A mug of tea slammed down on the desk across from him. Long purple nails scraped the handle as if trying to peel the paint off.

Oh, fuck. Yato craned his neck up. "Yes?"

Bishamon dragged a chair over to the desk, uninvited. But then, why would she presume she needed an invite? It wasn't like that was common decency. It wasn't like Yato had an astrophysics exam tomorrow and needed to study until his eyes bled this afternoon because he would not be studying this evening because he was getting dinner with Hiyori because—

"Kazuma and I talked," said Bishamon, folding her arms across her chest. Her fingers drummed on the wooden desk in the library. Someone coughed from behind one of the dusty bookshelves. Pages rattled.

"And?" Yato somehow doubted it was what Kazuma should probably talk to her about.

"He told me that he hired you to rehome my cats."

Yato rolled his eyes. "Yes, I was there for that part."

Bishamon scowled. "I don't forgive you, you know. I don't care what he arranged; you still did it, you and that girl."

"Yep," said Yato. "I did." And I'm sorry. But there was no point in apologizing. He didn't even know how, when there was nothing he could give back.

"They were like my children," Bishamon said sadly. "I only had seven and you rehomed six of them. It wasn't a dirty apartment or a reeking one; it—"

"I know," Yato said. "Kazuma just didn't want you to wind up homeless."

"I could have handled my landlord." Bishamon took a swig of tea. The spiced smell of chai met Yato's nose. "You know that, right? Or do you think I'm some helpless—"

"Not hardly; you beat me at rock climbing every single time and I'm still angry." He was trying to joke. An apology when he couldn't word one.

Bishamon smirked as if it was a pleasant memory for her.

"How about Kazuma?" asked Yato. "Are you still—"

"I don't understand why 'she might have to move' means 'cut her off from her cats, the creatures that help her relax and smile,'" Bishamon pointed out. "Seems a pretty drastic counter, doesn't it?"

Yato reached for his own coffee mug. Empty. Fuck.

"That's not going to get you off the hook this time, Yato." Bishamon moved his empty coffee mug away from him.

"Why don't you ask Kazuma?"

"I did, and he looked as if he would kill himself if I asked again, so I'm asking you." Her voice resonated with something dark. "Don't lie to me again."

Yato glowered at her.

She shut his laptop. "Want me to throw your book out so you can't study next? Because I will."

He rolled his eyes. "You won't like the answer."

"What did your father do?"

"Nothing," Yato snapped, the coffee he'd been drinking stinging his stomach. Too much caffeine. Too much acid. "It had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you." Isn't anything ever your fault?

Her eyes darkened.

Guilt assailed him. He swallowed. "Sorry."

She said nothing. Waiting.

"You and I both know you couldn't afford to move. Or at least, that's what Kazuma said. How much money did you give that friend who was in a car accident? Ebisu?"

Bishamon looked off to the side. A couple made out in a corner. She wrinkled her nose.

"It's not connected to my father," said Yato. "Contrary to what he thinks, not everything in the world leads back to him, and I can't help you out in your little revenge quest except to say that if you file against him, you'll be playing directly into his hands."

"So what?" asked Bishamon. "It's the right thing to do."

"What about your own life?"

"I consider justice important as part of my life." Bishamon tossed her hair. Her face flamed. "So why did you—"

"Kazuma paid me." And he was desperate at that time. Desperate to afford an apartment of his own, to escape his father, to find a place to live, any place, to get out of that goddamn house. If he lived on the opposite side of town, Fujisaki could never find him, and he could reinvent himself, try to feel out who he wanted to be. Someone who helped people instead of hurting people, that much he knew.

Did it matter if to get that, he hurt someone?

Nora helped him. He called her Hiiro then, a name she liked. And now she was trying to hurt him and calling it love. And he knew when he left her what she would become, and he knew she wouldn't come with him, would stop him from leaving, because she still wanted to believe in Father, believe she was loved and rescued when really Father would throw her away if he had no use for her. But her perfect obedience and desire to please played right into his hands.

He hoped she avoided Yukine from here on out. But knowing Father… probably not.

"You're a bit of a coward," Bishamon informed him. She grabbed her mug and her purse, stalking off.

Fine. Then I'll be a coward. At least I'm not so horrible, not anymore. Being a coward was the least of the things he was afraid of being.

Yato grabbed his phone, texting Kazuma. What the fuck, man. Warn me next time.

Sorry.

Did she forgive you at the very least?

I think so? I'm not sure. I still feel bad. But it was the right thing to do.

Or he could have just asked her. Yato rubbed his chin. Tell her you love her yet?

Isn't it better not to be with someone, if you think you'll hurt them? Kazuma responded.

Yato swallowed. That was not what he wanted to even consider before his date with Hiyori. And he still had to study. He had to improve himself.

He made it to the quad on campus where they'd agreed to meet two minutes late. But she was waiting there under a tree, sitting on a bench. She grinned when she saw him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." She rose. "So, are we going to your place?"

Yato rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, but we need to get groceries first." He wishes he could afford to take her out for a super nice dinner at a fancy restaurant with porcelain dishes instead of the chipped ones they had in their cabinets, but he couldn't. Fortunately he didn't think Hiyori would mind.

"Sounds good." Hiyori sighed. "I heard Bishamon officially filed today."

"Did she really?" And it was already out? Those things were supposed to be confidential, but of course, they never really were.

"Yeah," said Hiyori. "Someone in my lit class was saying she was just doing it to get attention. They called her a whore because of how she dresses."

"Tell them to stick their words where the son doesn't shine," Yato suggested. Though he'd probably called Bishamon something similar in the past. He cringed.

Hiyori rolled her eyes. "How did you two meet?"

"She was my TA first year," said Yato. "And then we were friendly, until like, the cat incident."

Hiyori frowned. "Why did you—"

If I told you everything, you probably won't like me very much anymore. "It's a long story."

Hiyori shut her mouth, but she looked annoyed.

He exhaled.

"Kazuma wanted to protect her, right?" asked Hiyori. "That's not really protection, if the person you're closest with is hurting you under the guise of protecting you. Because then you're still getting hurt."

Yato swallowed. "True."

They arrived at the grocery store, and Yato tried to follow the ingredient list Kofuku had given him. She looked like she had been crying again when he asked her for advice, but he was too nervous to ask just what was wrong.

Hiyori laughed, ripping the list away from him. She darted around the store, him following. This was going to be fun.

Until he heard a voice behind him. "Well, you two look like you're having a fun time!"

Hiyori whirled around. Yato glared.

Father stood there, beaming. "Fancy meeting one of my students here. And an ex-student."

"Where's Nora?" asked Yato.

"So sad, Yoboku. She liked it when you called her Hiiro."

Yato stepped back. Hiyori's eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you be busy putting together some form of defense? Are you going to be banned from the lab soon?"

Father frowned, picking up a bottle of sesame oil and rolling it around between his fingers. "It's not that serious, and it's all lies."

Hiyori kept glancing between Yato and Father, her frown deepening.

"I'll see you in class, Hiyori."

"You leave her alone," Yato called, finding his voice.

"Oh?" He spun around, shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. His shadow stretched down the aisle, trapping Yato in it. "Yoboku, I—"

"My name is Yato," he said.

"Not legally."

"Yes, legally. I got it changed last summer." He produced his license. "See?"

"All right, Yoboku."

"He just asked you not to call him that," Hiyori managed, speaking for the first time.

"He's my son."

"Not really," said Yato. He turned away.

"If you think you can conspire with that blonde slut to—" A smack echoed. Fujisaki let out a yelp. Yato spun around to see Hiyori clocking him across the nose. He doubled over, blood pouring from his nostrils, dripping crimson through his fingers and spattering onto the floor.

"Oops," whispered Hiyori. People let out shouts. A clerk came running.

Fuck! Yato grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the store and onto the street. Golden clouds simmering in a peach and scarlet sky, sweating droplets of tangerine onto them. She was shaking. "Did I just punch him?"

Yato shrugged. "You broke his nose, probably."

"My parents will be so pleased martial arts came in handy," Hiyori remarked. Yato stopped. She was actually laughing. But her eyes were terrified. "Is he going to call the police?"

"That's why we're getting out of here."

"I'm a—" Hiyori doubled over, shaking.

"I'm sorry," whispered Yato. "He's—"

"Going to fail me," whispered Hiyori.

"He actually might not be able to," Yato mused. "Since he'll be watched carefully because of Bishamon's—"

"I don't even care. Then I'll take it next semester too." Hiyori studied the blood on her knuckles. A strange look crossed her face—guilt? Pride? Both? "Let's find a new grocery store."

They made it back to the apartment loaded with ingredients. Yato twisted the key, unlocking it. The apartment was dark.

Hiyori's brow creased. A sick feeling crept through Yato. "Yukine's not home yet?"

He was sitting alone again, but not with her. He sat inside with everyone around him, but still alone.

She scowled. It'd at least been nice to have someone not whispering that she was a slut. While it lasted, anyways. And it was now over.

She couldn't give up, though. Yukine was her best link to Yato, and Yato was linked to Bishamon and Kazuma, and if anyone could help Father, Yato could.

She remembered Yato screaming, the day they found out that teacher had killed herself. He had gripped his skull, sobbing, uncontrolled and desperate, and she tried to hug him, and he pushed her away. "I have to get away."

"You don't have to!" she protested. "It's not your fault, Yoboku, it's not. I'm here. Father is here. You're not alone." She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his shaking shoulder blade. They weren't alone anymore. That was the thing she liked most about the house they lived in. The knowledge that even though she could lie awake in her little room, unable to sleep, others were sleeping, breathing around her. She wasn't outside.

"She's dangerous, Mizuchi," Father had said later, when she told Father what Yoboku had said. "That woman was trying to steal Yoboku away from us, planting dangerous ideas in his mind." He stroked her hair. "But she's gone now, so you don't need to worry."

But then not a few months later, she came home from school to find that Yoboku had packed his bags and patted her on the head, telling her he was leaving. And the way he looked at her—it was with the same gentleness he always did. The look she craved now. But looking back, there were embers of something else, too. There had been ever since Sakura. A kind of fear, something dangerously close to the way she'd always been looked at since she was a little girl digging through a steaming pile of trash to find a half-rotted apple and eat it, like her classmates looked at her now. Like she was dangerous, something they never wanted to acknowledge even existed never mind had anything in common with.

But she and Yato had that history in common.

"My name isn't Yoboku. It's Yato."

"Why?" she asked.

"I like it better."

Well, she liked Hiiro better than Nora, and still she was just Nora to him now.

"Yukine," she tried, approaching him. Talking to him in the cafeteria was like asking for him to receive bullying as well, but if she had Yato back she could take it. He taught her to defend herself. And so Yukine wouldn't really have an issue with it.

"What do you want?" he asked, removing his headphones.

She took that as an invitation, plopping down at the seat across from him. "If I write a note, will you give it to Yato?"

"You're still on that? What, are you in love with him or something? It's creepy." Yukine rolled his eyes and went to put his headphones back in his ears.

"No!" She glared. "I just—I don't want—if Father gets in trouble, he says they can take me away." And the possibility sent shivers through her body, coiled snakes around her spine. "I don't want to lose him. I've already lost Yato."

He pulled the headphones out again. "I don't trust you. I can't trust you. You—"

Her lip jutted out. "But—" Please. Please, I can't lose someone—I—

"Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?" he demanded. "You're literally obsessed with what you want without thinking of what Yato wants."

Which is—

Not me.

He wants you as his little sibling instead. A tear wormed its way into her eye. She blinked it back.

I hate you so much.

"Isn't your father's plan to slut shame Bishamon now? Or does he even know how people regard you at school? Or does he not care? Doesn't that make him the same as the assholes at this school?"

She blinked. "You mean you don't think they're right?"

"I don't know and I don't care. I just think they're jerks. Unless you dumped soda on yourself." Yukine's eyes widened. "Did—"

She shook her head. "Father loves me. He takes care of me."

Yukine focused on the fraying edges of his shoes. "Sorry, Nora."

I hate that name.

I hate Mizuchi, too, except Father gave it to me, so I like that part of it.

Yato, why did you become Yato?

Yukine shuddered as he sat in class. He needed to pay attention to trigonometry, they had a test soon, and yet his notebook stayed blank, noteless. All he could think of was that he hated the people who were like him the most.

Like Nora. Her insistence that Father loved her, about how she didn't want to be taken away dumped salt on a wound not quite scabbed over. He shifted, glancing at her. She stared out the window, expression blank.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Yukine stuffed his books into his locker and slung his bag over his shoulder. Hiyori was supposed to be coming over that night. He had spent the night before teasing Yato about it.

"Hey, Yukine?" ventured a voice.

He spun. It wasn't Nora. Mutsumi, a quiet girl, stood there, wringing her skirt in her hands. "Yeah?"

"I think your friend might be in some trouble."

"My friend?" He cussed internally. Nora…

"They were talking about taking her to the basement and locking her in."

"What? Why?"

Mutsumi shrugged. "I think she yelled at one of the girls in the bathroom earlier today."

Yukine wanted to kick his locker. He had to find her, didn't he? Or he could just leave her—this was probably another trap—oh, fucking hell. He turned and hurried down the stairs towards the basement, the place where the art supplies were. It wouldn't be hard to get Nora to go down there…

"Nora?" he called. He sidestepped a dented file cabinet. The storage area was creepy as hell. Sheets draped old dressers and piles and piles of faded textbooks lined the walls. The only light leaking in came from the stairwell.

"Yeah?" She appeared behind a stack of desks, arms loaded with boxes of charcoals and pastels.

See, she's fine. As he knew she would be. He scowled.

"Did you change your mind? I have the note written out; I can—"

"No, I—"

The door shut behind them. A click.

"What?" yelped Yukine.

"Hey!" shrieked Nora. A crash. She must have bumped into something. Yukine thrust his hand out. It collided with a dusty tarp.

"Hey!" he bellowed. He almost tripped and crashed into a desk. "Ow!"

Something grabbed his arm. He screamed.

"It's just me!" snapped Nora. She held up her phone, using its flashlight.

Yukine winced, hobbling. That desk had bruised his thigh for sure. He grabbed the door and jiggled the handle. It didn't open, as he knew.

Fuck!

"Call someone," he said, yanking out his phone.

No service.

The fuck?

Panic rose in Yukine's throat. He felt like another time-with another place—voices even more malevolent—earth—"Let me out!" He slammed his fists against the door. "Hey! Hey! Let us out!" The cries ripped from his throat. White-hot panic shot through his veins. Breathe, he had to breathe. Except the walls seemed like they were closing in and she was closing in and the stupid storage was closing in and he was just another thing in this collection. He needed to get out. Get out. Breathe again. In. Out. But—help me, I don't want to be trapped down here! I don't! I don't! Stop!

Why?

Dad? Mom?

Why?

"Yukine!"

She was calling his name. He clamped his hands over his ears.

A door, closing—moist earth—the smell of moss after rain—

"Yukine!" A slap.

He staggered backwards, into a wall. He gulped. He still could. His cheek stung.

"Someone will come for us," Nora assured him. She gripped his shoulders. "I know they will. We don't have service, but Yato—and Father—they'll both come for us. I know it, okay?" A serene smile played with her lips.

He wished he could have that kind of faith. Yukine trembled from head to toe. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to-not-

"Calm down," Nora said again. "You're claustrophobic, aren't you?"

That's one way of putting it. "Yeah. I guess."

"We just have to sit here and wait," she said. "They'll come for us. I promise." She tugged on his jacket. "We just have to sit here and wait."

"I'm not good at that," he mumbled. He let her pull him down. The floor was chilled. He shuddered.

"I have nightmares about water," said Nora.

"Huh?" He looked at her.

"I have nightmares about water," she said again. "I don't panic, but I have dreams about it. Because of something that happened once, like you with tight spaces." She pulled her knees up to her chest. "I almost drowned when I was younger. So Father made me swim a lot, so now I'm not scared. Maybe this can help you."

He didn't want to discuss this. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be. It just was."

"I think I'm allowed to be sad that you almost drowned. It's not normal to have no emotions besides obsession."

She glared at him. "Why are you sad? You hate me. I can tell. You believe everything they say about me and then some. You think I'm some kind of demonic siren."

"Like those bird creatures?"

Nora's jaw dropped. "So you're stupid as well."

"And you're proving yourself meaner and meaner," he pointed out.

"Don't talk to me. They'll be here soon. I know it." Nora turned away from him. She opened the pastels.

"Fine." He hoped she was right. His teeth bit into his knuckles.

Yato, please come before her father does.