and Yukine off the ground together set it down on the table. Taking a ladle and mixing the soup around, he glared.
"I told you pork, not seafood. What's gotten into you all day?"
Despite how Daikoku's booming voice rattled his ears, Yukine sighed, looking up to face him. "Do you remember anything about your past life? Or even how you died?"
Daikoku's scowl relaxed as he scratched his head. "Vaguely—it's been so long. Just little things from my old life. Plus Kofuku told me on the first day I became her Shinki."
"I don't remember any of mine, and Yato hasn't said anything either."
"Don't expect him to. Most gods don't tell their Shinkis, but did you try asking anyway?"
Yukine shook his head. He planned to though. However, by the time his next question came to him Yato teleported in front of the shop.
"Yukine," he called out, a wide grin on his face, "we got a call. Let's go!"
One glance at Daikoku and the man only shooed him away, so Yukine ran left his apron to join Yato.
Though he still had questions to ask.
"What else?"
"Well, you mess around with sharp things."
"…What is that supposed to mean?"
…
Shadows dripping of Ayakashi roamed the bedroom. A girl's body lay sprawled on a floor blotched in red ink, caked drops leading to a private bathroom. A quick glance at it from across from the bed and Yato caught sight of pocket knife in the sink. Porcelain bowl caked red and sticky, stained.
"We should've gotten here faster," Yato said. Turning around, he found Yukine's attention stuck to the bathroom, so he walked into the boy's line of view. "You can look away if you want."
He shook his head. "I'm fine."
Though the compression Yukine formed in Yato's stomach said otherwise. With both their bodies and minds connected, Yato could feel the boy's every emotion, lie, or sin.
Too bad he wished it hadn't been about this.
Yato carried the body over to the bed, noticing Yukine studying the body's arms, legs. The scrawled streaks of cuts, blood, bruises—but Yato covered them with a blanket. "These are the choices humans make, Yukine. You're almost old enough to understand though."
"Is she dead?"
"No, she'll live."
"Is this how I died?" Yato stiffened. Yukine gasped and looked away. Both of them were left lost from words never expected to leave his mouth.
Yato paused. Sighed before shifting his gaze toward the bed. A blob of eyes pooled out from under, crimson hands reaching out from them to grab someone, anyone.
Yukine cringed. Waited.
Silence filled the space between them.
Yato called out to him as Sekki and not another word was said, even as he held Yukine as a katana that slit quickly through the Ayakashi.
"So my own mom and sister left me with my dad?"
"What a guy too—not that you'd like mine any better. Still, no wonder you're so scared of the dark."
…
Hiyori took Yukine out on a walk around the park after he finished his part time job with Daikoku for the day. Yukine watched Hiyori's hair and scarf blow as a breeze passed by. "You okay?" she asked. "Yato's been looking after you properly, right?"
He shrugged. "I guess. He left last night though."
Hiyori smiled as she leaned on a wooden railing overlooking a pond, and he couldn't help but smile along. The feeling didn't last though. "Did he come back to see you yet?"
Yukine shook his head.
"That's weird. I haven't seen him for a few days, but I thought he would still with you."
He scoffed. "Probably too busy seeing Nora then."
"Yukine." This time Hiyori bent down to meet him at eye level. "You're Yato's Shinki. After all you two went through too, you should know by now. The two of us are always here for you, okay? So don't worry about it."
"How would you know?"
She held up a fist as if holding a triumphant pose. "Because I'll always remember you. And I'll make sure Yato looks out for you too."
Yukine chuckled as if a chain around his chest released. He'd have to ask Yato about his past eventually, but so far all his questions were dodged. Maybe Hiyori might be able to help—though he still had to repay her for all the help she'd already given.
In the end, he decided to ask Yato himself. He just had to find the right time to do so.
"Are those her letters?"
"Yeah."
"Can I read them?"
"Nope."
…
Yato made a trip to Yukine's old apartment. He recognized its eight stories, the neglected walls left to face the elements on its own, but it was still his first visit here. Not sure if Yukine remembered this place though. He made a mental note to make sure he didn't.
He pushed the doors open, but his hand left an imprint on the dirt coating the glass. Maybe he could write his phone number on door, Yato mused to himself. He left it be, instead checking the mailbox on the wall to his right for Yukine's old room number.
The only box stuffed with envelopes sat, starting from the top left, four across and two down.
He forced the mail box open, watching pools of letters pour out onto the cracked tile floor. Yato gasped, recognizing each name under both sender and receiver. Upon inspection, each letter came from the same address. The same name.
Yato found the most recent letter dated back to only a few weeks ago.
He opened it up without hesitation, scanning through each handwritten word and phrase. Yato smiled. Yukine was lucky to have known such a person, though not so lucky now, he guessed.
At least they had Hiyori.
Yato slid the letter back into the envelope and stuffed it in his pocket.
"And my name—"
"—is Yukine. All past names are now irrelevant. Any other god will tell you the same. A Shinki must always accept that fate."
…
"Want to meet your sister?"
Yukine still had Yato's words replaying in his head.
A phone call came requesting their help to locate a grave, so Yato was quick to teleport the two of them to a cemetery in the outskirts of the town. Row on row, tombstones faced an iron fence that separated the dead from the living.
A blonde girl still in her school uniform stood in front of a tombstone graffitied with Yato's number in red paint, a bag strapped over her shoulder. She held a few yellow flowers in one hand, her cellphone in another. Yukine watched Yato suck in a breath, put on a smile, and tapped her shoulder.
"Fast, affordable, and reliable." He saluted. "Delivery God Yato is here. You called?"
She turned around— stopped. Her cellphone slipped out of her hand when she stared at Yukine. "Brother?"
Eyebrows scrunched. Head tilted. The girl stood a few centimetres taller than him, but they carried the same round face, same orange eyes. He knew her, his sister, his sister his mind shouted but the missing memories told him otherwise. Then there was Yato:
"Remember the plan."
Yukine swallowed down his excitement. "Do I know you?"
The girl slumped back into an "Oh." Yato quickly threw an arm over Yukine's shoulder and laughed.
"I think you have him confused for someone else. He's my little helper."
"Oh, I'm sorry," the girl said. "I was just hoping he might be…"
"So what did you need help with?" Yato broke her off before she finished. A chirpy voice grown more frantic, Yukine noticed as he glared at the sweaty palm still stuck to his shoulder.
The girl continued on. "Can you help me find my brother's grave? I heard he died, but I didn't hear anything about a funeral."
"What's his name?" Yukine asked.
Right as she opened her mouth, Yato swooped in. "Don't worry, I know what it is. I can take it to his grave for you if you'd like."
"Can I come with you?" she said. "I haven't seen him in years."
Yato laughed. "Just follow me."
As if Yato actually knew where the grave it was, but Yukine wasn't complaining. Hands in his pocket, he ambled behind a strutting Yato who hummed some tune he didn't know. Once every few seconds though, he caught his sister looking his way. Maybe he could keep this up for a little longer, he thought. "Do I really look like your brother?"
She fumbled with the flowers in her hand. "A lot. You have his hair, his face—though you're older compared to when I last saw him."
"What was he like?"
"Really quiet, but nice." She smiled. "Stubborn though. He didn't come with mom and me because he didn't want to leave dad alone." Paused. "I wish I could see him again."
Yukine rubbed the back of his neck, looking to Yato for the next cue.
"If he was here though," Yato said, stealing a quick glance at Yukine over his shoulder. "I'm sure he would have something to say, right Yukine?"
He snapped up, stuttering, "Y-yeah." Not that he remembered her well, but still felt enough to continue the lead-in. "I'm sure he'd want to say that he missed you and always waited for you every day. And don't worry about him anymore. He's happier now."
"You really think so?" she said.
Yukine nodded. His sister smiled despite her watering eyes. Even Yato was looking now.
The girl turned to Yato and handed him five yen. "It's getting late, but thank you anyway."
"I can still take the flowers to him if you want," Yato said.
She nodded, but then she pulled out a white envelope from her bag and gave it to Yato along with the flowers. "That as well."
Then came part two of the plan.
Yato set down both items on the ground, calling out Sekki. Yukine flashed into a katana in his hand. An agreement the two came to before coming here.
"It's easier to form a bond than to cut one off."
"I hope you don't mind," Yato said.
Yukine's sights shifted between the letter on the ground, the sister staring dumbfounded at Yato before he swung Yukine's blade, and the letter in Yato's pocket.
When did Yato get that one?
His sister fell to the ground as the wind blew leaves where her flowers and letter used to be, never realizing Yato and Yukine had left.
Or the fact they existed to begin with.
…
"As for what happened to your family, you already know. All ties cut off like we agreed."
"Yeah." Yukine collapsed on his back on his bed, Yato sitting down on the floor beside him. Arms spread out, Yukine tried to erase a face that kept forming on the ceiling. Breaths were heavy, but muscles stayed relaxed, palms open.
"Last question. How did I die?"
Yato bit his lip, not answering.
Yukine sat back up. Kept their gazes at the same level. Tried not to distract himself with the letters in Yato's pocket. Instead he kept staring at Yato as if trying to drill a hole through to reach his old memories. Yukine wished he could yell. His heart remembered. Yato remembered. Why not his head? It was his memories. His right. The one property never again in his possession.
"You wanted to forget, you know."
Glanced up, and Yukine's eyes widened. Little puddle drops hit the floor, falling down from Yato's face. Yato himself didn't realize he was crying either until he wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.
Yukine scoffed. "Some god you are." Unsure what to do, he held him close, hands rubbing his back. If Yato had his memories, he must've felt like that little boy Yukine used to be, chains on his lungs and neck released after years of scars and bruises and abandonment screaming him to submission. Yato was warm against his body. So glad no one else was around to see.
Yukine felt Yato wrap his arms tighter around him. Neither said a thing. Didn't thank Yato aloud, but as his Shinki, Yato probably knew already.
"You won't leave, right?" Yukine said.
Yato let go, grasping the boy's shoulders. "Don't tell me you've abandoned me already." He pouted, trying to hold back a smirk as if the tears never existed to begin with. "Hiyori will hit me if you leave."
Unable to hold back a grin, Yukine collapsed back onto the mattress to go to sleep. Yato switched off all the lights except for a night light Hiyori got for them. Then Yato climbed into his own bed a few feet away from Yukine's.
"Your old life is over now, so don't worry about it."
Yukine flipped on his side to face Yato, but saw his back instead. The letters in his pocket—one opened, one closed. Yato's stiff self. Heard his shaky breaths too.
"You won't leave, right?" Yukine mumbled again, though he doubt Yato heard it. He considered reaching over to grab the letters, but decided against it.
Yukine closed his eyes.
"I won't if you don't."
But Yato did catch his words.
…
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