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The day Yato passed away, Yukine’s heart broke. He had been working for a little while for a supermarket, mainly to get them some pocket money if they couldn’t find a 5-yen job. Yato had been slightly displeased, but Yukine always made sure to bring back some cakes from the shop. It was just a small bribe, and it would always bring a smile to his face whenever the god would finally cave in and eat almost all of the cake. There would always be enough for Yukine to have a slice for himself, as the god didn’t want his Shinki to starve either. Nevermind that Yukine could get it himself with far more ease than the broke god.
The job had been fairly easy, not too long, and as far as Yukine was concerned, little customers. He’d sometimes greet an elderly here and there, but other than that, the time passed here was fairly dull, safe for some minor entertainment on the TV. The clock on the front wall ticked away the hours slowly, no matter how many times the orange eyes would flicker to it. The end of his shift couldn’t end quickly enough, and he resisted the temptation to just call it quits and close the shop. After all, it wasn’t like there would be any more clients at this hour… Right?
As he was seriously considering his options, a void entered his chest. Right in the middle of his name. It was like something took him by the throat then dropped him from unknown heights, right into the cold, deadly ocean. His whole body felt hit by a wave of pain, encompassing each and every sense, overloading his nerves with sensations of freezing merciless currents, numbing his ears to any outside sound and his eyes from visual intake.
His knees shook and he wondered just how he’d managed to keep himself from falling unceremoniously on the ground. But the worst had yet to come. Yukine felt like something was almost torn from him, something deep within his chest. If the cold had surprised him, then this sudden rush of heat destabilized him completely. The scorching heat coursed each muscle fiber like a curious doctor, slow, meticulous even, before it reached his blood and proceeded to set it ablaze. Something was trying to tear his very soul out of his body.
No.
Not his soul…
His name.
A shocked cry stumbled out of his lips, eyes wet with tears. The pain was horrendous, overriding everything but he couldn’t imagine what awaited him that thing took this name from him. Righteous rage filled his heart and he fought with the remnants of his strength to keep the name Yukine attached to himself.
A past life? It wasn’t important.
His past, his present, and his future were all under the same name. Yukine. To lose this name would mean to lose them all. And Yukine would much rather die a second time rather than let some sort of entity tear away the one thing that truly belonged to him. The one thing his soul would forever accept as his: Yukine, Shinki of the God Yato.
The thing was trying its best, he could feel it, but no amount of pain would make him quit. Yukine had always been very defensive of the people he cared about, and this one gift he’d received from Yato was one he wouldn’t ever part from. Yukine wouldn’t ever stop. Finally, the thing left, leaving a panting Yukine in the middle of the store. He looked around in stupor, as though to see if the monster would come back or not.
“What was that-“
The door of the shop opening rapidly made him turn around, ready to fight. What he found however, was a shaking Hiyori. The girl was crying, sobbing even, and she hardly seemed capable to move. She was clearly agitated, if her tail’s fast movements were anything to go by, but everything in her expression showed she couldn’t speak. But even if she couldn’t, Yukine knew. He knew something had happened.
He felt in a daze, as Hiyori recounted the events that happened, where Yato had urged her to run. Yato had had enough. He went to confront the one person that had plagued his existence since the very beginning. The very one who’d made him a god of slaughter and the very same who held his life over his head like a dangling carrot. The same person who had approached Hiyori at school, far too much to the god’s liking.
His ‘father’.
When Hiyori heard of this, she tried to go after him, but Nora ultimately stopped her with a boundary right in front of Father’s place of residence. From what Hiyori told the Shinki, the girl had almost seemed reluctant to let Yato enter the temple in which his ‘father’ found refuge. And true to her nature of stray, when called, she bit the hand that fed her. Because her loyalty to ‘Father’ went only as far as Yato’s did. Yato dealt a killing blow, and the girl simply watched.
But the worst had yet to come.
Father didn’t transform into a monster. He didn't come back to life after receiving a grievous wound. He died a mortal man, killed by his greatest creation. And with him, he took Yato to the grave. The god would never have stayed in the human realm for as long as he did if there hadn’t been a powerful being who still prayed for him. Father had played that role. With him gone, there wasn’t anymore reason for the World to remember Yato. It didn’t matter that finally, someone believed in Yato enough to create a shrine for him. The god was found unworthy of existence.
His purpose of slaughter had ended. The world no longer needed creatures like him. And so the Heavens decided to erase him then and there.
Hiyori was on the front row to watch as her best friend died, leaving only blue motes of light in his wake. It was only then that Nora had allowed her to run to the site, and gaze at the void that Yato had left with him. Nothing could indicate he'd ever been there, no clothes, no nothing. As for Nora, she didn't stay. She simply decided to leave, likely to grieve the deaths of the two most important figures in her life.
Yukine didn’t sleep that night. Nor any of the others. When he was asked if he wanted to go to Yato’s Father’s temple, he stayed out. Because deep within himself, he knew that the likelihood of finding anything that belonged to Yato were next to none. And when they came with grim expressions, Yukine knew he was right.
Not that anything mattered anymore anyway.
Neither Kofuku nor Kazuma could get him to smile at all. It was like all the world’s colors had faded away behind a wall of gray and muteness. Gods like Bishamon, Tenjin, Kofuku and Ebisu went to pay their respect to him, mainly because they interacted so much together. But there were also many other gods that visited Kofuku’s house, all for one objective. To make the Shinki theirs. Any other Shinki may have chosen to do so, but they didn’t know Yukine.
The boy’s trust was hard-earned, but when you did, his loyalty was unmatched. Yato, for all his weird habits, had wormed his way to his heart, right beside Hiyori. He would stand by them, no matter what. So each time he saw another god, the boy simply would respond to their request by showing off the still visible name on his chest. Maybe it was faded, but you could still read it. Yukine still could.
He would then follow by words that sounded like an insult:
_ I am a Blessed Vessel. I would rather die a second time than become a Nora.
It didn’t bring him any satisfaction to see how the gods’ faces would twist.
People could never fully understand why Yukine could show so much sincerity or loyalty towards a God who would never reform. In fact, Yukine’s name was so pale that in the right lighting, you almost couldn’t differentiate it from his skin. It would never retain the same clarity as it did on the first day, no matter what the Shinki did. The gods insisted they could replace the name with his own. He refused.
They wanted a Blessed Vessel.
He never gave them that pleasure.
It came to such a head that during the annual gathering of the Gods that followed Yato, a few threatened Yukine, who had come in his god’s stead. Not that it would change anything in his mind. Bishamonten needed to intervene before anything was done against the Shinki. But to the blonde undying teen, it never mattered. He still went to the annual gathering, and stayed in company of other Shinkis, an eternal representant of a long-gone deity. But to Yukine, no god would ever matter more than Yato.
Every day, he would borrow the small shrine from Hiyori’s home and bring it with him to show it to some children. He would tell them about Yato, tell them about the minor god of luck who could resolve your worst issues for just 5 yen. He went around whispering in their ears the little blessings one would receive whenever a small coin was given. And if they wanted, he could ask someone to create small temples to ask for blessings.
And it went on for years, decades even.
Hiyori was aging. She was no longer the same teen Yukine had met the first time. She was a grown woman, with a loving man, and the same heart of gold Yukine had always known her for. She treated Yukine like a family member, and would often invite him over (when her first child arrived, Yukine became its official older brother, to his greatest joy). She had also created inside of her home a similar temple to ‘Yato, the minor God of Luck’.
As for the father, it seemed that she had had a good nose, for the man could see and remember the young Shinki. This talent was passed down to their children and it certainly helped in easing some of Yukine’s pain whenever he took care of them, even though it was always a pain in the neck to deal with their temper-tantrums. When they were calm though, they were so eerily similar to their mother that it made him smile. Kind and thoughtful, even when they couldn’t communicate through words. But they weren’t only similar on that aspect.
As kids follow by example, seeing their mother, and then their father, leave a single coin inside a carved temple for a deity they’d never heard of, they would do the same. Yukine’s cold, grieving heart would grow ever tender whenever he saw the little kids grow into fine teens themselves and still pay respect to the shrine within their home. It was small, at first, but faith continuously entered it. And when they grew into adults, they took the tradition with them, each with a carved shrine inside their family home.
And time went on, the hourglass slowly filled with sand.
Decades didn’t change Yukine’s physical appearance at all, and only Hiyori began to feel the weight of the years. She still held herself with confidence, but the energy that had filled her youth was dried up. She no longer dared to leave her body, as doing so would result in catastrophic effects on her aged body. Yet, she still asked her children and their grandchildren to continuously pray to the god who’d watched over their family “for generations”.
People may see it as just fanfare, and forget it sooner or later. But others began to imitate. It was never a grand thing, merely a few prayers here and there. It would never be to the same effect as Ebisu or another major god. But slowly, people began to pay attention. How hard Hiyori had worked over the years to sell the story, Yukine never knew. She’d used a tactic in her father’s hospital, sending a small prayer to a god of Luck, who would look over ill children.
She begged her father to share it to other hospitals, using whatever free time she had to carve and create new temples for Yato with renewed determination. She would make sure no one in the world would ever forget him, by any means necessary. A few of her friends even helped her in that endeavour, and her family also gave it a try.
She was also the one who told Yukine to bring shrines around, if any children were interested in the little temple of a certain 'Yato' god.
Yukine only saw this as a means to fulfill the god's wish. He merely told the story of a god he wished people knew more about, unknowingly turning the wheel of Fate. The children would then go tell the story to their parents. Sometimes, they extinguished that faith. But other times, they would listen to the tale of Yato. And it would stick.
For all his close relations with a mortal family, he didn’t see it coming at all.
He couldn’t have foreseen the drastic effect it would have on the world at large. One morning, as he was brushing his teeth, his eyes inadvertently focused on his name. He would always do this, look at the characters and reminisce about the past. For the briefest of seconds, the name then looked as clear as it was the first time. It was its former shade of dark orange and Yukine’s heart soared. But in the blink of an eye, the tattoo looked as pale as it had been since that day.
Yukine then stayed quiet for a moment, willing silently for the brush strokes to darken once more. But nothing happened and the name stayed stubbornly light orange. The spark of hope, so quickly summoned yet so rapidly extinguished, left him feeling empty and full of despair.
The Shinki had then gritted his teeth. It may have been an illusion, for all he knew.
The first day, he chalked it up to the dizziness after waking up. After all, he hadn’t been entirely awake when it’d first happened, right?
That may have been the most depressing experience he’d had in many, many years, and only a visit to Hiyori’s house seemed to be a solution to his troubled heart. But apparently, the now old woman had also something to say.
“I saw it, Yukine-kun, she croaked in her hoarse voice, a glimmer of something in her eyes. I saw the shrine glitter for a second this morning.”
For months, nothing happened. Nothing at all. And then, when Yukine was hanging out with Kazuma, the other Shinki stopped him sharply, as his name had darkened slightly after their walk. And this time, it was permanent. Finally, the spark of hope was rising in Yukine’s chest. Whatever was happening, whatever it was, for he never dared to wish aloud, it was good news. Maybe hope was poisonous, but Yukine would drink this lethal concoction if just to forget his own despair.
‘But what if it meant nothing at all?’, he would think at night.
‘What if it was just smoke and mirrors? A cruel illusion the world had played on them?’
‘After all, Yato was just a slaughterer and it wasn’t like you could change anything.’ The annual meetings meant that much.
But one day, as he was reminiscing of the days bygone on his way back from Suzuna’s tree, he heard small feet scurrying towards him. Curious, he turned around. And his heart, weighed by grief since that day beat once more. The world’s colors, who had been muted grays and blacks ever since that horrible day, slowly shifted to a scenery decorated by the sunset, filled with orange, red and warm yellow.
The child was small, barely five, with blue hair so dark they looked black and with cat-like blue eyes. He was running as fast as he could, out of breath by the time he reached the stunned Shinki. He placed his hands on his knees, inhaling and exhaling rapidly, all in an effort to catch his breath. As for Yukine, he gazed silently at the boy, unable to say a word. He couldn’t move a muscle, an invisible binding spell taking hold on his body. Said-boy wore a light white kimono and stood on bare feet, yet his smile could lighten up the whole street.
“Hello mister!” He greeted him cheerfully.
Yukine felt his throat tighten painfully, and he desperately tried to hold his tears in. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him. The boy then turned around and began to wave at someone a bit further down the road.
“Thank you, lady!”
Yukine’s eyes focused sharply on the so-called ‘lady’. Surrounded by wolves and covered as usual by a dozen names on her pale skin, Nora gazed impassively at Yukine. Neither of them had seen the other for many, many years and the tension ran as high as it always did. Yukine had always made his disdain for Nora known, and the girl had stayed clear off him ever since Yato passed away. He would sometimes catch sight of her wolves, but as the beasts would constantly disappear whenever his attention shifted, he never made an effort to talk with her. More than eighty years, and while they hadn’t physically changed, Yukine knew how to hold his own now.
But the girl hardly seemed there for a fight anyway. Her eyes forlornly gazed at the happy child, as though seeing him for the last time, before her expression hardened. She was the very same he’d always known, bitter, and angry, but for the first time, he could see sadness in her otherwise blank expression.
“I owe you nothing, she almost snarled. I know this is what he would have wanted, she added haughtily.”
Nora didn’t give any other explanation. The girl simply turned back and walked off. And despite everything about her, he knew she didn’t stay, just so tears didn’t flow in front of them. Maybe it was pity that filled his chest for just a few seconds. But then, his attention was shifted back to him. It was him. There wasn’t any doubt about it and yet… He needed to ask him.
“Hello, he smiled, crouching to meet the child at eye level. What’s your name?”
The boy gave him a painfully familiar smile and exclaimed:
“I am Yato!”
The void he’d felt for years was filled once more. How Yukine didn’t cry right then and there, he didn’t know. Instead, his chest was filled with so much joy that his tears wouldn’t come up. Instead, his lips were stretched so wide open that it almost hurt him.
“Oh? Are you sure?”
“Of course!” The kid cried out. “She told me I was!”
There wasn’t any need to ask who ‘her’ was. Nora could have done everything she wanted, yet in the end, she respected Yato’s wish. It seemed that even if she was traitorous, there was a part of herself that was still honorable.
“And she told me you were my friend! My shinki!”
He grinned. Hope was a dangerous concoction, a fool’s last remedy. It could twist into the worst of poisons, or the most delightful of cures. And today, at last, the bitterness of sorrow left for the saltiness of relief.
_ What’s my name then?
_ Yukine!
_ And my vessel name? His bottom lip wobbled.
_ Sekki!
'Yato…' Yukine felt his heart clench painfully in his chest. He was not on the verge of tears, no. He had far better control now. He bit inside his cheek, his vision slightly blurry. As if entering in resonance when he heard the god say his name, the tattoo glowed and regained that original shade of orange in the deity's presence.
Yato was too young to know but this very action validated Yukine’s name once more. It finally felt right to call him Yukine. The Shinki had fought tooth and nail, but this sacred acknowledgement from a God to a Shinki reinforced it. Here and now, he was the Blessed Vessel, Sekki, ready to act as his duty required. He asked with a smile at the now tiny boy:
“Do you know that as a Shinki, my role will be to guide you and protect you? Not only being your friend?”
_ But you’ll be my friend first, right?
Yukine chuckled and nodded. He would always be Yato’s friend first. Even if the world turned on Yato, he would never leave his side. He understood Nora the tiniest bit in that instance. She always stood by her first master. Perhaps in that view, she was an extraordinary Shinki. The immortal boy called out to him, blue eyes shining with sudden desperation:
_ Promise? The little god insisted, his tiny fists clenched against his chest.
He really looked and acted like a five-year-old child. But it wasn’t bad. Ebisu had been that way when he came back from the underworld, and while the god would never mention it, Yukine knew Ebisu looked fondly on the years everyone took care of him. After all, childhood was a long bygone era for many of the most important deities. If anything, it was a new chance in life. Thanks to Hiyori, he now knew how to handle little children. He extended his little finger towards Yato, an amused twinkle in his orange eyes.
_ Pinkie swear.
Perhaps he’d seen it before, and knew of its importance, as Yato’s worried face stretched in a timid smile. The little god quickly extended his own finger and the two shook it three times. It wasn’t a formal swear but it may have been. For one so young, it was perhaps even more important. There wasn’t any lightning and the earth didn’t quake, but this oath felt more sacred than any promise Yukine had ever sworn. He felt it deep within his chest, and he couldn’t help but welcome the warmth of Yato’s trust with open arms.
They then stayed like that, frozen in that moment for an eternity. Perhaps they may have stayed longer, but the little rumble of Yato’s stomach brought the Shinki back to reality. Yato quickly shifted his eyes away, obviously ashamed at the noise he made, but Yukine simply chuckled. He needed to go see Hiyori. Both to get the tiny god a hearty meal and to allow the two old friends to meet once more.
Yukine quickly ran the boy back to her house, cutting in half any Ayakashi who even dared to venture close to the duo. It would always make the tiny boy whoop in joy, and just for the heck of it, he took him in his arms and would attack any possible threat in the boy’s sights. A strong urge to protect him had possessed the blonde, and like a madman on a killing spree, anything that moved, breathed or felt even the tiniest bit like an Ayakashi was served the premium service of a boundary right in the face, with an extra chant for good measure.
When they arrived, Hiyori cried. This strong-willed woman, who’d managed to stand so tall after so many years of grief, had cried. It had worried her husband, but the man’s fears quickly died down, until he met the tiny god who was hugged by his elderly wife. Yukine took it upon himself to calm down the couple before heading out to Kofuku’s house. Such a miracle was not unnoticed and quickly enough, the few gods who’d stood by Yato’s side arrived to greet the reformed god.
Yukine would never forget the tears on Bishamon and Kofuku’s faces, and Tenjin’s soft smile as the boy waved at the other gods. Quickly enough, the Shinkis took it upon themselves (and the other gods, to Yukine’s horror) to teach Yato how to behave properly. It had some curious effects, but it ultimately landed in a flop, as Yato only listened whenever Yukine was in close proximity. Yukine was therefore required to learn everything about child’s psychology (as if he hadn’t enough with Hiyori’s children) and then needed to teach Yato about the world, for the overexcited child would find it hard to stay in one place.
One habit they thankfully cut out was the horrendous expenses Yato made. With Yukine in such close proximity, it helped.
But the best part had yet to come.
In the first time in many, many years, Yukine went out with a child in toe to the Gods’ annual gathering. If the others thought that the Shinki was pulling a prank on them at first, their opinion quickly changed when the tiny god was then formally greeted by Tenjin, Bishamon and Ebisu. And to the surprise of many, it seemed that even after his death and subsequent rebirth, his nature as a fighter hadn’t diminished even a bit. His aura was as cutting as it had once been, especially when gods seemed a little too interested in Yato’s main Shinki (and the only one at that).
And for the first time in many, many years, Yukine felt content when he stood in the God’s assembly. The critics could say whatever they wanted, as a god wasn’t limited by their appearance. It didn’t matter that Yato looked like a child.
That ‘child’ could boast to have small temples in every hospital in Japan (how it had happened, none of the immortals were the wiser). He was a fully-fleshed god, whether they liked it or not. Anyone who’d known of Yato in the past would see the irony in the appearance of his well-wishing temples in places where people tried to save lives with everything they had. But to any of the god’s friends, it was extraordinary. And while many gods would swear that Yato was nothing if not an idiot, people later on would incorporate the god in the pantheon.
A God of luck and health.
The problem with gods is that oftentimes, they underestimate the power of mortal determination. Hiyori was just a mortal, but she was one with an ambition which reached higher than the stars above. Even when Yukine himself had given up, even when everything seemed to be lost… The girl now woman felt such righteous rage over her friend’s death that she decided to make him into a God, whether the Heavens liked it or not. She wouldn’t pray for anyone else.
She, a girl tainted by the light and darkness of the Other Side, would never stop praying to this one god who kept her company through tears and laughs, and she would never forget the one god whose name she’d whispered when he was about to be taken away: “Yaboku.”
It was this sheer grit, this boundless determination, that made the Will of the World curve for her. Father was dead. If so, then Hiyori would become “Mother” of this god, his friend. She would push her wish into a rebirth. It shouldn’t have been possible, no one had ever done so since ages past. It shouldn’t be a possibility. No god had ever been created in such a way, especially with such a tight entry in the pantheon. But people who didn’t know Hiyori never realized that the girl already accomplished the impossible.
Gods would only see an old woman on a hospital bed when they thought of humans. Weakened, regretful and saddened by the brevity of her mortal life. But Iki Hiyori was different. She was content, victorious, happier than she’d been in decades. She looked younger too, the weight of many years swept away by her favorite blue-eyed god. Each glance at her blonde friend and the dark-haired boy he kept preciously at his side made her swell with happiness and pride.
It was with a tired but fulfilled smile that the old, wizened Hiyori, surrounded by friends and family, gods and mortals, that she gave her final exhale, her eyes standing on a treasured shrine that never left her side since that day, one she prayed to no matter what. The temple had been repainted several times, and the wood was old and moldy in some parts, but you could still read the clear name of the very first, newly celebrated god of Luck.
‘Yato’.