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Part 5

(In which Hiyori remembers. For now.)

Yato was thinking about nothing at all. In life—proper life—he had found it more or less impossible to shut off his brain. His thoughts always raced in circles, and this go-go-go translated into the hyperactivity everyone had found so annoying and childish. But now, with all the time in the world to think and not even the bare comfort of sleep to distract him, he was finally learning to tune out from the world and let his thoughts float free and hazy, always drifting without touching on anything at all for more than a few moments. Sleepwalking, if he had been capable of sleep.

He didn't know how long he had been dozing in this corner of the attic, but probably a long time. The murmur of Kofuku and Daikoku's voices wafted up the stairs and through the door, and he let it wash over him like the gentle lapping of ocean waves.

A loud, frantic pounding down below startled him back to clarity. He could think of no positive reason why someone would hammer so urgently at the door and hoped it didn't mean someone was in trouble. He especially hoped it didn't mean Yukine was in trouble.

Footsteps pattered along the floorboards.

"Coming!" Kofuku chirped in a sing-song voice. It would take more than that to faze her. The door slammed open—she'd always had a tendency to fling it open dramatically and send it flying into the wall—and there was a second of silence. "H-Hiyorin?"

Yato could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest.

"Kofuku!" That was Hiyori's voice, sure enough, frantic and shaky with sobs. "Kofuku, where are they? Where are Yato and Yukine?"

"Oh," Kofuku said, and it was the saddest, most tragic word Yato had ever heard. "Oh, Hiyorin."

"No," Hiyori said, choking on a gasp. "No, no."

"Hiyori?" Daikoku asked with wonder as he joined the party. "What–?"

"They can't be gone!" she said wildly. "Where–? What happened?"

The silence was deafening. Yato felt frozen in place. He had hoped so fervently that Hiyori would remember him, tried so hard to make her, but that was back when he'd had hope she could save him. Now, he couldn't bear the thought of seeing that knowledge in her eyes. It had been okay when she was happy and oblivious, but to see the same torment reflected in her eyes as he'd been forced to see in everyone else's… No, in the end, he wished he could spare her that.

One reason he had taken to roaming was because he couldn't stand to see the grief anymore. He didn't want to see Hiyori's. He did not float out the door and down the stairs, just listened in and wondered if he should escape through the window instead. But he had to know how Hiyori had remembered them and what would happen now. He did not venture downstairs, but he stayed.

"Hiyori…" Daikoku hesitated. "Yukine is okay. He's with Bishamon now."

"Bishamon?" Hiyori repeated in a small voice.

"You were his only believer. It's not your fault."

The silence lingered, heavy and poisonous, for another moment, and then Hiyori began wailing. Even percolating through the floorboards, it could have taken Yato's breath away. It was an animal, guttural sound that not even Kofuku and Daikoku's comfort could soothe, and it grated along Yato's every last nerve. He paced the attic in furious circles, hesitated by the window, paced some more.

He wanted to slip outside and run, run far away from here, but he also felt that he needed to bear witness to her grief. Why, he couldn't entirely say, but grief was both the most painful thing to watch and the most difficult thing to look away from. Witnessing Yukine's grief had been heartrending enough.

It seemed like a small eternity before the keening finally petered out and died. Yato's steps dragged to a stop along with it. Somewhere below, Daikoku murmured empty comfort and Kofuku prodded Hiyori to the kitchen for tea to calm her nerves. Yato did not strain to hear more. The void in his chest yawned wider and wider, threatening to swallow him whole. This was not how he had expected Hiyori remembering to go. It was not how he had wanted it to go. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

And Yukine. What would it do to Yukine when he heard? If Hiyori forgot again in a few days, weeks, months as she inevitably would, what would it do to him then? Yukine was still so brittle, dragging one foot along the edge even as he limped forward. His peace was hard-won and fragile and would be easily unbalanced and shattered by something so momentous. If anyone could send him spiraling, even now, it was Hiyori. Love could be a dangerous and fickle thing.

Yato wished he had stayed away. He had known better than to stay so close to home. It always hurt too much, and now he knew something he wished he didn't. Hiyori and Yukine could still bring him to his knees.

He slumped in the corner of the room and waited. There was no point running now. He had already learned too much, and he might as well see it through.

Several minutes later, he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"It was so random," Hiyori was saying, her voice muffled and thick. "I was going through my old school notes to sort them and throw out what wasn't useful anymore, and I found all these pages of Yukine's math problems. I thought it was odd since they weren't in my handwriting, and then…I found all these drawings in the margins. Capypers and all that, and there was a sketch of all of us and…"

"And you remembered," Kofuku murmured.

"I can't believe I ever forgot!" Hiyori said with a moan. "What have I done?"

Yato braced himself as the door swung open and Hiyori stepped inside, followed by Kofuku and Daikoku. She looked so small and broken, eyes red-rimmed and tear-stained, expression devastated. Yato wanted to look away but didn't dare. He didn't want to see Hiyori like this, but how long had he dreamed of seeing her remember him?

"It's not your fault," Daikoku said. "We knew the risks. We did our best, and so did you."

"See, it's still here." Kofuku pointed to the shrine and the rows of five yen coins lined along the windowsill. "Yukki always brings coins when he visits. People still remember him at your shrine."

Hiyori crossed the room and dug a fistful of coins from her pocket with trembling hands. They cascaded over Yukine's neat piles, knocking them over and sending coins clattering to the floor. Kofuku pressed into Daikoku's side, and they watched silently.

Hiyori stood still and stared at the tiny shrine, her eyes clouded with tears. No one dared say anything, hardly even dared to breathe. Then she knelt down and began collecting the spilled coins, pooling them in the palm of her hand.

"You really don't have to…" Daikoku started, but he trailed off and let her do as she pleased.

Hiyori dug out the coins wedged up against the wall beneath the windowsill and swept piles from the dusty floorboards. She turned towards Yato, chasing after a coin that had rolled a few feet away, and then stood with her hoard cradled to her chest.

Then she went still, staring into Yato's corner with wide eyes. If Yato didn't know any better, he would have thought she saw him. But he had suffered the little cruelties of false hope so many times that he was immune to it now. He knew the wall behind him was blank—he'd spent enough time staring at it to know—so he had no idea what she might be looking at. Or what thought might have struck her so abruptly to make her look like she was staring into the face of a ghost.

"Yato?" she breathed, and now he did start. It didn't mean anything, of course, just that he was still on her mind, but for a moment he wished it did.

The coins she had gathered spilled from her hands and clattered loudly against the ground, rolling off in all directions. She launched herself at Yato and threw her arms around him. He stood stiff and unmoving and confused in her embrace, because she did not go through him and it seemed to have broken something in his brain.

"Yato-chan?" Kofuku said. She and Daikoku stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Yato stared back at them over Hiyori's head, unsure if they actually saw him or he was imagining things. He might not dream anymore, but for all he knew, he could still hallucinate. His sanity was already fraying at the edges—had he finally lost his mind?

But then he realized that he could feel Hiyori: the warmth of her skin, the damp of her tears soaking through his clothing, the pressure of her arms squeezing him tight. When was the last time he had felt anything? Now that he was looking for sensation, he realized the air was a bit chilly and the floor was solid beneath him and his boots were pinching his toes just a little. He breathed shallowly, constricted by Hiyori's tight embrace, and his heart pounded wildly against his ribs. Put together, it crashed over him in an overwhelming tsunami of sensation. Everything that had once seemed normal felt strange and uncomfortable, like a second skin that didn't quite fit him right anymore. He didn't remember how to deal with it.

"What happened?" he croaked, his voice rusty with disuse.

He did not expect them to hear him, not really. He did not expect an answer.

"I guess it would be disorienting to pop back into existence after being gone for so long," Daikoku said, but his face was white and his voice thick.

Yato stared blankly back. Was that what they thought had happened? That he had winked out of existence and suddenly appeared again when Hiyori remembered, without any memory of the time between? He supposed it made sense. He might have assumed that too.

Maybe it didn't matter because this could reveal itself as a waking nightmare at any moment and he would fade out again, but he decided it was kinder to let them think that way. They did not need to know what he had suffered. Especially not Hiyori, who would already feel awful enough without knowing the truth.

"I guess," he said.

"I'm so sorry!" Hiyori cried. "I forgot! They said you disappeared, but now you're back and… I'm sorry. I won't forget again."

"It's okay," Yato said. He had never once blamed Hiyori for anything. She had always done her best by him, and he had known from the start that it couldn't last forever.

"I can't believe you're back!" Kofuku wailed. "I missed you!"

She rushed across the room and threw her arms around him and Hiyori. Yato stiffened at the contact, but then lifted his arms from his sides. He hesitated before tentatively returning the embraces, his fingers just barely fluttering against Hiyori's and Kofuku's backs with a feather-light touch. He always had to be careful when making his edges meet up with the world's. It wouldn't do to have his hands go right through his friends, would it? He didn't want to risk ruining the magic just yet.

"I missed you too," he said.

Daikoku approached at a slower pace, and one eyebrow ticked up his forehead. "Are you…alright?"

Yato stared back at him in silence for several seconds before realizing how odd his reaction must seem. He wasn't acting happy or excited or talkative. He wasn't asking questions about the time he'd missed, had little to say and less emotion to say it with, and had gone stiff as a board when Hiyori and Kofuku touched him. He wasn't acting normal at all.

The problem was that he wasn't feeling normal either. He didn't feel like himself, or at least not the self he had been before he'd disappeared. The one they thought he should still be. And he did not want to be happy or excited or remember the warmth of touch if he would lose it all again just as soon as he'd found it.

"Oh," he said, forcing a half-smile that felt twisted and unnatural on his lips. "Yes. Of course. It's just…a lot."

Daikoku eyed him a moment longer and then nodded. "Right. It must be disorienting to pop back up right in the middle of things. Give him some room to breathe, guys."

He had to physically tug Kofuku away by her collar. Hiyori retreated a few paces of her own volition, still babbling apologies and crying. Yato should want to comfort her like he had always wanted to soothe Yukine, but it hadn't done any good back then and he hardly remembered how to now.

Hiyori and Kofuku were so loud and emotional and Daikoku kept looking at him like he was a puzzle that needed solving, and for one second Yato almost missed being invisible. He was out of practice living. And he didn't even have to deal with Yukine's reaction yet…

Now, there was a knot that needed untangling.

He cleared his throat. "Yukine?"

Everyone went abruptly quiet and began exchanging looks. Their sudden discomfort made him frown. He had just seen Yukine a few days ago—surely nothing had happened to him since then?

"Well… Yukki is…" Kofuku trailed off and looked up at Daikoku.

"Yukine is with Bishamon," Daikoku said, averting his gaze. "She named him after… He's been staying with her."

"He's been doing well, though!" Kofuku said. "Bisha has been taking really good care of him. Look! He still visits and always brings coins for your shrine. He never forgot you."

Hiyori drew in a sharp breath that whistled between her teeth, and Kofuku went pale and mouthed a silent apology.

Yato's gaze slid sideways to the coins stacked around the shrine and scattered across the floor. "Oh," he said tonelessly. This was not news to him. "That's good."

Everyone hesitated for a beat, unsure of how to proceed. What should have been a joyous occasion was marred by Yato's distant attitude, but he didn't know how to fix that right now. It still didn't seem real.

"We should go get him," Hiyori said. "I'm sure he'd be so excited to see–"

Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook silently, but Yato caught the hitch of her breath and the hint of a sob. Kofuku wrapped an arm around her.

"It's okay, Hiyori," Yato said, softening just a little and wishing he remembered how to comfort her. "An entire existence was always too heavy a burden to place on your shoulders. You did the best you could, and that's good enough for me."

Hiyori sucked in a series of wavering breaths before mumbling through her fingers. "We should get Yukine. He'll want to know right away."

Yato was not sure he wanted to fetch Yukine immediately. He feared he would be faced with this same detachment at seeing him, and he didn't want to look at his kid like that. He wanted to be excited, but he was still reeling and needed time to process.

But there was no good way to ask for a little more time, not when he was supposed to want to see Yukine right away.

"Yeah," he said, trying to summon up some enthusiasm. For a second, he thought he managed when a strange, buzzing feeling began welling up inside him, but then he realized it was probably nerves more than anything. "Can you take us up, Kofuku?"

Daikoku raised an eyebrow. "Your shrine's right there."

"It doesn't work anymore."

Yato knew the words were a mistake when Hiyori's eyes welled with tears again and she had to dash them away with the back of her hand.

"I believe in you again," she said. "It will work."

Yato winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

But he had meant it, so he trailed off. His shrine had been useless, either because he was incorporeal or Hiyori didn't believe or both. In theory, he supposed she was right and it should be fixed now.

He herded her over to the shrine, fingers fluttering just shy of touching her. He hesitated, half convinced it wouldn't work and afraid of what that might mean. His heart skipped a beat or two and fell out of rhythm.

Get a grip. If he was going to start living again, he'd better remember how and not be terrified of every little thing.

He rested his hand on the roof of the shrine. The wood was rough, and a splinter jabbed at his fingertip. It was solid and real.

The air tingled ever so slightly with the taste of magic, and there was a tug somewhere in his chest as he dematerialized and reappeared in Takamagahara, dragging Hiyori with him. He was almost ashamed to admit how relieved he was that it had worked.

Hiyori took his hand and grasped it tight as they walked to Bishamon's mansion. He saw her coming and didn't flinch. The bone-crushing pressure cut the circulation to his fingers, and the pain kept him tethered to the world. If he could be hurt, then he existed after all.

Hiyori didn't say anything, but she pressed close, far closer than she would have normally allowed, and he could sense both her guilt and fear like a physical thing. He was not the only one nervous about seeing Yukine again.

When they knocked on the door, Aiha pushed it open. The faintly irritated look on her face evaporated in an instant, and her mouth dropped wide open.

"We'd like to speak with Yukine and Bishamon," Yato said.

She stared as if she'd seen a ghost, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Then she spun on her heel and scrambled down the hall in a tangle of flailing limbs, calling for Bishamon and Kazuma.

A fleeting half-smile graced Hiyori's face, and Yato shrugged and stepped inside to wait in the entryway. Other shinki popped their heads out of adjoining rooms to investigate the fuss. Some were young, and Yato didn't recognize them. Some were familiar faces, and they stared wide-eyed or whispered behind their hands. None of them had worked up the nerve to approach by the time Bishamon and Kazuma came trotting around the corner, Aiha trailing along behind them.

They stopped short and stared. Yato might have enjoyed the attention once, but now all the staring made his skin itch and he wanted to retreat to a dark corner.

"Surprise?" he said.

"That's impossible," Bishamon breathed, her gaze darting rapidly between Yato and Hiyori. "You disappeared…"

"I remembered," Hiyori said in a thin voice, hunching her shoulders. "He's back."

"But… But…"

Had he finally done it? Had he finally broken Bishamon after all these centuries? Yato almost smiled, before his discomfort reasserted itself.

Kazuma looked around at the curious onlookers and then back at Yato. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing up and down, and removed his glasses to swipe at the lenses with his sleeve.

"Perhaps we should move this to your office before fetching Yukine," he said to Bishamon in a low voice.

Bishamon shook her head sharply. "Right. Let's do that."

Kazuma murmured something to Aiha, and she ran off. The rest of them traipsed down the hall and into Bishamon's study. Kazuma shut the door behind them.

Bishamon squinted at Yato some more and then reached out, hesitated, and poked him none too gently in the ribs. If anything, the feel of solid flesh only seemed to discomfit her more.

"You stupid bastard," she marveled. "You really are impossible to get rid of, aren't you? And you skipped over reincarnation altogether!"

"I've never heard of a disappeared god returning," Kazuma said. "I… I'm glad to see you back."

"But it is impossible, you realize," Bishamon said. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah," Yato said flatly, looking away. Their scrutiny was more than he could bear. "I heard you've been taking care of Yukine. Thanks for that."

He felt the shift in the air, the sudden uncertainty.

"Oh… Yes, of course," Bishamon said. "He had some difficulty fitting in at first, but he's doing well now. He's a good kid."

"Yeah. I'm not coming to steal him away from under your nose. But I think he should probably know what happened."

"That's… We can discuss what to do with him later. For now, it's enough that you're alive. He'll be thrilled!"

Yato shrugged. Kazuma and Bishamon exchanged another look.

"But what happened?" Kazuma asked. "No god has ever returned after disappearing before."

"I remembered today," Hiyori said. She looked down at her hands, and her face remained pinched and pale even now. Perhaps she would have forsaken her guilt for joy if Yato had been able to rouse himself enough to reassure her. "I went to Kofuku's shrine right away, but they told me…" She trailed off and swallowed hard. "I went upstairs to see his shrine and wished for him to come back, and then I turned and saw him standing in the corner."

Everyone turned their eyes on Yato, as if he had the answers.

"I don't know," he said truthfully.

"Are you quite well?" Bishamon asked. "You seem…out of sorts."

"Fine. It's just overwhelming, I guess."

"Maybe other vanished gods never had a former believer remember them," Kazuma murmured. Kazuma puzzling out a mystery was a dog with a bone. "Or make another wish to them. Or maybe someone has returned and we've just never heard of it."

"If so, it's probably because they disappeared again pretty quickly," Yato said bleakly. The stark truth of his likely future took his breath away, and the thought of disappearing terrified him more than it ever had before now that he knew what it entailed.

Hiyori made a strangled sort of sound in the back of her throat, and Yato realized he had misspoken again.

"I'll remember," she mumbled.

"Of course you will," he said without conviction. If it was a lie, it would be a merciful one while she remembered it and easily forgotten if she lost sight of the world of gods again.

But the truth was that she would forget again. It was human nature. And even if she somehow didn't, she would die someday, as much as it pained him to consider it. That was human nature too. One human believer was not a sustainable lifeline, no matter how strong and wonderful and kind that believer might be.

Yato clenched his hand into a fist until the nails dug painful half-moon crescents into his palm. He hoped it would ground him, reassure him he was here and present and alive, but a sudden panic built in his chest anyway.

This was a mistake. They shouldn't have come here. If Hiyori forgot a few days or weeks or months from now and Yato disappeared again, Yukine would be devastated. It was far too early, things were far too uncertain, to involve Yukine already. But what could he do? A dozen shinki had seen him and Hiyori walk in. Yukine would hear about it even if Yato ran away now.

A knock came at the door, and Yato's whirling mind ground to a halt. Kazuma opened the door.

"Aiha said you wanted to see…" Yukine trailed off, his eyes going wide as saucers as he spotted Yato and Hiyori on the other side of the room. His lips formed their names soundlessly, as if he were afraid of speaking them aloud only to realize it was a dream.

"Yukine," Hiyori croaked. She opened her arms to him, her eyes filling with tears again. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I forgot. But I remember now."

"We'll let you have a moment," Bishamon murmured, and she and Kazuma retreated from the room.

"Hiyori…?" Yukine said slowly.

"Oh, Yukine," she wailed. "I'm so glad to see you again."

That seemed to convince Yukine, who rushed across the room and threw himself into her arms. He peeked at Yato over Hiyori's arm, as if afraid he was imagining him entirely.

"Hey, kid," Yato said. "Long time no see."

Yukine burst into tears, and Hiyori rocked them toward Yato. Yukine fisted his hands in Yato's jersey and sobbed into his chest, clutching him tight as if intending to never let him go.

Yato put his arms around Yukine and Hiyori hesitantly, the touch still feeling foreign.

"Yato," Yukine mumbled through his tears. "Bakagami."

Something clenched in Yato's chest, and emotion finally welled to the surface. He tightened his grip, clutching Yukine and Hiyori desperately like a lifeline, intending to never let them go.

Note: Aw :( Okay, to be honest, I think that if Yato were to disappear, it would be final and just remembering shouldn't be enough to reverse it. BUT it was too fun an idea to pass up, and I wanted to work with the aftermath.