Nightmares were common for Yukine.
It really put Yato on edge the first couple times he caught his kid jerking out of his slumber. He feared he was about to lose him—that Father had exposed another one of his shinki to God's greatest secret. He felt helpless (still did) because he knew that it'd be nearly impossible to reel Yukine back in if he remembered too much.
But thankfully, Yukine didn't seem to remember anything.
Each time Yato caught him waking up from what was an obvious bad dream, he would make sure to ask him if he wanted to talk about it. He hated having to because it felt too risky to encourage Yukine to reminisce, but he needed to know how bad things were getting. Luckily for him though, Yukine always said there was nothing to talk about because he couldn't remember any part of it. It seemed that the memories burned up as quick as a sheet of paper in a bonfire the second Yukine woke up.
But things were never so easy and you should never count your chickens before they hatch because everything got worse after the box. Yukine began to recall details in his dreams, details that felt like claws slicing down Yato's back upon hearing them. They didn't pinch his heart though or anything—to Yukine, they were practically meaningless and he probably just chalked them up to just details from Heaven's box—not the other one—not the one Yato truly feared.
Regardless, Yato tried his best to comfort and distract his kid. Yet, his efforts only seemed futile because the nightmares just got worse and worse, occurring almost every other night. It was getting difficult to keep up with and it was rare for even just one of them to get a good night of sleep (let alone a full one.)
But Yato would sacrifice a thousand nights if it meant Yukine got to live through one more.
Although, there was one night in particular where Yato felt the ball drop. He wished he could say that he didn't hesitate to catch it—but once his eyes locked on Yukine's futon and he saw the small form under the covers thrashing back and forth like a fish suffocating on land, crying and begging into the silent night air—images of Sakura flashed across his vision and he froze.
It felt like the end of the world.
Of course, technically it was because Yukine was his whole world. The light that chased away the darkness in his heart.
Ever since he met Yukine, he felt like he had a chance. The first time he met the kid's eyes—the kid who'd eventually become his kid—he felt the wind change direction.
In those eyes, existed a brighter, better future without calamity and darkness. And all Yato wanted to do was love, cherish, and nurture it. Make sure the two of them got the future they deserved. As a proper family with Hiyori, Daikoku, and Kofuku—and possibly even Hiiro, Ebisu, Tenjin, Mayu, Kazuma, and the crazy bitch—everybody he owed a better future to.
But there was one thing... a shadow that lurked never too far behind wherever he went... a dark shadow immune to any and all light...
Yaboku.
Who wasn't created to love. Only to destroy.
To cull.
He should have learned his lesson with Sakura.
Or... maybe he had. Maybe that was why he hesitated. Why he let his kid suffer through his traumatic memories. Why he let him plead for a life he no longer had to a man who never loved him.
It really made the déjà vu kick in. A son, clinging to the robes of a father who felt no sympathy for his creation. Who didn't dither to allow his child to be suffocated by the darkness he forced upon him.
Perhaps, Yato was wrong for thinking he'd be able to provide Yukine with a better second life. How could he give his kid what he needed when he too, never had it?
He should have learned his lesson with Sakura.
With trembling fingers, Yato raised his hand. He could see it all unraveling underneath the warm glow of Yukine's desk lamp—the spreading blight, the eldritch all-seeing eyeballs, the emerging deformed bat wings. His kid falling from grace and morphing into a sinful hellion. All of it entirely Yato's fault.
He should have learned his lesson with Sakura.
Yato's mouth formed the words his heart would never let him say. It would be the responsible thing to do—Yukine deserved better—but the kanji didn't rise off the kid's skin (if it was still even there and not erased by the tainted rotten purple.) He couldn't say the words, couldn't let go of Yukine. He had promised the kid forever despite how selfish and stupid it was. Even as a god, Yato could never give anyone forever because
he didn't have it.
Suddenly, Yukine let out a strangled whimper, shooting out a fist straight into the bedside lamp. It crashed against the hardwood with the bulb shattering on impact. The room was then plunged into darkness. Yato couldn't see his dying child anymore.
Maybe that was a good thing.
It's been centuries and Sakura's karma form was still painted on the back of Yato's eyelids. He didn't need Yukine's there too.
But then—through the pitch-black—Yukine called out a name that broke Yato right out of his stupor. His name. Not only was his kid still in there, but he needed him. Wanted him.
He darted over to Yukine's futon and immediately gathered the smaller body into his arms. The kid struggled—no doubt still in dreamland—and kicked harshly into Yato's abdomen. But he didn't care, didn't let go, only held on tighter. Anything to keep his kid from breaking apart.
Carefully, as if he was handling glass, Yato crooned words of comfort as he rocked them back and forth. He then noticed a distinct lack of ayakashi features. There was no trace of blighting as well. The karma was gone like a lightning flash. Almost as if he imagined it.
Maybe he did.
Maybe he was losing it.
With a quiet sigh, Yato ran his fingers through Yukine's messy bed head. "It's okay, Yukine, I'm here." The kid was beginning to cease his struggles and Yato felt the barbwire knot in his heart loosen and dull.
"You're not in there anymore. He can't hurt you." Yato leaned down to bury his face into his hair. "You're safe now. I'm here."
He planted a kiss. Soft and tender. As if he didn't deserve to love something so precious. "I'm here so please don't leave me."
I need you.
Yato closed his eyes and continued to rock them. There was one hint of distress from Yukine that stubbornly stayed embedded in his chest. It speared through his ribcage and impaled his heart on a steel cold blade. Yato felt winded and exhaustion was yanking on his eyelids. Yukine's negative emotions always made him feel like he just finished running a marathon. Sometimes he wished the bond worked both ways, so he could soothe his kid with his own warm affection. But then again, it was probably for the best that Yukine's heart stayed one-sided with his—he didn't want to be the one to snuff out that flame with his own anguish.
He was already leading them down a path of mutual destruction as it was.
As Yukine fell limper in his arms, he hefted the kid up and onto his lap, guiding his head so his cheek rested against his shoulder. Yukine's hand remained fisted in Yato's white t-shirt, and he decided to just leave it. There was a wet circle on his chest where all of his kid's tears fell, he barely even noticed.
Under the moonlight, Yukine's face was scrunched up in pain when he should look the most at peace. (He used too... before the clash with Father.) Yato wanted to soothe out all those disgruntled wrinkles, bring back the much-needed tranquility.
He didn't know what possessed him at that moment, what thought that led to his next action. But as they rocked, as Yato held his kid in his arms, as they calmed down together in the stillness of the night... he let out a humming sound. Eventually, letting it get louder and louder until the hum turned into words and he was softly singing.
The song was old, he was sure of it, but it was the most calming one he could think of. He didn't even remember what exactly he knew it from. Maybe the radio... or the television... perhaps just someone he passed by one day. There weren't many places to hear a lullaby... and Father never sang any to him.
Maybe he should learn more songs, this was kind of nice.
After finishing the lyrics he knew and making it halfway through an encore of them, Yukine started to stir.
"...Yato?" He yawned, letting go of Yato's shirt to rub at his eye.
Yato couldn't help but smile softly. He was still here. Still Yukine.
That future without darkness was still visible in those amber eyes.
They were still okay.
"Shhh." Yato smoothed down the back of his hair. He felt confusion pool into his chest as he softly shushed and pet his kid, but Yukine didn't attempt to wiggle out of his arms just yet. "You were having a nightmare."
"Oh."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Yukine made a noise of indifference as he nestled into Yato's chest. He let out a small sigh. "No. I don't remember what it was about. Sorry, I woke you." His eyes slid closed once again.
"It's okay," Yato whispered.
He let his kid fall into an actual peaceful slumber, milking the tranquil ocean waves that washed over his chest, rocking his heart back and forth while swaddling it in a fuzzy warmth. He let Yukine light up his heart once more.
Yaboku wasn't created to love, but Yato was able to learn (with the help of Yukine and Hiyori, of course) and that was enough.
Maybe they didn't have forever, maybe the past was too painful to reminiscent on, and maybe the future was a tad too bleak sometimes, but the present was a work in progress and that was enough.
It was enough because ever since Yato met Yukine, he felt like it was possible to change fate. So long as he followed his guidepost to the future he saw in his eyes.
So long as he stayed away from the darkness.
Perhaps he had learned his lesson with Sakura, not the one Father wanted him to learn but the one Sakura herself taught Yato.
The lesson of what actual love was. Of goodness and care.
Of life and death.
Of family.
Author's Note: This is 100% pure self-indulgence. I really just wanted to write a fic where Yato comforts Yukine after a nightmare with a lullaby. The manga has been really painful these latest chapters sooo I needed some father/son sweetness from these two to hold me over.