A knock on the door. Yato slammed his textbook shut. He swung it open.

Kazuma stood there, hand gripping the back of his neck. "Well, she's doing it."

"Huh? She's doing what?" Yato stepped back to let him into the apartment. "You?"

"No!" Kazuma glared at him.

"Nice one, Yato," called Kofuku's voice.

So much for having an evening studying on my own. Kofuku burst into the apartment. "Good you're all here. I made muffins." She held out a tray. "Want some?"

Daikoku appeared behind her, rolling his eyes. "You just wanted gossip."

"Don't call me out." She stuck her tongue out at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, though, and so were Daikoku's.

Were you fighting? Yato thought it unlikely. What happened?

"So, who's Bisha doing?"

"No one! I mean, I don't know! Stop being like that!" Kazuma looked to Daikoku. "You have a sense of propriety; help me!"

Daikoku raised his hands as if to say he would not be getting involved. Yato laughed. "We're just teasing, Kazuma."

"It's not funny," he mumbled, dropping down onto the couch. "We're roommates. We're not like that."

Kofuku opened Yato's cabinets, scooping out muffins for each of them. "So, what is Bishamon up to?"

Kazuma rubbed his face. He started blankly at the muffin. "Filing a complaint against Fujisaki."

"Well, good," said Daikoku. "From the sound of it he's an asshole who should not be in a position of power—"

"No, you don't understand." Kazuma's chest heaved. "They'll dig into her—they'll ruin her. I know how this sort of thing goes. It never turns out well for the complainant and she knows it and she's still doing it because she's distraught over Suzuha—because she thinks she's always losing—"

She kind of was, though. Yato cringed.

"And she can't take this kind of injustice. They really do treat her badly—the sexism is really—"

"So then, back her up," Kofuku said. "Eat. Don't waste my hard work"

Daikoku rolled his eyes. Yato obeyed. Kazuma sighed. The muffin was soft and sweet, cinnamon bursting onto his tongue.

"It's not going to be easy," Kazuma said. "The professors have all the power, and Fujisaki is lecturing now while a postdoc, so he's basically one of them."

"So talk to her instead of to me," Yato said. "I can't help you. She hates me for your idea for helping her last time."

"What was that?" asked Kofuku.

"Giving her cats away," said Yato. "They're all happy and in good homes, but—"

"Bisha can't turn down someone or something in need," said Kazuma. "She's just—it's what I love about her. She has endless compassion, but it—gets out of hand sometimes, and she winds up hurting what she wants to help—like if she'd lost her previous apartment—"

"Have you considered a magical spell known as communication?" asked Kofuku.

"Of course we talk!" Kazuma burst out.

Yato's phone buzzed. He frowned. And the muffin in his mouth turned into ash, the cinnamon into sand.

From an unknown number, an image of Hiyori. And Fujisaki. Kissing.

Fuck. So this was his revenge. Yato felt nauseated. He shoved the plate away from him. It wasn't a huge deal. Hiyori should be able to make her own choices, but that-manipulative—he would just use her and—and—

"Yato, are you all right?" asked Kofuku.

"Huh?"

"You look like someone kicked a puppy," said Daikoku.

"The true conflict: Yato is a dog person and Bishamon a cat person," declared Kofuku. She giggled.

Kazuma moaned.

"Nothing is wrong," said Yato. "It's—fine." Something I don't want to talk about.

Kofuku regarded him with her brows pinched. She nodded, as if accepting it.

"I don't know what you can do," said Daikoku. "She makes her own choices. And she's decided that just because something looks impossible doesn't mean it isn't worth trying, because she cares about herself and about the other people in her lab. And that boy who died—Suzuha—too."

"The entire college fosters an unhealthy environment," said Kazuma. "But I still want to learn, so—"

"If you came here asking me to report Fujisaki for being a terrible father, the answer is no, and it's irrelevant," Yato said immediately.

"He'll turn everyone against her," said Kazuma.

"I—"

Footsteps pounded on the stairs. They all fell silent. His door flung open, but it wasn't Yukine.

Bishamon stomped in. And there was Yukine, behind her, face red. And—Hiyori? Hiyori?

"Your kid was drinking at a college party," Bishamon informed him. "This girl wanted to escort him home, so I gave them a ride."

"It wasn't like that!" yelped Yukine. His eyes found Yato. His lip trembled. "Really, Yato, it—I had only a few sips—I didn't even like it—"

Fuck. If Yukine was caught drinking by the police or by someone who reported it to them—which someone like Father would love to do—he could easily lose custody of him. Yato groaned. "Go to your room. We'll talk later." He had to square things with Hiyori first. And Bishamon.

Yukine didn't even protest. Damn, the kid must really feel guilty. Granted Yato kind of had no right to yell at him, but he had to. He had to explain, help him understand.

"Hi Yato," said Hiyori, waving. "I saw Yukine leaving, so I—"

"Take better care of him," said Bishamon. "Or else he'll turn out exactly like you and that's exactly what the world doesn't need."

Hiyori's jaw dropped. "What—"

"Don't worry; she just hates me as a hobby," said Yato, glaring at Bishamon. I will be a good older brother and father for Yukine. I will be. I will.

"You gave away my cats! I only had seven, and you gave away six of them!" Bishamon's violet eyes filled with tears. "You are a thief and a—"

"What?" Hiyori asked again. She gaped at Yato.

"I asked him to!"

Yato spun around. Kazuma stood, fists clenched. "I asked him to, Bishamon. It was—my fault. You told me when we were studying together—that you might lose your apartment—I didn't want you to, so I found homes for all of them—I just wanted to protect you, not—"

"I can deal with my own consequences," Bishamon snapped. Her glare lasered Yato still, but shock stiffened her features.

"I know," said Kazuma miserably. "I just-I wanted to-I'm sorry." His breath caught. "But don't report Yato or Yukine, okay? Because I-asked him to help; it wasn't-"

"I wasn't going to." Bishamon jabbed her finger at Yato. "But still. You better-"

"Bishamon," said Kazuma again. "I'm sorry. If—if you want me to move out, I'd still pay rent. I mean, we—"

"I don't want you to move out," Bishamon said. "Of course not. I—" She stopped.

"Communication," whispered Kofuku with a wink. She rose. "Daikoku, we should go downstairs."

"And I'm going upstairs," said Bishamon. "I have work to do." She turned and marched out. Kazuma followed her.

"I should probably go," Hiyori said awkwardly. "But you suggested we get together, and then I hadn't seen you since—"

Yato had no idea what to say, and he knew Yukine was probably listening, ear pressed against his bedroom door. "I'm sorry."

"Was it the professor?" Hiyori tried.

How much should I tell her? If she knows—if she— He didn't want her to feel used. Even if that's exactly what was happening with Fujisaki and Nora, who no doubt sent that photo to him. "Yes."

But if he said nothing… Kofuku's advice lingered in his mind. And Kazuma actually came clean with Bishamon. Well, about that anyways. God knew if he'd ever said that he had feelings for her.

"You have a history?"

Hiyori… "He's my father." Yato grimaced. "Well, sort of. Not really. Foster father. Legally. He was, I mean. I'm an adult now."

Hiyori whitened. "He invited me to this party—"

"Let me guess. He's been hitting on you." Yato grabbed the phone and handed it to her.

"I didn't want to kiss him!" she yelped. "He just—he's creepy and I—"

"He won't stop," Yato said. "He's controlling. He hates that he can't control me. He'll control you to control me because he thinks you're my friend."

Hiyori blinked. "Aren't we?"

We only met a few times.

Okay, you saved my life, but—

I wish I could be that free. Free to make friends, free to call anyone who was kind someone you wanted to get to know, free to laugh with them. But he carried inherent risks, simply because he had been raised by that man.

I don't know, really. But I want to be. If I could have friends, I'd want them to be like you.

Was that enough? Yato nodded. "I guess we are." I hope we are.

"If I practice martial arts on him, he'll fail me, won't he?"

Yato snorted.

"I pushed him away," Hiyori said.

"Why?" asked Yato. "He's good-looking, and smart, and settled, and—"

"Because he's so full of himself, and he's my professor, and that's just wrong." Hiyori grabbed the throw pillow, squeezing it against her chest. "And I—remembered that you didn't seem to like him."

You were thinking of me?

"Want to get dinner tomorrow?" Yato asked. "Or come for dinner. With Yukine and me. So it wouldn't be awkward." Why did his tongue feel like it was glued to his mouth? He sounded stupid.

I can suddenly no longer judge Kazuma.

No, I can. He's fun to judge.

"Sounds great," said Hiyori.

He sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "So. What was Yukine doing?"

"I am here; you can just ask me, you know!" called Yukine's muffled voice.

Yato smirked. "Come out of your room, then."

Yukine shuffled out. His eyes darted from Hiyori to Yato, and he sat on the desk chair. "I am sorry, Yato."

"You told me you were going out with friends."

"I was. She invited me to—"

Nora. He understood immediately. "She's—too much like my father."

"That girl?" asked Hiyori. "She seemed sweet."

"She's also his foster kid. Not my biological sister, but she's—" He swallowed. When he used to get in trouble, he would use Nora to do it. She'd cover or him. She helped him rehome the cats. She helped him do anything and everything he wanted, before he ran away.

Her confronting him at the schoo—the way I used you was wrong, Nora.

I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't even want to remember that person, but—but—

"She was nice tonight," said Yukine. "We were just painting; nothing—"

"I wasn't thinking that! Get your mind out of the gutter." Yato's face was scarlet. Yukine was way too young to be thinking of that kind of thing. "Did you—did you meet Fujisaki, at all?"

"I saw him kiss Hiyori," Yukine muttered.

"She set it up," Yato said bitterly. As he'd known from the moment the three of them walked into the apartment together. "All of that. The two of them—"

"That's so disgusting!" burst out Hiyori. "It's so—wrong!" She covered her mouth as if she was nauseated.

"I'm sorry," Yato whispered. Shame crushed his chest.

"Why?" Hiyori demanded. "It's not your fault! It's his, for being a—a—stupid dickhead—"

"Hey!" Yato gestured to Yukine.

"Yato, we say worse all the time," Yukine pointed out.

Hush, you! "Well, Hiyori didn't need to know that."

"Well, now she does." Yukine smirked.

Hiyori giggled.

"I am sorry, Yato," Yukine whispered. "I didn't know—I didn't—she was acting so nice, still prickly but like, I didn't think—"

"It's okay," said Yato quietly. "She's just a kid, too." He wished he could have any hope for Nora. But she was so much like their father.

He still remembered when he found her sobbing, a bruise on her face. "Father said I was a bad girl!" Because she'd asked to tag along with him to meet with Sakura. And then—and then—she obeyed Father. Everything to get his attention again, everything to earn his approval, an apology for ever having doubted that she was a good girl.

"It really was only a sip or two," Yukine said. "I didn't like it."

"I've done worse at your age," Yato confessed. He glanced at Hiyori. She looked surprised, but she said nothing. "Not that it's an excuse. It's a lesson. Don't do that. It's a bad idea."

"I won't."

"If they catch you—if we got a surprise visit or it got reported, they could take you away," Yato said. He squeezed his fists together. "I don't—want that."

Yukine's eyes widened.

You're family.

I don't want to lose you.

No matter what it costs me.

He thought of Bishamon again, and felt sick.

"He'll come around," Father assured her, running his fingers through her hair. "I know it."

She hoped so. Until Yato was back with them, she felt like there was a gaping, bleeding hole in her home. And Father had so many more hours to work at the lab, and she missed having Yato around to help her with homework, to play with her even though she was sixteen and past the point of playing games in parks.

He called her Hiiro, and she liked that name far more than Nora. Even more than Mizuchi. And then, after Kazuma hired him, he felt so guilty watching that blond girl cry, and he left even though she told him, she told him, that he did not have to feel guilty, that it was okay, that he was just doing what he was hired to do, and she didn't feel guilty, so why should he?

But he looked down on her, looked at her the way most people looked at them, like dirty children, and he left.

But he didn't really look down on her. He was afraid of her, for some reason, and she couldn't put her finger on why.

She looked at the stick figure painting Yukine had at least attempted and tore it apart.

At school on Monday, she wasn't even surprised to feel a hand land on her shoulder. She whirled around.

"So you made it home okay," she said.

His eyes, the pretty ones that looked like rubies, glittered. "No thanks to you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You used me," he said. "To get to Yato. I know you sent a picture of your idiot father kissing Hiyori to upset him. You planned for me to see that, didn't you?"

She blinked. She didn't really expect him to pick up on all of that. "Is that why you ran out?"

"Don't pretend you cared." He huffed, turning on his heel and stalking away. Giggles erupted, and she realized their classmates were watching. Of course. They probably assumed the same thing as they always did.

It didn't matter. She had to text Father this. He would not be happy that Yukine was mad at her. They might need him again.

Not now Mizuchi, came his reply. I have a larger problem.

Can I help? This was more important to her than learning trigonometry. Family mattered more, right?

She'd spent so long just begging the gods for one, and Father was her answer. She knew from the moment he took her home and Yato too, and they were together. She grew up without one and almost stopped wanting one, almost smothered the few roots of hope that had grown, until Father came and everything bloomed.

Yato, come back, she thought, waiting for Father to text back.

Bishamonten filed a complaint against me, Father responded. For discrimination and harassment.

She froze. Does that mean you'll be fired?

Not if I fight it and win.

You will, she assured him. She couldn't fathom the thought of Father being fired. What if they couldn't afford their home then?

"Nora," said her teacher, and she hated him for using the name she hated. "Why are you looking down at your lap like that?"

"Maybe she has crabs," whispered one of their classmates, and she contemplated spitting at them.

"Phone, please." The teacher held out his hand.

She scowled but handed it over. Father—Father—would he be mad, if he couldn't reach her?

She had to talk to Yato. Bishamon wouldn't listen to her; she hated her for being associated with Yato, but maybe if they got all of her cats back-maybe-

"Go away," yelled Yukine as she followed him home. He hadn't joined her for lunch that day, and she couldn't help but scowl at it even though she had her quiet spot back.

"I need to talk to Yato," she called out.

"You really don't!"

"I do!"

He broke into a run. She sprinted after him. He didn't know she'd been on the track team in middle school. She grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey!"

"Please," she begged. "I really do need to-just one conversation, please, Yukine. Bishamon is trying to get Father fired and—"

"Yeah, because he's a dick."

"He's not! You don't even know him!" She stomped her foot.

"You're absolutely hopeless and crazy."

"You're stupid and a child."

"So are you, dumbass."

Her throat clogged. "Please."

"Crocodile tears, boo hoo." Yukine yanked his elbow out of her grip, stalking down the street.

She wiped at her eyes. "I love Father! And Yato. I don't want to hurt—I need to—Yukine—"

"You do hurt him, though," he snapped.

He really wasn't going to listen. Not today. She clenched her fists. She couldn't fail. She didn't want Father to be angry, or hurt. She wanted him to be okay like she wanted Yato to be okay because she needed them okay because they were her family and she loved them and they loved her—

Why you? Why does Yato love you?

Why does Yato love you more?

I hate you!

"Then can you ask Yato to talk to Bishamon?" she called out, her voice wavering. It echoed through the streets.

He turned around. "Maybe I don't want Yato or Hiyori hurt anymore. Or Bishamon."

"She doesn't even like you if you're associated with Yato." Her eyes stung. "Tell Yato I can get the cats back?"

"Aren't they with new owners who probably love them?" Yukine stretched his arms above his head. "Some things you can't undo, Nora."

I hate that name. It wasn't even her name. She didn't remember her family. All she remembered was that people would call her that, and one icy January afternoon she fell into a river, and when they fished her out alive, and they asked her her name, she didn't even know what to say besides what she heard people calling her. Nora. A stray.

He left her standing on the side of the street.