"Kazuma's gone."
Yato froze, knife in his hand. The zucchini he was supposed to be chopping forgotten, he turned to the door. Hiyori turned the stove off, the spiced smell of meat cooking filling the air. Yukine set his math textbook down.
Bishamon stood in the doorway, her arms folded over her chest. "He left me a check to cover the rent for the rest of the year. Not even a note."
Yato gulped.
"I know why," said Bishamon, staring at her boots. She cussed, throwing what looked like a check down on Yato's table. Her hands flew to cover her face, and she dropped to the floor, shuddering.
"I'm sorry," whispered Yato. Father—Father—
It wasn't right. He'd just dropped the charges on Hiyori last week—why—
You aren't running from him, or running for Bishamon.
You're running because you're a goddamn coward, Kazuma, and you're afraid of facing yourself, and you'll never be close to Bishamon because you're too afraid of hurting her.
Don't you think you have the right to exist? To breathe? To talk to someone? Or do you just want to be a ghost floating along, observing, unable to affect anybody or do anything because if you do you'd have to risk hurting and therefore being a bad person?
Do you even care about Bishamon? Or is it all about your own self-worth?
"I'm sorry," whispered Hiyori. "I don't know what to say."
Bishamon shrugged. "He's stupid."
"So are you," said Yato.
"Yato!" shrieked Yukine.
"Well? You know he has—did you talk to him? Maybe—you're both stupid," said Yato. He wanted to scrub it away, this guilt that crawled all over him like poisonous centipedes. Because of me—I poison everything—no, I don't want to! I don't want to anymore!
Bishamon straightened, tugging her hair back. She cast Yato a sad smile. "I don't blame you, you know. He is an idiot, and I am too."
"Are you okay?" whispered Yukine, looking terrified.
"No," said Bishamon. "But I will be. I hope he will be, too." She drifted out of the apartment, probably going to grab Karuha and then cry to Kofuku.
"Can you contact him?" asked Yukine, looking to Yato. "He was nice."
Yato shrugged. "I can send him a text, but I don't know that he'll answer." Somehow he doubted it. Kazuma probably thought he didn't deserve anyone reaching out to him. Or friends at all.
Why are you such a coward?
Hiyori exhaled.
"I don't understand," said Yukine. "He loves Bishamon. That's obvious. So why—"
He hates himself more than he loves her. Or maybe not, but at the very least he was choosing that, choosing to flagellate himself for whatever reason. Yato didn't know what kind of life Kazuma had had growing up, but he was willing to lay money down that it wasn't happy.
"It's up to him," said Yato finally. "If he wants to come back, or not." He looked at Hiyori and thought how he and Kazuma were the same in so many ways. He would have left her, broken up with her, just to protect her. And even now, he still felt guilty.
There's no option where you don't feel guilt, is there?
But this was an option that, at the very least, offered him some happiness.
Yukine went back to studying, but he had a deep frown etched into his face. Yato wasn't sure what was wrong, or if he should ask. He'd tried, but Yukine said nothing was wrong, things were good at school, he'd told bullies off, Nora was even doing okay. The moment Father backed off Hiyori Yato knew Nora must have been involved, and Yukine, but he was still wary. Don't trust her too much, Yukine.
And then compunction again clamped down on his throat as the thought slipped through his mind. Maybe—maybe there was hope for Nora, but he was afraid to hope, afraid to trust her when he knew what she and Father were capable of, even if Father was the one using her. Sakura...
I'm a coward, too.
Dinner was quiet that night. Yukine went to sleep early, having a test in the morning.
"Want to talk?" asked Hiyori.
"No, but yes," Yato said, dropping onto the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees.
"It's not your fault."
"Isn't it, to some extent?" Yato turned to her. "It all comes back to me. He's like, so obsessed with me."
"Why?" asked Hiyori.
He shook his head. "He first found me—threatening some reporter to get them to—I'd been paid to get them to cut off this story, and it would give me enough to sleep under a roof—I held a knife to the man's throat. He was crying, begging, talking about his family."
Hiyori whitened.
"I didn't kill him. I wasn't planning to. But I'd have done anything to—" Yato stopped. "I was six. Or seven. That's when he took me in."
"Yikes," said Hiyori.
"Yeah."
"Sorry." She covered her mouth. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Why not? It is yikes. I'm—he chose me because he saw how fucked up I was, for no other—"
"You don't want to be anymore."
"So? I can't change it, Hiyori." He gripped his knees now, gaping at her, eyes stinging. "I am who I am. I can't erase—I can't—" Sakura… I'm so sorry. You only cared, and you died for it.
Why are you still here, Hiyori? Because you want to be? Or you feel obligated—no. He knew it wasn't obligation. Her entire life was obligation, except for him. Because she cared so deeply that she forgot she herself mattered, that she was not a lesser light than all the lights shining around her.
You're my light. You're worth something, to me, something invaluable.
Yato inhaled, covering his face.
"You don't have to," Hiyori insisted. "You can be—just Yato. That's all I want. Your past; it—"
I want you to know. I want you to know how much you mean, I want you to believe that you deserve to live, that you don't have to earn it, that you don't have to be perfect to be beautiful. But you don't, do you?
You hate yourself, too.
He leaned in, grabbing her in his arms. Hiyori inhaled. Her lips found his, and he was crying, and her cheeks were damp too, and he couldn't even tell if they were his own or hers. Her hands dug through his hair, clutching him as if she was afraid he'd vaporize, vanish from her touch like he was prone to do, like he considered so many times.
I'm scared. Even happy with you, I'm scared.
I don't want to be Yoboku.
Breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale her sweet scent of vanilla and berries. Feel her skin under his fingertips, her lips on his neck. He should tell her to keep it below the collar.
No. He didn't want to speak, not in this moment.
They staggered into his bedroom, Yato shutting the door. They had to be quiet, because he did not want Yukine to hear. Her shirt came off first, and then his own, and she was lying on him, her mouth trailing across his pecs. She fumbled in her purse to grab a condom.
"Were you wanting this?" he rasped.
"Eventually." Hiyori captured his lips again, digging deep. He pushed her skirt off, and she unbuttoned his pants.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Okay," she panted.
She worked with him, fingers pressing into his shoulder blades, his arms around her waist, sweat sticking her hair to him and his lips diving to her neck. She called him Yato, even if she knew bits and pieces, because she believed in him, in his capacity to choose goodness, and he called her Hiyori, because that was all he wanted her to be.
Yato woke the next morning to Hiyori's phone ringing. He sat up, chest bare. Hiyori fumbled for it. "Hello?" She pushed herself up, clutching the blanket over her chest. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I—I'm at Yato's. Yes. My boyfriend's."
Yato flushed. He wondered if it was her dad or her brother who was going to come and kill him.
"Look, I know, I should have called," Hiyori said. "I'm not perfect. I'm sorry." She hung up.
"Are you okay?" Yato managed.
"Yeah." She turned to him, hair mussed. "I'm not—sorry. I mean, I'm sorry I didn't call. But I like—this. Us. I love you."
Yato's eyes burned again.
Love?
No one said they loved him but Father, and Nora. Yukine, he supposed didn't need to say it.
But you love me like that.
I'm still afraid I'll send you running.
I think that's on me though, not on you.
"Should I go?" Hiyori asked. "Since Yukine—"
"No," said Yato, exhaling. "He should learn about healthy relationships. And—safe sex. Eventually. We can have that talk sometime. We should."
"He's sixteen. Yeah, you should." Hiyori rolled her eyes.
"But it's awkward." Yato made a face.
Hiyori swung her pillow at him, and he laughed.
Father's first hearing did not go well. The discipline committee scheduled another. He cussed and said he regretted dropping the charges on the Iki girl. When she tried to comfort him, he shrugged her off.
"It'll all work out," he assured her when she flinched. "But your suggestion backfired."
She didn't want to believe that. She didn't want to hurt Father. But she also didn't want to hurt Yukine, and she was starting to fear those two goals were not compatible.
And she was lying to Father. Three lies. Firstly, that she and Yukine were only casually kissing. Secondly, that he refused to tell her things.
But she didn't want to share the things he told her. They were precious, something she kept close to her heart, even though she should have been gathering them with an intent.
The third lie was that she thought Yukine a fool. Though it was not precisely a lie. She did. But she also wished she could be more of a fool. She'd be dead if she was as foolish as him, or maybe not, because he was still alive, and she thought that was so beautiful.
She stole money from Father, ostensibly for a date with Yukine, which he'd agreed to. But she used it for condoms instead, because Yukine came to school one day gagging about an awkward talk about sex that Yato had apparently butchered until Iki Hiyori came to save the day.
But it would all be okay. Father would forgive her when she got Yukine and Yato and even Hiyori to forgive him and they could all be a family again. She wouldn't mind Hiyori if she made Yato happy, so long as she could be a part of his life too.
She wouldn't press this time. She could trust Yukine. At long as she had him, she'd eventually be able to talk to Yato. She had time. It would all work out okay.
Almost two months passed, and Father's hearing loomed closer, before she started to realize that her time was running out.
It started with her just feeling tired, like each of her bones was weighted with lead. And it spun into fear that only amplified it, and a pulsating nausea that tugged at her even in her dreams.
If she ignored it, maybe it would go away.
It wasn't going away.
And Father would know, if she told him. He'd know she lied, kept something from him when she had no right to, and she couldn't let him know that. He had to still love her.
The taunts of her peers hit closer to home these days, stinging her between her ribs. Slut. Bitch. Whore.
What if they were right all along? And if she told Yukine, what if he changed his mind too?
But I trust him.
Do I?
There was one person she could turn to. Maybe it would make him scared. Maybe he would care. And she had to make sure he knew it was her; she could make sure he would be okay with Yukine, then.
Yato, help me. She didn't need to tell him it was Yukine, though he'd probably figure it out.
She told Yukine she had to help Father with something on campus on the weekend, and it was a lie, and she ignored it. Yato would be there, in the library, surely.
There he was, curled in a corner with a stack of astronomy books. She hesitated. What if he rebuffed her?
But Yato, I need you. I need help. Panic pinched her palms. And I want you to help.
He used to be protective of her, as protective as Father would let him be. And she was protective of him. She helped her learn to swim, because she was scared. It wasn't Father teaching her; it was him.
"I won't let you sink. Promise," he said, holding her afloat.
How about now? She scurried over to him, tapping him on the shoulder.
Yato's eyes popped. Shock. And disappointment. She tried to squeeze it away. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Who's Father threatening now?" he asked.
She blinked. "No one."
"Untrue. What do you want, Nora?"
She flinched. Nora. Not Hiiro.
I really liked that name. It meant 'scarlet.' It was her favorite color. "To talk to you."
"Kazuma's gone, because of him. Hiyori was almost—you're trying to—" He shook his head, getting to his feet. "I'm sorry, Nora. I care, but I can't—I can't talk to you, not as long as you're with him—"
"Why not?" she demanded. Panic scrabbled up inside her, grabbing for her windpipe. No, no—you can't go!
I need you! She caught his sleeve.
He whirled around. "I can't trust you." His voice sounded panicked, like he was trying to hide. "As long as you're with him, anything you say might be—his words more than yours—anything I say will get repeated back to him—don't think I don't know that you're manipulating Yukine—"
"I'm not!" If I wanted to leave him, where would I even go?
"Why?" Yato asked her, voice broken. "Why would I ever believe you would do anything for yourself, when it's always been for him?"
"It's not for him!" It's for me! Because she needed him. "Yato, I really need to—"
"I can't," Yato said, holding his hands up. "I'm sorry, Nora. I really am. Please don't hurt Yukine, though. Please."
She was crying. "Why won't you just—"
"When I look at you, I remember the worst moments of my life," Yato said. "What you did to Sakura—what Father made you do—"
His words cut her to the bone. Sakura. That teacher. Father went digging into her past, uncovered what she'd done to survive as a child. Prostitution. And he asked her to bring it up at school, as her about a certain gentleman. The school found out, when Sakura broke down. The school fired her. And then, she was dead.
She had no idea that would happen. It's not your fault, Father assured both of them. She was a sick woman.
But was she? Was she any better? Was she just another—just another—to survive, to get any morsel of affection—
Yato left her standing there, and Nora didn't know what to do.
She didn't want Yato for Father's sake. She wanted to turn to him for her own sake. Please help me!
Now Yukine would be angry, thinking she was using him after all. Now he would leave her, wouldn't he? Everyone—everyone—
She doubled over, a high school girl crying in the middle of a vast college campus, and none of the students joking around with each other even noticed.
"Nora?"
Don't call me that! She looked up, wiping her eyes.
Iki Hiyori.
"Were you here to see Yato?"
"What does it matter?" she choked out. "He would rather spend time with you!"
Hiyori blinked. "Well, your father's on campus, and I can—"
"I don't want to talk to you! Go away!" Hiyori was so picture perfect. She would probably laugh if she knew that Nora was—that she was—was she?
Hiyori held out a tissue.
She gaped. Why— Her fingers closed around it. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"Because," Hiyori said. "You're Yukine's friend."
"But you won't tell Yato to talk to me," she said, voice crumbling. "It's hopeless." And she threw the crumpled tissue at Hiyori, running and running, and she didn't know where to go. She ran back to her house, the only place she was familiar with. Her phone rang, and she knew it was Yukine, and she didn't want to answer it. He'd be angry. She'd lied to him.
She burst into the house with just enough time to make it to the bathroom and throw up. She turned the water in the sink on and laid her head down on the toilet seat.
Help me. Someone help me. Anyone.
Tears ran down her cheeks, plinking in the rancid toilet bowl. I'm still an unwanted child. Having an unwanted child now. Repeating the cycle like a pathetic, useless fool. She wondered whether her birth parents ever thought of her, whether they ever wanted her, whether her mother felt anything but the complete dread and panic Nora felt now at the thought of having a fetus growing inside her.
If she had a child, the child deserved better. She was a mess, and anyone deserved to be wanted. It seemed such a small thing to ask the universe for, and yet, everyone she knew was unwanted by someone. Except fucking Iki Hiyori.
Yukine, would you still want me?
Would you want this child? Would you want me to get rid of it?
I wish whoever gave birth to me had gotten rid of me.
"Mizuchi?" His voice rang out from downstairs.
Fuck. She staggered to her feet, flushing the vomit down. She patted her cheeks with a damp washcloth, exhaling.
And swung the door open to see Father standing there. His arms were crossed. "That's what, the fifth day you've thrown up in a row? Sixth?"
She gaped up at him.
"You're pregnant, aren't you?"