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Chapter 11
(In which loyalties are divided, teamwork is not Yukine's strong suit, and things go from bad to worse.)
He couldn't breathe. The air was torn from his lungs in one savage yank as two sets of teeth sank into opposite corners of his soul and pulled. He opened his mouth to cry out from the pain of it, but he couldn't tell if any sound forced its way from between his jaws past the roaring in his ears. His vision exploded with stars.
He was being ripped right down the middle, tugged in opposite directions until he tore at the seams. Two forces were fighting over him and he knew that he needed one of them to win, but he couldn't remember which one or even who was going to war over his battered body. His thoughts unraveled faster and faster, until he could barely think at all.
He was going to die, he realized in some foggy corner of his mind. Neither opponent was letting go of him—they would fight until they tore him to shreds and there was nothing left of him.
"Hold on, Yuki!" someone cried.
The faintest flicker of recognition sparked in his chest. Was that his name? Maybe, but it didn't feel right. It felt incomplete.
If that was wrong, then he needed the other side to win. Maybe the other side was right. He turned away from the voice blindly, flailing about and trying to catch hold of something—anything—to tie him to the other side. He couldn't just stand here and let himself be ripped apart. He needed to grab on to an anchor with all his might and fight back.
Over the ringing in his ears, he dimly heard someone shouting in panic. The words blended together in a tangled jumble that he couldn't decipher even if he wanted to. But then, suddenly, one word cut through the chaos like a knife.
"Yukine," said a new voice sharply, hard-edged and no-nonsense, and he found himself testing the name on his tongue. "Pull yourself together."
That was it. That was his name, wasn't it? It dredged up snippets of memory that raced through his mind in quick, half-formed flashes. He couldn't quite focus on any one of them with the searing agony cracking his bones apart and pulling sinew from muscle, but he got the hazy feeling of laughter and fond exasperation and something warm and comforting, a little like a home, maybe.
Yukine.
That was, he thought, something he could fight for.
He reached out for the new voice, the one that knew his name, and scrabbled for purchase. He came up empty-handed, fingers closing on air, but he wasn't going to give up so easily. He grabbed wildly, blindly, for anything nearby.
And finally, he grazed someone. A lifeline, maybe.
He latched on and focused every last ounce of his willpower on throwing himself forward. He could feel himself stretching perilously thin, fabric fraying and tearing down the middle, but then, finally, the tension snapped taut and broke.
He flew forward with a cry. He lay shivering and panting as the roaring in his ears faded and the blackness of his vision cleared little by little. The fog in his mind cleared even slower still, until he was left blinking out at the world in hazy bemusement.
"That was a close call," Aiha said, voice tight but colored with cautious relief.
"Are you alright, Yuki?" Bishamon asked.
Yukine wondered why his blades were gripped in her tightly clenched hands. It felt wrong. The wrong name, the wrong person. Terror sent his stomach plummeting into free fall as he realized that he had made the wrong choice in the midst of all the chaos. He was supposed to be with Yato…
Yato, who, he remembered, was currently possessed by his father's pet ayakashi. No wonder it was so disorienting. He'd had to fight to go to the wrong person.
"My name is Yukine," he mumbled as he worked to collect all the scattered pieces of his thoughts.
There was a brief pause before Bishamon said, "I guess you were right. Good call, Kazuma."
"I warned you," Kazuma said, matter-of-fact. "He belongs to Yato, and he wants it that way. You can't give him a new name and expect him to be yours. We might be working together, but you have to accept that he will always be Yato's first."
Yukine might not like Kazuma very much right now, but he felt a grudging kind of gratitude that he understood at least that much.
Bishamon sighed. "Yes, you're right. I should have known better. Are you okay now, Yukine?"
"What happened?" Yukine asked. They were several feet closer to Yato's dad than before, and he didn't know how they had gotten there.
She looked peeved. "I was trying to get a hit in while we had the element of surprise, but you took it even harder than I anticipated and there was no way. It took everything I had to keep a hold of you, and for a second it still looked like Yato's summons might override mine. But you pulled it out in the end."
Yukine noted that Bishamon was holding him loosely in her right hand, on account of also holding a pistol. The shot had obviously missed its target. He had the grace to feel a little guilty, realizing that he was probably to blame. But at the same time…
"I thought you were going to use me," he said waspishly, not liking the idea of her aiming a gun at Yato. Or even Yato's dad, if only because Yato's chances weren't good if the sorcerer took a fatal hit.
"I'm going to take whatever opening I get," she muttered. "You–"
"Well, this is quite vexing," the sorcerer said. Irritation glittered bright in his eyes. "Throws quite a wrench into my plans. You do love being difficult, don't you? Poor Yaboku… Even his own hafuri betrays him in the end."
Yukine flinched at the accusation, and his gaze skittered automatically to Yato. The god still wore no expression at all and hadn't seemed to have moved. Yukine searched for any sign that he was hurt by the betrayal, upset or angry or caught off guard, but there was nothing. He didn't know which would be worse: Yato showing his obvious hurt or the ayakashi showing nothing at all. But he would have to face that reckoning once they'd rescued Yato, because right now there was no reaction to be found.
He shuddered as discomfort sent its skeletal fingers running up and down his spine. Yato's eyes were dull and empty, polished glass reflecting back the world with cold, clinical precision rather than letting the soul inside peek out. More than the sweaty hands or grungy tracksuit or even the goofy smile, those electric eyes were what was quintessentially Yato. They were always so expressive, changeable as the tides even when the same smile stayed firmly in place. Bright or dull, warm or cold, loving or distant, cheerful or sad, laughing or furious… All of those contradictions wrapped up in one small body were what made Yato Yato.
But now the light had gone out of them, leaving a thin veneer of ice stretched tight and brittle over twin voids. Those eyes were so dead. A little worm of doubt wriggled at the very back of Yukine's mind, whispering that maybe it was too late and Yato was well and truly gone. Maybe he wasn't still in there somewhere. Maybe Yato had already been scooped out, leaving behind only an ayakashi wrapped in his hollow skin.
"Focus, Yukine," Bishamon said, her voice sharp with warning.
Yukine pushed the vicious thoughts out of his mind as best he could. He couldn't afford to think about that, not now. He couldn't even afford to worry about what this betrayal would mean to Yato, couldn't imagine the look on the god's face when he came around and saw the new name branded on Yukine's hand. Right now, all he could do was focus on getting Yato back. And to succeed at that, he needed to believe it was possible.
"Well," said the sorcerer, "I guess I'll just have to–"
There was a flash of movement, tawny-bright in the glint of the sun, and Yato's dad dodged neatly as the lion's paws slammed down in the dirt where he'd just been standing, claws gouging deep into the earth and sending snippets of cut grass fluttering in the air. Kuraha raised one huge paw to swipe again, but Yato's dad clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"Chiki," he said, and Nora jumped obediently to his hand. The sunlight gleamed off the pointed end of the staff as the sorcerer planted the other end on the ground and leaned on the pole almost casually, directing the spike at his attacker.
Kuraha leaped anyway, but Bishamon cried, "No!"
The panic in her voice scraped Yukine raw, and he wondered again what it was about Yato's dad that terrified the gods so much.
"Stop," Kazuma ordered. Kuraha growled but retreated half a dozen paces, good eye narrowed at the sorcerer and tail lashing back and forth along the ground.
"That didn't work last time," Yato's dad said with no little amusement. "What made you think it would work now?"
Yukine wondered what 'last time' that might be. Maybe something else he'd missed while fighting Yato's summons.
"I already told you," Bishamon said, voice harsh, "only distance attacks for the sorcerer."
That still seemed unreasonable to Yukine, but he wasn't going to complain. Not yet.
"It's not very nice to interrupt people," Yato's dad said with a pout. Beneath the amused twinkle in his eyes, a perfunctory caution glinted dully as he kept an eye on Bishamon and Kuraha. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I guess I'll just have to kill you now."
Yukine was not impressed by the threat. Judging by Bishamon's unamused look, neither was she.
"You've been trying to kill us for weeks," she said.
"Is that what you think?" Yato's dad chuckled. "No, I'm a little brighter than that." He patted Yato's arm in a manner that might be mistaken for fond if it wasn't so possessive. Yato didn't so much as twitch, but it made Yukine's skin crawl. "Yaboku's powerful, no doubt about it, but I wouldn't throw him at a war god with a whole brood of shinki. Not until he gets his hafuri back and has a better way to defend himself. No, we've just been wearing you down, one little attack at a time. There's a reason it's been hit and run instead of a real battle."
"Why are we wasting time with this?" Yukine asked. "He likes to gloat. Can we just rescue Yato already?"
Bishamon didn't answer him, and instead addressed the sorcerer. "Please. I'm not nearly worn down enough that he can take me out without a weapon."
"Wait," Kazuma said. "Let him talk. We'll look for an opening while he's distracted."
"That's your great plan?" Yukine asked, dismayed. "Even Yato's stupid plans are better than that."
"He's still dangerous, and he can disappear in a second if he feels too threatened. Better to look for an opening."
"We have the advantage! Just let me fight and get it over with!"
"All the advantage in the world isn't going to do us any good if he just bolts with Yato and disappears again. If he retreats and regroups now, he'll have time to come up with a plan to counteract you and we'll lose whatever advantage the element of surprise gave us."
"Doesn't seem like we have all that much surprise going for us anymore," Yukine grumbled.
"Yes, well, there wasn't much we could do while waiting for you to recover."
"Whatever. I'm recovered now."
Bishamon didn't acknowledge them or give any outward sign of the fierce debate except for an irritated twitch of the eye. She watched the sorcerer calmly, careful not to let him see the team's dissension.
"Well, you didn't leave me much of a choice now, did you?" Yato's dad clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Now that you went and stole my kid's weapon, I'll have to kill you so that he's Yukine's only master again. I'm sure you understand." Kuraha growled, a low rumble deep in his throat, and stepped forward. The sorcerer's gaze slid away to regard the lion with amusement. "Down, kitty. Don't worry, I'm sure–"
"Now," said Kazuma.
Bishamon was moving instantly, like she'd been waiting for Kazuma's signal all along. She lunged for Yato, but the blade in her right hand twisted as she whipped Karuha around again and fired another bullet. Yato's dad jerked away and whipped up his staff. The bullet glanced off the gleaming metal and ricocheted harmlessly to the side.
"Yaboku, kill them for me, won't you?"
Yato sprang into motion at the command and danced around both Kuraha's pounce and Bishamon's onslaught. As he pivoted away, he slammed one booted foot into Bishamon's shin with enough force to send her staggering. He had the chance to get in one more hit before she recovered and rounded on him, blades flashing through the air.
It was hell on earth.
Bishamon didn't wield Yukine the same way Yato did. Her moves lacked his grace but more than made up for it with their savagery. They followed a different fighting style entirely. On top of that, Kazuma was issuing orders about what moves to make and spouting off notes on trajectory and angle and force. Bishamon followed his advice without a second thought, but the constant barrage set Yukine's head spinning.
And all of this fury and chaos was directed at Yato. For all they bickered, Yukine had never imagined that he'd really be fighting Yato. His reluctance and hesitation to commit earned him a sharp rebuke from both Bishamon and Kazuma.
"You've come this far," Aiha added, voice strained as Yato scraped blighting fingernails across her armor and ducked under Yukine's returning swing. "It's not like you can go back now. You already committed to it, so fight."
Yukine had no response to that. She was right: he had come too far to back away now, no matter how much it hurt.
So when Yato danced around the flashing blades to get in close—without a weapon, the only thing he could really do was find openings in Bishamon's longer-ranged attacks and then slide back out of reach—Yukine grabbed the reins and twisted in Bishamon's grip.
"What are you doing?" she cried as he moved from blocking the incoming blow so they had a chance to get in a hit instead.
"Stay still!" Kazuma added sharply. "You have to follow our direction!"
"He's feinting," Yukine grunted.
He knew how Yato fought, knew what each shift in his stance meant and what tactics he favored. He had made it a point to learn Yato until it was as easy as breathing to follow along like an extension of the god. It had taken a while, but these days Yukine knew how to fall into rhythm with Yato, stay in sync, read his next move and match him accordingly.
That rhythm was broken now, discordant and grating along Yukine's heartstrings. Now that Yato wasn't himself and Yukine wasn't his and they were fighting against each other instead of together.
And never was that more apparent than when Yato didn't feint and slammed straight into Bishamon where Yukine's blade had just been.
Bishamon hissed in pain, blight blooming in inky storm clouds across her cheek, and managed to whip the other blade around just in time to slash a shallow cut across Yato's cheek in return before he retreated.
Yukine was flabbergasted. "I was so sure…"
"That's what we've been trying to tell you," Bishamon snapped. Kuraha leaped, but Yato jumped high in the air and flipped over his back. "He's not himself. He's not fighting like himself either."
"There's no strategy," Karuha huffed. "It's impossible to predict his movements when they're so erratic."
"So listen to Kazuma and be a team player instead of doing whatever you feel like."
Yukine was still skeptical of following Kazuma's orders, but he was too stunned to protest and Yato was moving so fast. He barely had time to think at all as Bishamon slashed and parried. He knew he was supposed to be looking for an opening to slice the ayakashi out, but all he could see was Yato and he was afraid to cut too deep.
"Kind of cruel, isn't it?" Yato's dad asked with a mild sort of amusement. Yukine darted a quick glance over to see that he had retreated a few paces to watch from the sidelines, still leaning up against the staff casually while he regarded the melee with polite interest. It was so absurd it was almost comical, and it made Yukine hate him even more. "It's not nice of Bishamon to use you to kill your own master."
Yukine pulled up short, faltering in Bishamon's grasp. "What?" he asked, even though Yato's dad couldn't hear him.
"Don't listen to him," Bishamon said through gritted teeth as she danced back a couple paces to avoid Yato. "He's just trying to get in your head. That's what he always does."
The sorcerer chuckled. "Yes, don't mind little old me. You can trust Bishamon if you want. Still, she hasn't been doing a very good job of killing Yaboku on her own, so it seems awfully convenient for her to find a way to get her hands on you and turn you on him."
"I didn't even make that plan!" she said indignantly. "Yukine is the one who suggested it."
"Oh? Is he now?" A pensive look slid across his face. "How interesting. I wonder where he might have come up with that idea…"
Yukine had pressed the idea on Bishamon, but suddenly he was aware of how tight her grip was and how hard she was swinging him at Yato. How far she might go to remove the threats to herself and her shinki—Yato and his dad included. The blade bounced harmlessly off Yato's upper arm with little more than bruising impact.
The dead-eyed god didn't so much as flinch. He took advantage of the opening to jam his fist into Bishamon's solar plexus hard enough to set her rattling in her armor as she reeled back.
She cried out, and guilt built in Yukine's chest. Yato was his master first, but he was supposed to protect Bishamon too. It was just that when it came down to it…Yato was still his first priority.
"I'm sorry!"
"Don't dull down!" Kazuma snapped. "Pull yourself together. Veena, aim six inches to the right, thrust. Kuraha, come around behind from the left and…"
Keeping track of Kazuma's battleground ramblings was too much for Yukine to follow—how could Bishamon actually concentrate on a fight with the constant babbling?—but he found himself questioning his mentor's judgment once again as Bishamon jabbed him at a spot well to the right of Yato. A useless, wasted blow.
He jerked in Bishamon's grasp, twisting around to dive for Yato instead. Everyone was yelling at him, but having so many voices vying for his attention created such a cacophony in his head that he could listen to none of them. He had never missed the quiet so much. It was so much easier when it was only Yato jabbering in his ear.
Yato threw himself to the side as Kuraha lunged from the left. Yukine's blade slid harmlessly through the air, throwing Bishamon off balance and sending her stumbling. Yato danced unscathed through the point where the blade would have been.
"What are you doing?" Aiha cried. "You aren't working by yourself, you know! You have to work with the team!"
Kazuma was livid. "I already warned you to follow orders! Your teamwork is abysmal. Haven't you noticed that I've been directing Kuraha to corral Yato into position for us to hit him? I know what I'm doing. Stop focusing only on yourself and try looking at the bigger picture."
Now that Yukine thought about it, Kuraha had been making very few actual attacks, mostly keeping out of Bishamon's way and giving her room to maneuver while trying to impede Yato's lightning-quick attacks. Bishamon was the frontline, Kuraha herded Yato into optimal position for her, Kazuma coordinated the whole mess, and Yukine was the wrench in the gears.
Bishamon whipped around to strike at Yato again, and Yukine braced himself to cut straight through the ayakashi hiding there. The blade bit into Yato's arm just beneath the shoulder, cutting deep enough to leave it hanging at an awkward angle. It wasn't nearly as deep as a normal sword blow should cut, but it was still much more than Yukine wanted. He had intended to draw his borderline to protect Yato and cut only the ayakashi, but his blade pierced only flesh and he didn't feel any of the expected resistance of the paranormal Far Shore ties that should have been infesting the god.
"I don't understand!" he cried. Yato's blood was dripping down his blade, crimson and damning, and it made his stomach heave. "I'm trying not to hit him too!"
"You're having a hard time separating him from the ayakashi," Kazuma said shortly. "You aren't doing as much damage as you would if you were trying to hurt him, but you're still fighting him on some level."
Their whole plan hinged on Yukine being able to kill the ayakashi without taking out Yato. It was the very thing he didn't trust anyone but himself to do, so if he couldn't do it…
And there was one other problem.
"Every time I try to draw my borderlines to avoid him and get the ayakashi, I can't feel it!"
"Feel what?" Aiha asked.
"I'm getting no resistance from the ayakashi when I strike at it. It's like I'm not hitting it at all."
"…That's troubling," Kazuma said, the frown tugging at his voice. "I hope the sorcerer didn't actually find a way to make it harder for you to get it out."
Panic seared through Yukine, blinding and white-hot. What if he had done all this, handed Yato over to the enemy and condemned innocents to death and become a nora, and still couldn't save Yato in the end?
What then?
"Could you all quit chatting and focus for a minute?" Bishamon snarled.
Yukine had barely even noticed all the slashing and running around, so caught up in the conversation and his internal meltdown. He let Bishamon do what she wanted with him instead of fighting to do things his own way, since he didn't know what he could do anyway. Kazuma stammered out an apology and went back to barking orders. Yato, despite looking like he was one good push away from falling apart, moved faster than a striking snake and was practically a blur as he darted in and out. He managed to somehow catch his fingers in the armor plates and rip a section off, exposing Bishamon's bare skin beneath. Aiha screeched in pain. When Yato followed up and dragged blighted claws along the unprotected skin, Bishamon yelped too.
In contrast, he made no sound at all as he darted in and out, tearing Aiha's armor down piece by piece and hitting Bishamon where it hurt. His total silence was unnerving, although not as sickening as those blank, dead eyes.
They were so focused on Yato that Kuraha barely had time to call out a warning before the first ayakashi hit them from behind. Bishamon hissed in pain as the glowing green phantom sank its blight-riddled teeth into her leg. Yukine snapped out of his paralysis and cut through the ayakashi easily. This he could still do.
A whole horde of ayakashi descended on them from every side, pressing in tight around both Bishamon and Kuraha. Bishamon recovered almost instantly and set to work slashing through their ranks with the ease of experience. This was more familiar territory. Yukine relaxed just a little as he fell into the rhythm of phantom control. He could practically do this in his sleep.
Bishamon cut her way through to Kuraha, who was more than holding his own with his razor-sharp teeth and claws. Once she was astride his back, the whole team seemed to fall into a comfortable rhythm with Kazuma keeping time like the steady beat of a metronome. And if Yukine didn't fight it, didn't think too much at all, he could almost pretend that he was part of it.
"Your ayakashi can't do anything to me," Bishamon said derisively as she dispatched the last of them and it vanished with an unholy screech.
Yato's dad was smirking when she turned back to him, and Yato was standing woodenly beside him. Yukine searched the god's face one more time for any sign of the Yato he knew, but hopelessness coiled low in his belly even before he came up empty. While his father seemed to take great delight in watching the show, Yato stared right through it like he didn't see them at all.
"Maybe not those ones," Yato's dad said with a chuckle. "But they serve as a passable distraction, and now Yaboku has a fighting chance. After all, it's not very fair to go swinging swords at an unarmed opponent, is it?"
A frown stole over Bishamon's face and her hands tightened around Yukine like a vise. "What are you…?"
"Maybe he's bluffing?" Kazuha suggested. His sister made a small sound of nervous agreement.
But then Bishamon sucked in a sharp breath. It took Yukine a moment longer to spot what she'd noticed, but then his breath caught in his throat too.
"What do you think he's going to do with that?" Bishamon demanded.
"Exactly what you think he's going to," the sorcerer said with a shrug. "If you're going to swing at my kid with weapons when he doesn't even have his hafuri to protect him, I'll have to give him a weapon too. Fair is fair, isn't it?"
There, in Yato's hand, was the brush that had started this whole mess. It hung limply from his fingers, inky bristles dipping towards the ground.
Yukine honestly knew very little about it, aside from the fact that it had come from Izanami in Yomi and could control ayakashi. It was, presumably, the means by which the sorcerer had forced an ayakashi into Yato. And although there should be two of them, the distinct lack of masks anywhere to be seen suggested that this was the more dangerous one.
"Can he even use that when it's an ayakashi pulling the strings?" Yukine asked, and Bishamon echoed his sentiments out loud.
"You can't expect an ayakashi to name and control other ayakashi," she said.
"Ah, but it's not just an ayakashi, is it?" Yato's dad asked cheerfully. "Admittedly it took a lot of work, but we figured it out eventually. I never did figure out how to make it name a new shinki—I suppose that's something an ayakashi can't master, and either Yaboku isn't cooperating or it's something that takes a little more brainpower than just summoning one that's already been named—but it can manage this. It has a little trouble naming them, but it's exceptionally good at controlling them afterwards. Like minds and all that."
"That's–"
Bishamon broke off as Yato lunged again. Ayakashi, apparently pre-named and ready to go, crept out of the shadows and joined in the fray. Yukine imagined he could tell the difference between these and the phantoms Yato's dad sicced on them. They moved like they were of one mind, although it was impossible to tell how instructions were being relayed to them when Yato—or the ayakashi controlling Yato—didn't speak. Their attacks weren't particularly strategic and still had that feral, erratic quality that Yato had picked up, but they were tightly organized around Yato's every move. It was like the god had suddenly picked up half a dozen Kurahas as backup.
They attacked from all sides, getting in a few minor hits by virtue of sheer volume, but ayakashi were ayakashi: annoying but manageable. No, the problem was that Yato was still on the attack, and he was a dangerous enough opponent when their movement wasn't hindered by half a dozen mindless minions. They could handle Yato or they could handle the ayakashi, but both at once was overloading their limited resources.
Yato swiped at Bishamon with the brush, and she yelped as Kuraha sprang backward.
"What's he doing with that?" she demanded.
"I don't know," Kazuma said tightly, "but I'd rather not find out. Don't let him touch you with that thing."
At least Yato attacking them tooth and claw made sense, even if it seemed like a ludicrous strategy against someone loaded with weapons, but switching to attacking with what should have the combat value of a paintbrush was so ridiculous that it set off alarm bells. Maybe, Yukine thought hopefully, it was just because the ayakashi controlling him wasn't terribly smart. But the sorcerer wasn't ordering it to stop or change tactics, and the truth was that the brush was a wildcard. Who knew what it could do? It had already proved itself plenty troublesome, and Yukine wasn't keen to find out if it had any other abilities.
"I think we'd better split from Kuraha again," Kazuma said as they danced around Yato and sliced through another ayakashi. "We have the advantage together against the ayakashi, but with Yato also in the mix… I think it's better to have two mobile units to separate the pack and continue maneuvering him into position. I'm sure he'll keep targeting Veena rather than Kuraha."
Bishamon slid off Kuraha's back without a word, and the lion retreated a few paces to unleash a devastating flurry of attacks on the ayakashi there. Yukine had the feeling that Kazuma's explanation was more for his benefit than anything else—everyone else would follow his orders without question.
Bishamon lunged for Yato again, but a wolf-like ayakashi glowing an ethereal blue darted between them. It latched its teeth around her ankle, scraping along Aiha's armor until the shinki cried out in pain. It let go and pranced around them to clamp its jaws around a different spot, while Bishamon cursed and hacked at it. As tenacious as the beast was, it seemed more determined to scurry around and avoid taking a death blow.
When Yukine's blade finally sank into the creature with a satisfying weight and the ayakashi vanished with one last unearthly howl, they realized what Yato had been up to while they'd been otherwise occupied. He was hanging back and letting the ayakashi wear them down while he painted new phantoms into existence to join the free-for-all.
"What the–?" Yukine started as a purple-tinged feline ayakashi sprang from the brush, shook itself off, and charged.
His exclamation caught Bishamon's attention, and her eyes widened almost comically.
"I thought you said he couldn't make new phantoms!" she cried, outraged.
"No, that's not what I said," Yato's dad drawled, sounding a touch bored now. "I said it had difficulty naming new ayakashi. But we've been practicing. It's not rocket science—even a human like me can do it. It's not something I actually need a god for. It doesn't matter if Yaboku is cooperating or not."
"Change of plans," Kazuma said. "No point fighting all these things as they're made. We need to take them out at the source. Kuraha, cover us and keep the ayakashi off our backs so we can get close to Yato."
Yukine saw the sense in that—Yato couldn't keep making more ayakashi while they were attacking him, and the ayakashi were distracting them from taking care of their main goal, which was Yato—but he didn't see how Kuraha could handle so many phantoms on his own. The elder shinki was strong and clever, no doubt about it, but one against over half a dozen? Without a god to back him up? The odds weren't good.
But he didn't hesitate. "You can count on me," he said as he leaped away and crashed down on an ayakashi with massive paws.
Yukine wanted to protest—he'd grown to like Kuraha and didn't want to see him thrown into a hopeless battle—but then Bishamon charged Yato again and he realized that he didn't have time to worry about anything else. It took all his concentration just to follow along with her swings and maneuver his borderlines to search out the parasitic ayakashi somewhere inside Yato. And he was failing.
He cut deep into Yato's shoulder on the first swing, and blood gushed from the wound even though Yato had no reaction and his movements didn't slow—a frightful, mindless killing machine. Yukine felt nothing but Yato. He could feel himself carving up the god he had sworn to protect. He didn't feel anything that didn't belong, couldn't sense the ayakashi lurking there, and that terrified him.
The next blow didn't cut nearly as deep, because he was too afraid that he'd cut into Yato again and again and again without managing to sever the bond with the ayakashi. How could he keep attacking his god? Where was the phantom he had been so sure he could remove?
"Yukine, stop panicking!" Bishamon dodged around Yato and spun away to catch her breath. She was breathing in heaving little pants now, either from her exhaustion and pain and blight or from Yukine's fear. "And don't dull down. We need to cut it out of him."
"But I can't find it!" he wailed. Maybe he had just gotten lucky last time. Maybe Yato's dad had taken extra precautions. Whatever it was, failure tightened around his chest and squeezed the panic into his lungs.
Bishamon opened her mouth, but Kazuma had no more patience for mid-battle chats.
"Most of the secondary ayakashi are gone," he observed. "Two mid-range right, twenty meters, medium speed and agility, high strength. One thirty meters forward left, high speed, high agility. One fifteen meters behind, stats unknown. One– Never mind, good work, Kuraha.
"Veena, circle right and strike at three o'clock and ten o'clock, angle both blades six degrees downward. At end of move, strike hard blow right and summon Kazuha. One shot fifteen degrees right, five degrees higher. When he moves into position in path of blade, bring in blow at downward strike angle across chest to cover maximum surface area. Yukine, this is your chance to slice the ayakashi out—maximum area for you to search it out.
"Kuraha, finish the one behind and circle around. Feint attack to Yato's rear and push him forward—he's outside optimal range. Strike to–"
Yukine never got to follow through on that strike, because that was the moment everything fell apart.
Kuraha lunged from behind, but instead of moving nicely into position to avoid the attack, Yato pivoted neatly on his heel, swayed out of the way to let the lion's momentum carry him right past, and reached out with the brush as Kuraha went stumbling. It only took a few quick motions for him to paint that too-familiar eye across a swathe of golden fur on Kuraha's side. The symbol glowed bright purple and pulsed once, twice.
Then it disappeared and Kuraha collapsed to the ground with a bloodcurdling wail, his whole body spasming.
"Well," said Yato's dad from the sidelines, "looks like it's finally starting to get interesting. I was kind of hoping to snag Bishamon, but that's okay. She's next."