3: SLAIN BY DISREGARD, Part 1

This was sure as hell going to be awkward, and weird, and just overall uncomfortable. Using Sekki to slice Rabou to pieces would've been so much easier, really. But Yato had one big problem with that idea, so he'd opted to saddle himself with inconvenience instead.

Rabou looked up from his freed hands, eyes wide. "Yatogami-"

"Oi oi oi, what did I just say not to do?!" Yato snapped. "Yeah, I'll tell you about your stupid past. But don't get me wrong here, I'm not doing this to be nice. You wanna know who you used to be? I'll tell you everything; after that, you're on your own."

The problem was, he couldn't do it here. He was suddenly very aware that Hiyori was still in the room, not to mention Yukine. He could feel them both watching him. For a minute there he'd been so amped up he'd forgotten that Hiyori hadn't left with Kofuku. Had she thought he was really going to kill Rabou? Yato kind of wondered what her expression looked like right then.

At any rate, Hiyori and Yukine and a conversation about the past was a bad combination. He couldn't do this here. Not in front of them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He strode over and grabbed Rabou by the collar of his stupid, outdated robes, and hauled him to his feet— not an easy task, given that Rabou was half a head taller than him, but he was determined not to let that stop him from being in charge of the situation.

"C'mon, we're going for a walk," he said. Rabou neither resisted nor commented on this, for which Yato was thankful. "You two, stay here with Kofuku and Daikoku," he added to Yukine and Hiyori. He didn't look at them as he pulled Rabou by the wrist towards the door.

"Wh— Yato?! Where the hell are you going?" Yukine sputtered. Yato didn't look back.

"Shouldn't you stay here?" Hiyori asked, and he could hear the concern quavering in her voice. "Couldn't it be dangerous, alone…?"

Yato paused with his hand on the door, and he glanced back at Rabou. The other kami stared back at him intently, without a trace of malice.

"I'll handle this by myself," Yato said, turning back to the door. "We're just gonna have a chat about some stuff."

"But…" Hiyori started. Nope. Nope. Nope. Yato slid the door open and hauled Rabou out.

Rabou didn't fight him in the slightest as Yato hauled him down the hallway. This version of the old bastard was certainly more compliant than the last one he'd dealt with. He was probably still disoriented from his reincarnation. Rabou's sense of self hadn't quite settled into place yet, a handy little fact that worked in Yato's favor.

As soon as Kofuku spotted them, she jumped up from where she'd been reading by the kotatsu and bounded over excitedly.

"Yato-chaaan! You untied him, huh? Does that mean he's not your enemy anymore?" she chirped, hands clasped behind her back, balancing on the balls of her feet.

"I'm still deciding on that part," Yato said. "Sorry, Kofuku, but we're gonna leave for a little bit. We've got some stuff to talk about."

Kofuku cocked her head to the side. "Hmm? What stuff?" she asked.

"Some boring stuff about the past," he said. He hadn't really meant to look away when he said it, but it ended up happening anyway. Kofuku dropped flat on her feet, and her smile dimmed slightly.

"The past, hmm?" Kofuku echoed softly. "Yeah, I've heard those stories before... I'll leave you to it, then, Yato-chan!" She twirled around and bounced back to the kotatsu. Good ol' Kofuku, he never had to explain himself to her; she already knew all the gritty details of his history.

"C'mon, let's go," he growled to Rabou. Yato pulled him through the shop. The second they were outside, Yato vanished both of them in a flash of light. He wanted to deal with his old life as far away from his new life as possible.


When the light cleared, bright sunlight flooded Rabou's eyes- and a massive blue sky stretched out above him. They were high in the air. Rabou reeled back, startled, but Yato kept a tight grip on his arm.

"Calm down," Yato told him sourly.

"Where have you taken us?" Rabou asked, staring in astonishment.

"Take a look, idiot."

Rabou glanced around, and then his eyes widened in astonishment; the city spread out around them, as it had when he'd first arrived, but not from the same vantage point. The towering structures no longer loomed overhead; now they dropped away on all sides. They stood atop one of the tall buildings. Rabou tried to take a step away, then glared down at his wrist as Yato's grip stopped him.

"May I have that back?" he asked thinly. Yato snorted and let go.

"Suit yourself. If you fall off and can't remember how to slow yourself down, I'm not diving off after you," he retorted.

"Oh? Is that one of our abilities as kami?" Rabou asked, as he ventured closer to the precipice.

"Yeah, guess so. We can jump higher and fall slower than humans do," Yato said. "Not that we'd die even if we fell at normal speed. It takes more than that to kill a kami."

Rabou cautiously leaned out over the edge; the people of the city scurried past far below as indistinguishable black specks. Their vehicles sped past, with their metallic backs glinting in the sunlight, like...

Like the wings of... beetles. He remembered the glossy, iridescent creatures.

Lifting his head, he gazed out over the city; the towers gave way to smaller buildings in the distance, and then to the mountains far away.

"Why are we here, Yato? Atop this tower?" Rabou asked.

Yato scoffed. "Because we can, obviously. There are some benefits to being a kami, you know," he said, a hint of smugness cutting through his sour mood. "Also, they're not towers, they're skyscrapers."

"Skyscrapers?" Rabou echoed. "A suitably evocative name, given their height."

"Yeah, dumbass, that's why they're called that," Yato shot back. "Anyway, let's get this over with. And just so we're clear, once I've told you everything you wanna know, I'm out. You're on your own after that."

"I've asked nothing else of you," Rabou said pointedly.

"Yeah, and let's keep it that way." Yato turned, hands in pockets, and strode a few feet away, looking out over the city. "Do you know what a kami is? You're supposed to reincarnate knowing at least a few things."

"Bishamon's shinki spoke of... bloodstained and malicious wishes that we granted to humans," Rabou said slowly.

"Yeah, that's what we used to do, but do you know what a kami is?" Yato asked pointedly. When Rabou didn't respond, Yato snorted in disgust. "Think about it for a minute or two."

Rabou stared out across the city with its forest of skyscrapers; he could almost feel something reaching out to him from the crowds below. It was like an echo, something just barely on the edges of his perception, lingering in the air around him.

"We are... bound to them," he murmured. "Our fates to theirs, and theirs to ours..."

Yato scowled. "Something like that, yeah," he muttered. "We're born from their wishes. They ask, we answer. They come to us for guidance, good fortune, protection, that kind of stuff. They believe in us and their belief keeps us going. It's a balance thing— harmony among humans, harmony in the heavens. That's what they say up in Takamagahara, anyway." He paused, then added derisively, "You haven't figured out any of this by yourself yet?"

"If I could learn of myself by instinct alone, I would certainly have done so— and with far fewer ropes binding me," Rabou shot back in frustration. "If there are such memories within me, I know them not. The fragments that remain swirl like a fog within my mind. I can hardly distinguish one from another, except for brief moments of clarity."

"That's the weird thing," Yato said. "You should know a few general concepts, like your name, but you're not supposed to keep memories from your previous incarnations. You keep saying that you remember vague stuff from the past- like what, anyway?"

"I remember... your eyes. They glowed with fierce rage in those days," Rabou murmured. "I remember bloodshed, a naginata-woman... you burned with hatred when we last met, Yato, though I do not know why. We fought, and there was... something terrible that seethed within me, something abhorrent..."

Yato snorted. "Yeah, you absorbed a Storm. That was pretty fucking stupid of you."

"Storm?"

"I'll explain later. Anyway, you remember all that, even if it's just bits and pieces, but you didn't even know your own name?" Yato asked, eyes narrowing.

"No. And yet, when the kami Bishamon spoke my name, I recognized it. I knew that it was mine," Rabou said. "What else have I forgotten, Yato? You say that a kami ought to know of certain things by instinct. What is it that I've lost?"

"A lot, it looks like!" Yato scoffed. "Do you know what a shinki is?"

"They are those like Yukine, and Bishamon's attendant," Rabou said, frowning.

"Yeah, but do you know what they are?" Yato pressed.

"We share a sacred bond with them, a blessed bond, do we not?" Rabou asked. He'd sensed as much from Bishamon's shinki, and from Yukine as well. He'd almost been able to see the delicate threads binding them to their kami.

"Well, at least you know that much. Besides that, they're uncorrupted human souls. Dead people, in other words." Yato smirked, as if he expected this to provoke a reaction. Unfortunately for Yato, Rabou had no idea what to make of this explanation, so he just stared flatly back at Yato, whose lower lip jutted in a sulk when he realized he wasn't going to get whatever it was he'd hoped for.

And then the face of the naginata-woman came back to him: her large, dark, melancholy eyes, and her pale, rounded face, framed by sleek black hair. At the end, she'd been mournful, in those last days before... before what?

"The sacred vessels," Rabou whispered.

Yato squinted at him. "Huh?"

"They are our sacred vessels. In ages past, I had a shinki by my side, a woman who became a naginata. She was... her name was..."

"You named her Kushihime," Yato told him. The name hit him almost as intensely as his own name had.

"Yes, I remember her now," he said quietly.

"You're not supposed to," Yato said. "A kami isn't supposed to remember their previous selves."

"Then why do these scraps of memory still linger within me?" Rabou asked. Scraps of memory that he apparently shouldn't have... was that why his head felt so strange? Could this be the reason for the strange double-visions that came upon him so suddenly?

"Don't know, don't care, none of my business," Yato said shortly. "Anyway, do you remember how to bind a shinki?"

Rabou turned his gaze skyward, considering. He could almost remember; it was just outside his reach, frustratingly intangible. He remembered words carefully spoken, and... and what?

"I... I do not," he said. "How-?"

"Nope!" Yato declared. "That's one of the things a kami should know by instinct. I knew how to do it on my first day of existence, without ever being told! If you can't remember, then you're not ready to bind a shinki yet."

"And if I cannot remember?" Rabou asked thinly, although he suspected he wouldn't get a useful answer.

"Oho, then you're kinda screwed, huh?" Yato jeered. "I'm guessing you don't remember why shinki are so important to us, either!"

"And you will refuse to tell me if I do not," Rabou said dryly. "Yato, why have you agreed to bring me here and speak of the past if you have so little inclination to speak? If you hate me so, then why did you not strike me down again?"

"Tch! Please. After all the shit you pulled before, killing you again would be letting you off too easy. I only granted your final wish last time because you were putting Yukine and Hiyori in danger. Otherwise, I'd have left you to die off on your own," Yato snapped. "So yeah, I'm gonna tell you everything you wanna know."

"But, why?" Rabou insisted.

"Because the past sucked, that's why!" Yato sneered. "It was fucking awful, and now it's your turn to remember this shit. If you couldn't at least have the decency to stay dead, then you're gonna have to live with these shitty memories, just like me. So I'm gonna tell you all about our past, and if you don't like what you hear, then too bad!"

"Then tell me! That is all I ask for! Whatever this past may be, I shall carry it alone if I must!" Rabou shouted back. Frustration seethed and coiled in his chest, his fists clenching tighter. "What are we, Yato? What is a kami of calamity?"

"I'm surprised you forgot that part, you wouldn't shut up about it last time," Yato jeered. Striking a dramatic pose, Yato assumed a deep voice and said, "'We are kami of calamity, fierce deities that soak the Near Shore with blood, we grant depraved wishes and live off human hate and greed'! Oh man, you really just went on and on! All that time you spent trying to make me go back to the way I used to be, and now you don't even remember any of it! Poor widdle Rabou-chan."

"What are we, Yato?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Yato smirked and shoved his hands into his pockets, strolling a few steps away. "Like I said before: kami answer the wishes of humans. Thing is, humans don't always wish for nice, happy stuff. Sometimes they want cute stuff like good grades or professional success, and, heh... sometimes they really hate somebody and want 'em to disappear. Forever."

"Disappear?"

"Dead, you idiot. Sometimes, there's somebody they want to get rid of, for revenge or for power, and someone's gotta handle those wishes. The other kami, they get to handle the nice, fun wishes. Guess who got stuck with the shitty stuff, like killing people?"

Rabou took a step back, inhaling sharply as comprehension dawned. The visions he'd seen began to make sense.

"Then, the memories of bloodshed..." he murmured.

"Yeah, that was our handiwork. It's a powerful thing when a human makes a wish to a god, even if it's a selfish or violent wish. That stuff's part of humanity, too. It sucks for the person that gets cut down, but it satisfies the desires of the person who wanted them gone," Yato said bitterly.

"Bishamon's shinki spoke of us fighting alongside one another in ages past. He spoke true, then? We answered these wishes together?"

Yato grimaced. "We were a team back then, kinda. It's not like we had anybody else- we kami of calamity are pretty unpopular with the rest of Takamagahara."

"Yes, Bishamon spoke with hostility. 'Creature of ill fortune,' she called me," Rabou said. Yato smirked. Scowling, Rabou added, "You find that amusing? She spoke no more fondly of you."

"Oh, yeah, I know that. She hates my guts and definitely wants me dead," Yato agreed.

"Why?"

"None of your business," Yato told him. "Anyway, like I said: the other kami don't like us very much. Never did. We're... damaged goods, let's say. Plus it doesn't help that we tend to hang around with Strays."

"What is a Stray? You spoke of one before- she awakened me, you said," Rabou said urgently; the answers were slowly unfolding, and he wanted more!

"Uh uh uh! That's shinki stuff, and you don't get to hear about shinki stuff till you remember something about it on your own," Yato said sternly, waggling a scolding finger. "Shinki are serious business. They're a big responsibility."

"Very well, then," Rabou said, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned away, trying to quell his frustration at Yato's games- and when the answers he sought were so close at hand! He'd learned so much already, but still he had to know more. "Bishamon's shinki claimed that I was once a human- a human who became a kami. Is that so?"

"Yeah. You were like an assassin or something in your human life," Yato agreed. He snorted, and added, "And then after that you were basically an assassin as a kami, too. Rough luck, huh?"

"Were you not the same? We were both kami of calamity," Rabou pointed out. Yato glared at him.

"I'm not the same as you," he growled, then turned and paced a few steps away.

"And yet we both answered these bloodstained wishes. This past disgusts you?" Rabou remarked, and he couldn't help but take a little satisfaction in Yato's obvious displeasure. He hadn't forced Yato to agree to this, after all; Yato had gotten himself into this situation.

Yato paused mid-step, shoulders hunching up as he bristled. Turning on his heel, he glared at Rabou and snapped, "A kami's every action is righteous, got that? We're not bound by the same morality as a shinki or a human!"

"Oh? Then why does it pain you so to speak of this?" Rabou challenged. Yato's lips twisted into a thin, furious scowl.

"I didn't even tell you all the shitty details of my life back then, why would I do it now?" Yato sneered. He stormed over, stabbing a finger at Rabou. "You're just a reincarnation, anyway! I don't fucking know you, why should I tell you anything about my past, huh?!"

"If you didn't wish to speak of this then you've only yourself to blame!" Rabou snapped back. "I asked for answers and you offered them!"

"So what else do you still need to know then, huh?" Yato growled. "Maybe you'd like to know how you died, will that make you happy?!"

That brought Rabou's frustration up short. "How I died?" he echoed.

"I'd be more than happy to tell you that part. You wanna know what it was? Your stupid followers forgot you!" Yato jeered, prodding Rabou's chest with his finger. "That's what happens to us small-time kami, you know. If we're forgotten, we die, and that's our so-called inescapable fate! You really ought to know this part, you were spouting that shit nonstop when we fought! You kept saying that we're hopeless kami, doomed to be forgotten no matter what we do!"

"I said that?" Rabou murmured distantly. That faint ringing in his ears returned, along with that echo… That is the way of things. Hadn't those been his words, in his past life?

"Yeah, you sure as hell did," Yato jibed. "You really wanna know what happened? I'll say this one thing: all you need is just one follower who won't forget about you. I guess you couldn't even manage that much."

However many wishes we grant, people will always fear, loathe, and forget kami of calamity. For better or worse, people's feelings are always fickle. His vision blurred as those words came back to him, resounding in his head. It is our fate to be slain by disregard. His pulse was pounding, his hands shaking slightly. He could sense it again, the hilt of a sword in his grasp, Yato's furious eyes before him, a terrible force seething within him. Another double-vision overtook him, an incorporeal naginata clutched in his bloodied grasp, armor-clad bodies of soldiers and horses strewn across a hazy red-brown field...

And, suddenly, he could see it so clearly. He saw Yato, his hair longer and tied back, with a black-eyed little girl at his side. He saw his own shinki, his Kushihime, her dark eyes rounded with concern… I am at their mercy, and it terrifies me so… She'd fretted over those words of his, back then.

He reeled back, clasping a hand to his left eye as it ached again. Yato, the present-day kami, swam into focus again as the vision passed. He was frowning, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What just happened?" he asked warily.

"I— I could see ourselves in ages past: you, and the little girl, and Kushihime," he murmured shakily. "Yato, if I perished, how is it that you remained?"

"Maybe I was just better at our job," he sneered.

"Ah, but we're hopeless kami who are doomed to be forgotten- were those not my own words?" Rabou jabbed back. "We were the same kind, you and I. We both answered malicious prayers, and yet only one of us survived. You would have me believe that your past has no relevance to mine?" His crossed arms tightened, fingertips digging into his forearms as frustration rose within him again.

"We're not here to talk about that," Yato snapped.

"Oh? Are we not? We need but one follower who won't forget us… could it be that you have one?" Rabou asked. Cold fury flared in Yato's eyes, his jaw clenching.

"We were both kami of calamity, we both cut people up to survive, that's all you need to know," Yato snarled. "I'm done with that shit now. You, on the other hand… well, buddy, you're awake again and you're gonna run out of time real fast if you don't figure out a way to survive. You wanna go back to cutting people down? Go right ahead, it makes no difference to me. Of course, that didn't work out so great for you before… I wonder how long you'll last this time."

Those words sent a chill through Rabou. "What—" he started.

"Nope, I'm done. You wanted to know who you are and how you died, I told you that much. I'm done," Yato snapped.

With that, Yato vanished in a glimmer of light. Rabou reached out, a protesting shout rising in his throat, but his words caught and he stumbled as another vision came upon him: his shrine, in the days when his believers had come to pay tribute to him and ask for his help- for justice, for revenge, for power.

Yes... Yato was right. His believers had forgotten him, and he had vanished.

He felt an echo of something ancient, reaching across the centuries, something that his past self must have known and feared deeply. It shook him to his very core. He would perish again if he didn't find new believers...

And yet, in centuries gone by, he had answered every wish no matter what it was. He had slain humans, shinkis, and even gods. He remembered it now… but no matter how many wishes he'd answered, it had never been enough. Still they had forgotten him, and still he'd faded away.

And he would fade again, just as Yato had said. If he took up the sword again, would it still not be enough? Could it ever be enough to make them remember him? Was it truly his fate to be slain by disregard, as his past self had said? Rabou stared at his trembling hands.

No… if that was the fate of a kami of calamity, then how had Yato survived? He'd said he was done with it, and Bishamon's shinki believed he had changed. If he no longer wielded a sword to answer wishes, then how was he surviving? Rabou crouched down on the rooftop, his aching head bowed and eyes squeezed shut. The lingering memories were there and he strived to reach them, even as the pain in his head grew worse. But he could almost see it, he could almost grasp how he had felt back then…

He had been envious of Yato in those days. He could hear his own words from those days— How simply he believes that to rob a man of life and breath is the only way… But now Yato sneered at that way of existing. Had he truly found another way to survive?

Rabou stood up sharply, heart hammering. He'd told Yato that he would rather be slain than to exist knowing nothing about himself. Now he knew what he was. Now he knew what fate was waiting for him... and he wanted to fight it. He didn't want to succumb— not this time.


Part 2 coming up next!