yatori hurt/comfort

"'M'sleepy," Yato said. He gave an outrageously huge yawn, then stretched, unfurling all his limbs until he lay backwards across Hiyori's lap. She snorted.

"Comfy?" she asked acidly.

"Yep!" he said. He grinned lazily up at her, his eyes pushed into blue squints. She tried to glare back at him, but he yawned again, and she felt herself begin to fall victim to his contagious relaxation. The afternoon outside was sultry and yellow. Napping weather. Her eyelids felt like five-pound weights.

"Okay," she mumbled. "Five minutes."

Yato smiled up at her drowsily, and his eyes drifted closed. Hiyori leaned her head against the wall. It felt smooth and warm, and smelled heavily of honey and ash. Outside, the cicadas whirred.

"Pl…ease…" the creature groaned. "Yato-sama…"

Its mouth was wide, all bubbling saliva and twitching black lips stretched over an army of blunt, jagged teeth. Eyes pulsed like wounds out of an expanse of necrotic phantom-flesh.

"Save me, Yato-sama," the thing begged. Its voice was horrifyingly human. But then it began to cry: monstrous, ruining sobs that crashed through its body. Its eyes rolled in its skull, leaking huge, gelatinous tears that dripped into its gaping mouth.

Yato was on the floor beneath it. He was pinned down. The thing clutched at him, and kept crying.

"Why did I have to die like that?" it groaned. "Why wouldn't anyone help me?"

The thing that was Sakura was entirely on top of Yato now. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. He could feel, beneath the layers of blight and anguish, that she didn't really want to harm him. She was crying because it hurt. She was hurting and terrified and broken, and he could fix her, maybe, if he just had enough time—

But the thing vanished. Like the electricity had suddenly been flipped on, the whole scene got brighter. Yato blinked. He was standing up.

And there she stood, facing him: whole, and healthy, and human.

"Sakura," he said.

She shook her head. A sad little smile hid in the corners of her mouth. Without any trace of anger, she asked:

"Do you think you'll ever let go of me?"

Hiyori's eyes snapped open. Her breathing came in quick, shocked spasms; she felt like her stomach was climbing up through her ribcage. For a moment, she couldn't see anything but the expression in Yato's eyes when Sakura asked that question.

She looked down at her lap, where Yato still slept. His arms were folded across his stomach, and his face looked as serene as a child's. Hiyori leaned closer, examining his features for any sign of tension. A huge tear slid off the end of her nose and splashed right between his eyebrows.

Slowly Yato's eyes opened, coming to focus on her face.

"Hey," he said, smiling sleepily. Then, worriedly: "Hey, Hiyori? What's wrong?"

She stared at him. Another tear slipped down her nose, landing on Yato's upper lip. He sat up at once, and turned her gently by her shoulders so he could see her face. Hiyori felt more tears coming: the corners of her eyes stung with them. They rushed messily down her face and over her lips as she stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Hiyori, come on," Yato urged. "What is it? What happened? Did I…did I make your legs fall asleep?"

She brought her hands up to his, gently pulling them away from her shoulders. He let go of her at once and sat back to give her some space.

"I have to tell you something," Hiyori said. Her chest felt clogged and wet.

"Okay," he said, encouragingly.

Hiyori swallowed with some difficulty. "I know about…her," she whispered.

Yato leaned closer to hear her lowered voice. He stayed there, and was very still.

"Who?" he asked after a moment. It was clear to Hiyori he knew exactly who she meant.

"Sakura," she said.

He didn't respond for a very long time. The stillness—the chilly restraint of his whole body made Hiyori regret saying anything.

"I think it's my—my cord," she said, rushing to get the words out before her throat started to choke up again. "I've been able t-to see your past, I think. I didn't mean anything by it, Yato. I'm so sorry, I…"

She trailed off with a miserable sniff, not daring to say any more.

"How much?" he asked.

Hiyori blinked again, and tried to gulp down the enormous lump at the back of her throat.

"I saw…a lot. I saw you name her, and—and I saw you use her to kill somebody—"

When she looked at his hands, they were clenched into such tight fists that his knuckles looked ready to pop through the skin. She took a long breath through her nose, and continued.

"I saw that she was the first to call you 'Yato' instead of 'Yaboku.' I saw Nora…that she didn't like what was happening to you. Neither did your father. But—but I saw you were happy with Sakura, and that you loved her. I think she loved you more than anything."

Hiyori caught her breath, and realized she was crying again. Yato's head was bowed low, his hands trembling violently against his knees. She so wanted to reach out and hold them.

"Then, Nora asked her the question that made her go…wrong," she said, forcing her voice to cooperate. "You didn't know what would happen. Sakura learned the name she had when she was alive, and then she—turned into something else. She was hurting you, by accident. You had to make her stop. She wouldn't stop."

Hiyori paused for several seconds. When she resumed, her tone was quiet and steady.

"I know you can never tell Yukine any of this. We can never let what happened to Sakura happen to—"

"We?"

Yato's sharp interjection surprised her into silence. He lifted his head to stare at her, his eyes harsh and suffering.

"'We' can never let that happen?" he asked, bleakly.

Hiyori dug through her mind for something to fix the mistake she'd somehow made.

"Um. I mean—" She faltered, stumbling over her tongue. Before she could begin choking out an apology, he asked:

"What do you mean, 'we'?"

Hiyori stared at him. For a second her mind was in too much chaos to comprehend the question.

"You," she said at last, feebly. "And, um…me."

Yato didn't drop her gaze. His lower lip twitched. "That's not your responsibility," he said, and Hiyori's stomach sank through the floor.

"I know," she muttered, lowering her eyes. "I shouldn't have…looked at your memories like that. I know I shouldn't have. But I thought you should know that I'm not going to say anything dangerous to Yukine. And I'm not—"

"Hiyori."

She looked up at him again. She saw something wet sparkling at the corners of his eyes, and her breath caught.

"I killed someone I loved," Yato said. The wetness began creeping down his cheeks.

"You had to," said Hiyori.

"I didn't know what was happening to her," he said.

His breath began coming more unevenly, in ragged, sobbing gasps that ripped through his lungs, pitching him forward into an almost fetal pose. It happened so fast: he was quiet, and then suddenly he was crying hard and loud, and Hiyori realized with a jolt of understanding that he had never talked about this before.

He had never said Sakura's name, never told her story to anyone—until now.

Hiyori scooted forward on her knees. She put one hand on Yato's back, and smoothed the other over his hair. He leaned into her, almost involuntarily, and she held him close. After a moment of hesitation, he wrapped both his arms around her. He held her so long, so tightly that her ribs complained, but she wouldn't let go.

After a few moments, he was quiet again, his face buried in the side of her neck, sharp chin digging painfully into her shoulder.

"I wish I had met you a long time ago," he said.

Hiyori gave a watery smile.

"I don't know," she said. "Things aren't so bad now, are they?"

Yato gave her one last aching squeeze before releasing her again. Hiyori let go of him, though somewhat reluctantly. He really did smell…overwhelmingly nice when she was in her spirit body.

Yato cleared his throat meaningfully. She looked at him, a question on her face.

"You didn't, uh," he stopped, and bit his lip. He met her eyes for a second, but dropped them again quickly. "You didn't see…anything else from my dreams. Did you?"

Hiyori's eyebrows pinched together. "No?" she said dubiously. "I don't think so."

Yato sighed, making an obvious effort to appear less relieved than he really was. "Hm. That's good."

He said it in such a suspiciously casual tone that every alarm in Hiyori's head sounded off at once. Her first impulse was to push the topic, but she held back. However fragile and transient Yato's happiness might be, she wanted to preserve it for as long as possible.

At that moment, Yukine popped his head into the room, making both of them jump halfway out of their skin. Or, in Hiyori's case, her soul.

"Are you guys still asleep?" he asked in disbelief.

Noticing the strange looks on their faces, his mouth tugged into a frown.

"What's going on with you?"

Hiyori opened her mouth, about to speak, but Yato beat her:

"Hiyori had a bad nightmare," he said with utmost satisfaction. "I was comforting her. Wasn't I, Hiyori?"

She turned to glare at him, only to find his eyes shining back at her. The smile underneath them was genuine. Hiyori looked at him helplessly for a moment, then shut her mouth and gave Yukine a tight nod.

Yukine, profoundly unsettled by their behavior, gave a deeper frown.

"Well," he said, "if you get tired of being…um, comforted, then Daikoku's making supper downstairs. He could use some help." This last bit was directed at Yato, who instantly became very busy picking invisible fuzz out of Hiyori's hair.

"Right," said Hiyori, desperately fighting to keep her face neutral as his finger swept over a tingly spot behind her ear.

Yukine backed out of the room, muttering things under his breath Hiyori thought she was better off not hearing. Yato untangled his fingers from her hair.

"Are you staying for dinner?" he asked. Hiyori saw the look he was giving her, and understood the deeper question.

"Yes," she said.

Boldly, her hand found his.

"I'm staying right here."