Wow, did I really leave you guys hanging for a month? Sorry x.x Been so busy that it slipped my mind.

Aofery: Ha ha, thanks. This is definitely the longest of my Noragami fics, anyway lol Yeah, those are my favorite kinds of character studies too :) This one is a bit more focused on Yukine, but in the context of everything going on with Yato, poor guy. They're going to have a rough go of it.

Chapter 4

(In which Yato has a grim theory about his condition and his father is an ass.)

Shinki paused in the halls to watch the procession with wide eyes.

"Is he okay?" Karuha asked as she drew up short in a doorway farther ahead, her brother peeking out of the room behind her.

Yukine swallowed hard and forced his feet to move a little faster to keep up with Kazuma's brisk strides. Kazuma was surprisingly gentle with the limp god cradled in his arms, and the apparent ease with which he handled him only made Yato seem smaller and more insubstantial.

And that was saying something, since Yato already looked like death. His jacket covered the blight once more, but his skin had a deathly pallor and there were tight, pained lines sketched across his face even though his eyes remained closed. His neck and limbs dangled lifelessly, like something was broken inside him, and there was a ragged wheeze staining the air passing between his lips that made it sound like he was fighting for every breath.

There had been a time, only a few days before, when he had been bright and vibrant and laughing. And even though he had been withdrawn and subdued since his rescue, he had still been moving about and talking and being some semblance of himself. How had it changed so quickly?

"Fine, fine," Bishamon said with a tight smile as she led the way down the hall with quick, clipped strides. "He just hasn't recovered from his injuries and overexerted himself. We'll just bring him back to his room to rest."

Right, because they couldn't tell anyone else what was really happening until they had figured it out and could be sure handing that knowledge out wouldn't endanger Yato further. They couldn't risk telling anyone about the possession. So they also couldn't tell them that blight was eating away at his skin underneath the jacket and shirt and bandages, that they had tried everything they could think of to cleanse it and it refused to budge, that he was coughing up blood as if he were five times as blighted as he actually was.

"Well… I hope he's feeling better soon." Karuha drifted back a step as they hurried past, making Kazuha squawk and complain about her stepping on his foot.

Yukine rushed past without a second glance. Hiyori hurried along at his side, and their gazes met for a brief moment. He could see the same fear and worry he felt reflected in her eyes. They didn't understand what was happening to Yato or how to fix it, and their minds wouldn't be put at ease until they did.

The unruly cadence of Yato's breath shifted ever so slightly, and he pulled in a shuddering breath like a sigh as his eyes fluttered halfway open.

"Yato?" Hiyori asked.

Yato's eyes slid back and forth, drifting across the faces gathered around him as he tried to orient himself. "What happened?" he mumbled, his voice raspy and weak.

"Before or after you started coughing up blood and collapsed?" Bishamon asked tightly, throwing a glance back over her shoulder as she turned down the hallway towards Yato's borrowed room.

"Um…" Yato's brows knit together above sleep-addled, bewildered eyes. "I don't remember that."

"That might be because you were unconscious," Kazuma said.

"Are you alright?" Hiyori demanded, practically leaning across Yukine to get a better look at Yato as she hurried to keep up. "I mean, obviously you aren't. How are you feeling? I mean, not great, but–"

"S'okay," Yato slurred. "Calm down." He blinked up at Kazuma. "I can walk."

"Uh-huh," Kazuma said, unimpressed. "Stay still."

Yato hung limp like a ragdoll despite his assertion, and the fact that he didn't insist on walking was a good indication that he really wasn't up to it. He was like a puppet with its strings cut, and it hit Yukine like a punch to the gut the second the thought crossed his mind because wasn't that exactly what Yato was? His dad was definitely doing his best to make him a puppet, and Yato clearly wasn't doing well even when that plan had been foiled. Was there no way to win?

"Oh, I see," Yato said, dropping his voice to a hushed murmur. "You're practicing for when you finally have the guts to ask Veena to marry you."

It wasn't quite Yato's normal spark when his face was pinched with pain and every word that passed his lips seemed to take great effort, but at least he was trying. Unfortunately, even that wasn't enough to make the bridal carry amusing.

"Hush," Kazuma hissed.

Bishamon glanced back. "What was that?"

He turned red and looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. "N-nothing!"

Yukine was disgusted by the display. How could Yato put up such a pale charade at a time like this? How could the others fall into step?

"When were you going to tell us?" he asked harshly. "When were you going to tell us about–?"

"We'll talk when we get to the room," Bishamon interrupted, shooting a look at two shinki talking further down the hall.

Yukine twisted his mouth shut, unsaid words curdling sour on his tongue, and glared at the floor.

"You okay, kid?" Yato asked in a breathy sigh.

Yukine snorted loudly and crossed his arms over his chest. Yeah, because he was the one who was messed up. Still, he obediently tamped down his emotions as best he could. Yato was enough of a mess without them.

He kept his mouth clamped shut as Bishamon deflected questions from her shinki and led them back to the room. Hiyori, Kofuku, and Daikoku fussed over Yato enough without Yukine's help anyway.

Bishamon pulled the covers back from the bed and Kazuma laid Yato down gently as everyone crowded around.

"Daikoku, close the door, please," Bishamon ordered.

He did, and suddenly they were closeted away again, tucked in a secret little corner while they hid from the world and scrambled to figure this out. Yato lay exactly where Kazuma had put him, like it was too much energy to move even a little, and eyed the gathering tiredly.

"So…"

"The blight!" Yukine burst out. "When were you going to tell us about the blight?"

Yato stared back blankly. "What?"

Bishamon shook her head and pulled up the hem of his jacket and shirt, careful not to let her fingers graze his skin. "We couldn't cleanse it. The purification water did nothing."

Yato tilted his head ever so slightly to get a better look at the purple blotches bleeding out from beneath the bandages. "Oh. That explains a lot."

Everyone stared at him like he was crazy.

"Really?" Kazuma asked. "Because that's the exact opposite of what we thought."

"Mm." Yato dropped his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. "Would explain why I keep feeling like I'm blighted when I can't find blight anywhere. Yeah, I don't think you can cleanse that."

"Why not?" Hiyori's voice rose sharply in pitch. "Why isn't the purification water working?"

"You gotta cleanse it at the source," Yato mumbled. "Normally ayakashi blight you at the point of contact."

"Yes, so–"

"It was inside me, Hiyori."

The words fell over the room like a ton of bricks. Hiyori actually stepped back, eyes widening and mouth falling open into a startled 'o', and the dawning horror on everyone's faces was perfectly legible.

Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place with a resounding, sickening thud, and it left Yukine reeling. The ayakashi had been inside Yato. The blight was inside Yato. Yato's listlessness and discomfort, his skin burning to the touch, the coughed-up blood when the visible blight wasn't advanced enough to warrant it…

Yukine's stomach turned over with a sickly flop.

"The reason it seems to be spreading out from the wound…" Bishamon swallowed loudly enough to be audible.

"Seems to be spreading awful fast," Yato murmured. He looked so small there, stretched out on the bed half-curled up with his eyes closed.

"But–but–why can't we at least cleanse what we can see?" Hiyori demanded.

"Maybe Yato-chan could drink purification water?" Kofuku suggested.

Daikoku cleared his throat and said, "I…don't think that would work."

She visibly deflated. "Me neither. But there has to be something we can do."

Bishamon rounded on Yato, her face set in hard lines. "You have to cut your connection with it."

Yato snorted. "How do you expect me to do that? It's not a shinki. I'm not the one who forged the bond."

"What do you mean?" Yukine asked. The sweet tang of copper tickled his tongue as he steadily chewed through the inside of his cheek.

"I don't know," Bishamon said with a harsh sigh. "But it seems like when a shinki is blighting their master and you can't cleanse the blight unless you cleanse the shinki or cut the bond. There's obviously some kind of connection keeping them bound together."

"Guess it is sort of like a shinki," Yato mused. "And sort of not."

"I don't understand," Hiyori said as she looked between Yato and Bishamon uncertainly.

"We use our lives to name shinki. The reason we feel their emotions and bear the blight of their sins… That connection exists because we bind shinki to our very lives. An ayakashi isn't the same, but… Father gave it my name and bound it to my life as a sort of cheat to make this whole possession thing work on a god. There must be something keeping the blight in check while it's actually possessing me, but that protection disappears when it's not inside me and it becomes something closer to when Ebisu was naming ayakashi like shinki and blighting himself. When it's something bound to my life that's the source of the problem, you have to fix the problem there, where it originates. Just like how we would have to fix a problem within a shinki to fix the blight it's inflicting on a god."

"But an ayakashi can't undergo an ablution, and Yato-chan can't just release it," Kofuku said solemnly.

"So our only option is to kill it," Bishamon finished.

Daikoku nodded slowly, his lips turned down in a frown. "Those are the three ways to deal with a shinki blighting their master. If the bond is similar enough, then theoretically it could work."

Yukine perked up at this very sensible and feasible solution. He seized on it hungrily. This was good. This meant they had some kind of plan they could put into action instead of just grasping at straws and panicking in the dark. It meant he could do something.

"That shouldn't be a problem," he said. "We kill ayakashi all the time. We're pros."

"It won't be you," Kazuma said, his eyes sympathetic but firm. "Yato isn't in any state to be hunting ayakashi, nor should he leave Takamagahara until this issue is resolved. It's too risky, and we can't afford to fight him if he's possessed again."

This also seemed eminently sensible to Yukine, who nodded. "Yeah, he's safer here and he's a mess right now. But I can–"

"No." Yato struggled to twist around and prop himself up on a shaky elbow. He fixed Yukine with a hard, unyielding stare. "You will stay here and not leave Takamagahara. We can't afford for Father to get his hands on you."

Yukine scowled. "But I have to do something!"

"Then stay here where you're safe and we don't have to worry about you."

"But–"

"Let me be clear," Yato said. "If Father captures you, I will come after you. And then he will have both of us. He'll possess me again, and by then I'm sure he'll have found a way to override what little control I have left and force me to call you. And then we'll go on a killing spree. Let's not go there."

"Then don't come after me if something happens!"

Yato shook his head, gaze flat and turned inward. "If I were a better, more practical god, then I probably wouldn't. But I'm not, so. If you or Hiyori are captured, I will walk straight into his trap because I'm not going to leave you behind. So the most useful thing you can do right now is make sure that doesn't happen."

Yukine opened his mouth, closed it again. His heart twisted into knots inside his ribcage.

Yato was being foolish. And selfish. The right thing to do would be to sacrifice a shinki to save potentially hundreds of lives. But this was Yato, and he was loyal to a fault. He was no stranger to death or tragedy, and he very well might stand by and watch it happen if it meant saving Yukine or Hiyori. He would burn the world down for them if he had to. The world had never done much for him anyway, so maybe it was more amazing that he would go to the lengths he already did to help its inhabitants. But when it came down to it, he would choose the one or two people who meant everything to him over the thousands who had never looked at him twice.

And it was unbearably stupid, and maybe a bit callous, but Yukine understood. It was the same way that he knew if Yato was possessed again and went on a killing spree, he would still fight to stop Bishamon from killing him to put an end to it. He would do everything he could to prevent it from getting to that point, but when it came down to the wire, he would choose Yato every time. So maybe he was selfish too, maybe that made him a potentially dangerous guidepost, but that was the way things were.

As much as he hated Yato tying his hands on this, could he really complain when he would do the same if their positions were reversed? They could be selfish together, and maybe take comfort in the fact that there was someone who would come for them no matter what.

"Neither of you are to leave," Bishamon said with heavy finality, shooting them both a wary look like she knew exactly what they were thinking. "We'll set up extra security around the mansion, so it's safer for you to stay inside. It will be an unmitigated disaster if the sorcerer gets his hands on you, and I doubt we'll be able to undo things as easily as last time. So don't get caught.

"Kazuma and I will hunt down the ayakashi and kill it. I'd rather not involve anyone else, but… We'll bring the team that already saw the first confrontation, but we won't update them on any sensitive information or your condition. They already know that the ayakashi needs to be killed and the brush recovered, even if they don't know the rest of it. If anyone asks, Yato had a nasty run-in with the sorcerer and is recovering here because he's being targeted for unknown reasons. Don't show off the blight or open your big mouth. We'll take care of the ayakashi."

"Good luck with that," Yato muttered. He dropped his head back on the pillow and stared off into space with eyes that were dull and unenthused. "You'll have a hell of a time finding it, I'm sure."

"I'm sure we can track it down," Kazuma said.

"Yeah, because you had so much luck tracking me down. Father knows our only chance is killing it, so you'd better believe he'll keep it in hiding until the great unveiling. He's confident that I'll come crawling back on my own—or that you'll convince me to when we can't find the ayakashi in time before the blight becomes fatal. He's the only one who can reverse it if we can't kill the thing."

"We'll find it," Bishamon said firmly.

"We can help too," Kofuku added.

Yato shook his head. "No, you and Daikoku keep an eye on Hiyori, okay?" His gaze snapped to Hiyori's face, eyes shining with intensity. "And you be careful. If you so much as glimpse my father, call me right away, okay? And Kofuku can get you back to Takamagahara quickly if things get any worse."

Hiyori nodded once and swallowed hard. "Okay," she whispered. Her hands fisted in her skirt, white-knuckled.

"You're so stupid," Yukine said. "You shouldn't have run off on your own like an idiot."

"I think he was already planning this either way, but…" Yato's lips curled into a sheepish sort of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I let my guard down and he snuck up on me. Sorry for messing things up like usual."

Yukine hunched his shoulders. "You'd better be."

"It's okay, kid." Yato's eyes softened to the warm blue of the sky on a sunny day. "You'll be okay."

Yukine was so caught up in all the craziness of the past couple days that it wasn't until after Hiyori had gone home and Bishamon had gone off to search for the ayakashi and Yato's room had been declared off-limits while the god rested that he realized Yato hadn't said 'we'.

Yukine had already been pacing the hallways around the front door with the ferocity of a caged beast for nearly two hours, so he was the first to pounce on Bishamon when she stepped inside.

"Did you find anything?" he demanded before she'd had the chance to even shut the door.

Hiyori poked her head out of the room a short ways down the hall where she'd found a place to sit while she waited, and hurried out to join them. Yato had retreated to his bed after having another coughing fit a couple hours ago, and Yukine and Hiyori had had nothing to do but wait anxiously for Bishamon's return since then. Poor Hiyori had only just gotten there after school, too. Yato said he didn't mind if they stayed, but Yukine had made the executive decision to leave him in peace while he rested.

Yato might be putting on a good show of wandering around the mansion and bothering Bishamon's shinki, but he lacked his normal spark and moved gingerly and looked more pale and pinched and pained by the minute. And as his coughing spells worsened and the blight crept slowly across his abdomen and ever further, he was spending more and more time curled under the covers with a glazed-over expression as he halfheartedly tried to keep up with a conversation to reassure Yukine and Hiyori.

Well, they were not reassured, and the speed and severity of Yato's decline was alarming. They needed good news and fast.

But Bishamon's lips tightened and she shook her head as she reverted all her shinki and shooed them off. "Nothing," she said. "We've found nothing."

"Even I haven't been able to pick up a single trace," Kazuma said grimly.

"Well, what have you been doing?" Yukine asked, throwing his hands up as his frustration bubbled over. "We're running out of time!"

It had already been two days with no results, and more and more of Yato's pale skin was eaten away as it bled purplish-black and crimson. They couldn't send him back to his dad and the horrible fate that awaited him there, but what good was it if they couldn't get rid of the ayakashi that was killing him?

"I'm sure they're doing everything they can," Hiyori said. She kept her voice conciliatory, even though there were new creases lining her face and she looked like she might be about to cry.

"We've found lots of ayakashi, but not the one we're looking for," Bishamon agreed, frustration and hopelessness bleeding into her voice like poison.

"Well, I did warn you that it wouldn't be easy."

Yukine startled and whipped around. Yato moved slowly, gait uneven like a limp as he drifted down the hall towards them. There were sharp hollows smudged with shadow beneath his eyes to denote that his rest had been anything but restful.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Yukine blurted out.

Yato shrugged. "I was bored."

"That's not an excuse! You–"

"How are you feeling?" Hiyori hurried over and reached out for the god, who rocked back half a step.

"Careful," Yato cautioned, even though his jacket was zipped all the way up to his chin and his tracksuit covered almost every inch of his skin besides his face and hands. He was careful to keep the blight hidden when he left his room. And even when he didn't. He was reluctant to even show Yukine and the others when they wanted to check how bad it was, maybe because he didn't want to worry them with how fast it was spreading.

Hiyori ignored the warning and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "You're still so hot," she murmured, her lips tugging downwards into a frown.

He twisted away neatly. "I'm fine."

He was met with four pairs of disbelieving eyes, but seemed undeterred. Yukine wanted to know what part of any of this was 'fine'.

"How has he been today?" Bishamon asked, directing the question at Yukine and Hiyori rather than relying on Yato's downplaying and euphemisms.

"He was up and about for a few hours…until he had another coughing fit and went to lie down." Yukine glared over at Yato. "Speaking of which, you should go back to bed."

Yato's face scrunched up. "I'm tired of being cooped up all day. Being an invalid doesn't suit me. Let's do something else."

"Do what? You barely have the energy to stand up, much less do anything."

Yukine felt bad about the words as they left his mouth. However good the show Yato tried to put on, he was a shadow of himself. The number of times he had voluntarily retreated to bed with minimal complaint was proof of how horrible he was feeling. But that didn't mean Yukine should rub it in his face.

Yato sighed and his shoulders slumped, an unusually defeated expression falling over his features like a curtain. Yukine winced.

"Well… It's been a long day and we're going to get some dinner," Bishamon offered. "You can come down to the dining room with us if you want."

Yato hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Okay."

Not that he'd had much of an appetite lately—undoubtedly thanks to the blight—but it was some kind of compromise and seemed fairly harmless to Yukine. To be honest, he didn't like seeing Yato curled up in bed all the time either.

Yato pivoted on his heel, executing a neat half-turn and jutting his shoulder up like a shield as he whipped a bit of cloth from his pocket. He coughed into the handkerchief, the sound wet and rattling in his throat. Yukine caught just a glimpse of white folding over red as the handkerchief was shoved back into Yato's pocket and the god turned back with a wan smile.

"Alright," Yato said. "Let's go."

"Absolutely not!" Yukine snapped. "If you're coughing again–"

"Oh, it's fine." Yato flapped a dismissive hand and drifted back down the hall without giving him a second look. "That's nothing."

It might be a smaller coughing fit than the ones that left him gasping and confined to bed with wads of bloodied tissues scattered about, but it was hardly nothing. Yato played off such minor occurrences with ease, but they left Yukine shaking and white-fisted.

Bishamon and Kazuma exchanged a look, grim and troubled. They might not be as vocal about their concern as Yukine and Hiyori, but Yato's rapid deterioration was obviously striking some kind of nerve.

Hiyori touched Yukine's arm. "I don't like it any more than you do, but… It's not like lying in bed all day is really any better for him."

Yukine looked away. He didn't want to see her pity or worry, but she was right. Yato was crashing no matter what he did, and the extra time spent under the covers was more a symptom of the problem than a cause or solution.

The truth was that there was nothing they could do. At least Bishamon and Kazuma could hunt the ayakashi—not that they were doing a great job of it. Hiyori still had to go to school and eat dinner with her family and do her homework, and the only thing she could do to help was drop by to keep them company while they watched Yato grow weaker. And Yukine couldn't even leave. He could order Yato to stay in bed or make sure he ate something or fetch him anything he needed, but in the end that wasn't going to save him.

His acknowledgment was his silence. He followed Yato quietly, with Hiyori and the others trailing behind. They made it halfway to the dining room before Yato's phone rang, trilling merrily in his pocket. The god stopped in the middle of the hallway, every muscle in his body going rigid.

"Shouldn't you answer that?" Hiyori asked.

"Why?" Yukine asked. "It's not like we can take jobs right now anyway."

The phone rang again, and Yato pulled it out of his pocket and stared down at the screen. "I changed my mind," he said, his voice flat and mechanical. "I think I'll go back to the room after all."

Bishamon frowned. "What?"

Yato changed course and started back for his room with quick, clipped strides that were at odds with the lethargy of moments before. He accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.

"What do you want?"

Yukine had to jog a few paces to catch up. Footsteps clicked on the hardwood behind him, signaling that Hiyori and the others were coming along for the ride.

"I already told you, I'm not interested." Yato's scowl deepened. "No. No way."

He shoved the door open and limped over to the bed. He turned to sit down on the edge, then changed his mind and pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged and glare at the floorboards. Yukine followed him inside, and someone shut the door behind them.

"Is that the sorcerer?" Bishamon asked in a loud whisper.

Yato shot her an irritated look but nodded once. "I'm doing just fine, thanks."

"Put it on speaker."

He hesitated, his teeth gathering in his lower lip for a moment before he shrugged and nodded. Yukine was surprised he had agreed to it, knowing how private he was about his dad, but maybe they were all in this together now.

"–be like that," said the tinny voice that slithered through the air. It might be distorted a bit by the phone, but the smarmy, amused tone was unmistakable. "I'm sure the blight must be getting pretty bad by now."

"What do you care?" Yato asked bitterly.

"Aw, of course I care. It's not like I want you to be miserable. You're just making things more difficult than they need to be. Don't you think it's time to give up on the games and come back? I'm sure the blight is excruciating."

"Don't sound so broken up about it."

"Look, kid. There's no way you can fix this without killing Yaboku 2. I've seen Bishamon wandering around lately, but she's not going to find it and you're running out of time. I'm sure you've guessed that I can fix it by possessing you again. You know, I spent an awful long time fiddling around and watching Ebisu's experiments to figure out a way to avoid the blight, but it only works when the ayakashi is inside you. No need to drag it out. You're only hurting yourself more, you know.

"Come on out of your hidey-hole—and bring your kid with you. Mizuchi will meet you. You can come on home and we'll fix you right up."

Yato's eyes glinted like ice, cold and hard and sharp. "I would rather die," he said, his voice heavy with finality.

Yukine's breath caught in his throat and his heart did a funny little skip before plopping into his stomach with a nauseating splash. Yato had never sounded more deadly serious than in this moment, so resigned but unyielding. And that wasn't right, because he would always fight tooth and nail to live. He wouldn't really…

"Don't be like that." His dad's pout was almost audible. "I've spent centuries grooming you. It would be a shame to waste all that time and effort."

"Guess you should've thought about that beforehand," Yato said, his voice frosted with a wintry, uncompromising chill.

"Ah, well. Since you're holed up in Takamagahara and refuse to come see me, I guess I could always visit Hiyori or Yukine."

Anger flashed across Yato's face, white-hot, and his hand clenched around the phone. "Don't threaten me."

"I suppose that is a bit rude. I'd prefer if you came back on your own, anyway. You're breaking my heart here, kiddo. Don't you want to come back home? Mizuchi misses you. Just imagine how much more fun it would be with Yukine and Yaboku 2 as well!"

Yato hunched his shoulders and dark hair fell across his face, cloaking his expression. The fingers of his free hand began tapping out an agitated rhythm on his knee.

"I hate you."

Tinny laughter filtered over the line. "You keep telling yourself that. Please, Yaboku. You love me still. I'm the only family you have. I don't like to punish you, you know. If you would just behave, we wouldn't have these problems. Come on, Yaboku. Do me a favor. It'll make me happy, and we can get the family back together again."

The tapping grew faster and faster, until it was beating out a frenetic tempo. "That's not going to work this time," Yato said, but his voice sounded thin and reedy.

Yukine chewed on the inside of his cheek and shot a look at Hiyori, who was too absorbed in the drama to notice. She looked as horrified as he felt. Listening to Yato's dad was sickening.

The sorcerer laughed again. "If it's not working, why are you getting so upset?" Yato's fingers stilled and clenched in the fabric of his pants. "Come quickly, will you? We should get this taken care of as quickly as possible since the heavens are going to become a nuisance now that you opened your mouth."

"No," Yato said quietly.

There was a pause, and his father's voice was cold and cutting when it next split the air, lacking the smarmy charm of before. "You act like you have a choice, but you know you don't. I own you. I created you and I keep you alive. You owe me your existence, and the only purpose of your existence is to obey me. Isn't that right, Yaboku?"

Copper flooded Yukine's mouth as he bit down hard, and his hands strangled themselves white at his sides. How dare Yato's father speak to him like that? The blood pounded in his ears and tinged his vision red. Beside him, Hiyori practically vibrated with fury.

Yato didn't say anything for a long moment, but then let out a breath. "Yes, Father," he sighed with all the weary resignation in the world.

Yukine jolted bolt upright and glared at the god's bowed head in disbelief. What the hell?

"That's better." The sorcerer's voice relaxed back to smug amusement. "Then come down and meet–"

"I said no."

"…Excuse me?"

"Maybe you're right," Yato said. His fingers plucked at the fabric above his knee listlessly, twisting it tighter and tighter. "But I'm not going to help you this time."

Yukine swallowed hard. What was that supposed to mean? What was he supposed to make of this strange mix of acceptance and defiance? What, exactly, was Yato thinking?

The silence was heavy with anticipation, but then Yato's dad laughed, amused once more. "You think so, huh? In the end, you always do."

"This time is going to be different."

"You say that every time, and you always come around in the end. This time won't be any different than the dozens that have come before it." Could he not hear the heavy solemnity of Yato's decision? The grim resignation dripping off every word like honey gone bitter? "You don't want to die, and soon enough you'll realize that you have no other choice than to come back. I'll see you soon, Yaboku."

The line went dead. The silence was smothering. The phone trembled in Yato's hand as he stared down at it.

"That guy gives me the creeps," Bishamon muttered finally. "He's such a sleazeball."

Yukine did not disagree.

Yato flipped his phone shut and tossed it onto the bedside table with a dull clatter of plastic on wood. He flopped over and curled up facing away from the spectators.

"You should go to dinner," he said. "I'm going to lie down."

Yukine and Hiyori shared a look. They never knew how to handle Yato once his father got involved.

"Yato…" Hiyori drifted a step closer to the bed before thinking better of it. "You shouldn't listen to your dad."

"I know," Yato mumbled, muffling his voice in the blankets.

"You… You don't need him anymore. You have us."

The pause was long and painful, heavy with everything Yato left unspoken.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Just…go. Please."

Hiyori winced and hovered there uncertainly. She was just as reluctant as Yukine to leave him alone right now. Yukine sucked in a breath, but was stopped by fingers curling loosely about his arm. Kazuma shook his head, eyes glinting solemnly behind his glasses.

As much as Yukine hated to admit it, his one-time mentor was probably right. Yato would only shut down even further if they kept pushing him, and he was unlikely to open up about his dad at the best of times much less now.

"I'll bring you something," Yukine mumbled in a grudging sort of acknowledgement.

"Don't bother," Yato said. "I'm not hungry."

"But you should really–"

"But you can bring me some more tissues or something. I ruined another one."

Yukine stared hard at Yato's back, hoping the intensity of his gaze could prod him into turning around and smiling and saying things would be okay, but the god didn't move.

"…Okay."

Yukine retreated with great reluctance when Kazuma steered him back to the hall, Bishamon and Hiyori trailing behind. Yato's voice brought them up short just before the door closed.

"By the way, Hiyori, be extra careful. Now that he's ready for me, he has more incentive to target you. He might not bother since it will amuse him more to wait for me to come crawling back myself, but once he realizes I'm not coming and he's running out of time…"

Hiyori swallowed hard, the lump in her throat bobbing up and down. "Okay. I'll warn Kofuku and Daikoku too. But we'll definitely fix the blight."

"We're going to find that ayakashi soon," Bishamon added. "And get the brush away from the sorcerer. You'll see."

"…Yeah," Yato said tiredly. "Right."

He offered nothing else, and Bishamon shut the door with a faint click.

"You don't think he'll change his mind, do you?" Kazuma asked, leaning closer to Bishamon.

She shrugged. "The sorcerer seems confident he will, but he seems pretty determined."

"I sure hope so." Kazuma's lips slanted in a frown and his brows knit together over troubled eyes. "We can't risk him going back."

"I would rather die."

Yukine's gaze raked down the wooden door, desperate to break through and peek into Yato's mind. "He meant it," he croaked. "He's not going to back down."

There was a short pause before Bishamon cleared her throat awkwardly. "Of course not. Still… That was rough. I didn't realize things were so…rocky."

"He always gets kind of weird around his dad," Hiyori said. "But can you blame him? He doesn't talk about it, but…he's been through a lot."

Bishamon opened her mouth, but that was the moment Kuraha turned the corner and eyed them curiously, and whatever she had been going to say was lost. "Anyway, we should go to dinner. Will you come, Hiyori?"

"I should really go before my parents start to worry." Hiyori looked Yukine up and down and bit her lip. "Actually, I can stay for a few minutes."

"It's okay," Yukine said. "You can go."

"…Are you sure?"

"Yeah." As much as he wanted her to stay, she still had her own life to live. He could hold himself together a little longer without someone holding his hand.

"Okay." Hiyori reached out and let her fingers flutter against his arm while she eyed him in concern. The touch, however faint, made Yukine's throat clog up. Yato was the touchy-feely one, the one with no concept of personal space who liked to show his affection with hugs or an arm thrown across their shoulders or a hand slipped into theirs. "We'll figure this out," she said. "I'll be back tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay," he mumbled, dropping his gaze and swallowing down the lump in his throat as he toed at the floorboards.

With Hiyori headed home and Yato holed up in his room, Yukine felt small and alone as he trailed after Bishamon and Kazuma.

"If you ever need to talk, you can always come to me," Kazuma said gently.

"Or what?" Yukine snapped, even though he didn't really want to pick a fight right now. "You'll use your spells to make me?"

"I thought I told you to apologize for that!" Bishamon said. "Those spells are meant for enemy interrogations, not forcing information out of allies and children."

"I did!" Kazuma protested.

Yukine kept his mouth pinched shut. He was on edge and still simmering, but he knew he was being at least a bit unfair. He might not be ready to overlook the betrayals, but Bishamon and Kazuma were trying to help and he needed them. Keeping his mouth shut seemed like the safest option right now.

He stopped by the linen closet to pick out some new handkerchiefs and bits of rag that no one would mourn if ruined, and stuffed them in his pocket before slinking into the dining room to get a plate of food. He was eyed with curiosity and suspicion by the other shinki, who didn't understand his presence or what had happened to Yato. Bishamon had fed everyone the story that he and Yato were sheltering here after being attacked by the sorcerer, but that didn't quite quell the curiosity of those who wanted to know the whole story.

He deflected any subtly prying questions with as much grace as he possessed, which wasn't much at the moment. With his nerves stretched thin, he had snapped at more than one shinki over the past couple days.

Tonight it was Karuha and Kazuha who sat with him and tried to hold a friendly conversation as he picked at his food. He appreciated the effort, but he wasn't in the mood. He could probably sit with Bishamon and Kazuma to ward off unwanted socializing, but he wasn't feeling up to dealing with them either.

The twins grew tired of his surliness after a few minutes and wandered off, leaving him to push his food around his plate in peace. He seemed to have lost his appetite somewhere around the time Yato had lost his sense of self-preservation.

"Not feeling well?"

Kuraha sat down beside him, and Yukine stiffened again. He wasn't sure what to make of the intrusion. Kuraha had never taken a particular interest in him before. He wondered if Bishamon or Kazuma had set him up to it.

"I'm okay," he said.

Kuraha's eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, and his weathered features looked more grandfatherly than gruff. "Your master isn't coming down to join you?"

"Ah… No. He, um, wasn't hungry."

Yukine was a little more wary of this line of questioning. Yato was responsible for both the eyepatch and recent attacks while possessed, and although Kuraha had never shown any particular resentment, it still paid to tread carefully.

"He hasn't looked well," Kuraha said mildly. "Still feeling the attack?"

"He's not doing too great," Yukine's mouth said before his brain caught up. He wanted to shake himself, even though it was something anyone could easily verify if they'd seen Yato hobbling around lately.

"We'll find the sorcerer." Kuraha's gaze drifted around the room, and he was careful to keep his reassurances neutral. Safe. "That won't happen again."

Everyone had been saying that, and Yukine so badly wanted to believe it. "Yeah. Thanks."

"You know, you can take your meal to his room if you want to eat with him. It's not a problem."

Yukine looked back down at his barely touched plate. "He's kind of upset right now," he mumbled to the tabletop. "He wants to be alone."

"Hm… Sometimes it's the ones who want to be alone who need a friend the most."

Yukine smiled at him a little shakily. The words rang true. He didn't like to think of Yato curled up by himself with his father's threats tightening around his throat. Yato was there when Yukine needed him. Yukine wanted to be there for him too.

"You're probably right," he said, feeling a sense of genuine warmth for the older man. They weren't really friends, barely even acquaintances, but something about Kuraha steadied him just a little. "I'll do that."

He took two rolls, hesitated, and stuffed a third into his pocket. Flashing Kuraha a hint of a smile, he put his head down to avoid the stares and hurried from the room and down the hall. He hesitated outside Yato's room for nearly two full minutes as he steeled his nerves, and then knocked on the door.

"Yato? It's me."

There was a pause broken only by the shifting and rustling of blankets, and then Yato said, "You can come in."

He was sitting cross-legged with blankets draped over his lap, watching Yukine push open the door and creep over. His eyes were lined with red, but he summoned up a wan smile.

"I, um, brought you some bread." Yukine offered him the rolls and chewed on his lip, trying to gauge his mood. "I thought maybe it would be easier on your stomach? You should really eat something."

Yato tilted his head and considered the offering before accepting it. He immediately offered one of them back.

"Here, you take one too."

Yukine pulled the third roll from his pocket. "I brought one for me too."

Yato's face lit up with an affectionate sort of pride. "I see you came prepared. Clever kid, you outfoxed me. Come on up."

He patted the bed beside him and leaned over to drop one of the rolls on the nightstand before taking a small bite of the remaining one to placate the shinki. Yukine cautiously clambered up on the bed and inched over to sit by Yato, sinking into the plush covers and soft mattress. He took a bite of his own roll even though he still wasn't hungry.

"I feel so special, getting dinner in bed," Yato said with a flash of a smile.

"You're such an idiot," Yukine mumbled.

"So I've been told. So, you been making friends? So many shinki around… I hope you don't find someone you like better than me!"

Yukine debated whether to respond in kind with lighthearted banter or acknowledge the pain and stress lining his master's face, but in the end he didn't have to decide. Yato made a sound like he was clearing his throat and his face screwed up as he hurriedly began fishing around in his pocket. Yukine pulled one of the rags from his own pocket.

"Here."

"Thanks," Yato croaked in a strangled voice.

He snatched the rag, and the partly nibbled roll fell to the rumpled blankets as he pressed the cloth to his mouth and hunched his shoulders. His entire body seemed to convulse as he coughed.

Yukine tried to block out the wet, wheezing sound, but he put his half-eaten roll on the nightstand along with the stack of makeshift handkerchiefs he'd brought. There was nothing he could do but watch as Yato coughed a few more times and wiped his lips. He folded the square over, but not before Yukine glimpsed a small puddle trickling down the creases and dyeing the fabric red.

Yato tossed it into the wastebasket beside the bed, along with the one he pulled from his pocket. Yukine's stomach turned over as his attention was drawn to the pile of crumpled tissues spattered with blood, crimson peeking from between the folds like bloody secrets.

"Yato… Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, but what else was he supposed to ask? Yato's fingers rose to his chest and fluttered over his heart for a second before he dropped his hand again, a sure sign that Yukine's emotions were getting to him.

"Fine," Yato rasped, voice hoarse.

"About your dad… I–I–"

Yato reached out to wrap his arms around Yukine and pull him close, leaving the shinki sputtering. Yukine wasn't sure if he was supposed to be the one being comforted or the teddy bear Yato needed to hold on to right now.

"Y-Yato?"

Yato buried his face in the crook of Yukine's neck, and his breath fluttered against the tender skin. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

His skin was so hot against Yukine's, like the blight was burning its way out.

"Sorry?" Yukine repeated, his voice rising to a squeak. "For what?"

A pause. A breathy whisper barely loud enough to be heard. "I don't think this is going to end well."

"What do you mean?"

Yato's voice dropped even lower and he tightened his hold. "But you're a tough kid. You'll be okay."

"I would rather die."

Yukine didn't ask what he meant this time. He didn't want to know.

He buried his face in Yato's chest and huddled close. If Yato felt his tears, he was kind enough not to say anything.