Chapter Text
Two Shores, Far and Near,
To a set of rules adhere.
Far won, and Near lost.
A Covenant, their sentence,
Young lives taken in penance.
Twenty-four children,
Regalia, Names given,
Now fight, imprisoned.
And when all is said and done,
A Hafuri crowned, just one.
The day of the Naming is sweltering. Hiyori fans her face as she waits in line to be scanned in as “attending,” glancing around at her peers and wondering which of them will be chosen today. The annual Covenant brings with it a sense of morbid curiosity, though Hiyori has never been fond of the “dying” aspect of it.
As she shuffles forward, a breeze flutters the skirt of her new dress and brings dust onto her white socks. She frowns and stops to brush it off. Today is not a day to tolerate any grubbiness.
Someone bumps into her from behind and she nearly loses her balance, spinning around. “Oh! I’m sorry—”
The person who collided with her isn’t one she (or anyone else on the Near Shore) knows by name, but she’s seen him around 12 before. He’s known as the stray.
Eighteen years old, dark hair, and striking blue eyes are all she really knows about him. He drifts around like a ghost and seems to be absent from school more often than not. Apparently, he’ll do anything if the price is right—even murder.
Hiyori has never ventured to the Underworld alongside Masaomi’s doctor work there, and even her normally easygoing brother gives a wide berth to the stray and the rumors that follow him. It would be her odds to bump into him on the day of the Naming. He’s said to be bad luck.
And instead of being gracious, he mutters “Watch where you’re going” and shoulders past her.
Hiyori sniffs and finishes brushing the dust off her socks and shoes. He’s certainly living up to the reputation.
The girls line up, oldest at the back and youngest at the front, and Hiyori resumes scouting the children around her. A dull presentation begins, presided over by a recording of the president explaining the Covenant’s origin and rules. It’s one that Hiyori knows by heart due to her status as the mayor’s daughter.
She pretends to listen, her eyes now roving toward the stage where the two guideposts await for the Regalia that will be Named today. Both recent Hafuri, so both fairly young—Kazuma had won four years ago at the age of fourteen, one of the most intelligent they’ve ever seen. Whoever he mentors this year will be lucky.
The other guidepost looks like he doesn’t want to be there at all. Yukine, now fourteen, had won two years ago at twelve, and his victory is probably the most tragic.
Hiyori’s thoughts are interrupted by the presentation’s end and the start of the Naming.
“Ladies first!” Mayu announces, as she does every year. Hiyori’s attention snaps back to the crowd around her. There are only a couple hundred girls to choose from; surely she’ll know one of them.
It won’t be one of her classmates, will it? Perhaps it’ll be a younger girl. The crowd always mutters when a twelve-year-old is chosen, though no one ever does anything about it.
Hiyori is so focused on watching the crowd she doesn’t hear the name that’s been called. Then, suddenly, she becomes aware that everyone’s looking at her. They’re looking at her. The girls around her are stepping back, eyes wide with fear; clearing a path to the podium. Kazuma’s looking at her now, and he’s frowning. Yukine still has his face turned away.
She realizes the name Mayu had called as she repeats it.
“Hiyori Iki.”
As if in a trance, Hiyori moves forward, past all the shocked faces of her friends and classmates, and climbs the steps. Her legs are dangerously close to giving out, but she focuses on the simplest movement. One foot in front of the other. She can hear a sob from the crowd and recognizes Masaomi’s voice, but she doesn’t look back.
She reaches the stage, where Mayu shakes her hand, eyes sympathetic, and spins her back to face the crowd. She asks for volunteers, but the crowd is silent. Hiyori can see her family off to the side, faces grief-stricken, Masaomi most of all.
Rumors have been circling their family like vultures; perhaps this isn’t as much of a shock as it could have been. Her brother especially is becoming the subject of schoolyard gossip for his controversial political stances.
Or perhaps the fact that Hiyori was Named to be a glorified human sacrifice just hasn’t sunk in yet. She’d always thought, as the mayor’s daughter, she’s been awarded a certain degree of privilege. Perhaps that’s true, and perhaps she was merely lured into a false sense of security.
Mayu moves to select the boy to be Named. This time, Hiyori catches who it is: Manabu, a boy she’s seen around school. He’s a year or two behind her, but he’s always seemed shy. Right now, he looks as if he might wet himself, but stumbles up to the stage on wobbly legs anyway. If he’s already this close to crying, it doesn’t bode well for the rest of the Covenant.
Just as Mayu is taking his hand, a voice bursts above the rows of heads.
“I volunteer!”
Immediately, attention ripples to the person who has called out. The people step away, as they had for Hiyori.
It’s—Oh, no.
It’s the stray.
Not him.
Not her.
Yato is frowning as he pushes to the front of the crowd. Why, of all the people to be participating in the Covenant with him, did it have to be Hiyori Iki? They’ve never had a proper conversation, but he’s seen her around enough to know he’s rather smitten with her. And she looks so pretty now, in a pale-pink dress with a matching ribbon in her hair.
It would be a shame for her to die.
Everyone has focused on him—volunteers are nigh unheard of here in 12. Kazuma’s eyes are fixed somewhere below his chin, but his expression is unreadable. Even Yukine has turned his glare from the horizon and onto Yato. Off to the side, Hiyori’s mouth is agape, and she looks...angry?
He can tell they all think it’s foolish of him to volunteer, let alone as an eighteen-year-old, but he isn’t volunteering out of some altruistic streak.
This one’s for you, Dad.
Mayu shakes his hand, trying to conceal her surprise as she works around the hiccup of his timing being off, and concludes the ceremonies.
Yato and Hiyori are made to face each other and shake hands.
Hiyori smiles, giving the appearance of being at ease even though she’s run in fright from him before. She’s no pushover, that’s for sure. “Hiyori Iki. Nice to formally meet you.”
“I’m Yato. Likewise.”
She indicates their clasped hands. “I know it’s a bit early for this, but...Allies?”
Well, nothing to lose, though he’s not one for friends. On a whim, Yato lifts her hand to his lips and, unbeknownst to him, seals his fate. He hears a few gasps from the crowd, but manages to keep his voice steady. “Allies. Till death do us part, Hiyori Iki.”
Before they’re rushed off to Heaven, they’re given some time to say goodbye to their families in the secluded town hall. The Ikis rush forward to Hiyori, all of them crying. She can feel the tears stinging her eyes too, but holds them back—there will be time to cry later, out of the public eye.
Masaomi seems especially distraught, refusing to let her out of his hug. For once, Hiyori has to be the one to calm him down, and once she finally gets him to pull back a little, words come tumbling out of him.
“It’s my fault. Hiyori, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“That’s enough,” Dad says. His frown tells them it’s a bad idea to mention this in a room that’s certainly being recorded, but Masaomi continues speaking.
“I should have been more careful! Oh, Hiyori, I’m so sorry.” He’s crying harder than she thought was possible, holding her tightly enough to hurt her.
“That’s enough,” Dad repeats, putting a hand on Masaomi’s shoulder. He’s also grief-stricken, but his face has hardened. “Hiyori, there’s nothing more I can do.”
Hiyori decides her course of action in an instant. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’ll win and come back here.” She tries to smile past the lump in her throat. “I love you.”
The Heavenly Guard escorts her away, yanking Masaomi’s hand from hers. They’re calling their last goodbyes to each other, then the door slams shut behind her, and she’s heading onto the train to Heaven and an uncertain future.