Death in Life
"Yaboku." Hiro smiled at him, so sweet, so kind in her honesty whenever she spoke.
Eyes darting, his fingers continued to trail down the blood that was spread across the ground he was crouching on, a small part of the wide area. "I think there is something you might enjoy." She held her hand out, smile so big and soft, regalia so unlike any he had seen full of emotion capable of affecting the God who had named them. But her hand, he found, always remained open to him, an option he never said no to. "Come, let's see it together."
Disembodied corpses were left to be fed on by the crows cawing in the stormy sky, nothing visible except for the disastrous state the world surrounding them. And, oh, the stench of blood and rotting flesh, of bones cracking whenever he stepped on the ones in his path…It was so normal, considering it was the main things he saw in life – nothing else, really.
And the offer Hiro proposed, well…
It was not really an option to accept the offer, because it was not really an offer. Not accepting, not refusing, not doing anything but going with what was given to him, as refusal was not a thought that ever really crossed his mind. Basically, never since he never really sat down to cogitate. It was unnecessary. Not anything he was demanded to do.
The distance between the two hadn't been far – just a few steps, so he came to a halt, and held her hand. This was an action he had done numerous times, to do things he came to find normal, to learn of things he found intriguing.
Never would he ever know the time it took for them to get to their destination, nor what to call the emotions he felt at the sight he witnessed.
There sat a boy on a chair, crying, a small kitchen knife in his hand as blood trickled down his arms.
Hiro pointed at the human through the window they viewed the site through. "Look! One of many humans that found no solution to end their problems but to end their own life so they don't have to deal with their problems."
"What? One of many?" He inquired, feeling utter disgust, or maybe it was disbelief, or shock at the revolting ways of humans, or perhaps just nothing but mild curiosity. "Yes, Yaboku. This is something many humans have found to be a solution."
After watching until the boy had no light left in his eyes, they then arrived at the doorstep matted with dried blood from a girl's cracked open skull. He had turned his gaze up, and wondered what Hiro spoke aloud with boredom in her voice. "She jumped. Tragic, in the eyes of a human."
His insides felt sick, like blood wasn't pumping the right way, like the nauseating feeling from when he saw Sakura become a phantom and his entire being was nearly covered in blight, and his whole body burned as his mind turned queasy, same as the fresh blood that he saw when one human killed another out of spite.
And after the passing of multiple events, including time, he spoke with Rabo about the topic, throwing the question of human life into the open, probably one of the only beings to ever truly understand, or have him understand. "This is not something I can give much insight to, no." Rabo began, as though carefully picking his words, hands moving from the table to the tissue on the table, cleaning the blood that seemed to never come off. "I never pay attention, nor care of their petty lives."
Sighing, Rabo continued under the curious gaze. "Humans…They take what they have without any consideration, erasing the true meanings and worth of their possessions. They lack gratitude, among many things."
"I…" Rabo paused, glancing at him, then back at the tissue he now scrunched into his fist, the anger that lingered returning full force in his eyes.
Yaboku never could consider to understand these traits of the previous human. But, Rabo had become a…friend. Someone he did things together. Spent time doing the same things. It was almost relieving, he thought while swallowing the water that did nothing to his dried throat. He had been awfully thirsty today, but not really. Maybe it was due to the massacre they had put to place. But that wasn't the real problem – that was just a wish. The true issue was that Yaboku saw the man sitting in front of him as someone who could explain things to him when, these human things – emotions? They displayed signs of mistreatment with these new ways Rabo could do things, now that the state of his being had changed.
"I loathe them." Rabo stated finally, a faint sight of the blood still staining his hands putting a grin onto his face. "The casualties they put onto themselves is just an easier way for me to enjoy the suffering they created."
"You do not believe they deserve what they have?" The question ran out of his mouth before he could think of it, and he saw the glint of something in the ally he had, something he always saw when he spoke. Perhaps he was supposed to speak less. Or more. Probably less.
Rabo stood, grabbing the head of one corpse, staring at it for a moment, then throwing it aside to return back to the table. "They do not notice all they acquire by simply being alive." Turning to stare at him, Rabo leaned back in his chair. "Would you consider one who takes the life of another or their own to be…good?"
Shaking his head seemed to be the right answer, but Rabo gave no response to his answer, and he didn't have time to dwell on anything more as his heart spiked at seeing a small, tiny fragment of a regalia floating far from where they were, yet visible to his sharp eyes.
If that regalia would taint his mind with blight as well, because it seemed like that was all regalia did – except for Hiro. She never hurt him like that. If they did that, then should he ever get another?
Then Hiro joined them from the other side of the room with ears of humans in a bag, smiling at Yaboku as she handed him the bag. "Father will be proud."
Right. This killing had been one of his better acts, one of hundred lives. Possibly a bit more.
Time and time again, he killed. Granting wishes. To those despised, or those wishing the worst towards other humans.
"Please, don't." The woman holding a baby pleaded when she saw the god of calamity, her husband lying on the ground beside her, pool of blood beneath his head.
Holding onto the tiny bit of hope he had left – that these granting of wishes would lead to believers, to having a shrine, he treaded lightly on the icy ground on the lake.
It was winter, the air frosty while every breath he took in felt like the numbing of his insides was thrice the usual. And the sobbing of the woman, like every other human he ever interacted with for the short few moments, not stopping. "I, I have money. I-"
The hand he held the weapon against the human was lax, yet dull shade of blue eyes, gaze of steel remained as he raised the weapon. "Oh, god, please, forgive my sins – I have a child – let my baby live, I beg of you-" Her begging was unheard, her shaking and trembling form holding her baby whilst her voice cut off, the slash of the air led to a slash against skin, a beautiful spray of blood soaking the icy floor, the sounds of the infant crying stopping the next moment as well.
And when he took a step, foot soaking in the blood, clothing drenched in it, the ice cracked.
Again, time passed. Time that he thought was just a blur, yet it was full of events. Events stained with the blood of corrupt regalia that also corrupted their god – a god such as Bishamon herself…It had been shocking to even be contacted by the one regalia who didn't even appear to be processing the events. Yet, the determination that regalia had…
Yaboku envied that he didn't have such a devout regalia who would be by his side, and so pure, with no ill will, nor any intent on killing living beings.
Yes, Yaboku thought while standing in a spot far from but still able to see the shrine of Bishamon. This was what he was meant to do. And the words Hiro spoke, again, caused his insides to churn, yet he knew not of any way that the emotion felt, he could explain in words.
"We have a few more tasks left – though we could always continue any time. You can go if you'd like after we are done for the time being."
It was simple – the tasks. Not anything difficult, but the pain he saw in the eyes of those pitiful humans he slayed once again caused him to grimace in what he labelled as disgust. It couldn't be anything much. Couldn't be anything ridiculous as wishing that he would do something other than cause pain unto others.
Standing by a river, trying to wash his hands of the blood that had splattered, on his face and his hands and everywhere and all across his clothing.
There was too much blood. But that wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
Breathing out a slow exhale, he watched the fog that quickly appeared and then disappeared.
Similar to his own emotions, he mused.
"Um, excuse me?" That was the voice of that regalia, what was it, Kazuma? The regalia of Bishamon. Hm, he had seen that regalia more and more often, though he assumed it was due to nothing. An intertwining of different reasons, perhaps, a mere occurrence with no reason behind it.
Washing his hands, he winced as he accidentally put his hand on a thorny plant on the grass whilst changing his seating position.
He put his hands in the water, and watched as the water continued on changing colour, from clear and transparent to a dark shade of rosy red. "Lord Yato?"
The name made him feel mixed emotions, if anything, but like the water that moved and stopped moving, he felt it for a moment, human emotions, then it was gone.
…Oh, it appeared Kazuma had actually been trying to get his attention – it was always his assumption that nobody had real intent to be involved in anything relating to him.
Moving his head, he glanced at the regalia shifting from one foot to another despite the overly thick winter clothing he wore, like he was shivering. Was he shivering? Was he cold? How could the regalia be cold when that comfortable appearing and seemingly warm clothing was draped over him?
Yato certainly felt little towards the winter, still in a kimono, as he had worn throughout a long while.
Squinting at the regalia, he saw a flinch, and eyes of terror. Fear. Nothing unusual about that. Not when anyone was around him.
Then the regalia did the unusual, and approached him, face twisting into a tense, small smile. "Uh, I apologize for interrupting, but I am here to give this." He said, and Yato noticed the bag he had in his gloved hands.
What?
Laying his hands palm up onto the snow, he relaxed, and turned so to face Kazuma. "Oh, dear! Your hand is bleeding!" He heard the concern and worry, and, again, sat there confused. Why was this regalia stressing about something so mundane? It wasn't anything anyone ever did – fretting over such a small thing.
It didn't matter.
It was nothing.
He was…
"Lord Yato, please allow me to wrap your hand with some dressing." Kazuma said, such determination in his voice as he stared with pleading eyes. It must've been due to that one act of granting a wish without payment – of payment that was given in small acts over the centuries.
He gave a slow nod, staring at the way the regalia quickly took out something from the bag. His eyes scanned the hair that was shorter, and the tinge of pain while he showed his cut palm.
Why was the regalia feeling pain? One that was not even his own to be felt?
More and more questions wandered around in his mind as he exhaled again and watched the fog, appear then disappear. And then he watched as the regalia, with more precision than he thought the regalia would have, cover his hand in some clean cloth. His eyes then turned to the snow that fell on the trees, his mind feeling blank.
"I'm sorry, but this was all I could manage to bring." Turning back, he saw as Kazuma took out a garment appearing so soft and so warm, and then as though mad, handed it to him.
Gingerly taking it, slowly taking it so to look at it more closely, his eyes flickered over to Kazuma taking out a box big enough for a bird nest to be built in it. "Here is some food – I was uncertain what type you would prefer, so I tried to add some of everything." Wow.
Yato stared at the regalia as though he were mad, because that had to be the reason for such a mad behaviour of meddling with a god of calamity out of one's own accord.
Putting the box back into the bag, Kazuma dared a glance at the silent god, and found himself to be unnerved of the cold stare.
Kazuma cleared his throat, and shifted his focus on the wind that howled around them. "You should wear this," he said with caution, gesturing at what was in Yato's hands. "I hope it will be enough to keep you warm."
Something was stuck in Yato's throat, he was sure. Otherwise, what was this sensation? He felt almost as though he were drowning as Kazuma spoke his farewell, wishing him good things to come in his life. For everything to be well.
"And, Lord Yato? If there is ever anything troubling you, I will be here to listen." That had nearly caused him to be unable to breathe.
Which may indicate underlying problems he was starting to have, physically. Because, after putting on the warm clothing, he found himself warming up so quickly, the feeling so foreign, he had gone and put it back inside the bag. The food, he had stared at for hours, just trying to wrap his head around the fact that someone had given him something. Was this an offering? A return of a favour? Some way for Kazuma trying to repent for the wish that had been granted? What else could it be other than Kazuma wanting redemption? And more questions, he thought of, and then his head hurt, so he just stared, feeling snow fall.
Then, after another few decades, there was an instance in which he felt surprise while standing in the heat of the warm weather outside by a road. "Kazuma, you're wearing spectacles."
A hot flare rushed to Kazuma's head at the statement, and he scratched his cheek as he stared at a flower by the side of the road. "Yes. I took your advice, and found truth in your words." The kimono Kazuma wore appeared new, and Yato curiously kept staring at the spectacles. He stared intently, then concentrated on what was said.
What was he talking about? Yato had once mentioned the lack of perceiving something humans could identify, something oddly enough Kazuma could not – of course, without the skill Kazuma had as a regalia.
But, that, that had just been a small comment, nothing of import.
"These really allow me to see clearly." Kazuma said with a meek smile, an actual smile adorning his expression as he approached Yato – closer than he had ever really come, so much so that Yato could see the clear green eye colour, and, was the regalia taller than him? It seemed nearly possible, but he was more focused on the spectacles Kazuma pointed at. "See the glass? Looking through them, I can view things better, as it is very helpful for my sight."
Humming in acknowledgment, Yato spoke again, and, getting another widening of eyes when he did. "I saw Bishamon with more regalia. Is she getting new ones?"
Kazuma rarely heard Yato speak, and if he did at all in the past, he was gradually speaking a bit more. Just a bit more. Sometimes asking what came to mind, other times commenting on observations. Nothing more, really.
Though there were odd times where he was strangely quiet…Kazuma filled those times with his own words. "Um, yes, that is correct."
"That sounds…" Yato didn't finish his sentence, like he did sometimes.
Kazuma gulped, and opened his mouth to change the subject, but was stopped before he could. "The same event may happen as it did in the past. Do you have trust in those regalia to remain vigilant and in the right path? They may cross the line beyond."
Sometimes, Kazuma found that Yato spoke a lot. Just sometimes, he was speaking so much, it was shocking him to the core. But, giving a happy smile, he also found this to be good, as during these times, he saw Yato less as a god of calamity, and more as a friend. An acquaintance. Someone he would gladly help.
"I have no doubts the new regalia will serve her well."
Then, Yato had gotten himself a regalia, similar to how he did so every once in a while. And this regalia, so uncaring and unbothered, remained sustainable at the beginning.
However, Yato later had to dispose himself of the regalia after using it for a job.
Another time, after having meeting Kofuku, a god of poverty – she had insisted he call her by her name – he got another regalia, and he couldn't bother to remember what number of regalia this was he named. And when he returned, a while later, after some time with Hiro where his insides churned for some reason that didn't seem to have anything to do with the regalia that he named…Kofuku had told him of how the regalia had come to her shrine, looking for him.
It had taken him a moment to understand that Kofuku had been acting so close to him, like a close friend. Which was ridiculous even as a thought.
But then Daikoku, the regalia of Kofuku, had offered for them to have a meal together before Yato left. For Yato to join them, asking it however warily he may have. Maybe it had something to do with the blood he hadn't felt like doing something about on his clothing.
There were countless times he cleaned his hands and clothes and everything of blood. He didn't want to do it much anymore…It felt tiring.
Having nothing else to do, and wanting to know what it would be like, Yato had given a nod, and gotten a happy squeal from Kofuku, which had honestly caused him to stare at her, not understanding why she sounded so full of joy.
And then they had a meal, something Yato would remember for forever, as it was something he never had with those peaceful and positive.
It had been quite relaxing and left a happy memory in his mind. Nothing related to blood, fresh or dry, nor of life, or death, or taking a life. He relished in the fact that this became a common habit. For them to have their door open, allowing him into their home those few times he visited, times that turned from once a decade to a couple times, to a few times a year, all the way to him visiting them once every few months.
He had made a relationship with them, however fragile he found it to be, and did not speak most of the time – and if he did, it was just normal things like comments, questions, or answers.
Another decade, and he had a sudden thought. Everyone around him acted quite positively, smiling, and so chipper. It may have been Kofuku, albeit Yato still had the nagging feeling he was the one behaving oddly.
So, he inquired his thoughts with Kazuma after returning – Yato had been away doing the ordinary acts of striking down the people humans wished gone. "Should I behave in a more joyful manner? What do you think?" He asked, yet Kazuma stared with his mouth hung open, eyes with terror Yato had not seen for a bit.
Oh, it must've been due to having forgotten to clean himself up before doing anything else. He was covered in blood.
Tilting his head, he kept looking at the alarming and panicky expression on Kazuma's face, one which quickly cleared into a neutral expression. "I believe you have no need to change. Though…" Kazuma halted, and stared back.
There was no way Kazuma could express his beliefs of how frightening the god of calamity was, or that nothing would change that fact, especially not any masking of actions. It was also impossible for Kazuma to say how Yato could change. "Yato," he began, having forgone the title not too recently after Yato demanded so, possibly due to lady Kofuku, the god Yato had met. Her aura was certainly different. She was much more informal than most.
And informative, as Kazuma had met her a while back whilst looking for Yato, even having dinner with her, Yato, and the regalia Daikoku. Of course, he had spoken out his wishes of keeping his being there private and for nobody else to know. He felt quite uplifted as the three had given him their word nobody would even know they met.
"Should I act like Kofuku?" Yato pondered, mostly to himself, but saw the uncertainty glint in Kazuma's eyes as he closed in on him with a basket of wet cloth. "Perhaps not like her, but rather your own way. If you wish to be carefree, you can do that." Kazuma stated, wisely choosing the words he used, thinking for a few moments before he spoke.
With care, Kazuma then stared at Yato as he held one cloth he took out from the basket. "I can assist in…clean-up of your most recent venture."
And Yato had, unbeknownst to Kazuma, allowed the assistance in an attempt to socialize more often, as it appeared everyone did, and as there was nothing appearing wrong with that, Yato wanted to try it out.
Truthfully, the first times Yato had personally tries socializing with those around him, intentionally, it had been exhausting.
It was so unnecessary, yet Yato started to be fonder of a few around him after doing so for a while.
And then, he came to enjoy little human things, be it emotions he felt, events he saw humans attend, or even the time spent with Kofuku and Daikoku, and Kazuma.
Among that, he also saw massacres, murders, and continued the cycle of killing. Of going to Hiro when he was called upon, and doing tasks he was supposed to do.
He was a god of calamity. Nothing would change that.
And life being taken was nothing odd.
Blood was always spilling.
There was no end.
No change.
"I see you have a new attire." Kazuma smiled as he spoke, with much higher spirits than when compared to the time they met. It had been a while since the incident. And now, as Kazuma sat on the grass beside Yato, it was obvious things had changed.
For one, Kazuma had cut his hair much shorter, while Yato had slightly shortened his own, neither of them tying their hair. And for another, Kazuma had changed his clothing to something like that of a uniform – Yato had been unsure what it was about since he saw other regalia that were with Bishamon, all wearing the same thing.
And Yato had just gotten a brand-new outfit!
"Yes!" Yato said, excited, and pleased with the response to his new outfit choice. "I'm surprised how well your decisions are when giving something to someone, and about what suits who best. I love this outfit so much!" He exclaimed, hands thrown into the air as he jumped up, and then sat back down.
It was true, yes, Yato did love the outfit he wore. It was probably the first one he got that was from someone who gave it to him for no actual reason, and not because they wanted him to do something for them.
Oh, and the personality Yato had?
…He tried to change it so to appear more carefree, as Kazuma had put it. Yato could tell it unnerved the blessed regalia – another shock Yato had when he first realized it.
The way Yato acted, though, was not easy, and he tried to act like Kazuma half the time, happy without much worries. It also helped mimicking Kofuku's ways at times, though sometimes it was too difficult for Yato to keep up the pretences. But mostly, it was just Yato, copying certain actions he saw from those around them so to appear less dangerous and more open. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps this would be a way for more believers to hopefully be there for him.
He would not admit this was a reason he barely believed but made up so to keep himself appearing carefree and positive rather than cold and emotionless and the way he really was.
And, sure, it still happened – disappearing, and returning, finding that the regalia he had at the time went to Kofuku to look for him.
Also…
Since he began behaving differently, bit by bit, Daikoku had began warming up to him so much that there were times the regalia went as far as lecture him to behave properly.
That had actually made Yato feel humour. And he knew Daikoku wasn't serious about these small pinpricks of scolding him, as it was nothing more than playing about.
And Kofuku seemed to like this new way Yato behaved, Kazuma too.
So, Yato repeatedly acted in ways he would never consider, doing them only to see the outcome and if it was fun or not.
Of course, none of the new ways he acted were actually funny. It was all just…a mask.
Blood was still spilling. Lives were still being taken.
There was nothing in existence that could cover that fact.
Only thing Yato could do was change the way people saw him, so he could believe it too. So that he could also believe he was…Good. Not killing innocents or guilty humans or anyone. Nothing to do with blood being shed.
It was good to be seen in such a positive light, and it made him feel happy. So, he obviously kept it on, going further and further into the act.
Then, the regalia he named started to leave.
Or blight him.
And so, each one he named, he did not have shortly.
Kazuma spoke his worry in this matter, and so had Kofuku – Daikoku shaking his head at the bad luck Yato had at finding a good regalia, wishing him the best of luck at this delicate topic.
At one point, Yato had sat against a tree, relaxing after going to the trouble of getting all the blight off that had occurred due to another failed regalia. He watched as a man crossed from one side of the road to another, but there was an incoming vehicle, which then collided with the man who had obviously known of the vehicles passing by because nobody walked into the middle of the road like that when the vehicle was visible.
Another loss of life.
But, as Yato watched the blood flow out, he felt nothing much for the loss of life.
And then, while walking by Tenjin's shrine – a place he had grown to like as well, despite the fact that the god of learning wasn't too much fun…Yato saw a dead rat. Two of them were quick to flee, but the stench reminded him of memories he'd rather not think of.
Anyway, his personality – or mask, whichever one preferred to call it – had developed a lot more, so he was now nearly in the same level, if not better than the super positive way of Kofuku.
He walked past the dead animal, and thought about what to do for the next little while, when he spotted Bishamon.
His luck, as amazing as ever, had her noticing him. "You!" She yelled, her new attire – no longer the regalia that had the form of an armour but rather a summer outfit-like clothing showing half of her skin. He'd think the armour would be more effective. Or that she wouldn't be so quick to stop using one regalia for another.
It would surely cause problems.
Quickly, he ran, and somehow managed to get her off his tail.
Even better, he found a new regalia, naming her Tomone – it was like his luck was getting better, but if he thought of that, it was all surely going to turn sour.
And for three months, it seemed as though things were going well. His mask was very well put to use, and she didn't appear all too bothered by the living conditions like some of his previous regalia, and didn't even bring up the point about him charging his client's 5 yen like most of the regalia he had before. And he also liked how she didn't really sting him like those certain few that led to him being relieved after getting rid of them.
But on a day where nothing seemed out of the ordinary, she demanded to be released, and he did.
Honestly, he had felt sad about it. He thought she may stick around.
It had been a while since he had named another regalia, as he just didn't want to deal with the stinging and emotions that were so riled up in these regalia who were once human.
Now that he released her, though, he wasn't sure what to do.
He had noticeably started speaking his thoughts aloud, one thing that helped him take the voices of others out of his mind – like Hiro, who he had not contacted in any way for a while.
Memories of his past, of her voice, all those things he'd rather not contemplate were etched into his mind, but he tried to not think of it by thinking out loud, saying his goals and thoughts and everything out loud so to ground himself and his mask and remember what he was doing and, more importantly, why he was doing it.
When he caused a human to turn into a half-phantom, he concluded his luck to be bad.
The issue, he considered, to end with cutting the ties between this girl, Hiyori, and the far shore. But he couldn't without a regalia.
After all he experienced and learned, he knew it would be wrong to just kill her. Taking out the problem did not solve it, after all. It only made it disappear completely, with no trace of it ever being there to begin with.
Good thing he learned the important stuff when he was younger, he couldn't help thinking, even though his actions were still against the morals of humans.
Morality wasn't the issue. Having principals wasn't the issue. Only issue was how he chose to act in the options he was given.
When he was given the option to take a regalia and name him, he did. He had thought, why not? So, he did.
And when he got stung, but thought, hey, this human girl is a half-phantom now. I could be half-dead.
Nobody would even really care anyway.
So, he tried to see how it would be – if the new regalia he had, Yukine, would take it that far.
Even if it did happen, though, he knew it would either end with his death, which would honestly be something he would be surprised took this long, with having so few believers and granting wishes that came so rarely for him to grant – most being wishes that were seen to be gruesome, filled with death. Also, the fact that he had been chased by Bishamon, a mighty war god, for centuries, for that one act of granting a wish that saved her life.
He shook his head at that, wondering if she would ever thank him for what he did.
Then he wondered if she knew what he did saved her life, but she hated him anyway.
Glancing at the sleeping form of Yukine, the moon illuminated in the dark sky, he knew it would either end well, or it wouldn't.
He hated that a small part of him wished it would all turn out fine. Because it was an obvious fact that no human ever remained without emotion.
Always, always, they always had emotions fleeting around.
Right now, as they used the shrine belonging to Tenjin, he sniffed the air, grimacing at the thought of having to deal with more storms on the way, hand coming to rub at his neck.
He was too blighted to fight too much as he normally would.
Falling too weak. To be too ill.
But he could manage.
And so, he did.
The jobs coming their way, he accepted left and right, and did what he could. He tried to show Yukine what action was right, and what action was wrong. And when Nora came along, he tried to get her off his mind, trying to not consider her as an option, but a refused option that was no longer thought about.
And the human, Hiyori, well, he really didn't mind having someone there playing house with Yukine, trying her best to have him live like a normal living human by inviting him to be in her house.
Then, when his condition was too much, and he lay on the ground in front of Kofuku's shrine, he could half hear the firm words from Daikoku telling Yukine to not move. After that, he thought he heard the regalia who left him to join Tenjin, Mayu as she was now…He thought he heard her speaking. And then, he could vaguely recall hearing Kazuma, yet he thought he was hallucinating, as they hadn't spoken in a while, and he thought it was his mind playing tricks.
But then there was an actual ablution.
He'd never really had one before.
It was excruciating.
On more than half the time, he thought of just killing Yukine himself. Or releasing the nearly phantom that remained in the confines of the borders.
When he heard the panic in Kazuma's voice, which was unusual in itself, and then Daikoku, shouting his own worries in the open, and Mayu there trying despite her words she spoke aloud, of how the ablution wasn't working.
A part of him had understood then, how humans found pain too much, and wished it to be over.
He had wanted the pain to stop.
It had, but he had almost given up hope, almost given up everything then.
But he survived.
Yukine was good now. Hiyori had helped. Kofuku had remained by him, Kazuma, Daikoku, and even Mayu were there by his side to assist.
But blood was still spilling.
And he still used Nora to cut flesh, watching as the blood soaked the ground, the body falling limp, lifeless.
Perhaps he should halt this to soak in the positive progress he had made in his life – he would dare say he made friends and found the one regalia, and then the issue with Bishamon had even been solved.
All of that was great, truly.
But the fact of blood running in the water remained.
"Come, now. You will always have us, Yato. We will never abandon you. We will always remain by your side."
"Tell me, Yato. Who made me a Nora?"
"I can cut anything in your way, just say the word."
Those words Nora said, always ran in his mind, jumbled up, but meaning the same thing.
He needed Hiro. He needed nobody else. She would not leave him.
But he was treading the road to success by himself along with those he was surrounded by, carefully doing so.
Perhaps Rabo was right. Perhaps did take what they had for granted. Perhaps Hiro was right in saying he was the one at fault when making her a Nora. Perhaps Yukine was right in saying he could carve his own path to succeeding as a god of fortune.
It was all up to what the future had in mind.
If he were to continue on doing the usual killing, the wish he was created from, he would be fine with that.
If he became a god of fortune who had lots of fortune, and was famous, and was known by all, it would be great.
If the one believer he was certain he had right now, Hiyori, forgot, or died soon enough, and he vanished, that would be okay.
If Yukine left, he would try to pick up the pieces of himself that believed so much in his now blessed regalia – oh, wow, he had a blessed regalia! He could never believe it himself, and always kept checking to make sure.
However, Yato knew not of what lay ahead, but of what he had now.
He had friends, daresay a new family, and a place he could belong.
If only for a bit longer.
He hoped…
He hoped it would last.