Summary: Yukine and Kazuma reminisce about their pasts. AU, post-canon. Gen. Spoilers for ch. 92-2


.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this," Veena said. Her fingers gently traced over the mark peeking out from Kiyotsugu's shirt.

Kiyotsugu quietly covered her hand with his. "Do you want me to ask Yato to get rid of it?"

"No, of course not. Rekki is a formidable weapon, I would be loathe to ask the Yatogami to be rid of it."

Kiyotsugu nodded mutely. Veena smiled at him, then gave him a playful tap against his chest.

"At the very least, you're not forcing yourself to button this," she said. Her fingers skimmed over the buttons of his collar. Kiyotsugu lowered his eyes.

It was still too painful to joke about. Even though Kiyotsugu just recently got his memories and even though technically his brother's attack on him happened centuries ago, the wound still hurt him as if he'd just been attacked just yesterday. I wasn't attacked. I was killed, he remembered. The memory made him uncomfortable and Veena saw his face, and gave him a look of concern.

"Kazuma, are you all right?"

Kiyotsugu shook his head. "Sorry," he said. He gave Veena a wan smile. "I'm still just getting used to this."

Veena nodded slowly, her eyes still locked on his. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Kiyotsugu hesitated. He thought of the name on his hand, the name that had been so precious to him for centuries but now seemed to be little more than a placeholder. "Is it okay if we use my real name in private?"

He saw the look in her eyes. Veena hesitated. She opened her mouth but Kiyotsugu interrupted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even asked-"

"Of course." Veena smiled at him. She took him by the hand.

"I would be happy to use your real name, Hirano Kiyotsugu."

xXx

.

Kiyotsugu was walking along the park. It was still early morning and there was still dew from the night before carpeting the grass. Yukine was sitting on the swings, his hands on the chains and moving listlessly.

"Haru," Kiyotsugu said, and Yukine lifted his eyes.

"Kiyotsugu-san."

Kiyotsugu gave him a small smile, then sat on the swing beside him. The metal from the chains squeaked a bit with their weight.

"How are you?" Kiyotsugu asked, finally. Haru shook his head.

"I'm okay," Haru said. "You?"

Kiyotsugu hesitated. "I'm also okay," he said. Haru nodded toward his chest.

"Your name is on the same place mine is."

"Heh. I hadn't noticed." Kiyotsugu smiled and Haru turned his head.

"Kiyotsugu-san-"

"Haru-"

They both stopped. "You first," Kiyotsugu said. Haru hunched his shoulders.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you," Haru said. Kiyotsugu shook his head.

"I should be the one to apologize for how I treated you," Kiyotsugu said. Haru nodded. They swung slowly on the swing, silently.

"It's weird though, right? Having all your memories?" Haru said. "I just keep thinking about everything that happened and my shitty-ass dad."

"I too keep thinking about my 'shitty-ass' brother," Kiyotsugu said. Their eyes met and they both laughed suddenly.

"Rekki is really cool," Haru said. He looked out into the playground. "Yato told me he never had a divine garment before. And it was really cool how you could change into an arrow or sword."

"Hm. I wonder what you would be, if Veena were to name you? Something just as powerful, I'd wager."

"I'm sick of people namin' me," Haru said, and Kiyotsugu nodded. They both rocked slowly on the swings silently. "I'm glad someone else remembers their name."

"As am I," Kiyotsugu said. Haru dropped his hands on his lap again. And then,

"Hiyori thinks I should get a therapist," he said, and Kiyotsugu laughed.

"Iki-san said the same thing to me, as well," Kiyotsugu said. He lifted his head up toward the gray morning sky, feeling the cool breeze as it passed through the playground. "She's probably right. We both were hurt by our family."

"What was your brother like?" Haru said. Kiyotsugu sighed, quietly.

"Irresponsible," Kiyotsugu said. "Prone to gambling and drinking away his debts. Father was always angry with him."

"So that's why he gave you the family business?"

Kiyotsugu nodded. "I always had worked harder than him," Kiyotsugu said. He folded his hands quietly in his lap, sitting heavily on the swing. "I wish I could say he was drunk when he killed me. That he flew into a rage and didn't know what he was doing. But to be honest, it was calculated." Kiyotsugu's eyes flicked upward. "He asked me to come to the cellar because he wanted to show me something."

Haru didn't say anything. Kiyotsugu lowered his eyes, remembering. He remembered the argument; the righteous anger. "You're my little brother, how could you betray me?!" He remembered how he lurched forward and put his hands on him.

"I keep thinking about my dad," Haru said. Kiyotsugu turned. Haru gave him a little shrug. "He was a fucking piece of shit," Haru said.

"I can imagine," Kiyotsugu said.

"Can you imagine talkin' to a therapist, though? 'Actually, I'm not a human, I'm a shinki and I'm dead.'"

"They'd probably think we were psychotic," Kiyotsugu said.

They both imagined the color draining from the therapist's face and laughed again.

They began to spar. Haru was quicker on his feet; his reflexes were faster and his lines were surer. Cleaner. As they sparred all the animosity and uncertainty faded back, and it was as if they were Yukine and Kazuma again.

"Thanks for practicing with me," Haru said. Kiyotsugu smiled at him.