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“There’s this feeling you get when your kid is out of your sight,” Yato says to Kofuku one night. It’s late. The two and Daikoku are sharing drinks, huddled underneath the kotatsu. “It leaves you breathless until you see them again.”
Kofuku giggles, happy drunk on her sake. “Not sure whatever you mean, but it sure is cute. Nice to see you so fatherly.”
“Yeah,” Daikoku agrees, gruffly. “Even if you suck at it.”
Yukine is sleeping upstairs, curled up in warm blankets with a light glowing dimly next to him. The bed beside his- Yato’s bed- is empty.
Yato takes another gulp from his cooled glass. “I worry. He’s my kid. I’m supposed to look out for him, make sure he’s okay, make sure he’s safe. Is this normal?”
“I wouldn’t think about it so much,” Kofuku says, waving her hand.
The talk ends, the weeks pass, and Yukine becomes more and more like a son to him. When Yato looks away, his breath still leaves him.