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"By my name, all is pardoned."
Amaterasu's words rang out across the clearing, stoic and powerful.
Between her and Yato, the tiny box split open with a crack. Yato watched in stunned horror as his shinki spilled out.
"Yukine!" Without a second thought he surged forward, wincing as Yukine's limp body hit the ground with a thump.
Yato could hardly believe it. Yukine was out of that prison, he was safe. "Yukine, are you alright? You've been saved!"
He picked Yukine up gently, holding back a sob. The boy felt so frail in his arms. Yato held him to his chest, wondering if he should ever let go.
Daikoku knelt at their side, as Kofuku cried on his shoulder. They had saved Yukine. They had saved Yato's kid.
"Thank you," Yato murmured. His voice was much too quiet to hear above the chaos. He didn't care, he had to say it anyway. "All of you."
Suddenly a voice cut through the crowd. Yato's heart clenched at the sound, something between anxiety and joy bubbling up in his throat.
"Yato! Yukine!" Hiyori appeared, tears in her eyes. Yato wanted to wipe them away, to make sure she never had to cry again.
"Are you okay? Everything's okay now, right?" She brushed a hand against Yato's forehead. Still stunned, he nodded. Her hand moved to his cheek, and she let out something between a sigh and a sob. "Thank goodness."
Yato's grip tightened around Yukine, and he pulled him closer to his chest.
All around him, his friends were celebrating. A mixture of cries and laughter, sobs and cheering, but Yato only focused on one thing: getting Yukine home.
It was easy to slip away with all the commotion around him. He disappeared in a flash of light without giving Amaterasu a single last look. Like that crazy goddess deserved it.
He rematerialized in front of Kofuku and Daikoku's shop, with Yukine in his arms and Hiyori by his side. The sun dipped through the evening sky, tinging the edges of the horizon gold. In a few hours it would set.
Yato headed inside, with Hiyori following. They went up to Yukine's (and occasionally Yato's) bedroom. Yato set Yukine on his bedroll as Hiyori disappeared downstairs for a moment. Both of the boys took that moment to change, abandoning their ripped formal garments for regular clothes. Yato had worked so hard making them, but now he couldn't wait to throw those stupid fabrics away.
A minute later Hiyori returned with a glass of water, pressing it gently into Yukine's hands. He took it slowly, and held it up to his lips. A tiny sip.
"Yukine," Yato said. "I need you to talk to me, just a sentence or two. Did anything happen in that box? Was there anything you heard, or, or saw?"
The glass fell out of Yukine's hands, hitting the wooden floor with a thud. Yukine didn't even seem to notice, his eyes had gone wide with renewed panic. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Yato bit his lip, cursing himself. He shouldn't have asked that so soon, not when Yukine was still so shaken up. He moved to clean up the water. Hiyori beat him to it though, making a gesture that clearly said, I'll do it. He needs you right now.
Yato nodded gratefully, turning his full attention on Yukine. "It's okay," he nudged. "It's just me and Hiyori now, we're in your bedroom, yeah? You're safe."
Yukine shook his head, jaw slack. "It was just darkness," he mumbled. "Pitch black."
Yato could tell he was holding something back, but decided to drop it for now. Yukine had gone through enough today, Yato didn't want to make him relive the time in the box right now.
"But it was—I—" Yukine's voice caught in his throat, and he shook his head.
A wave of pain washed over Yato, and with it a deep sorrow. He couldn't tell if it was Yukine's pain or his own.
Without hesitating he embraced Yukine, hoping that he could provide the comfort the young boy was looking for. He swore to himself that he'd never make this mistake again, that this would be the last time Heaven would mess with his shinki.
Heaven. Amaterasu and her goons had trapped Yukine in that hell, without even a fragment of justification. They'd just done it, done it because they were Heaven, because they had the power to. Because they needed someone to blame.
Now more than ever, Yato understood his father. Why he hated the gods. But he still wasn't fooled; it was his father that caused this to happen to Yukine in the first place. His father turned his eager, smiling kid into the broken heap sitting in Yato's arms right now.
Yato swore his father would pay.
A new hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts. Hiyori. "I'm going to go downstairs," she whispered in his ear. "You two need some time." And then she was gone.
Yato's eyes lingered on the door. He ran his fingers through Yukine's hair comfortingly, brushing it back and forth in a soft rhythm.
Yukine's tears were silent, broken. His body was stiff, his eyes blank. Shock.
Yato just held him, it was all he could do. He just counted the seconds, cradling his shinki as their shared pain pulsed through his heart.
After some time Yukine took a shaky breath, then said something that turned Yato's blood to ice.
"I thought I was going to die," he sniffed. His voice was fractured, still thick with tears. Yato could barely stand it. Yukine had already been through so much, this wasn't fair.
"I mean, I'm already dead, but I really—I really thought that was the end. Y-You saved me. Thank you."
Yato shook his head, remembering the intense pain that stabbed him right before Yukine was freed from that coffin. It was the same pain that flared through his every limb years ago. Sakura's pain.
In that box, Yukine had seen a fraction of his past, Yato knew he must have. Sure, they'd gotten him out, but they were too late. Yato was too late. He couldn't even save his own kid.
Yukine shouldn't be thanking him for anything. During his imprisonment Yato just sat on the fucking ground, helpless. It was Daikoku that saved Yukine. And Ebisu, and that geezer Tenjin. Yato shouldn't be the one being praised.
But he didn't want to argue right now. If Yukine saw him as a beacon of strength then Yato wouldn't take that away from him just yet. So he just nodded and hugged his shinki harder. "Anytime, kid. Really, I'm always here. If you want to talk…"
Oh gods, what was he even saying right now? Yato really needed to work on this "responsible role model" thing.
Yukine just gave a weak snort, pulling away from Yato. "Okay, Dad," he said sarcastically. And then, realizing what he said, turned a bright crimson. "I mean, um…" He dropped his gaze, wiping at his tear tracks with his palms. "Yeah, yeah sure."
Yato chuckled. He was about to deliver some clever response when a knock sounded at the door. "Um, Yato?" Hiyori popped her head through the doorway. "Kofuku and Daikoku are home. And they kind of invited everyone over."
"What?"
"They're insisting you come down. Daikoku almost came up here himself but I told him I'd check on you."
Annoyance rippled over Yato. Really? "What do they need me for? To be their personal servant or something?" He sighed. Knowing those two, that was exactly what they wanted.
Yato glanced at his shinki worriedly. The last thing he wanted was to abandon Yukine right now. He was about to order Hiyori to tell Daikoku and Kofuku that he was busy when he felt a hand gripping his shirt.
"Go," Yukine said. Yato looked at him, stunned. Yukine's lip quivered but he put on a brave face. For Yato's sake, he was doing this for Yato.
"Kid, you don't have to pretend like that," Yato said.
"I'm not!" Yukine protested. "Hiyori's here. I'll be fine, really. C'mon, you're stinking up the room with your sweaty tracksuit anyways," he said with a weak smile.
And there it was. A glimpse of the old Yukine. Yato allowed himself to feel a small sense of relief; the boy he knew was still there, under the layers of trauma and terror from today.
"Alright," he decided. He knew that Daikoku would march up any second anyways. And there was no arguing with him. "I'll go entertain them for a bit. But if you need me I'll ditch them in an instant. Just send Hiyori down or somethin'." He stood up and headed toward the door, ruffling Yukine's hair as he went.
Yato almost immediately regretted his decision to go downstairs. Daikoku had invited the whole gang—Tenjin, Ebisu, even that crazy lightning god Take. Each god brought their guidepost of course, and as a group they apparently decided that they were all going to torture Yato.
"Yato, another beer!"
"Yato, could I get a wet towel?"
"Yato, two sake cups over here!"
After just two hours Yato was exhausted. His wounds hadn't even healed yet, not to mention his worry about Yukine plagued his thoughts the whole night.
The nagging in his mind got stronger when the group asked about the sorcerer.
The sorcerer. A monk's staff. A God's Greatest Secret. Yukine. That box.
A wave of nausea washed over Yato, and with it an unavoidable urge to check on his kid. What if something happened to Yukine while Yato was down here? It was dark now, was Yukine doing alright? After his time in the box, and his fear of darkness...
Yato couldn't shake the image his brain had conjured up of his father sneaking into the house with Chiki, using it to deliver the final blow to Yukine…
Yato excused himself for the night, dragging himself up the stairs with labored breaths. He entered Yukine's bedroom, and the laughing and cheering from downstairs became a muffled ambience.
"I'm home," he said in a quiet singsong voice. He was greeted with a sleeping shinki and a schoolgirl in the windowsill. "Hiyori? You were still here?"
A wave of cold hit him suddenly, as the faint smells of street food and autumn leaves hit his nose. He shuddered.
Hiyori gestured to the rather obvious open window. "Yukine asked me to leave the window open. He finally just got to sleep, so I was going to head home."
Yato grimaced, taking a seat by Yukine. "Sorry for keeping you so late…" He stared at Hiyori. The chill in the air seemed to accentuate her features: the glint in her eye and the softness in her smile. Even after all they'd gone through today, here were Yato and Hiyori, sitting across from each other as Yukine slept in front of them, safe and sound.
"I still can't believe that the three of us are still here," Yato admitted.
Hiyori nodded. "I was scared too. Yukine even moreso; he was sealed in that tiny stone coffin after all." She glanced outside, watching the glittering stars from beyond the city's lights. "It's probably why he wanted to see the sky…"
To see the sky, Yato thought. Which is it? A reaction to being sealed inside the stone coffin, or…
The silhouette of a man against the night. A mountain looking in the distance. A full moon. A cold box, suffocation—
No, Yato told himself. He wouldn't let Yukine see any more of that memory. He'd protect his kid. He was sure of it.
The click of a windowsill snapped Yato out of his thoughts. "I can probably close this now. It's getting cold," Hiyori said. "You get some rest too, Yato. When everyone's feeling better, we should go to Bishamon's." She turned with a soft smile, and headed out the door.
"Right, Bishamon's…" Yato said to the empty air. His gaze drifted down to Yukine, fast asleep. A splotch of dark red poked out from the blankets, splattering his fingertips.
Dried blood. Yukine had practically scraped his fingertips off trying to escape that box.
For the second time that night Yato bit back a curse. He untied the dumb apron Daikoku made him put on, and tossed it in the corner of the room. Then he pulled up his own covers right next to Yukine's. No way was he going to abandon his kid any more than he already had tonight.
"G'night, Yukine," he said.
Yukine didn't respond, sound asleep.
Yato yawned. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until this very moment. His whole body ached. His head throbbed, and he'd had a knot in his stomach since Heaven had been summoned. Yato had almost forgotten the toll a whole day of fighting took on the body.
Downstairs, Kofuku and the gang laughed and yelled, their muffled voices floating up through the floorboards. But Yato found he didn't mind them. These people had saved Yukine. They deserved all the drinks and laughter in the world right now.
Despite everything that happened that day, Yato found a goofy smile forcing its way onto his lips. A year ago he would have laughed in someone's face if they told him that he'd soon be surrounded by this many people who cared. In just a year he'd gotten a shrine, a blessed vessel, and…friends.
Friends.
Yato allowed himself a soft smile, and drifted off to sleep.
* * * * *
Yukine's dreams were haunted with images from that day. People crowding around him at Kamuhakari, their faces warped and their hands like claws. They grabbed at every inch of him, suffocating.
He broke free, to find himself in front of a new figure. Takemikazuchi, with his blade at the ready. The thunder god had a crazy, hungry look in his eyes. He sent a murderous slash at Yukine, who jumped out of the way at the last second.
Take's blade struck the ground.
A flash of lightning. A boom of thunder. The earth shook, and a chasm opened up beneath Yukine's feet. He tumbled in, landing in a pit of darkness.
No.
Yukine's heart leapt into his throat. No! he screamed, voice echoing through the nothingness. Don't leave me here!
He banged at the invisible walls, screaming his throat raw. Let me out! Someone save me!
A deep laugh echoed above him. Yukine looked up. A man stood above him, propping open some sort of door as he smiled maliciously.
Yukine couldn't see his face well, but something about the man looked...familiar. He tried to look into his eyes, and a whirlwind of sensations overtook him suddenly.
Freezing cold, snow on a winter night. His cheek stung as if it had been slapped. Flashes of images, broken bottles and ripped up letters. The smell of alcohol. Blood.
The man laughed again, smiling a disgusting smile as he closed the hatch slowly.
"Yukine!"
Yukine shot up, dazed. Where was he? The darkness, the pit, he was…he was—
Someone grabbed his arm. He flinched, shoving the hand away like it was covered in acid. The man's silhouette from his dream careened around his mind, his deep laugh echoed in Yukine's ears.
"Yukine, hey, it's me! Look at me, bud. It's Yato."
Yukine blinked, his amber eyes meeting a pair of sapphire ones. The image of the man disappeared, replaced by a mop of dark hair and a tracksuit, leaning over him with concern.
"Yato?" he wheezed.
The god nodded. "You were having a nightmare. But you're safe now, it was just a dream."
Yukine nodded absentmindedly, still reeling from the images in his head. He reached a shaky hand out and grabbed the sleeve of Yato's jacket. It was soft, like he'd just washed it.
"Yato," he whimpered again. A sob escaped his lips and he dove into his master's chest. He rarely ever hugged Yato, was rarely ever even vulnerable with him, but if he was being honest, the god made him feel safe. Especially now.
Yato, somewhat stunned, hugged him back as Yukine started to cry. This was the second time they'd done this today, but Yukine couldn't help it. If fighting Heaven itself wasn't bad enough, Yukine had been imprisoned in total darkness, a small void coffin with no way to escape.
And that vision, the one of the man leaning over him. It scared Yukine, more than he understood. Any second he was terrified he'd fall back into that prison, choked by darkness as the man loomed above him for eternity.
Yukine gripped the fabric of Yato's shirt, trying to steady himself, but all he could see and hear was darkness, pressing in on him from all sides. He sobbed into Yato's chest. Where his tears were silent and still earlier, this time sobs racked his body. Loud, miserable, terrible cries for help.
With these tears Yukine found himself apologizing. Apologizing for all the bad things he'd ever done as a shinki, all the ways he let his master down.
"Oh kid," Yato said. His fingers traced small circles around Yukine's back, comforting.
Yukine melted into the god's embrace. They sat like that for a while, until Yukine's sobs receded, reduced to quiet hiccups against Yato's chest.
Eventually, when Yukine was ready, Yato pulled away with a sigh. In his eyes sat a heaviness that Yukine couldn't quite understand.
"I don't deserve these apologies," Yato said. "I haven't been the greatest master either. I failed to protect you today, in the worst way possible."
Yukine blinked. "Heaven's actions weren't your fault."
Yato just shook his head. "Maybe not directly. But I don't think I could live with myself if I pretend like I'm innocent. So I just need an answer: can you forgive me for today?"
Yukine let out a huff of air, wiping furiously at his tear tracks. "You...dumbass," he sniffled. "Why are you even worrying about that? I'm out of that box now, aren't I? Of course I forgive you. I don't even blame you, Yato. You shouldn't blame yourself either. That'll only bog you down with self-doubt."
Yukine waited for the playful teasing, the comments about how grown up he was becoming. Instead Yato just gave a tired smile. He nodded slowly, as his shoulders sagged from relief and exhaustion. "Thank you."
And in that moment he seemed so much wiser, so beaten by time and battles that Yukine took in the full scope of his master.
This man, the broke, whiny god in a tracksuit had seen the rise and fall of empires. He probably carried a heavy weight, burdened by hundreds of years of fighting and killing. And here he was, relieved beyond belief that his 14 year old shinki had his trust.
Yato looked him up and down with a tired but proud expression, but faltered when he got to Yukine's hands. "We need to fix those," he muttered, more to himself than to Yukine.
Right. Yukine's fingers. He'd almost forgot how he scratched them up trying to get out of that box. But, he couldn't have Yato make a big deal out of it; it was just a few small cuts.
Yukine quickly shoved his hands behind his back. "They're fine," he insisted. "It's only my fingers."
Yato shook his head. "Stay," he ordered. And just like that he left the room, returning a minute later with a first aid kit. He flicked a second lamp on, flooding the bedroom with warm light. He then sat down and gestured for Yukine to follow.
Yukine did, sitting cross-legged in front of the minor god. Better to just let Yato slap some bandages on than try to fight him.
Yato worked on his fingers slowly and methodically. Yukine didn't think any of this was necessary—it really was just a few scratches. Even so, it was nice having someone care for him like this. A strange realization crept over Yukine, a gut feeling that this was new, this wasn't something Yukine had ever gotten before his time as a shinki.
Before his time as a shinki…
Yukine glanced over at Yato, trying to read his face. The god seemed calm now, but Yukine hadn't missed the panic in Yato's own eyes as he shook him awake from his nightmare. As if the dream was actually dangerous.
As if Yato knew about the looming figure.
"Wat'cha thinking about?" Yato said suddenly.
Yukine flushed. "N-nothing. Just—the nightmare. I don't know why it was so scary; it was just some man leaning over me. I don't even know who it was."
Yato suddenly became very still. Yukine instantly regretted mentioning his dream—the look on Yato's face was enough to send someone to the underworld. The way his eyes seemed to gleam in the moonlight, an expression of stone on his usual lighthearted face. Unsettling was an understatement.
"Just forget it. Seriously, don't dwell on it."
Yato paused, and his face softened a bit. The gaze of a calamitous god disappeared, replaced with a familiar lopsided smile. "You had a long day. Probably just stress. 'Sides, if you dwell on dreams too long they'll drive you nuts."
Yukine nodded, a little stunned. There was something Yato wasn't telling him, but he was too exhausted from the events of that day to piece anything together. "Yeah," he replied lamely. "Guess you're right."
"Hey," Yato said. "What you did out there today, that was amazing. Coming with me to help that crazy war goddess, standing up for yourself in front of Take—you've grown so much. I'm proud of you Yukine. I really am."
Tears suddenly started to burn behind Yukine's eyes. He blinked. Gods, he couldn't stop thinking about earlier that night, when he accidentally called Yato Dad
Dad. Yukine wondered if this was what fathers were supposed to act like. Be there for you, patch up your wounds after a rough day, tell you they're proud.
Whatever the 'right way' to be a father was, this seemed pretty damn close. Yukine couldn't explain it, it just felt right. And maybe he didn't see Yato as a dad exactly—more like an annoying older brother. But still, Yato gave Yukine more comfort than he ever thought possible.
"You really mean it?" Yukine asked staring down at his newly bandaged fingertips. "That you're proud?"
Yato nodded sincerely. "Hundred percent, kid."
Yukine smiled at his hands. "Thank you." And he meant it. More than he could ever express to Yato.
But Yukine didn't need to say a word. He knew Yato could tell. He was his shinki after all, they were connected in body and mind. But he was more than that. Yukine was Yato's kid. His guidepost, his motivation to become a god of fortune.
Yukine just smiled at Yato, unspoken words heard through their hearts. Instinctually, he knew as long as he had Yato, it would be okay. He'd heal and move forward. With the ones he loved at his side.
Truly, Yukine was home.