In Silence It Crumbles

[7:23]

Hiyo: Yama-chan?

[7:24]

Hyakkiyakouist: aaaah! It's the corpse bride, back from the dead to (hopefully) invite me to her wedding!

Hiyo: Have you, by any chance, accidentally told my mother something about Hafuri?

Hyakkiyakouist: wht, not even gonna try denying? X3

[7:25]

Hyakkiyakouist: wait

Hyakkiyakouist: wat are u sayimg

Hyakkiyakouist: did she find ouz

Hyakkiyakouist: hiyori where are u?

Hyakkiyakouist: i swear isaif noting i woulfnt dare holy sjit you know i wouls neber betray yoh are u okay?

Hiyo: Calm down, Yama-chan, I am fine!

Hiyo: She visited me at the studio some time ago. I was too surprised to ask her how she knew where to find me, so…

[7:26]

Hyakkiyakouist: wait she didn't drag you home by your hair?

Hiyo: No, she sat me down and we had a civilized conversation. She's letting me stay. She isn't going to tell dad anything….

Hyakkiyakouist: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?

Hyakkiyakouist: THIS IS SO AMAZINF

Hyakkiyakouist: I CAN'T BELIEVE MRS IKI HAS A REBELLIOUS STREAK

Hyakkiyakouist: THIS IS SO COOOOL LIKE YOU TWO ARE COVERING UP UR CAREER LIKE UR A SUPERHERO AND SHE IS YOUR SIDEKICK BUTLER YOU GOOO MAMA IKI

[7:28]

Hiyo: She's letting me stay for a while. After that, I'm not really sure what will happen.

Hyakkiyakouist: …. o

IIIIIIIIII

The paper ball sketched out an arch through the air, painted green of the lit up sign. One of its lumps brushed against the loop before limply surging downwards, back towards the bench.

Yukine caught it and lightly knocked his head on the wood. He brought his hand a bit further away from his body, enabling a wider space for throwing, and tried again.

Another miss.

Which made a total of twenty six misses and zero hits.

If I miss this next one, I am doing both Yato's and my dishes for a week.

Miss.

A week of laundry duty.

Miss.

Three times of scrubbing the bathroom without complaint

Before he managed to sentence himself to that particularlybadly thought-through punishment, a hand snatched his makeshift ball out of the air.

"Hey!" he protested, craning his neck to glare at the perpetrator.

"I apologize for the disturbance," started the upside-down Kazuma-san, "but I had to ask- what are you doing here?"

Yukine bolted into a sitting position. "Um- good day, Kazuma-san! I actually- I uh- moved in here some time ago, and I-"

"I am aware of that." Kazuma-san's gaze fell to the ball in his hand. "You are Yato's kid, right?"

"I..."

"It's been a long time since you've become a common face around here," the man said, "so I didn't intend to ask that. What I meant is: Are you okay?"

"Oh." Yukine fidgeted. What a strange question.

Kazuma-san's expression, though still unflinching, adopted a sympathetic note. "Did Yato do something?"

"This time, no."A puff escaped his lips. "Well, kinda. He and Hiyori are in the hall being all..." He waved his arms, trying to convey the feeling. "You know."

"I can't say I do?"

To Yukine's surprise, the words held an invitation to explain further.

But of course, Yukine remembered. Kazuma-san was the main reason Yato was able to score a job at Hafuri in the first place. The two were probably closer than it seemed.

He flexed his jaw. "Well. Yato did this stupid mistake of not telling Hiyori about scouts whose attention she's caught during the Golden Fortunes tournament. Hiyori found out a couple of weeks ago, and they had this… They say they talked it out, and most of the time it is very believable. But it still gets kinda weird between them, you know? He is clearly very sorry about it, which makes me wonder why he even did it in the first place."

Kazuma-san was tapping his foot on the marble floor. "Yato did such a thing to his first full-timer in a-" his breath caught.

"It's fine. Yato told me and Hiyori about everything."

For the first time, Kazuma-san's eyes completely focused on Yukine's. "Everything?"

"Yeah," Yukine sat up a bit straighter, a strange sense of pride washing over him. "He told us how you two met. I know he used to be a-"

"Yeah, yeah," Kazuma-san interrupted loudly, "I'm surprised he'd tell you. It's not really something to shout from the rooftops."

Yukine's cheeks burned. "Sorry," he whispered.

The man waved the apology away, though his eyes remained stormy. "Just be careful. Also… Yukine-kun, I hope you don't mind, but… Saying I'm surprised he'd told you that secret is a big understatement. It's quite unbelievable Yato would…" He shook his head.

Yukine opened his mouth, but clamped them shut almost immediately. He couldn't argue with that. No matter how much he wanted to.

"But I am glad he did."

Yukine's head snapped up at the unexpected softness of the statement.

"He is always so closed to the world. He never lets anyone into his head, pretending..." Kazuma-san sighed and dropped to the bench next to the boy. "In truth, he is my benefactor as much as I am his. I want to see him breaking away from what once was and turn to the future where he could carry on..." He rubbed his cheek and let out a strained chuckle. "Listen to me rambling on and on. It's the fatigue speaking. I haven't had a good rest in so long..."

"It's okay." A lie. Seeing the serious, composed Kazuma-san acting like this was quite unnerving.

But instead of pointing that out, Yukine questioned, "Did something worrying pop up at work?"

"More like someone," the man corrected, "and I can't really say she's a newly added factor. Well," he stood back up and dusted non-existent flecks off his suit, "speaking of work, time to get back."

"Uh, okay then. May I..."

Kazuma-san blinked, but then grasped the meaning behind the request. He threw the paper ball back to Yukine.

The ball bounced off the bench a few... dozen... centimeters to his left.

"Ah. My apologies." He watched as Yukine scrambled for the ball. "But, Yukine-kun, don't you have something more productive to do than trying to… get a piece of paper through the toilet sign?"

Yukine scratched his ear. There it is.

"I don't really have much to do around here, do I? I'm not really one of the trainees, I'm not on the staff. In truth, I'm quite useless." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

And failed miserably, judging by Kazuma-san's sympathetic look.

"I'm sure we could find you something to fill your time with," he mused, bringing a hand to his chin. "In fact… I think..."

He strolled to the nearest window and peered out. Yukine knew it was a first-storey window overlooking the gardens, but had no idea what was it the man was looking for.

"Suzuha!"

Yukine jumped at the call, startled from the intensity of Kazuma-san's usually calm voice. He didn't catch any kind of response, but the man obviously did, because he continued, "Come up, I need you for a bit!" and then, "I'm sure the weeds will eagerly await your return, Suzuha!"

Yukine wiped his palms on his jeans, not sure what was he supposed to do. Kazuma-san seemed to think a gardener might be a solution to Yukine's boredom. Which seemed like a pretty wild guess, considering up until that moment Yukine wasn't even aware Hafuri had a gardener who served the position often enough to be on first-name-basis with Kazuma-san.

A squeak of boots on the marble appeared and grew louder with each second.

"Here I am, Kazuma-san. What do you need?"

He was definitely Suzuha the gardener. Smudges of dirt on his cuffs and cheeks, the green of his knees and too-big work gloves left no place for doubt. But, Yukine was taken aback by the short build and round face which looked not a day older than him.

"Yukine-kun, this is Suzuha. He used to be one of our students, but now he comes in to take care of the gardens. He's here every day, and I believe he might help you out. Suzuha, this is-"

"Yato's kid, of course! I've heard legends about some stray spirit roaming these halls all day," Suzuha nodded.

Yukine bit his cheek. "You're a spirit as much as I am, then. The amount of times I've seen you tending to those roses in the back is not even remotely proportional to the quality of their looks. That, or you're just lucky."

For a heartbeat, Suzuha just stared at him. Then his face stretched into a wide grin, uncovering one dimple on his left cheek. He offered him his dirt-caked hand. "Then I guess we're one hell of a pair of ghost boys."

IIIIIIIII

Ever since she was a little girl, Hiyori Iki took pride in her forgiving nature. Across the years, it allowed her to keep a clear head and mend many misunderstandings when others lost hope.

But never before did she feel the bad consequences of it this deeply.

Awkward.

That was the only word popping into her head every day when her sports bag hit the floor of Hall 5 and her trainer laid his gaze on her. The only word she could use to explain the invisible energy charging between them when they hoisted themselves into the ring and locked eyes, their current thoughts and feelings becoming apparent simply from- Augh.

And what was worse, she wasn't sure how to fix it, because she wasn't completely sure what was broken in the first place. She got over initial feeling of betrayal much faster than she'd expected. He begged, apologized enough times to make sure the walls could already repeat after him, tiptoed around her as if she were made of glass, his honesty and unmasked guilt tying her tongue and making her head spin.

As if it wasn't him who did it. As if he was lamenting an act committed a long time ago, when he still couldn't understand it was a bad thing to do.

However, that still didn't excuse his actions, and she made sure to let him know that she expected that to be the only time he made such a mistake.

But even after countless conversations, her mind couldn't seem to switch back into its usual pace. Something seemed to have been triggered by that explosion of hurt that rattled her, by the unexpected spill of her most guarded secret. Something that made her hands fidget impatiently whenever he'd address her, her breath hitch at the flash of ice blue greeting her. Something she simply couldn't help but wonder if-

She splashed a handful of water at her face, raising her head to meet her own gaze in the mirror of her tiny bathroom.

Awkward. Awkward. Awkward.

Just as she gathered enough water for another handful, the annoying beep of the front door tore through the silence of the evening in the little apartment complex.

She grabbed a towel from the hanger. "Coming!"

Just to be sure, she double-checked if the small balcony was completely cleared and ready. She jumped over a bag of soil and swung the door open. "Thank you so much for your help, Yukine-ku-"

A pair of black eyes narrowed at the sight of her.

"O-oh, um." Hiyori stammered, her cheeks reddening. "I apologize. I thought it was someone else."

"I can see that."

Hiyori cocked her head, taken aback by the hostility in the girl's voice. She couldn't have been more than thirteen, maybe even younger, but judging was hard due to the collision of her petite frame and cold, collected expression. She stood completely still, scanning Hiyori as if she were a wrinkle on her spotless white skirt.

Hiyori knew that look. And she highly disliked the idea of a child contemplating the best way to eliminate someone.

She stood up straighter. "Can I help you?"

The girl's gaze snapped back to her face, as if she'd forgotten Hiyori could speak. A heartbeat later she responded with nothing more but a silent: "I am Yato's sister."

It was enough.

"Yato's sister? Yato… Yato the MMA fighter, Yato?"

The girl nodded. And waited.

"Uh… Do you want… To come in?"

Another sharp nod.

Hiyori angled herself away from the door and lead the way back into the apartment. She racked her brain, trying to remember if Yato had ever talked about his sister. If he'd ever even mentioned his family. Considering his unfortunate past, she simply figured it was a sensitive subject for him, but now…

She turned and found the girl stopped almost immediately after crossing the threshold. Her focus hasn't left Hiyori's back.

She cleared her throat. "You can sit here," she offered, gesticulating to the low table. "I can set the pot so we can have some tea as we talk about… What do you need? What's your name?"

"My name is none of your business."

Hiyori's hand froze midair, halfway to plug the electric teapot into the socket. "Excuse me, I think I misheard-"

"He isn't going to change for you, you know?"

Hiyori felt her jaw drop.

Was this girl really…

"If you are trying to warn me about what happened with the scouts," she began carefully, "it's all well now. We talked it all over. Yato apologized. It is solved now, so don't worry."

A sparkle of delight flared in the girl's eyes, her face melting from distaste to a small smile barely touching her lips. "I am surprised you think I would care about your private disputes. You are insignificant. You are nothing but another little girl who will soon be on her way to get away from him as fast as possible. But right now, you are meddling into something far more important, and I need you to disappear as soon as possible."

A chill seemed to run through the entire apartment, silencing the world and everything in it as it dawned on Hiyori that this girl was serious. She was threatening her, even though the top of her tidy black hair barely reached Hiyori's nose. She was threatening her over Yato.

Her tongue untangled itself. "I know all of it. Yato told me. And I would never, ever, ever tell anybody else about his past... and his mistakes."

But the girl only stood up straighter, one of her bone-white hands cupping her chin in amusement. "His mistakes? You really do know nothing. Can't you see? He doesn't tell you anything. You don't suit him at all."

Hiyori gritted her teeth, warmth travelling down her body.

"See?"

What was she trying to gain by coming here, telling her these things?

"I care about Yato. I can see when he's being burdened."

Obvious. It was obvious.

"Get out," Hiyori heard her hoarse whisper.

The girl fell silent, her hands folded over her stomach in a gesture of complete peace.

"Get out!" Hiyori repeated just as the girl offered her a mocking bow and soundlessly, as if she were nothing more but an apparition, disappeared into the hallway.

Hiyori let out a stifled breath. The girl's unnerving presence lingered in the room, stopping the air on its way to her lungs with the sudden realization she really didn't have a clue what was going on. She was ignorant.

She was insignificant.

She forced herself to calm down. Yato had a bad past, she knew that. Family troubles probably came hand-in-hand. He probably had no idea what just occurred. But his sister obviously knew very well who Hiyori was.

But she also knew her address, something Hiyori was fairly certain Yato didn't know.

But, but, but-

"Hiyori?"

She stifled her surprised scream. "Y-yukine-kun?"

"Ah- There you are! We are here! Suzuha and Kazuma-san are unloading the car, I came to see if you could give us a hand? Also, did you know your doors are un-" The boy entered the room and noticed her. "You okay? Making tea shouldn't give you a headache, I think."

Hiyori quickly set the forgotten teapot back on the counter. "Sorry, just… Thinking."

Yukine-kun frowned. "What happ-"

"Wow, Yukine-kun, you weren't joking! This room really needs a serious makeover."

Another boy appeared in the doorway, carrying a big pot filled with dirt. He smiled at Hiyori. "Hello! My name is Suzuha! I'm the gardener charged with remodelling your garden."

"Hello, Suzuha-kun! Yukine-kun's told me a lot about you!" Hiyori's manners automatically eased her expression into a smile. "Though I am afraid there won't be much of a garden. I just hoped we could brighten the space up a bit."

"And I am prepared for that exactly!" He was already out the other door and leaning over the railing. "Ugh. Kazuma-san has no idea how to handle bulbs. Better go help him before I earn myself a lesson from auntie over making him carry heavy things." And then he was gone again.

Hiyori raised her eyebrows at the other boy.

"I know. I have no idea where does he find all that energy."

"Auntie?"

"Bishamon-sama. They are related one way or another, but," he crossed his arms, "Hiyori. Are you really okay?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

"You look ready to throw up."

She dug her nails into the wooden surface underneath. "Yukine-kun… Can I go back to the club with you after we're done here?"

IIIIIIIII

The building had stayed the same - bare, cold, dead. Short, green-and-orange splashed trees in the front were the only indicator four months had passed since she'd last been there.

She could hear Yukine yawning behind her.

They'd returned to Hafuri together. She'd pretended to lose track of time and was forced to stay the night. Around midnight she'd snuck up into Yato's room and…

Empty. The sheets, crumbled on the floor and empty. The window, opened and ready to release the inhabitants of the bedroom into the chilly night air… or welcome them back inside.

She must've made a lot of noise while preparing for the trip across the city because the next thing she knew, Yukine was convincing her to let him trail along.

"How do we get in?" he asked her now.

Hiyori took a moment to consider. No doors or windows were visible anywhere near. But, if she remembered correctly…

She made her way to the cluster of wood and grass. Skipping over the mud, she dragged her hands along the wall beyond. Maybe a doorknob, or ladder of some kind…

"There."

She couldn't make out the tiny window through the thick shade of branches above, but her fingers managed to grab onto a latch and swing it open, prickling on a few splinters of cracked paint in the process. The hinges creaked loudly and Hiyori took in a panicked breath.

The darkness beyond remained still.

"Should I stay here and keep watch?"

Hiyori turned around to face the boy. His lips were pressed into a tight line, fatigue and anxiety creeping into his expression despite his obvious attempts to conceal it.

"I think it would be better if we stayed together. Separating in a place like this…"

He nodded and gestured for her to proceed.

Her shoes landed on a hard concrete floor, raising a cloud of dust into the air. As Yukine dropped himself next to her, she noticed a faint stripe of light across the black space.

She touched Yukine's shoulder and directed him towards it. When she was sure he caught the reference, she slowly started across the room, her arms outstretched for potential barricades.

Finally she made contact and immediately drew back.

"What? What?" Yukine squeaked.

"Nothing it's just… It's metal. It surprised me, because..."

Her voice trailed away as she peered out.

First hit her the crisp, fresh smell of floor cleaner. Then, the lights which seemed to reflect off everything. Not reflecting, she realised.

"What are we looking for?" whispered Yukine, his eyes now wide awake and taking in the white hallway. Wide windows spread across the wall in front of them, opened to a big hall.

"That, I think," Hiyori breathed.

A crowd of hundreds of people was huddled around a platform. Overlooking the ring covered in sand and railed by ropes was a grand balcony of some sort, suspended in the air and connected to one of the walls by a metal bridge. And across from them, facing the pit, a catwalk protected by glass mirroring theirs, but furnitured with a few armchairs crafted from rich, black leather. In them sat men and women in business clothes, their faces obscured by masks.

Hiyori swallowed hard. "We should find a way to get down there." She turned away from the glass as fast as she could.

By the time they managed to reach a stairway leading off the catwalk, a few new people entered the stage. It seemed the barrier was soundproof, too, because as soon as Hiyori was beyond the border her senses were overloaded with clamor of countless voices. From the floor of the room she could see it was much taller than she'd previously thought, or maybe it was an optical illusion of all the light sources sparsely hanged over the whole ceiling. It made her feel small and insignificant and trapped.

She couldn't imagine how Yukine must have felt. She stumbled around to grab his hand and gave him a firm squeeze.

"Alright, alright," a voice boomed from the balcony. A man dressed in the same disguise as the people from the catwalk spread his arms over the crowd, earning himself some whistles and shrieks. "With this, it seems we have found our last Champion of the night! The Boar has certainly showed us some rather… rustical action."

The crowd responded with grins and shrill laughter as if they were sharing a joke. The man standing in the ring- presumably the Boar- raised his arms above his head, relishing the attention.

"Yes, rustical," the man continued from above, his voice dripping into Hiyori's ears like syrup, voice thick with mockery, "but is it really what we are looking for here?"

A choir of profanities all meaning yes answered. Hiyori's stomach recoiled.

"Only one way to find out, no?" he chuckled. "All that's standing between him and the title of our very own god is one man, one single cataclysm prepared to defend it until his dying breath."

And with that, the lights died out.

An eerie silence settled over the audience, a complete opposite to the nauseating mess that reigned until a few moments ago. One word seemed to roll around them, whisper to whisper, breath to breath.

Yaboku.

Yaboku.

Over and over again, scratching at Hiyori's mind, her memories, twisting and connecting lines and pictures.

Ya. Boku.

She bit her lip, stifling a sob.

"Hi..." She felt Yukine's grip on her tightening, alarmed. But she couldn't bring herself to look at him, not now, not when she realized what were they about to see, not when they were moments away from their beliefs crumpling into nothing.

A single silver spotlight lit a lone figure standing on top of one of the pillars of the ring. His bare arm outstretched, his shoulders relaxed, his face covered by that mask- white, with a cartoonish black eye drawn down the middle, only his was cut right at the tip of his nose, letting them all see the tight pull of his lips across his teeth.

Then the ring was lit up again and as if a switch was flipped and everything resumed moving once again. To her it resembled a slowed down silent film- his purposeful strides, shifting footwork, the audience cheering him on and on and on and on. So painfully similar, so brutally honest.

Yukine's nails were now digging into her hand. She didn't mind.

What… She could see the boy's mouth moving. What is that fucking… that liar…

A liar.

In the end, that was all he was.

The Boar hit the sand one minute or ten minutes or half an hour later and the sound slowly made its way to her ears again. The winner straightened, unmoved by the cheers surrounding him. She saw money being transferred from hand to hand all around her. For some reason that sight was what allowed her mind to regain control over her body.

She reached for a masked woman passing by. "That is the reigning champion?" she nodded to the ring where the Boar was being paraded around the ring on a pallet.

The woman cocked her head. "Yes, the God of Calamity. I've been around for years and he never once lost battle. Had to create a whole new betting system for his matches." She laughed. "Seriously, which shithole did you crawl out of not to know him, little girl?"

Hiyori let her go, gritting her teeth.

"Maybe the sand had enough to drink for tonight," the man from the balcony called again. "Maybe our God of Calamity is satisfied with his offering. Or maybe..." he leaned over the rail, "there is another lost demon seeking redemption here in the crowd? None of this week's Six were able to turn the tides, but maybe we could give fate another chance to choose?"

People silenced, but they seemed to pick up a rhythm in their clapping. A thousand hands crushing against each other, over and over again, like a raising heartbeat, swallowing her whole.

"I'm here."

Hiyori hurried to snap the woman's mask off and set it to its place before anyone could locate her voice. Then, she repeated, "I'm here."

Yukine hissed out a sharp string of curses. "Hiyori, stop."

But it was too late. Somebody noticed her already and the news started spreading, heads started turning to her.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you seriously going to-"

"I challenge the God of Calamity," she voiced, her voice cool like steel.

The crowd recovered from their surprise and the clapping and laughter picked up.

"Well," the announcer rested his chin on his hand, laning on the railing as if he was highly amused. "It seems there is a little ayakashi ready to surprise us tonight. Let her through."

Yukine tried to pull her back by her sleeve. She slipped out of her coat and shirt, startling him, and gave him a slight nudge. "Wait by the exit."

The crowd parted, giving her a clear way to the platform. The respect disappeared instantly, a chorus of distasteful whispers accompanying her on her track. She almost didn't notice them, her body almost levitating closer and closer to him.

He was resting with his elbows around the rope, his chin tilted at her in wonder. The slits of his mask were too narrow for her to see beyond their shadows, but she knew what was there- crystal clear eyes, widening at her, asking her what was she doing.

Then she was right underneath him.

His lips parted in breathless recognition. He jumped back, away from her, as she raised herself into the sand.

"Little ayakashi has scared our god, I see!"

"Hiyori."

There it was, her name on his lips, a shake too faint to travel into the audience. Facing him this way, dressed in her training clothes and square-shouldered, she was thrown headfirst into a memory of a gym on a warm afternoon, the air tinged with sweat and sunlight. His chest rose and fell swiftly, drops plastered across his shoulders and arms. She couldn't stop her gaze from hanging onto every detail, drinking him in, every second freezing her mind more and more.

She dropped into the starting stance, the lights dimming as if on cue.

She moved before he did. The silver spotlight followed her as she caught him under his arm and swung him to the floor, his body as limp as a doll. Surprised, she lost her footing.

"And the little ayakashi begins the match!"

At the same time the narrator's delighted announcement, Yato moaned, "Not tonight. Please. Why did you- how-"

Hiyori pulled his arm a bit further towards herself, forcing him to arch back. "Not thanks to you. I never thought you would do-"

Boos echoed around them and she just had the time to feel Yato's arm tense before he slipped beneath her and she found herself forced down into the wet sand, her knees pressed together and arms blocked by his. He bent down and gave her a snarl. "Follow my lead," he breathed in a soft tone mismatching the violent curl of his lips. Everybody else would conclude he was threatening her. "Give them a good show. I beg you. I beg you."

Her blood boiled, burning away any trace of logic left in her.

"Gladly." But not because he told her to. She looked forward to connecting a few good hits.

He nodded. Tensed up. And then her knee hit him square into the chest, sending him flying.

Hiyori stood up, trying not to think of the unusual color of sand stains on her limbs. She was satisfied to find her legs completely still, her body focused and unwaverable even when her thoughts weren't.

He was on his feet again, grinning, spreading his arms towards the crazed faces around them as if he has already won. He sent her a rude gesture over his shoulder. Somehow, it had no impact on her as it usually would.

As it would if every inch of his face didn't scream more apologies when he turned back to her.

Slowly, he approached her and leaned down, grabbing her arm and muttering, "Let's go. You know me."

And she did, as he pulled her into a dance of crosses and jabs and kicks and flips. She was registering his subtle changes, indicators of moves he was about to use, only digging herself deeper into the memory overlaying the reality.

"Don't let me catch you. Don't take us down, I am stronger than you when it comes to wrestling," he whispered advice whenever he managed to get close enough. "Jump onto that corner- good, now back."

Cans of ice coffee and beer alike. Bandaged hands colliding. Squeaking of rubber soles on polished floors.

"A true gentleman doesn't play dirty! Giving the lady the treatment she deserves is a way to go."

But that voice and that laughter didn't belong into her little world. They belonged in an underground cage, to a bloodthirsty mass of no-goods and criminals, to a reality where her trainer and friend wasn't really hers, and he never was, and she hated him for making her believe otherwise.

He darted around her, as nimble as a ghost, making a move towards her side. Instead of leaning into the move and flowing together with him, she met his shoulders head-on, once again making them dive. The crowd oohed. Sunlight disappeared from her vision.

"Why?" She didn't recognize the sound tearing through her throat. "I trusted you. I trusted you. I ignored every sign, listened to your explanations, and yet here you are. And the worst part is, I still trust what you said about these people- these murderers. But you are with them again. Why?"

The fall crooked his mask, freeing his left eye. The blue iris fixed on her own mask, the gaze was wide with- no. It meant nothing.

"Only a few more weeks."

"What?"

The boos picked up again, but this time it seemed he wasn't interested in them. He dragged one hand through his hair, which slipped out of his ponytail, spilling around his head like a halo. "Only a few more weeks. And it would be prepared. Well," he laughed humorlessly. "No use crying now."

He gave away no sign he was going to lunge. One moment he was underneath her and then he wasn't. His fingers wrapped around the waistband of her sweatpants, bringing his knee up for a blow she couldn't avoid, not a chance, and on instinct, she slammed her elbow across his face.

Blood sprayed through the air, tinting her face and arm. The redirected blow caught her by the shin and she fell to her knees. He landed unceremoniously under the balcony hanging overhead, close to some kind of a digital board.

He didn't get back up.

Hiyori's heartbeat boomed through the soundless room.

"Well," the voice didn't sound appealing anymore, "what do we have here."

She couldn't take her eyes off the raven hair streaked with red.

"A new goddess."

The bandage tied to her left hand snapped at the thumb. Her fingers started trembling.

"Here to take the title of our champion."

She was going to vomit.

"Knocking down the Head Price of Yaboku."

She couldn't breathe through the musty air, whispers picking up, her brain suddenly very aware of hundreds of bodies pressed closely all around her.

She raised her gaze upwards, seeking the emptiness above the lights piercing her nerves, and met a brown-eyed glare pinning her down to her place.

"Yes, the Head Price," the man continued, so filled with pleasantness and almost completely hidden rage, "a quarter of it isn't half bad a deal, true."

Hiyori didn't know what was he talking about. But she wasn't sure she would care even if she did.

"No," a gurgling voice answered in her stead.

Gasps.

The shaking God of Calamity raised to knees and elbows. Hiyori almost sobbed at the sight.

"Stop," he rasped again. "Please, don't do this."

"Do what exactly, Yaboku?" the man chuckled. "I can't help but wonder how did my top fighter lose to a girl who never once before participated in our tournament? I could understand if it was one of the Six, but her... Can you blame me?"

Murmurs spread around the podium.

"The bitch cheated!" one screamed.

"But why?" the man's voice managed to outspeak the clutter without any obvious strain. "Did you think the Head Price would be enough to silence your audience?"

Yato, still pasted to the ground, let out a strained, sob-like laugh. "Why did I even think you would just give up the money like that?"

"I am a businessman, Yaboku. I keep my end of the deal. If our customers decide this is a fair win, that this little ayakashi and the winners deserve to walk away with the prize and leave those who were dealt an unlucky hand tonight, I will not object."

Hiyori did not understand what was going on, but the shift in the atmosphere made the hairs on her arms stand up.

A man close to her side of the platform shouted, "No fucking way this is fair!" Somebody else told him to shut up. More yells resounded, each louder and more crude than the last.

And then the first punch fell.

Scruffles and sounds of glass breaking surrounded them. Yato scrambled into her direction, trying to tell her something, but screams and curses outvoiced him.

She didn't know where to look, where to step. Suddenly something tugged on her legs and one of the men tried to grab her by the waist, his damp touch pulling her out of her numbness and willing her to move. He was back over the fence in less than a second, her heart alive again against her ribs.

She felt another arm around her, sending her nerves on edge, but then he whispered, "It's me. We're done here. Follow me."

She didn't object. She simply swung herself across the rope after him and landed in a field of fallen bodies and broken bottles. She sprinted away from the podium, too focused on pushing and scratching to be careful of crushing toes or fingers. Yato wasn't as fast as her, being constantly slowed down in favor of shrieking men with bulged eyes throwing themselves in his way. He was just as fast to be rid of them, but there was quite a number of his pursuers. Quite a number.

Hiyori gave herself a second of hesitancy before she ducked underneath someone's arm and locked her legs around an attacker trying to jump Yato's back, crashing his head against the wet floor.

"Hiyori!"

"Shut up and work."

And he did, judging from the delighted laughter fading a bit. She didn't turn around to check how was he doing. Every single thought in her head was of so many punches and so many grabs coming from all around her. It felt like if she stalled for a single second, took only a moment to rest up her already throbbing muscles, she would go under.

She threw herself to the floor, avoiding a swing of a blunt piece of wood, and used the attacker's own weight to direct him towards another one to her left. There was a slower stream of new thugs coming their way now, igniting a spark of hope inside her. Of course they would be afraid. A long-term champion and his conquer fighting side by side- a bunch of untrained no-goods with nothing but anger to drive them had no chance at all to-

A spark of silver. A move of a finger on a small mechanism, the sound of movement lost in the havoc of vocals.

"Yato!" a scream tore out of her. "Get down!"

He turned around, turning around swiftly, searching for- for-

No.

Hiyori sprang towards him, her heels aching from the impact, but was snatched right out of the air with a breathtaking swing to her stomach. "No!" she screeched as multiple pairs of hands lifted her, hot tears bubbling out of her, "Let me go! That man has a- he is going to- Yato!"

But Yato didn't heed her warnings. He zoomed in on the group around her- the completely wrong direction, oh god- and dropped into a feral crouch. Then the flood of limbs swallowed her, cutting off her view of the situation. She elbowed and bit and kicked and roared, but she didn't need sight to know.

She knew it was too late as soon as the bang sounded.

She knew it was too late as soon as she hit the floor, her assaulters backing away, staring at something behind her.

She slammed her knees against the floor and crawled around the legs and knees stilling around her, almost not noticing the green glass slicing into her hands.

"Yato," she pleaded, "Yato."

He was still standing, that much was clear. His hands were clenched around the cuffs of his training shorts, head bowed, focused on a form curled beneath his feet.

A small form.

A boy, his orange jumper sprayed red, red, red.

Hiyori's breath hitched.

Yato slowly raised his head to size up the still circle of audience around them.

"Who," that dead, unfeeling voice hummed, "who did this?"

Hiyori couldn't take her eyes away from the golden-haired boy twitching in pain.

"Who. Did. This."

She moved as one with the crowd.

Feet slammed on the metal floor, a stampede towards the exist. If the previous scuffle was pandemonium, this was hell- she was sure she would be trampled to death, sure she would die right then and then, crouched on all fours, watching Yukine-kun bleeding out- but a safe bubble appeared around Yato, people scrambling over themselves to get away from him.

Her leap was timed just right to stop his own, his teeth bared, a murderous sound emitting from it.

"Yato, stop! Yukine-kun needs help! We have to- we can't- Yato, we need to get him to a-"

He grabbed one of her arms clenched at his chest, squeezing. "I will kill them."

A chill washed all over to her toes.

She believed him.

"Not now," she whispered. Her words were to be drowned out by the mess. Still, she repeated, "Please."

He didn't relax. He just looked down at her. Now she was finally close enough to distinguish a flash of blue from the shadows.

IIIIIIIII

He watched as the lights of the ambulance car disappeared into the foggy night. The flashing blues and reds burned themselves into his retina, leaving purple blotches on the leaves surrounding him.

Good.

It happened again.

You hurt Yukine.

The statement has already established itself as a chant inside his skull.

You hurt Yukine.

He knew he should've kept his stupid, moronic tongue tied. He knew it well. And yet.

You hurt Yukine.

"You hurt him."

Soundlessly, she posed herself onto the park bench next to him, rubbing her arms. She wasn't wearing a coat.

"And not only him. Why would you try to leave me like that?"

"You know why."

He wondered how could she stand the cold. The park wasn't too far from the club, but it couldn't have been a pleasant walk.

"And you hurt yourself."

His head dropped. "I guarantee you I have not."

It was a lie. Every cell of his body screamed- screamed bloody murder, screamed in agony, screamed for help. He wanted nothing more than to sit in that vehicle, to listen to his every heartbeat, to talk to whoever was tasked to fix him and find out if he was okay.

He chided himself. Yukine couldn't be okay.

"You know what is Father going to do if you don't return."

"I know."

"Then why?" Hiiro folded her hands in her lap, as still as a statue. "Why are you doing this to yourself? What in the world could possibly be worth all this hassle?"

"You don't understand." He wished she did, he wished with all his heart.

"Do you know what you are risking with the mess you made tonight? People are furious with us! Their whole evening was ruined by a pair of cheating children! And not only that- the Head Price, the whole system we run on- you made everything crumble! If Father doesn't figure out a way to fix this, he could be destroyed forever!"

"What a shame would that be." He wondered if Hiyori and Yukine were already at the hospital by then. He sincerely hoped Hiyori really did choose the closest one.

"You can't mean that! Without him, you are nothing! You've got nowhere to go! Do you think they," she extended one of her bony fingers down the road, "would take you in? Even before tonight, all it took for that girl to suspect you was a few words."

Something nabbed on his mind. "What do you mean?"

No response.

"Hiiro."

Her obsidian eyes turned to him, expressionless.

"It was you, wasn't it."

"... Yes. But-"

He shoot off the bench, his hands tangled in his hair, hysterical laughter bubbling up his throat. "Of course," he wheezed, suddenly feeling delirious after the evening of dread, "Of course it would be you. Just as I was getting so close. Of course."

"She trusted me without a thought. She doesn't have faith in you, Yato."

"You would destroy whatever he tells you to, right?" His breath was coming out in huffs, he pressed his dirtied palms to his eyes. "Of course you would!" he screamed into the night.

"He could destroy us, Yato!" she wailed, almost as loudly as him. A rain of pebbles landed on his feet as if somebody hurried to catch up to him and stopped abruptly.

Finally. He managed to break her freakish robot-like settings. He peeked out from his fingers.

"He won't let us go," she continued through gritted teeth, her pretty dollface now splotchy and red, a few inches away from his own, her fury making her seem older and stronger and so much more frightening, reminding him they were raised by the same home. "We both know how this would end. So please don't fight against it. Please."

"Well now, that's a simply ridiculous demand. All he's ever taught me is how to fight." He turned away. He knew where he needed to be, and his sister screaming in his face seemed a million years away as he made his way across the pathway.

"If you do this," she called after him, "he'll tell everybody what you did to her."

She didn't move to chase after him. Her hands were clutching at that ridiculous white dress. Her eyes were hidden behind the silky black bangs, her head retracted close to her chest. Now that he was further away, he noticed she stood in the silvery moonlight barefoot.

He wondered how he ever managed to mistake her for a person deserving of abiding.

"I already know I'm a monster," he called back, his gaze already following the path of the lights, remembering the outline of the city, "and I am afraid of him whatever he does."

IIIIIIII

Hello there.

This hiatus was the result of me not being a confident writer. I hope it doesn't happen again.

Also, for the record, I know literally nothing about japanese undergroud and rich people's dirty underwear. Don't google anything, every plot rule enstablished from this point on is straight from my head.

Thank you WatchMist1412, BlueAngel7810(I love reading your theories), LePengwen, goldenrock, MidnightRide129(I hope you can forgive me for leaving you hanging like that) and guests for reviews and making me smile.