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Part 6

(In which Yato has forgotten how to feel and loses every fight with physical objects.)

"Of course I'm coming with you," Yukine said. "I'm the only shinki you've got. Bishamon has a ton. She doesn't need me."

"I'm just saying, you're allowed to be loyal to her too," Yato said. "She's taken care of you for a couple of years now. You were with her longer than you were ever with me. We don't have to decide right now."

"But I'm your hafuri, not hers," Yukine said with finality, as if that ought to make all the difference. Maybe it did, even in such an unconventional situation. Maybe it didn't. "I come with you. You're certainly not going to get any more believers on your own. You need me. And I…" Yukine trailed off and looked away.

And I need you. Yato touched his fingers to his chest. It had been such a long time since he'd felt Yukine's reflected emotions. He had almost forgotten how lonely it was without them.

He had missed Yukine's no-nonsense guidance and bossy schemes. He had missed being part of a team, even if he only really knew how to be a lone wolf.

"Do you know how long you were gone?" Hiyori asked, puzzled.

It took Yato a moment to catch her drift. No one had actually passed on that piece of information to him yet. A slip-up already.

"No," he said. "Just a guess. You look older."

A shadow passed over Yukine's face. "Two years, three months, and…seventeen days."

Hiyori closed her eyes.

"Oh," Yato said, although his own mental tally had been pretty close based on the last newspaper he'd seen.

"You've missed a lot," Yukine said.

"I can imagine."

"Yeah," Hiyori said quietly. "We all have a lot to catch up on." She gave Yukine a searching look. "Although… I almost remember running into you a few times? It's hazy, though, so maybe not."

Yukine's expression was guarded, even with the red still lining his eyes and staining his skin. Yato imagined there were some encounters he'd rather Hiyori not remember. He was probably safe. If Hiyori recalled any of their meetings in any detail, it would be the recent ones. The early encounters had probably been wiped away long ago, and she was more likely to remember sensations or hazy flashes of images than any particulars. That was how human brains worked when they weren't recording memories properly.

"I checked in on you a few times," Yukine said, and quickly changed the subject. "We should probably go. I'm sure Kofuku and Daikoku are waiting."

He watched Yato sidelong, like he still couldn't quite believe it. Like Yato might disappear if he so much as blinked. Yato couldn't blame him. He felt much the same way.

Yukine strode across the room and threw open the door before Hiyori might decide to ask more questions. Bishamon and Kazuma still huddled outside, heads bent close together as they whispered in low voices. They went quiet as the door swung towards them, leaning away from each other and straightening up.

"You'll be going with Yato, of course," Bishamon said, and it wasn't quite a question.

Yukine nodded. "I think that would be best."

"Of course. Do what you need to, and we are here to do whatever we can to help. We can discuss any particulars later, but I expect you'll be transitioning back to his household. I'll send the twins over with your things later, unless you want to pack them yourself."

"I'll probably stop by to get them tomorrow."

"That would work. Just…" Bishamon bit down on her lip. "Be careful." She turned on her heel and started off down the hall at a clipped pace. "Come along, then."

Kazuma trotted after her, and Yukine rolled his eyes.

"Be careful," he muttered under his breath. "Careful of what, exactly?"

"If I disappear again," Yato said without thinking. "She's worried if you get too attached and I disappear again."

Yukine and Hiyori sucked in breaths in unison, and Yato winced. Now that people could hear the words he said, he'd better be more careful about choosing them. In another life, careless words like these would have made Yukine angry and engendered protests or flat-out denial. Bakagami, why are you such an idiot? Stop saying stupid things before I pound some sense through your thick skull. But this older, more jaded Yukine only went very pale and twisted his hands in the hem of his shirt and looked like he was considering the possibility.

This time it was Yato who had to dismiss the unfairness of the world.

"Not that that would happen, obviously," he said. "But she worries about you, so…"

Yukine stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and hurrying after Bishamon and Kazuma. "Right," he mumbled.

Yato caught the bleak look in his eyes before he turned away. Even miracles could have sharp edges.

Hiyori stuck close to Yato's side as they trailed after Yukine, but he could feel the distance yawning between them too. Maybe he was imagining it, and it was only his own detachment he sensed. Maybe Hiyori's guilt was holding her back those last few inches, or perhaps they had both grown old and lonesome apart from each other. Even still, Yato was grateful for her proximity, and she eyed him sidelong the whole way as if debating how to breach the gap.

Bishamon's hordes of shinki stopped in their tracks and peeked out of doorways to stare and whisper to each other as they went by. Yato ignored them and Hiyori pretended to, although she held her chin a little too high and her cheeks were stained red.

Bishamon and Kazuma paused in the front hall and waited for them to catch up. Yukine stood at their side, and although Yato could sense his rough edges, the way he didn't quite mesh perfectly, he still looked like he belonged. He really had made a place for himself here, and Yato wondered if it was selfish to show up after all this time and drag him back to the past.

"Maybe you could come with Yukine to get his things tomorrow," Bishamon said. "You all look like you need some time to talk, but maybe later…" She shook her head and mumbled, "I should have known you'd break the laws of life and death. You've always broken all the rules. And this time I'm glad of it."

"We can have a celebration," Kazuma suggested. "Once you get settled back in."

Bishamon brightened. "That might be fun! We could have another picnic or something."

Yato had never thought he'd see the day Bishamon, of all people, wanted to throw him a party.

"That would be nice," Yato murmured, hoping he was in a more celebratory mood by then. He was supposed to be the resident party animal, after all.

But he wasn't in the mood now, so he mumbled his goodbyes and brushed past them. He went to step through the front door and slammed face-first into unyielding wood. Reeling back, he clutched at his throbbing nose and stared at the door in betrayal.

"What the–?" Bishamon sounded flabbergasted. "How did you not see the door? It's right in front of you."

"Pay attention, you idiot," Yukine grumbled.

He reached out a hand, but Yato caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and flinched back. He met Yukine's eyes and they stared at each other, Yukine's hand hanging in the air for a moment before dropping back to his side.

"Sorry," Yato said in a nasally voice as he prodded tenderly at his nose. "Maybe my brain is a little scrambled. Everything feels a little weird."

"Get some rest," Kazuma advised. "I'm sure you'll be feeling more like yourself soon."

Everyone was looking at Yato strangely, like they were worried he might not have come back quite the same. And, to be fair, he hadn't.

He forced a smile. "I'm sure. I guess we'll see you around…" As an afterthought, he added, because he thought it was probably expected, "It's good to see you again too."

Or good for them to see him, anyway. He'd seen them all over the city.

Yukine opened the door this time so that Yato didn't have to try again.

The smell of food filled Kofuku's shrine when they traipsed back in. Yato wrinkled his nose against it. It wasn't unappealing, exactly, but felt foreign. He couldn't disentangle the scents to tell what each represented, and they all blended together at the edges. His stomach grumbled quietly, and he started in surprise at the uncomfortable clenching sensation.

Yukine perked right up at the smell of food, and even Hiyori seemed to brighten.

"Smells delicious!" she said. "Come on, you must be hungry."

Yato supposed he was, although it was hard to tell. The rumbling stomach gave it away, but he didn't truly have any desire to eat. He couldn't even remember what food tasted like. He had the feeling that he wouldn't be able to tell sweet from sour from bitter anymore.

"We made a feast!" Kofuku declared when they filed into the kitchen. "Well, Daikoku made a feast. He wouldn't let me help."

"Looks great," Yukine said.

"Are you moving back in with us? Say you are! It's been so quiet!"

Yukine shot Yato a look out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, of course. Yato would be lost without me."

"Yeah," Yato murmured with a wistful half-smile. "I would."

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Kofuku said. She beamed and looked at Yato with wide, shining eyes. "I can't believe Yato-chan is back! And Hiyorin! Best day ever!"

Yukine hesitated for just a moment, but then the worry lines creasing his eyes smoothed out and he relaxed visibly as he set aside any lingering concern or confusion or complicated feelings.

"It's pretty amazing," he agreed with a wide grin, and suddenly he looked just like the child Yato had known again.

Hiyori smiled too. Although her anxiety and guilt would undoubtedly reassert themselves later, she tabled them for the time being and brightened considerably. "Definitely a cause for celebration."

Yato tried to bask in their joy, to remember what being happy was supposed to feel like, and dredged up an old mask to wear. "It's a crazy world."

"And you know the first thing he did when he showed up?" Yukine asked. "Ran straight into a door."

"Oh no!" Kofuku gasped.

"Okay, it wasn't the first thing," Yato said, although he had to smile a little. "That door attacked me. It came out of nowhere."

"I see some things never change," Daikoku said gruffly as he set out plates and bowls heaping with food. "Sounds like exactly what you said when you were playing on your phone and ran into a tree."

"Okay, that was a mean tree. It was out to get me. I swear it was across the street and hopped over just to whack me."

Even Daikoku cracked a smile.

Everyone dug into their meals, and the mood grew considerably lighter as they chatted and joked around and swapped stories about the past couple of years while eyeing each other with something approaching awe. Yato hesitated. The food looked good enough, but the scents were still strange and he couldn't remember how taste worked, and he really didn't know what to do with the food. He remembered the mechanical process of eating, but the rest was alien to him and made the food seem like an unappealing little mystery.

But the excitement built in the air as everyone began slowly recovering from the shock. It truly was a miracle, and it would shape the course of their future. Wasn't it a joy to see old friends you thought were gone forever? To speak to people who had been trapped unawares on the other side of a frosted glass wall and have them speak back? Their happiness was contagious, and even though it still rubbed and itched at Yato like an ill-fitting suit he'd long since outgrown, he cracked open his heart just enough to let it seep in. He didn't want to think about possibly disappearing again if he couldn't make a name for himself. That was a problem to worry about later. Right now he wanted to enjoy this time with his friends, because he had thought he'd never have the chance again.

So what if sensation and life seemed foreign to him now? Of course it would, after the colorless existence he'd lived for the past years. But just as he had slowly forgotten what the brush of fabric against his skin felt like or what sweet and sour tasted like or what it meant to have someone's gaze lock on him rather than pass on through, he could learn it all again, a little at a time. He could start here with this meal. Remember what the texture of rice felt like against his tongue and the taste of fruit and the thrum of his vocal cords when his words could touch the air.

He reached for his chopsticks and fumbled. His fingers jammed into the tabletop, and he winced. He tried again, and again the chopsticks weren't quite where he expected them to be and his fingers groped past them. He stared at them in bafflement. It seemed that he was so used to passing through objects and hadn't bothered making his edges line up with those of the world in so long that he had wrecked his depth perception. But that was silly. He hadn't had any trouble touching other objects since his return.

Except that, he supposed, he hadn't actually touched much of anything besides his shrine and the door of Bishamon's mansion, which he had actually slammed into with his face. He had been trying to keep his distance out of paranoia that he might go insubstantial at any second. He didn't want his fledgling hopes ripped out from under him so soon.

Although he managed to grasp the chopsticks on his next attempt, they were awkward in his hands. He fumbled about with them, and they slid every which way in his grasp. He couldn't quite tell how to reposition them and get them back under control. And when he gave up and took a stab at a bowl of rice anyway, he missed entirely and sent the chopsticks diving point-first into the tabletop beside it.

"Yato…?" Hiyori asked.

He started and looked up. Everyone was watching him. They were all looking at him, and he couldn't breathe. It was too much, their attention, and there was no way to figure this out without looking like a fool. He was still the center of attention, and all eyes were on him whether he noticed them or not. There would be no way for him to fly under the radar now, and all he knew how to be was invisible.

He stood abruptly, stumbling as his boots hit the floor before he expected them to. "Sorry," he said. "I just– I'm not hungry. I'll just…be upstairs for a while."

He high-tailed it out of there, ignoring all questions and protests. He banged the toes of his boots into the backs of several steps as he hurried up the stairs, and almost tripped over one before he made it to the top. Someone had left the door to their room open, and he didn't want to risk trying to shut it after his clumsy display. He was tired of trying to reach right through solid objects and pulling up short when he didn't quite meet up with their edges.

He collapsed against the wall, sinking to the floor and pulling his knees up tight to his chest. Nothing felt right. Even the hard wall against his back felt wrong. For years, he would have passed right through if he dared reach out for it.

Right now he could feel the floor beneath him, his heart was beating, Hiyori remembered him, Yukine looked him in the eye. But it still didn't feel quite right, like he was still lost in the nothingness and hadn't yet remembered how to fit into the world. And if he still didn't fit in, if he still couldn't remember how taste worked or how to use chopsticks or how to open doors, then he was a hair's breadth away from losing it all again. At any second, he could fade back out of existence and lose everything. Despite the mixed feelings and caution, he was terribly afraid of that.

How could he laugh and smile and pretend everything was okay if he could disappear just as fast as he'd come back to life? He was living on borrowed time again. He was going to fade back to that colorless nonexistence, that glass prison, and he had never truly wanted to die before, but he would rather die than end up back there.

His heart pounded wildly against his ribcage and his breaths came too fast and shallow, leaving him panicked and lightheaded. He had forgotten how much stronger emotion was when his body went through the motions. He had forgotten what it was like to feel.

He was paralyzed, trembling, hyperventilating, and he was terrified that at any second he would no longer feel anything at all.

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He huddled up against the wall and rocked himself back and forth until he could breathe again. The fog in his mind cleared slowly, but the fear only settled deeper into his bones.

How ironic. He was so afraid of disappearing again that he was afraid to live.

When footsteps creaked up the stairs, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself and smoothed out his expression. Hiyori stepped inside a moment later, a white plastic bag clutched in her hands, and Yukine peeked around the door behind her.

"Are you okay, Yato?" Hiyori asked. "We thought we'd give you a few minutes before checking on you."

"Yeah," Yato mumbled. "Sorry. I'm fine."

Hiyori and Yukine exchanged a look and crept closer.

"You've seemed pretty out of sorts," Yukine said. "You'd tell us if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"

Yato realized that some of the tightness constricting his chest and making it difficult to breathe probably came from Yukine. He tried to smile.

"Of course. It's just…sort of overwhelming, I guess."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Yukine muttered.

"It seemed to me that, uh…" Hiyori hesitated, considering her words. "It seems like maybe you're having some problems with coordination right now? Which is probably normal, right? I mean, I have no idea how this is supposed to work, but maybe things will seem strange for a little while since you weren't, you know, actually here for a long time? I don't know. But I, uh… I brought you some of those pork buns you like. In case you are still hungry, or if you want to save them for later. I hope you don't mind."

She held out the bag. Yato reached for it, but hesitated as he tried to gauge the correct distance and how he needed to control his fingers to make sure they wrapped around the handle instead of getting tangled up in it. Hiyori placed the bag in his hand before he had to make a decision and nodded encouragingly.

He fumbled with the bag and paper, moving slowly as he meticulously unwrapped the bun, brow furrowed in concentration. He managed to free the morsel and took a small bite. It was still hot, burning against his tongue, and he couldn't untangle the scents and tastes but thought it was probably good. Even if he couldn't decipher the taste, the sensation was an explosion in his mouth: the first thing he'd tasted in years. It was an utterly alien feeling, but one he might be able to get used to.

"Thank you," he said in a small voice, curling in on himself and around his meal.

He felt very small, but also very grateful. He knew Hiyori had gone out and brought him food he could eat easily with his hands, something he might be able to eat without too much difficulty even if his coordination was off. He had missed that kindness.

"Of course," Hiyori said. "You should really eat something. And…it's okay if you need some space sometimes, but we want to help you. You don't need to run away from us. We're here."

Yukine crouched down in front of Yato, drawing the god's eyes back up to meet his. He studied Yato critically.

"You're different," he said.

Yato's gaze slid away. "So are you."

"Yeah, well. A lot has happened. I guess we've all changed. I just somehow expected you to be exactly the same. Picking up where we left off since you weren't here." Yukine stood, brushing off his pants. "Right," he said briskly. "We'd better get the room set back up. Hopefully, Kofuku has a spare lamp until I can pick mine up. Hiyori, will you help me while he eats?"

Yato took small, careful bites of the pork bun cradled in his hands and watched as Yukine and Hiyori fetched a lamp and dragged futons out into the middle of the floor until the attic looked almost the same as he remembered. Like someone lived there. Like both he and Yukine lived there.

Hiyori promised to come back the next day before finally leaving when the moon rose, shooting several glances over her shoulder as she went. Kofuku and Daikoku popped in to say goodnight and check up on them before retiring. Yato hoped he would still be around tomorrow to see them. Nothing could be crueler than being given one single day of hope, and he was afraid of going to sleep in case he woke up invisible.

"Come on, already," Yukine said. "Let's get some sleep. We'll have a busy day tomorrow. We need to get you some believers right away, and it's going to take some work."

"Thank you, Yukine," Yato said quietly.

Yukine raised an eyebrow, hand wedged on his hip. "For what?"

Yato's gaze flicked to the shrine on the windowsill and the piles of shining coins they'd collected from the floor and stacked back up in neat piles. "For not forgetting."

A pink flush crept up Yukine's neck and across his cheeks. "Bakagami. Get in bed already." He stomped across the room and grabbed Yato by the elbow to drag him back to the futon. This time, Yato savored the rough touch, the reminder he was alive. "No one is going to forget you again. I'll make sure of it."

And Yato knew better than to believe him, but he smiled and closed his eyes anyway.