Hiyori doesn't say anything at first when she notices Yukine hanging around her high school a lot more. He's without a certain delivery god, which strikes a wrong note because Yato never seems to pass up an opportunity for cash—always checking up on the clients who discover his ad in the public bathrooms.

Yukine stutters and mumbles when she questions him. He says something about sitting in the back of the lectures to pick up some "overtime," as he calls it.

"It's not like anyone can see me," he points out, drawing discursive patterns in the dirt outside the classroom. She's left her body at her desk, supervised by a disgruntled Yama. Some people might stare if they saw Iki Hiyori standing outside the schoolyard at the end of the day, conversing with her own shadow.

"So Yato's really okay with you taking all this time off from jobs?" she asks, incredulous. His head dips lower.

"Probably."

"…You haven't asked him?"

The regalia shuffles a step backward, murmuring something she can't catch.

"What's that, Yukine?"

He coughs once, and shoves restless hands into his pockets. Deep, dusty lines follow his feet as he backs away from her.

"I just…want to hang out here, okay? The stuff you give me to work on makes more sense if I can listen to classes about it too. Besides, that idiot hasn't gotten any calls recently, so it's not like I'm skipping out on 'work'." He withdraws his hands from his pockets to twirl his fingers in exaggerated air quotes.

Hiyori realizes then, and it provokes a soft, soft ache in her chest: Yukine's growing up. He's matured, even though his form stays frozen in adolescence. More importantly, he hasn't let being Yato's exemplar distract from his ambition to keep learning. Her face is sun-bright with pride, and Yukine shoots her an alarmed glance.

"Don't tell Yato, okay?!" He waves his arms, criss-crossing them in front of his chest as if to ward her off. She grins, nodding conspiratorially, and he huffs his relief. Hiyori doesn't immediately notice his shifting posture, or the way his feet drag deep ruts through the ground as he begins to follow her into the building. Without looking back at him, she says:

"Well, since you're here, why don't we go over what happened in class together? I bet Yama's taken my body to the infirmary by now, so just let me—"

"Hiyori. Wait."

She turns back to him in confusion, enthusiasm dissolving. He wears a sharp grimace, fighting with the guilt of lying and the shame of confessing.

"I'm not here for school, okay? It's—it's…"

Suddenly, he can't dislodge the words; his nose wrinkles.

"It's what?"

Behind her, one of the school doors booms open, and the class below hers empties into the yard. Yukine stiffens visibly, and she can practically hear his blood humming with panic. His eyes focus several yards behind her, and Hiyori slowly turns. She recognizes several faces in the group of female students he rivets on—especially the one nearest them. The girl's eyes are wide, and alight with interest as she listens to some elementary gossip collected by her friends over the school day. Hiyori's gaze flicks over the schoolgirl, back to the boy from the Far Shore, and the pieces drop into place. When Yukine looks back at her, she cringes, nearly feeling the electric spike of guilt that must be twinging between Yato's shoulder blades right now.

"Yukine?"

He lifts his palms toward her, mutely wretched.

"It's not like that…not really. It's so stupid. But I thought there wouldn't be any harm in spending some time here. Just watching…"

His humiliation tortures her too, because even though he's been through enough to know that normal human existence isn't an option, he still has to watch his chances slip by. He's still young enough to hurt from that. At once, the softness in Hiyori's chest hollows out, collapsing inward.

"Do you want to leave?"

The question grates on her ears. But Yukine follows anyway, matching her steps on the way to the infirmary to reclaim her napping body.

As the clamor from the yard fades behind them, Hiyori wonders how an existence like hers really looks to the gods: a clear river of small, ceaseless struggles that ripples invisibly between days, years. She may be a friend to Yato and Yukine, but she still has one foot in that river, and it's tugging her downstream. Yukine was dragged out of it prematurely, choking on air.

He doesn't look back at the girls in the yard, and Hiyori sees that river pass under his feet, leaving him dry. She wishes he could let himself hope.

There is just so much water rushing between a human schoolgirl, and a boy from the Far Shore.