Her phone lit up as she curled up on her bed. From Yukine. Are you okay?

Yes, she texted back. So he actually did care. Or so it seemed. She wasn't certain what to do with that. She tapped her phone against her lips.

"I'm glad you're okay," Father had said when she darted into the house, rattling off her explanation for why she was late. Not that he was concerned, because he trusted her. "Were you alone?"

"No, I was with Yukine," she said as she got antibiotic cream and an ice pack for Father's nose. She felt a surge of anger at Yukine and Yato for letting that stupid girl near Father. He didn't deserve the broken nose.

"I hope you made good use of your time."

She nodded, and something wriggled in the back of her mind. Did you know?

Every single moment of her life, she had to be alert, be ready, be useful. She had to honor Father, because he was the one to whom she owed her life. Not to the random people who pulled her out of the river that cold day, but to him, because he gave her a roof over her head, ramen in her belly, money for lipstick and a brother, too. She slapped her thigh. She hadn't been thinking of that when she was locked in the basement with Yukine. But surely she could use what they had talked about, couldn't she?

Father then went to the police station to file a report on Iki Hiyori. She bit down on her phone, wondering if that would be enough for Yukine to snap at her again, hate her. Would that even be best, though?

No.

She didn't want him to hate her, and it wouldn't work out for the best anyways if he did. Liking her was better, wasn't it? And... she liked being liked.

She might as well check. She texted him. Father went to file a report on Hiyori. Just warning you.

Fuck, he responded. She expected begging, demands that she stop him. Not that Father would listen to her. She had her response all planned out.

It never came. Instead she felt cold even though she was inside, and curling up under her blankets didn't help.

The next day at school, Yukine smiled at her, but the other kids giggled when they saw them. She scowled.

At lunchtime, Yukine sat next to her again. "Is Hiyori okay?" she asked. Needling. Questioning. She wanted to know. Do you hate me or don't you? She bounced her leg.

"She's scared," said Yukine. "She's in huge trouble if he does that. I don't know what's going to happen."

"He won't listen to me if I say not to," she blurted out.

"I figured."

The rice stuck to the back of her throat. She scowled. Don't you want to use me, somehow?

Don't you?

Or do you really hate me, and that's the reason you don't want anything from me, because you don't think I'm worth anything?

"Would you have tried? Or did you try?" he asked.

Here we go. She shook her head. "No point."

"Figured," he said again, stuffing his rice ball into his mouth. Two birds swooped overhead, cawing and chasing each other. She smiled, just because. He glanced over at her, studying her.

She straightened. "Was Yato mad?"

"Not at me, or you."

"I thought he'd think I set it up or something."

"He did wonder."

"Well, I didn't." Though she hadn't asked Father. Because—because the thought that his answer might be yes made her stomach clench.

"I know," he said.

He trusted her to make the best of her circumstances, for his sake, no matter what. And she would never let him down. If he felt the need to force her and Yukine together, then she must not be doing a very good job. She pressed her knees together. If not, why couldn't you just tell me? Did you have to lock me in? Did you even? Am I crazy for wondering?

If I'm crazy, I'm worthless to you.

Yukine rambled on about how he was considering popping the other kids' tires but he wasn't sure whether or not that was illegal. "What do you think?"

"Don't risk it," she said.

You'd want to do something for me—why? Because you feel you owe me for calming you down yesterday?

I have nothing to give you for eating with me, for being my... friend. Even if Father expected her to use this friendship to help get Yato back. Maybe getting Yato might mean getting Yukine, too, into their family. And she'd never had someone just try to be her friend, not since Yato. He had nothing to gain from hanging out with the class slut who'd never even had her first kiss.

"Thank you," she said softly, clasping her hands together.

"For what?" he asked. "They're pricks. And I—"

She tucked her hair behind her ears. No classmates were around. She leaned in. His words cut off mid-sentence. She pressed her lips against his. This. I can give you this.

At the very least, her first kiss was with someone who liked her. "Sorry," she said, pulling back. "Don't tell anyone?"

He gaped at her. He shook his head. "I—won't."

Her face flushed. Great, now he probably thought she was actually the slut after all and yesterday was all lies. She grabbed her bag and scrambled inside. Her bones felt like they were on fire. I just wanted to do something nice for you. But he'd looked horrified. Well, shocked, at least, mouth open, eyes wide, those ruby eyes.

She hurried back into the classroom and laid her head down on her desk. Ugh.

I can't do anything right. No matter how hard she tried. Father must have paid her classmates yesterday. She knew it even without asking. And her classmates were only too happy to humiliate her because she tried to get the teachers and everyone to help her, because then—

It wasn't all for Father.

I just want to be wanted.

Nora kissed me.

She. Nora.

Kissed.

Me.

Yukine clutched his skull and doubled over, palms pressed against his knees. He'd never been kissed before. He managed to keep it inside until he got home, and now waves of something light surged through him. He grabbed the throw pillow and screamed into it.

"Why hello," said Yato's voice from his bedroom.

Yukine yelped. "You're home early!"

"I was with Hiyori." Yato rubbed his eyes. "She was arrested."

A weight immediately landed on Yukine's shoulders, crunching his spine. He slumped onto the couch. "Is she—okay?"

Yato shrugged. "She's a strong girl."

"Are you dating?" He hated himself right now. He should be pushing for more information on if Hiyori was okay, on what happened, on how to make her life better, and here he was pushing for information that might help him, and he shouldn't even be thinking about it. Especially since Nora was involved in whatever Fujisaki had cooking.

Maybe… maybe I can—we can—

"No," Yato answered. He dropped down next to Yukine, gripping the back of his neck as if he wanted to break it himself. His lips pressed together.

Yukine didn't know what to say, or do.

"Do you resent me?" asked Yato.

"Huh?"

"If it weren't for me," said Yato. "You would be—I mean, he's targeting you and Nora. I'm sure that wasn't a coincidence, what happened in the basement."

According to Nora, it was. And he didn't think she was lying.

"If you wanted to go elsewhere," Yato said. "I could ask Kofuku and Daikoku if they—and I could—"

"No!" Yukine shouted. Yato's words scalded him. He leaped to his feet. "How could you even—no!"

"He won't let up," said Yato, staring at him.

"So?" Yukine grabbed Yato. His eyes stung. "I'm—alone—I don't want to be that way anymore! You promised me—you said—"

You don't want me after all?

"It's not that! I want to keep it—if I left, I'd make sure you had—I—"

"I don't care why you're leaving if you're leaving!" Yukine shouted. "Don't go!" He sounded like a two-year-old, and he didn't care. He stomped his foot. "I don't want you to go! If you go, I'd go with you—I—"

Because—I love you.

You're my nii-san.

You're my family, Yato, don't go.

He wondered, briefly, if this was how Nora felt. "Please don't go. Please."

Yato grabbed him in an embrace, squeezing the back of his head. "I won't go. I promise. I'm—I'm just worried about what he might do. I don't want you to get hurt. You matter too much, and he'll know it."

"Let me help you," Yukine requested.

"No, you're a kid. I'm going to do my best to ensure that you have that, at the very least." Yato pulled back, and Yukine saw that his own eyes were red-rimmed. Yato wiped his nose on his sweatshirt.

Yukine swallowed. It was such a strange feeling, to be cared for.

You might not let me, but I'm going to help you anyways. Because I want to.

He smiled at Nora when she arrived at school the next day. She smiled back, shyly, as if she was embarrassed but still happy about kissing him.

At lunch, he joined her again.

"You don't think I'm a slut?" Nora greeted him.

"No? You told me you weren't," Yukine said.

"Yeah, but then I kissed you."

"But you wanted to, right?" Yukine's face was burning. Dammit, he had to concentrate.

"Obviously."

Yukine set his lunch aside. I should do it. I should just do it. His palms felt sweaty. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers and keeping his eyes squeezed shut the entire time. "There, now we're both sluts."

Nora's face was red now. So she could get embarrassed. "You're stupid." She clacked her chopsticks together. But she was smiling.

He unwrapped his salmon rice ball, holding it in his hands.

"Something you want to say?" Nora prompted.

He swallowed. "Your father—he had Hiyori arrested."

"I heard."

"She's a nice girl; she doesn't deserve it. She was just trying to protect Yato, I'm sure—"

"Or take him away," Nora countered.

"Hardly. They only met last summer and if Yato doesn't want to connect with your father, that's his choice, and not your father's, and not Hiyori's." Yukine's heart pounded.

She stared at him.

"Please ask him to drop the charges," Yukine requested. "I know you said you couldn't yesterday, but please, try."

Nora inhaled. "I can't."

"Why not?" Yukine demanded. "Can't you make your own decisions?"

"'That's not it! I—I want him back too! You have to know that!"

"Why?" Yukine demanded. "Why does he want Yato back? Why? What makes him not content with just you?"

Nora's nostrils flared. "Because—he loves him! He loves me too, but I'm not Yato—we're two different people. And he loves him like a son, so he wants him back!" She shoved rice into her mouth. "Wouldn't you want someone you loved back? Isn't Yato irreplaceable to you?"

Rice stuck to the roof of Yukine's mouth like glue. He looked down at his scuffed shoes. "How is that love, if he doesn't care about what Yato wants?" Yato cared about what Yukine wanted. Last night, he did.

"If he—"

"That's not how I feel about people I love," said Yukine, hauling a knee up to his chest, the other leg still dangling. "I want them to be happy. That's… Yato, Hiyori I guess, and maybe Kofuku and Daikoku, our landlords. And you. I want them all to be happy, and for Hiyori that means not having a criminal record."

"Me?" Nora looked surprised.

"I mean, we're friends, right? And we kissed?" His face felt like it was dumped in scalding water. "I don't know how friends works. Or kissing."

Nora looked down at her half-empty container. "But if I want to be close to Yato, you won't let me, even though that's what I want."

"I can try to talk to him, eventually," offered Yukine. If Nora could change—if she could break away from that Fujisaki—

She nodded. "Okay." She clenched her fists around the rock wall. "I can—talk to Father. But I don't know that it'll do anything."

"Thank you."

"We could practice kissing," Nora offered. "More, I mean. Since that was my first kiss too, but like, I've read articles and I watch movies."

"Huh?"

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Her face hovered centimeters away, and then she leaned in and he leaned in to meet her. So this was kissing—really kissing, mouth open, breath stolen, a hand against his hair and then fingers digging in, pulling closer.

I like this. I like—you.

Criminal.

Thanks to the restraining order, Hiyori couldn't go to Fujisaki's class. Not that she wanted to anyways. She wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to study in the library. She felt like people were whispering around her, though.

Her brother and her grandmother tried to comfort her, brewing her favorite tea and her brother cracking awkward jokes, but Hiyori knew they were worried and it was all her fault. Her grandmother wasn't in good health, and she might have made it worse.

She chewed her pencil. I hate being a burden.

A hand touched her shoulder. Hiyori jumped.

"Hey," said Bishamon. She pulled up a chair. "Sorry about what happened. But also, thank you for punching that dick in the face."

Hiyori managed a small smile. "My lawyer said I shouldn't talk to you, or they'll think it was premeditated."

"Fuck them," said Bishamon. "He's watching all of us, isn't he? If we start living like we're in fear of him it'll only get worse. He can kiss my ass." She squeezed her eyes shut. "He thinks everyone exists to serve him and everyone is disposable. Well, I miss Suzuha."

Hiyori watched her. Bishamon was so beautiful, in ways Hiyori would never see herself as. "What was he like?"

"Quiet," said Bishamon. "I should have done more. Well, I'll do what I can now. Not that it really matters." She curled her fist. "He kissed you, right? Fujisaki?"

Hiyori flushed. She nodded.

"Did he invite you to that party?"

Hiyori nodded again.

"Would you be willing to be a witness?" asked Bishamon. "Because I'm trying to gather—"

"Yes," said Hiyori. "Absolutely." She wanted to help. She hated that man. Hated him. She saw the terror in Yato's eyes when he approached, and she had no idea what was causing that kind of panic, but she knew that she hated anyone who made someone else look that way, look like a kicked dog.

"Thank you," said Bishamon, heaving a sigh. "You have any more classes today?"

Hiyori shook her head.

"You want a ride home?"

"Sure." Hiyori grabbed her bag. Her heart leaped. She always had friends, but never the sort she could really be open with, because she always wondered if they liked her for her, or if they liked what she could offer them: a listening ear, a laugh, a lunch not spent alone.

Am I any different?

"You do martial arts, right?" asked Bishamon. She tossed her hair. "I do, too. We should spar sometime."

Hiyori nodded.

"I'm deliberately trying to unbutton more buttons every day," said Bishamon, adjusting her blouse. "I'll make them sorry."

Hiyori snorted. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No, but it's an idea. Better than sitting around and doing nothing." Bishamon set her jaw as she strode towards her car.

"I don't know what else to do," Hiyori said as she slipped into the car. A tiger dangled from the front mirror and the car smelled of cinnamon, and cat. "My parents—they're disappointed, I know it. I never wanted to burden them, and yet—"

Bishamon glanced at her. "If they think you're a burden, they're pieces of shit themselves."

Hiyori flinched.

"You're their daughter," said Bishamon, twisting the key in the ignition.

I try, and I try, and it's still not enough. Maybe it wasn't even her parents. Maybe it was just her, and her insatiable need to prove that she deserved to exist in this world. Everything in her world seemed perfect, so she should be perfect. Beautiful glass, and no one had put her in that world, but she'd created it herself.

I don't know how to exist. I'm so afraid of breaking things.

Her parents wouldn't want her to be a witness for Bishamon.

But I want to.

"Shit!" gasped Bishamon as she pulled out onto the main road. The car swerved.

"What is it?" Hiyori yelped.

"Flat tire!" Bishamon pulled over to the side of the road and exhaled. "Sorry about this."

"Not your fault."

Bishamon cussed. She ducked out of the car, and Hiyori followed her to see exactly what they both suspected. One tire slashed.

"Motherfucker," said Bishamon. She pulled out her phone.

I'm just going to create more problems for my family and for myself if I do this. For my future.

What even is my future? Silent, wrapped in cotton gauze? Or was she a person, flesh and organs, who bled and talked and stumbled and broke things?

It's inevitable.

I'm scared.

"Kazuma pick up your fucking phone," complained Bishamon. "Great, now he's gonna have a conniption when he sees several missed calls."

"I'll call Yato?" offered Hiyori.

"No," said Bishamon. "Let's change it ourselves. Fuck this shit."

Two hours later and they'd finally figured it out. Hiyori asked Bishamon to take her back to Yato's place.

He was just staggering up to the door, carrying bags of groceries. He paused. His eyes widened when he saw Hiyori hopping out of the car. She squinted against the sun.

"Why are you covered in grease?" Yato burst out.

"We changed a tire," Hiyori said, nodding at Bishamon, who was scowling at her smeared blouse.

"What happened?"

"Someone slashed them," said Bishamon with a sigh. She lifted her hair off the back of her neck. "Hiyori says she wants to talk to you, so try not to be a loser for once, okay?" She sauntered inside.

"Hey!" Yato bellowed.

Bishamon, really, why? Hiyori grabbed one of the bags. "Let me help."

"You don't have to."

"I'm stronger than you think," she snapped, marching up to the front door. "I'm—going to be a witness for Bishamon."

Yato blanched. "Hiyori—"

"What?" she demanded. "Things will get worse? I know. I'm seeing it. He's insane, though, Yato, this is—he has to be stopped—he's only just started here and already—we have to do something before he's been here longer and it becomes too late."

I'm going to break something.

I'm sorry. I hope it doesn't break me. If I stay silent, though… I don't want to. I've never been able to. I've been smothering myself.

"Hiyori—"

"Are you going to break up with me now?" she asked. The words came out scratchier than she'd intended. "Are you?"

"It'd probably be for the best."

Hiyori's eyes popped. Her chest tightened. She should just—go—but— "Are you a coward?"

"No—I like you, a lot, Hiyori—I think you know that, but I want to just—it's so complicated and—"

She tightened her grip on her skirt. Her hands shook. She glared at her boots. "Yato… I thought you were brave. That's why I liked you, because of the way you cared for Yukine, how you fought back and decided to take responsibility for him." She lifted her face, meeting his gaze. "You wouldn't leave him to a cruel world. And seeing where you came from only makes me admire you more, and I—I—fucking hate Fujisaki for what he—"

A thud. Yato dropped the bag of groceries. An apple rolled out, towards her foot. She blinked. And then he was in front of her, and his hands were grasping her face, and he was kissing her, his mouth breaking hers open with frenzied desperation. And he pulled her close, and she thought they'd broken, and they'd healed.