Hi guys :D I'm taking another break from my usual stuff (ughI need to stop doing that DX).
I finished Noragami relatively quickly. It's not the most amazingly-written anime ever, but it's the most emotional I've ever encountered.
"Ghost" by Ella Henderson is the core basis of this fic. There's an AMV somewhere on YouTube that inspired it, so be sure to check that out :D When I heard this song along with the AMV, I made an immediate connection with Yato. Yato is by far my favorite Noragami character. He's funny and outgoing as well as serious and dangerous when he needs to be. I tried to bring that untouched side to life in this one-shot.
I haven't read much of the manga, so if I'm doing this all wrong, I'll find out soon enough.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Noragami T^T
How ever many times he swore it wouldn't happen again, Yato would find himself back at Tenjin's temple with those same purple, bruise-like marks all over his pale skin. He would always sigh and fetch a rag out of his pocket for the nth time that week, dip it in the water, and swab himself down. Soon, cleaning the blight wouldn't do any good.
Trying to control Yukine was basically painful, deathly slow suicide. Yukine was a restless soul with a dark past. The boy longed to be free from the curse of being a Regalia. He was just too innocent to know he was hurting his master so badly.
Why did the brat have to be so. Damn. Clueless?
At this point, Yato seriously wanted to pummel his regalia over the head with a baseball bat for being so stupid. Couldn't he see what pain this was causing his master? Maybe he should give up trying to control the kid...
It would honestly feel good to hear the kid's head crack open...
No... Yato squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to erase those terrible thoughts and images from his head. I'm better than that. You're trying to change.
But Yato was a god of calamity, and it was part of his nature to have a love for violence. His heart naturally longed for dismemberment and bloodshed. He could barely contain the wave of reckless passion that he hadn't unleashed for centuries. It had burned into him like a brand - that part of him that would follow him for the rest of his life. He'd never get rid of all that hate and pain and resentment that lurk in his heart.
But he was keeping it under control...
Right?
He sighed and dumped his cleaning rag into the healing substance, then pushed his jersey and slapped his cloth onto his wounds. Maybe this was his problem, not Yukine's. Maybe Hiyori was right. Maybe he should pay more heed to the way he treated his regalia. Maybe the boy wasn't just a defense tool.
Hiyori insisted that Yukine should start living with her, since Yato wasn't great at taking care of the boy (understatement). A twang of guilt noticeably ached in his thoughts. Just imagining Yukine in a warm bed inside a normal, heated house made what he had of a compassionate side ache. His fatherly side wished that he could provide for the kid as well as Hiyori did. Instead, here he was; doing random jobs for a measly five yen, eating out of trashcans, and sleeping in the alleyways.
Why couldn't he do better - not just for himself, but for the poor little boy who had no memories of his past life? He was a god, for goodness sake! Why couldn't he act like one for once? His dream, to be that god on his throne, was only a lust for the past. A time that seemed only like a distant memory. A time where his divine soul could feel all the blood-lust and passionate hate that humans felt.
If only he could be powerful like he was back then...
This might be a series. I don't know. Maybe if enough people review and ask. I don't know. So far it's just a short little thing that I wrote.