"What… are you two..."
Hiyori jumped to her feet and away from her trainer, glad to have an excuse to do so. "Yukine-kun! What a nice surprise! How are your bruises doing?"
Yukine remained in his spot at the gym 5 doorway. One hand was idly rested on the handle, a school bag dangling from his arm. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, this? This is… eh... "
"It's a new technique I've thought of last night!" Yato called from the floor. "Every time Hiyori earns herself a hit, she also earns five minutes of therapeutic cat videos to heal her mind and body!"
He raised his phone screen, even though the boy was on the other side of the room. He swung himself on one arm and leaned back in the hallway, double checking the sign on the door. Hiyori wanted to cover her face is shame.
"Hiyori..." Yukine's eyes darted to her face, slowly drifting down to her body dressed in training pants and a sports bra. His eyes widened. "You're his co-worker? I didn't think somebody like you would-"
Hiyori clenched her teeth. "No. but I am his trainee, Yukine-kun."
"She's great. She even agreed to represent me in this tournament coming up!"
Yukine's cheeks tinted pink at the icy silence that settled over the room after that. However, Yato didn't seem to have successfully read the mood and continued: "So, kid, you ready to learn how to survive?"
Whether the boy they saved that night some time ago would show up or not had been an unspoken, ever-present question the last few days. Yato hadn't mentioned anything, but she saw him stealing glances through the windows whenever he thought Hiyori wasn't looking. He had invited her to dinner almost every night, carefully scanning every street they passed on their way to whichever restaurant they chose for the night. He had obviously been very concerned for the boy- more than he was willing to let out, slipping back into his usual pattern.
Yukine glanced at Hiyori's cheek again- specifically, on the red mark that would probably soon turn purple , depending on how unlucky she was.
"She swung a bit too recklessly at the dummy. It punched her right back," Yato explained.
Yukine's fists unclenched. He was ready to leave, Hiyori realized. Well, if the boy was bullied on a regular basis, a sign that this could be a place he'd get even more injured was probably an unappealing notice.
But there was no reason to worry. Another novelty Yato had introduced into her training programme was the absence of sparring lessons for the moment. And even after…
Yukine stepped into the hall and dropped his school bag next to Hiyori's things on the floor. He was wearing his school PE clothes underneath his uniform, obviously prepared to participate and not merely observe. "Should I wait until you two are done?" he nonchalantly asked.
"Well, as I was saying," Yato clapped his hands once, "Hiyori here is currently working on her punches. We need to make them more precise-she's a bit too passionate about swinging her fists around. Nothing like her footwork, in any case. Her kicks are something special. You come here and practise a bit with her until she's done. Not that you'll be able to do it right, but getting you to build up some muscle on those toothpick arms won't hurt."
Yukine furrowed his brow, a scowl crossing his pale face. "I thought we're doing combat practice here."
Yato kept his palms together, fingers pointed at the boy. "Toothpick arms."
"I didn't come here to get insulted by some old geezer," Yukine hissed, his ears tinted red.
The man gasped. "I am not that old! Maybe I'm not a pissy teen anymore, but I'm still at the peak of my youth! And willing to teach you for free, so I suggest you shut your runny mouth and do as I say from now on."
Yukine begun to say something and Hiyori decided it was time to intrude into their exchange. "It's okay, Yukine-kun. He doesn't mean it like that. Just join us and see if our regime is working for you."
The boy shot her a stabbing look, but let out a long breath. Now that the purple and black skin wasn't present to divert the attention away from his eyes, she noticed they were rather pretty- a strange shade of orange-brown she had never seen before. "Fine. But I'm not letting you treat me like a charity case. I can pay and so I will pay."
Yato's jaw clenched. "Huh. Are you sure that would be a wise move?"
"What? Do you want the money or not? Tell me how much it will cost me and you'll get it."
A strange shadow rested over the man's face. This confused Hiyori- shouldn't Yato wish for more official students in his class? Why would he prefer to stay unpaid if there was a chance to get another trainee, and one who offered to pay any price he was asked?
"Any sum?"
"Is your hearing gone already too? Yes!"
"Then… five yen."
"Come again?" Yukine and Hiyori blurted out in unison.
"And you have the balls to mock the way my ears age. I'm asking for five yen per hour."
"That..." the boy's voice quivered,"... that's just..."
Too cheap!
"It's my price. Take it or leave it, kid."
Yato crossed his arms across his chest, his face blank and unmoving. Once again, Hiyori wondered what was going on into that midnight-colored head of his.
He could've at least asked for the amount listed under the group participation fee.
~*~
Hiyori dangled her feet off the side of the cage, leaning over the fence for support. Her heart was racing, pumping adrenaline into every part of her sweat-drenched body. Her breath was coming in puffs.
Yukine was sprawled next to her, his blonde head upside-down over edge of the podium. If she was exhausted, he was on the verge of passing out, his glossy skin speckled with red. "I'm going to barf."
"You won't," Hiyori huffed, "just go and get some water on your head. You'll be okay."
"I'm going to die."
"It'll go away."
"I'm going to die - and nobody but you two will - be responsible for it."
It's not like we forced you to do anything, Hiyori pointed out wordlessly. Yato offered Yukine to take a break at least twenty times during the past two hours, and he ignored fifteen of them.
"Where is your towel? You should at least wipe off some of the sweat, if it's such a problem."
"Didn't- bring one."
"Then, take your shirt off and use that."
"No- fucking way."
Hiyori was taken aback by his fiery reply. Even though it was hard to say because of his already burning face, there seemed to appear some traces of embarrassment, too. Maybe such a suggestion was too much for a teenage boy who never attended a martial arts class before.
"How can you-" he gagged. "Fuck- how can you stand this? I feel like - like my chest is going to - snap into two."
Hiyori searched her head for an appropriate answer. "I actually like it," she decided on telling the truth.
"... Sorry, I think my brain is suffering - from oxygen loss. Did you just say - you liked feeling like spaghetti coated in three layers of shit?"
"I do. Being this stinky and feeling weak means I did something good. I went another mile today. Tomorrow I'll be able to go even further. I've accomplished something," she explained. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she liked talking about it, too. Especially to children who only started their first drills- motivation and reminder that it was all worth it was important to hear, too.
"Well,doesn't make me feel very successful. I'm still no - closer to learning anything about protecting - myself. What is he - even doing?" Yukine raised his hands over his body, as if thinking about Yato's comments about them.
"I'm no expert in the field," Hiyori started slowly, "but I think Yato-sama is trying to teach you something with this. You'll just need to give him time to show you what he meant."
"Like what?"
If she knew the answer to that question, then her thoughts wouldn't be returning to Yato's photo pinned to the same board as an article with the word "murder" in its title.
The meeting following her accidental discovery was a real torture. She couldn't look at her trainer without a whole ton of questions bubbling inside her throat, together with something that resembled…
For the first time since she saw his ruthless accuracy in the ring in person, Hiyori thought she might be afraid of the God of Calamity.
But as soon as the concept surfaced and started gaining shape, it was shot down by the rational portion of her train of thought. If Bishamon-sama really was considering Yato a suspect in the murder of a person close to her heart, there would be no chance she would have let him anywhere near the students of her studio. And Hiyori couldn't imagine her childish trainer robbing a young, innocent person of her life.
You couldn't believe he was the God of Calamity, either.
But suspecting somebody of such a heinous crime is completely different than finding him too noisy.
Besides, there was no proof his presence on the board was implying anything that ominous. Maybe he was tied to the case in some other way. Maybe he wasn't even there permanently- judging by the mocking drawings on the photo, Bishamon might have been using it as a dart target or something. Her possible dislike of the man was another thing worrying Hiyori- why give him the job? Why let him live under her roof? Maybe it wasn't even hers- there were three desks in the office…
Too many 'maybe's, she reminded herself. No use giving yourself a headache over such a hopeless case.
At that moment Hiyori realized Yukine was still waiting for her to reply.
"Uh… I'm sure you'll find out eventually."
Yukine grunted: "And what am I supposed to do until 'eventually' comes?"
What were you doing until Yato gave you that card?
Suddenly, the boy's almost unnoticeable traces of violence seemed as bad as they had been the night they scared her in that dark alley.
She grabbed the fence and pulled herself upright. "Come on."
Yukine eyed her suspiciously. "What?"
"Come over here, I'll show you a simple trick."
"Look, I barely have the energy to stay awake right now."
"It won't take long. It's nothing specific, just a few pointers," she bent down and patted his sneakers. "Come on, Yukine-kun! I know you will be great!"
"Aaarghhhhhhh." Despite all the groaning and whining, he managed to steady himself on his feet next to her. It didn't take long for Hiyori to learn his motto seemed to be "Disagree first, think later," so she waited silently for the boy to settle beside her.
"Okay, so this move is used when the attacker has already caught you. Running away is our objective. Let's say your arms are pinned down," she reached forward to stick the boy's arms close to his body. "Now, the first things you should go for are shins and knees- they are the hardest to defend. Kick as hard as you can to distract them, and then rotate your arms like this. If you can free only one of them or the attacker isn't too hurt to follow you, then aim for their solar plexus. It's a bit harder to hit, around here-" she tapped the appropriate place on her stomach, "but it is very painful. Oh, and don't use your fists. It's difficult to punch in a way that won't hurt you as well as the attacker and cause enough damage. Your elbows are a much better, sturdier option- that's the reason you can see a lot of power elbows as finish moves in MMA, too. Other good places to aim are the throat and the groin, though they are more probable to be successfully defended. If you get the chance, try to hurt their eyes, too. And remember to keep moving - you are small and nimble, so you should use it at your advantage. "
Yukine carefully repeated the shown steps. "Huh. Funny, how much you-"
"Hello everybody! I've had your drinks refilled!"
The two whirled around to see Yato running towards them, carrying two bottles of cool water in his arms. Yukine almost flew out of the ring, grabbing the bottle and downing half of the content in one go.
"Good work today, kid, though I gotta say I had my doubts. Good thing we have a doctor legacy in the room so we don't have to worry."
Hiyori almost sent her bottle plummeting to the floor.
How did he…
The sounds of Yukine choking on his gulp of water exploded in the air.
"Wh… what?"
Yukine's voice croaked as he rubbed his throat.
Yato blinked. "Hiyori didn't tell you about how she first met Yato-sama? She healed my nose with nothing but tissues and water. After massacring it first, of course."
"O-oh. Hiyori did?" Yukine turned towards her. "You smashed his face? Why? Don't you have some kind of a weirdly strong respect for this guy?"
Hiyori was still a bit stunned from Yato's previous comment. "I…"
"Of course she respects me!" Yato looped his elbow around her shoulders and, to her utter horror, pulled her into a side hug. "She was all Yato sama, Yato-sama! from the very beginning. Smart one, knows how to get under your skin, I can tell you that."
How long until my biceps feel like this?
Yukine's expression turned skeptical. "But you're a trainer that treats her bruises with cat videos."
He smells nice, too.
"She understands. Give it some time, kid, and I'm pretty sure I'll soon replace that Touno as Hiyori's number one, too."
Who does this guy think he i-
"Well," she clipped, completely sobered and ducking under his arm, "I think I'll go hit the showers and bid you goodbye. See you tomorrow, Yukine-kun. See you tomorrow, Yato."
"… sama."
"See you tomorrow," she yanked her sports bag off the floor, "Yato."
With a flick of her ponytail, she was out of God of Calamity's gym.
~*~
Yato stood frozen in the middle of the hall, one hand outstretched as if he could manage to stop the girl if he concentrated long enough.
"Well done, Romeo-sama."
Yato pretended to glare at the kid, observing his casual posture- his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jersey, head purposefully turned away from the man.
The fabric of his pockets was trembling unceremoniously.
The poor kid is scared shitless.
Well. Now was as good of time as ever.
"Come here, I want to show you something."
Yukine eyed him suspiciously.
"You won't be able to see it from that distance."
The boy approached him slowly, not changing his pose of fake confidence. Such a familiar sight, yet…
Yato reached for the back of his collar and took off his T-shirt over his head.
Yukine, who was already standing too close and almost got slapped in the nose by the fabric, jumped away. "Whoa! What the shit are you doing, you per-"
"Got this one when I was eleven."
The boy stopped flailing his arms. Yato knew he had his attention by the way the kid's eyes bulged out at the sight of a spiky, messy line streaking over his naked shoulder blade.
"Not a nice story behind it. Though it isn't as bad as the one behind this," he pointed at a little star-shaped area of tender white skin above his heart. "That one maybe smaller, but it was way messier."
Yukine's expression softened into a mask of peace, though his gaze was still panicked.
"But those are considered the lucky ones," Yato continued, "since they can be easily covered up. It's the ones up here that are tricky."
His fingers brushed away the messy strands of bangs to enable the boy a full view. Yato's face was always a bit on the tender side- high cheekbones, round jawline, pointy chin- and a speciality that made healing without consenquences much easier. He'd never had to worry about ending up with a lumpy heap of clay instead of a face like the fighters of sturdier, more angular and more breakable built.
But he'd spent hours counting tiny lumps and marks lining his brow and cheeks. He stared at the mirror, wondering if they would ever go away, feeling some kind of a stupid happiness they weren't in places he couldn't hide by growing out his hair.
He let his bangs sweep his forehead again. "It's not just me, either. Did you take a careful look at Hiyori's face? I mean, I knew her thighs and shins are powerful enough to become superheroes and beat up villain leagues all on their own," he sailed over Yukine's stutters, "but if you look at her nose, you can see it's slightly bumpy. She got it treated at a great place with a doctor who knows his job, but it's still visible that it was broken a few times."
Yukine was clasping the front of his shirt now. His fingers were digging deep into the fabric, as if trying to rip it apart and reach whatever was underneath. It was impossible, but maybe he somehow picked up on Yato's pattern of choosing which marks to explain.
It made Yato want to beat something to a pulp.
He forced his breathing to even. Fury would be the last thing appropriate in this situation. "What I'm saying is, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. The fact that I have scars means there were wounds where they are now. I healed. They don't hurt me anymore."
Ouch.
"Also," Yato continued, putting his shirt back on and stretching, "when I said you'll be paying me five yen an hour, I also meant every hour you spend inside this studio. Like, you can go visit other teachers and see if they'd share some grains of wisdom with you. You can come right after school and go around nagging people to help you with homework too - Hiyori is pretty smart, and she's here every day. You can spend breaks with other students. But you'll be paying me every moment of it."
Yukine seemed to start gathering himself up again. That annoying, arrogant glow was returning to his irises. A wave of satisfaction washed over Yato.
"Why should I pay you for stuff other people do?"
"Why, indeed."
Yato held his gaze, waiting for the boy to understand the message.
Yukine's cheeks went red again. He whirled on his heel and ran out of the room, not slowing down while grabbing his things off the floor.
This one will be something else, he smirked, stretching himself over the floor. Wah. This was a nice change of pace, for once.
Not long afterwards the call reached him.
"Yato? There's a girl waiting for you at the entrance. She says she has something important to tell you so you should hurry up."
He mused over it while changing his workout clothes for a more appropriate outfit. What could Hiyori want from him? She barely left and there she was again. Maybe she wants to apologize and ask him to allow him to call him Yato-sama again?
My ass. He knew she wasn't spineless like that the moment she requested him to take her in, angry stubbornness burning behind those gravely brown eyes of hers.
Maybe it could be Yukine? Yato did make a pretty awkward mistake that night in the alley. Maybe the receptionist did the same.
There was one other option, of course. One he didn't like to think about, but still considered it while observing his reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Suddenly his face looked drained of all the energy he had collected spending the afternoon with his students (Now it was students, plural!) .
The first glance of the coal-black hair illuminated by the streetlamp on the sidewalk puled the last threads of optimism out of him.
However, the girl's lips stretched into a tiny smile upon seeing him.
"How have you been, Yato?"
"Hiiro, how many times do I have to ask you: Stay away from my workplace."
"And I always answer you: I have no other way to pick you up."
A shiver ran all the way to the tips of his toes. "Is it time already?"
No way this was a routine summon. Barely two weeks had passed since the last time.
Hiiro shrugged her skinny shoulders. Her frame was wrapped in a too-big jersey to protect her from the chilly spring night, but… He wondered if her tendency to miss meals showed up again.
If it did, it couldn't mean anything good.
It also meant he shouldn't try to sneak away from this one.
Yato positioned his arms behind his head in an uncaring position. No use. He couldn't stop the shaking.
"Lead the way."
Hiiro's teeth peeked through her lips- the closest the kid ever got to beaming.
"You know," she started, skipping through the evening darkness a few steps in front of him, "it would be way better if getting in touch with you wouldn't be so complicated. I missed you. You never call."
As if I'd let you know my phone number, he thought, but kept his eyes on the floor. His heart ached at the sight of her little feet in spotless white flats dancing in and out of his vision.
"You wouldn't miss me if you listened to at least one word I say," he pointed out.
She slowly turned to him, a tiny pout appearing on her young face. "Yato, don't be ridiculous."
"Why do people feel the need to call me that so often? If you just-"
"That's because you are," she chided. "You and I both know this is just another one of your phases. Soon you'll realize it simply isn't worth it and we'll be together again! I just need to be patient until then."
He hated it when she treated him as if he were the one nine years younger and not her. Especially when she had no idea what was she talking about.
She was the ignorant one. Not him. Not him.
"Can you honestly tell me you are okay with the way things are right now? Can you look me in the eye and tell me, No, there isn't one part of me that wants to burn that fucking hellhole to the ground?"
The girl pursed her lips, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "No need to be so angry, Yato. I won't tell Father what you just said, but don't ever repeat something like that. You are really ungrateful, you know."
He knew their conversation would just spin in circles from this point on, but he still swallowed the bait. He felt destructive tonight. "Ungrateful."
"You are given such wonderful things. You have a home where you can always feel accepted. You have a family that will make sure of it. You are loved. Father and I miss you so much, Yato, and you are throwing us away for a child who will stay for a week and then slam the door into your face on their way out."
Well, two, now. And one signed a contract to stay for a while. Then he remembered the brunette ponytail disappearing from his reach.
"You aren't giving us the same treatment we are giving you. And it breaks our hearts over and over again, every time you leave."
You really are Dad's daughter, you know. It's as if I'm talking to a tiny, bob-haircut version of him.
But her words felt too real. He felt as if they were swarming around his head, as if he could snatch them right out of the air by their disgusting, hairy wings and keep them in a jar inside his brain to admire them every now and then. Whenever he was feeling hopeful.
She knew what was she doing to him, playing the guilt-game with him. It pissed him off to allow her to emerge victorious, but it hurt too much. Thinking hurt too much. He was completely helpless, both against the young girl next to him and the person hiding inside that ugly jar. He was tired, and if his assumptions were correct, this wasn't even the beginning of the intensity of self-loathing that would overflow him by the end of the night. So he willed himself to slip into the cold, uncaring mask of Father's son.
He didn't take it off until hours later, when he was standing over a wash basin trying to scrape his nails clean of the half-dried blood stuck underneath them.
Maybe one of these days he could soak in some of Hiyori's naïve, yet incredibly useful courage.
~*~ A/N
… Hi there.
I'm pleased to say that this chaptermarks the CONCLUSION of the introductions.
Oh, and I'm not sure if I've written it here yet, but this fic is being beta's by tumblr user britaisy! She's my savior tbh
Thanks to Meta-Akira for some nice reviewing *I do encourage what's written in there, for the record [u]* and new favs and follows!
I'm about 75% done with chapter 5, so I hope I'll get to upload it sometime these next few days.
-Jo
