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Chapter 14

(In which Yato has never been farther away and Yukine has more choices to make.)

It seemed like an awful long time before the door creaked open again and Hiyori stuck her head in. Yukine's tears had dried up along with Yato's words. He felt hollowed out and scooped raw. He couldn't meet Yato's eyes. Yato didn't seem inclined to meet his either.

"Are you guys okay?" Hiyori asked softly, hovering like she'd back out of the room the moment it looked like she was interrupting something.

There was a brief pause as Yukine tried to decide how to answer that question.

"Yeah," Yato said flatly. "Fine."

Yukine stared intently at his hands and picked at the dirt beneath his nails.

The even longer pause that followed said that the tension clotting the air was not missed.

"It's just about dinnertime," Hiyori said finally. "We thought you guys should probably eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Yato mumbled.

Neither was Yukine, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn't even want to think about eating when his stomach was all twisted up in knots.

"You need to eat," Bishamon said, her tone firm and no-nonsense. Yukine flinched in surprise, but he supposed he shouldn't be too shocked that everyone was still hanging around. "Both of you. Yukine, you've barely been eating for weeks, and goodness knows what Yato's been doing. He looks awful. Neither of you have been taking care of yourselves. You will eat something."

Yukine could practically feel her gaze boring into his back, an itch between his shoulder blades. He wondered what she was feeling through their bond. Then he decided that he probably didn't want to know.

He could feel Yato's eyes on him now, considering. The weight of his gaze was a physical thing.

"Okay," the god decided.

"Good," said Bishamon. "Do you want to come down to the kitchen?"

Yukine and Yato stiffened in unison.

"I don't know…" Yato said, reluctance dripping off every word.

"I mean, we could bring a tray if you aren't ready to go down, just… Everyone has been worried about you, and they're eager to see how you're doing now that you're awake."

"…Fine."

Yukine bit the inside of his cheek and snuck a look at Yato's blank face. He was surprised Yato had capitulated so easily. He didn't seem like he was ready to venture out among people just yet. Yukine didn't feel like he was ready for it either.

But Yato extracted himself from the blankets and crawled out of bed past him, so Yukine supposed he didn't have much choice. He swiped halfheartedly at his face, already knowing there was no way to make himself presentable, and dabbed at his nose with a sleeve.

Yato leaned over to pull a handful of tissues from the wad balled up on the bedside table, left there to mop up the blood he'd been coughing, and handed them over. Yukine looked up, wide-eyed, before he could help himself. Yato's expression was still impossible to read, but he jerked his chin towards the door and waited.

"Thanks," Yukine said in a small voice. He blew his nose and dropped the tissue in the wastebasket. He tucked the others in his pocket. He was sure he'd need them later.

When he shuffled across the room, Yato followed silently behind him. He ducked his head and avoided everyone's eyes. He didn't want to see the questions plastered across their faces, because he wasn't ready to give the answers.

After one more cautious overture in Yukine's direction, Hiyori turned her attention to Yato. She fussed a bit and chattered too lightheartedly to be genuine about everything that had been going on at home while he'd been gone. Yukine was impressed she could come up with so much to talk about. His entire life had revolved around Yato throughout the whole ordeal.

Bishamon and Kazuma led the way, while Kofuku and Daikoku materialized from somewhere behind them. They made it halfway to the kitchen before running into a gaggle of shinki whose names Yukine couldn't remember, not part of Bishamon's main team or privy to all the drama. But they seemed excited enough to see Yato up and about, politely inquiring about his health and asking if he'd be joining them for dinner.

Yato summoned up a smile out of thin air and responded just as politely with a tiny hint of his normal sunny cheer. It didn't disguise the shadows darkening his eyes, but maybe that was only really noticeable if you knew him. Yukine had never appreciated exactly how impressive his ability to fake good cheer was, too busy being annoyed by it. He couldn't summon up a convincing smile at all, and he could feel the other shinki regarding him curiously. He tugged his sleeve further down over his hand. Just in case.

If the other shinki noticed the red lines on the back of his hand or the injuries stilting Yato's movement in a way uncharacteristic of prolonged bed rest, they didn't mention it. Maybe the things that were so glaring to Yukine were really only that obvious if you knew what you were looking for.

They trailed down to the kitchen, where Yato was pushed down in a seat—"You're still looking awful wobbly!" said Kinuha—and everyone crowded around to bombard him with questions and inquiries about his health. He smiled and chatted amiably enough, although a distinct air of tiredness hung about him. Acceptable enough for an invalid just crawling out of bed.

Yukine kept to himself and hoped his smile didn't look as much like a grimace as it felt.

Hiyori leaned in close and whispered, "Are you sure you're alright? What happened?"

He darted a sidelong glance at Yato and shrugged. She followed his gaze and nodded. Her eyes held the promise of later.

He picked at his food, only really eating as much as Hiyori goaded him to, and Yato ate even less.

Bishamon circled around behind Yato and sat down beside him, holding another plate as if a different kind of food might tempt him to eat. Yato nearly jumped out of his skin, flinching back and regarding her with wide eyes.

The nauseous feeling in Yukine's stomach uncurled and coiled again.

Bishamon went still, arm halfway extended, and searched the other god's face. "Are you alright?" she asked carefully.

Yato stared back like he expected her to slap him across the face, but nodded jerkily. "Yeah," he said in a tight voice. "Just tired."

But he was restless and twitchy after that, eyes darting about and tracking the movement of anyone who came near him. Hiyori caught Yukine's gaze and widened her eyes in silent question. He shook his head slowly, and she bit down on her lip. He didn't know what exactly had Yato so jumpy, but he didn't think he would like the answer.

Bishamon cleared her throat, and suddenly she was coaxing a skittish, cornered animal. "Maybe you should get some more rest."

"But he only just got up!" said one of the shinki who hadn't yet drifted off to eat at his own table.

"Yes, and he's still recovering. Now that you see he's doing better, let's let him rest a bit until he recovers his strength."

Yato did not protest. He offered one last tight-lipped smile, but his mouth stayed firmly shut. He'd obviously had quite enough of small talk. Bishamon shooed the curious onlookers away to their own dinners, eyed Yato's mostly untouched plate, and ushered the other god up and out the door. Yukine couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Yato left them outside his room, wedging himself in the doorway to keep them out. "Goodnight," he said flatly.

"Do you need anything else before you retire?" Kazuma asked. Suddenly there was a slight edge of desperation to his voice too, an anxiousness to delay Yato's retreat. "We could–"

"No thank you. I'm fine. See you in the morning."

Yato stepped inside and shut the door, leaving a gaggle of forlorn friends staring after him.

Bishamon patted Kazuma's arm. "Give him some space," she advised. "He's still in shock. It's a lot to cope with all at once. I'm sure he'll be feeling more like himself soon."

Hiyori turned to Yukine. "Are you okay? What happened with you guys?"

Yukine cast a sidelong look at the spectators and mumbled, "Not much."

Bishamon took the hint. "Well, we'll be off, then," she said, starting back down the hall with Kazuma half a step behind. "Goodnight."

Kofuku did not. "Ooh, what did Yato-chan say?" she asked, bouncing up into Yukine's personal space until he stepped back.

Daikoku grabbed her collar and tugged her back. "Come on, he doesn't want to tell the whole world. Let's go finish dinner. Hiyori, come get us when you're ready to go home. We'll take you back."

He dragged Kofuku down the hall, although she whined and wailed the whole way. Only when they disappeared around the corner did Hiyori try again.

"Yukine…?"

"He's not very happy with me," Yukine mumbled, wrapping his arms around his middle and ducking his head.

"I'm sure it's not really–"

"He basically said that he didn't trust me anymore."

"O-oh…" Hiyori was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "I'm sure you'll work it out. You did everything to save his life, after all. I'm sure he understands. Or will understand, once he works through some things. It's like Bishamon said—he's still trying to process everything right now and it's hard to take it all in at once. Once he's feeling better, I'm sure things will be fine."

Yukine scuffed his shoe along the floorboards. "I sure hope so."

Hiyori's pause was longer this time, her voice quieter when she spoke. "I'm sorry," she said.

Yukine was too.

He was awoken abruptly in the middle of the night by a hoarse cry from the room next door. His hand was on the doorknob before his brain registered that he was awake and out of bed. Another cry, shriller this time, split the air, and he flung the door open.

Another shinki had poked her head out of a room farther down the hall, hair sleep-tousled and eyes bleary. "Is he okay?" she asked around a yawn.

"Fine," Yukine said shortly as he rushed to the next door down. "I've got it."

She mumbled something about Kazuma, but he had already dismissed her. He darted into the room and shut the door behind him with a sharp click. And immediately squinted against the darkness, which was much thicker and blacker here since Yato hadn't commandeered a lamp to leave on all night like Yukine had.

He hesitated with his back to the door, paralyzed with indecision and anxiety. It was really dark with the curtains pulled shut. And anyway, Yato probably didn't want to see him at all.

But then Yato made a breathy sound halfway between a moan and a whimper that sent shivers down Yukine's spine—that was not the kind of sound Yato ever made—and Yukine flipped on the light. He squinted against the harsh influx of light searing his retinas, but Yato stayed stubbornly asleep.

The god was tossing and turning— not unusual for him, since he often moved and talked in his sleep—but when Yukine hurried over, he saw that Yato's face was scrunched up in a pained expression with a troubled crease between his brows. He was mumbling as he twitched restlessly, just breathy, half-formed words.

"No… I don't… Stop… Please… Father…"

Yukine shook his shoulder roughly. "Wake up! Yato!"

Yato's eyes flew open and he sat upright, hands twisting in the blankets. Yukine jerked back and watched wide-eyed, trembling nearly as much as the god. Hearing Yato sound like a small, frightened child had shaken him to the core. Again.

Yato's heavy, hitching breathing filled the room and his eyes darted all around. Then they settled on Yukine, and he took a deep, shuddering breath and made an obvious effort to smooth out his features.

"S-sorry," Yukine stammered, wondering if he looked as ashen and washed-out in the light as Yato did. "I was– You were screaming and I thought–"

"It's okay," Yato mumbled in a husky voice. He dropped his gaze to his hands fidgeting in the blankets, and Yukine noticed that they were trembling too. "I'm fine."

He did not look fine or sound fine, but Yukine didn't know what he was supposed to do about it. How was he supposed to help when he'd already lost Yato's trust? Maybe Yato would respond better to Hiyori, but it was too late to call her now.

"But…"

The door squeaked quietly and Yukine threw a glance over his shoulder. Bishamon and Kazuma stuck their heads in cautiously, looking more disheveled than usual. Yukine wasn't sure whether to be angry or grateful that the other girl had actually fetched them.

"Are you alright?" Bishamon asked. "Mineha said there was shouting."

Yato's expression closed off and he regarded them coolly. "I'm fine. Sorry I woke you."

His hands disappeared under the covers, any lingering trembling hidden from view. His eyes were still a little too shifty and his face was sheet-white, but otherwise he seemed put-together enough. Not his normal cheerful self by any stretch of the imagination, but not two steps from falling apart.

Yukine didn't know if he should trust that, because he had learned not to trust Yato's smile either.

He reached out, hesitated. He hadn't been any good at the whole comforting thing at the best of times, much less when Yato was mad at him. But it didn't feel right to walk away.

"Yato…"

"You should go back to sleep," Yato said, looking back down.

"But I–"

"Let's go, Yukine." He flinched as Bishamon took his arm—he hadn't even noticed her come in—and steered him back towards the door. "Let's let Yato rest."

"But–"

"Later. Goodnight, Yato."

Yato hummed tonelessly in acknowledgement, and Bishamon shut the door.

Yukine came to his senses and glared at her. "What are you doing? We should–"

"Not now," she said firmly. "He doesn't want our help right now. Let him get his head sorted out first."

She wasn't wrong, exactly. Yukine knew Yato didn't want them around. But whatever haunted his nightmares was something Yukine had done to him. Yukine's choices had subjected Yato to… To what, exactly, was what he needed and was afraid to know.

Yukine felt responsible for it. He wanted to help.

"I have to do something," he said.

"Veena is right," Kazuma said. He looked pinched and wan in the dim light of the hallway, and he rubbed a hand across his face. "He doesn't want you to see that. It's not that he's upset with you."

Yukine stared at him in disbelief before barking out a low, harsh laugh. Kazuma could be very observant, but sometimes he missed the obvious.

"Of course he is. He said that he didn't trust me anymore."

Kazuma and Bishamon winced in unison.

Bishamon cleared her throat. "I'm sure it's not–"

"It is. He doesn't trust me as a guidepost because I was supposed to guide him to becoming a god of fortune and instead I turned him back into a killer."

A monster, Yato had said. "How can I trust a guidepost that pointed me back to becoming a monster?"

Yato was a lot of things, but a monster wasn't one of them. He should never have to feel like that. Yukine should never make him feel like that.

Bishamon and Kazuma didn't respond immediately, troubled looks crossing their faces. Yukine looked back at the door, debating whether or not to make a break for it.

"I think he's just really shaken up," Kazuma said, choosing his words slowly and with care. "Out of everyone I've ever met, he's done the most to change himself. He tries harder than anyone. I've followed him along on some of his ups and downs through the centuries, and he never gave up no matter how crazy his schemes or how hopeless it seemed or how much everyone laughed at his efforts. He always picked himself up and kept going. Possibly the most stubborn man I've ever met.

"And he was finally making progress, you know, and he's been so positive lately with you and Hiyori around. Things were finally starting to fall into place, and he was…happy. I think he was happy." Kazuma trailed off and frowned at the ground. Yukine's stomach twisted back into knots. "…And then the sorcerer swooped in and ripped everything out from under him in one fell swoop.

"What does it matter how hard he's fought or how far he's come when everything he's fought to achieve can be ripped away in a second? What's the point? I imagine it must make him feel pretty powerless.

"If he's having such a strong reaction now, you have to understand that it's a product of the destruction of a millennium of his blood, sweat, and tears. He trusted you more than anything and thought that nothing could drag him back when he had you to light the way, and now he's realizing that it's not always so simple and you can't always just outrun the past.

"That's the sorcerer's fault, not yours. It's just that he's depended on you so heavily that the failure hits hard. You're not infallible, and sometimes you might lead him astray. And he's known that, but maybe this is the first time it's really smacked him in the face. I'm not saying I agree with the choices you made, I think he has every right to be angry with you, but you did what you thought you had to in order to save his life. He knows that. He's more upset with himself than he is with you. Just give him some time. It won't go back to normal overnight, but you'll be able to work things out."

Yukine stared, surprised to hear Kazuma pick apart Yato's psyche so thoroughly. The bleakness of his words settled on Yukine's shoulders like the weight of the world. It was a lot to chew on.

Bishamon's obvious surprise faded to melancholy concern, and she brushed a hand along Kazuma's arm before ushering Yukine back to his room. "Kazuma is right," she said. "Yato might be a crazy son of a bitch, but he loves you something crazy. You can talk things over once you've both calmed down. Do try to get some sleep."

Yukine cast one last look at Yato's closed door before letting her shoo him into his room. He had a lot to think about before facing his god again, and he hoped Kazuma's perspective might reveal some glimmer of insight into how to handle Yato's depressed detachment.

Yukine spent the rest of the night prowling his room, his thoughts churning. The most frustrating thing was that all the thinking in the world wasn't helping him solve anything. He could chase himself in circles, but it didn't change anything.

He stayed in his room long after the sun pushed watery rays through the curtains. Call him a coward, but he was afraid to present himself to Yato again. He couldn't stand rejection, and he hated the heat of shame flushing his cheeks.

He paced until Hiyori finally pushed the door open.

"Good morning," she said. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"He hasn't been out of his room," Kazuma said from behind her, and Yukine scowled.

"And Yato-chan?" Kofuku asked, popping her head around Hiyori's arm.

Yukine flushed and dropped his gaze, familiar shame curdling his insides. "I don't know," he admitted in a mumble.

"He's been locked up in his room too," Bishamon said. "Why don't we see if he wants to join us for breakfast?"

Yukine slunk out of the room, Hiyori's worried gaze following him. He couldn't hide in his room forever.

He faltered outside Yato's door, but took a deep breath to steel himself. Everyone was watching him. He could feel their eyes. He didn't want to crack in front of them, not again, so he squared his shoulders and opened the door.

And froze mid-step instead of crossing the threshold.

"What…?"

Yato was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a sheaf of newspaper clippings in his hand, brows drawn together as his eyes skipped back and forth along the lines of text. He let out a breath and leaned over to place the clipping on one of the small patches of empty bed left before turning his gaze to the next article in the stack. The rest of the bed and a swathe of floor along its side were cluttered with newspapers that had been spread out in a macabre collage.

Yukine blinked at the mess stupidly and his heart stuttered. These were all the news articles about the killings, the ones Hiyori had brought him because he'd threatened to go down to the lower realm and get them himself if she didn't. He'd bundled them up and hidden them out of sight, and every once in a while, when Hiyori was back home and Bishamon and Kazuma had given up on him for the night, he had pulled them out and leafed through them one more time.

His preferred hidey-hole was tucked in the back of the nightstand drawer or under the corner of his mattress, but from time to time he'd snuck into Yato's empty room as if that might somehow bring him closer to his missing god. And maybe once or twice, he'd brought his stash with him. And apparently, just once, he'd been interrupted and hidden them there and forgotten about it.

"Stop it!" He lurched across the floor and winced as newspaper crunched under his foot. "That's not…"

Yato didn't even look up. His gaze skimmed along the article in his hand, and that blank, distant sheen was back in his eyes.

Yukine swallowed hard and his feet dragged to a stop. "It's not… Those are for me, not you. I didn't mean… I knew that if I… I knew it would be my fault. It's not your…"

Because he just knew Yato was blaming himself, even though he hadn't wanted to risk this happening in the first place. Yukine was the one who had sent him back, even knowing that people would die. Yukine collected the names of the dead as his own penance, not to rub them in Yato's face.

The room was very, very quiet, but Yato's eyes had stilled and stayed fixed sightlessly on an otherwise unassuming bit of newsprint. Then he looked up, studied Yukine for a moment, and looked back down at the articles clutched in his hand.

"It's not your fault," he said finally.

He stretched over to begin slowly gathering up the scattered articles, moving like each movement was leaden and exhausting. Yukine bent over to collect the pages off the floor. He handed them over to Yato silently.

Yato shuffled the pages into a messy pile and then leaned over to dump them into the trashcan beside the bed, the one that had swallowed all his bloody tissues before. Yukine made a small, involuntary sound of protest in the back of his throat. He wasn't sure he was done with those yet.

Yato looked up and his eyes slid past Yukine to rest on Hiyori and the others crowded in the doorway. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Hiyori said uncertainly. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Yato looked back at Yukine, face blank. "But speaking of fault, we should figure out this ablution."

Yukine jerked to attention, face coloring again. "Yeah, we need to do that right away. Sorry, I–"

"Not yet. You still feel too guilty about having Bishamon name you."

Becoming a nora sounded ten times worse when Yato acknowledged it. Somehow, hearing him say it made it seem more real. Not that Yukine had managed to hide it from him before, obviously, but maybe he liked to pretend he had.

"She's going to release me," he said quickly. "She just wanted to talk to–"

"We already talked about it."

Yukine blinked at him and looked over his shoulder at Bishamon hovering just inside the room. The thought of them having a powwow to discuss their common problem shinki made him intensely uncomfortable. He didn't even like the thought of them being in the same room anymore. It was like introducing your mistress to your wife. And then inviting them to compare notes on all your betrayals.

Bishamon cleared her throat under his scrutiny. "Yes… We did talk things over… We just want to make sure we've considered everything, you know? I can release you and it can go back to the way it was before. Or you can keep the name and still go back with Yato. As a…backup. I won't be able to name you again later if something happens."

Something like Yato dying or disappearing when they killed his father, Yukine thought sourly. But maybe he was being unfair, because Bishamon was watching him with those big, anxious eyes, and he remembered her sitting by his bedside at night, searching his face earnestly as she said he'd always have a place with her if anything happened. Whatever her faults, she loved her shinki to pieces and Yukine had somehow gotten caught up in that.

It would make an already messy situation a great deal messier if she kept him now that Yato was awake. And it would add extra tension to Yato and Yukine's already strained relationship.

But what had the gods discussed? Had Yato asked Bishamon to let Yukine keep the name because he wanted to release him?

He turned on Yato with a sharp jolt of panic, just in time to see the god wince at the upsurge of emotion.

"Do you–?"

"It's up to you," Yato grunted.

Yukine eyed him uncertainly. "But… What did you decide? What do you want to do?"

Yato shook his head. "Bishamon and I talked it over, and I see benefits in both options. This is going to have the greatest impact on your life, and you've been making a lot of tough decisions for yourself lately. Think about it and decide for yourself."

"But…" Yukine twisted his hands together. The sudden responsibility sent his stomach dropping again.

He'd been making nothing but tough decisions lately, and they all seemed to be wrong even when he couldn't see a better alternative. He didn't want to be handed yet another opportunity to screw things up. He didn't want another opportunity to hurt Yato.

Obviously he wanted Bishamon to release him, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stomach being a nora. But even once the unwanted name was gone, the scars would remain. The damage was done. And if Yato's dad cooked up another scheme…

"I want her to release me, but…"

Yato nodded once. "Until Father is taken care of, then."

Yukine dug his nails into his palms until they bit red crescents into his skin. "But I don't want… I don't know how long…"

"It won't be long," Yato said. He stared out the window on the far side of the room. The curtains had been pushed open, and the sun slanted through the glass cheerily. It seemed like a nice day. Out there, anyway.

"I hope not," Bishamon said, but there was a sour, pessimistic note to her voice. "But he hasn't been easy to catch so far."

"He's just about finished," Yato said, and Yukine wondered at the heavy certainty weighing down his voice. "Anyway," he added, almost as an afterthought, "it's just about Ooharai. The heavens will be mobilizing shortly."

"I guess."

Yukine wanted to apologize yet again and say that they could forget the whole thing if Yato didn't want this. All these decisions he'd been making were directly impacting Yato too, and the god had had no say in the matter at all. Yukine wanted to finally do something his way, to make sure this wasn't just another betrayal heaped on all the rest.

But his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he couldn't free it in time to find the words.

"We can reassess once he's out of the picture." Yato didn't look away from the window. "I suppose it's time for an ablution."

Yukine hunched his shoulders under the weight of his sins and tried to remember what it felt like to be carefree and forgiven. An ablution was just a necessary evil. He wondered if it would change anything.