Chapter Text
The little shit nearly takes him out with a pocket knife as he steps through the doorway. Yato swats the boy’s hand away, but not quickly enough to prevent a knick on his hand. When Bishamon, wavering on her feet and dripping blood from her side, tells him that the brat is his cargo, he laughs at the absurdity, smearing blood across his pants.
Kofuku throws him a look.
Before he can say his piece, his pink-haired partner—”goddess of bad fortune,” he calls her, because her clumsiness nearly always causes some disaster—is off to help Bishamon back to the Firefly headquarters. The guns Rabou had sold out from under them to the Fireflies had better be there, or he’ll never forgive Kofuku for the three hours he loses in the company of the punk kid.
The brat hardly looks at him. He scowls from the corner where he’s tucked into himself, cursing Bishamon for abandoning him with some sweaty smuggler.
“You don’t smell too great yourself,” Yato throws his way as he lounges on the moldy, stained couch.
They don’t exchange any more words. Yato wakes with a start when Kofuku finally reappears, confirmation on her tongue, and eagerness in her stride. The sun has dipped below the horizon, but it's the perfect time for an excursion outside the QZ. He ignores the anxiety on the boy’s face and shoulders his backpack before leading them into the hazy air.
Yato feels the panic wafting off the boy in waves as they kneel on the wet, rocky ground. Keep it together, he wants to sneer at Yukine, but a FEDRA officer has a gun to his back and an infection scanner to his neck.
He should have known the distrust in the boy’s eyes would mean disaster. Yukine must have a death wish, because before the officer can finish scanning him, he twists and jams that damn pocket knife into the man’s thigh.
Fuck.
Before the FEDRA officer can finish screaming, Yato pulls out his pistol and aims for the second officer. A quick pull of the trigger, and the woman slumps forward. Kofuku dispatches the other officer with the same efficiency. When she discovers the discarded scanner showing a positive result, she screeches a “What the fuck!” as Yato turns his gun towards the sniveling boy.
He’s not sure why they believe the brat when he claims the bite mark on his left collarbone is three weeks old, but the growing number of FEDRA pissants that appear on their trail probably has something to do with it. He can’t name the feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach, a growing, growling ball of unease, but there isn’t much time to dwell on it. He shoves Yukine forward into an underground pipe and follows after.
“What was it like?”
Kofuku lifts her head towards the small boy. The sun before them casts long shadows through the towering skyscrapers, and he squints in the light.
“Before. You know. Before the world turned to shit.”
Kofuku laughs. “Where do I even start?”
Her laughter is a twinkle in a dark sky, a beam of sunshine through muddy puddles and gravel and crumbling buildings. He wonders how she got here now, a rifle slung over her shoulder, unconcerned with the blood on her skirt, walking beside a near-silent companion with skepticism in his eyes.
“What did you do before the outbreak?”
Tapping a finger on her chin, Kofuku thinks for a moment. “I was living with my boyfriend and working at a makeup shop. I was…twenty-two, I think? My parents wanted me to go to college but I wanted to find my own dream. Too bad the world ended before I could.”
“Oh.”
“What about you, Yatty?”
A flash of images shoot through his mind, and Yato nearly stumbles before catching himself. If Kofuku notices, she doesn’t say, and the brat is too concerned with himself to have seen anything.
“I did odd jobs,” he says after a moment.
“That’s it?” Yukine raises a brow.
“Life was hard and I had to do shit jobs to get by. What else is there to say?”
Yukine pouts, “Fine, sorry I asked.”
Kofuku regales him with stories of a time gone by and conveniences he could only imagine. When she tells him of the time she rode in an autopiloted car, a runner stumbles out of the brambles to their right and lunges for them. Yukine has only a moment to dodge before a horde of infected converge on them.
“I’m sorry,” is all Yukine says when they enter the subway. The last sounds of Kofuku’s voice echo in Yato’s mind, her high-pitched words baiting FEDRA into her death trap, and the irony of her nickname twists in his chest. He doesn’t answer the boy.
He didn’t sign up for this. The Fireflies were supposed to be there—alive, dammit—and the boy isn’t supposed to be his problem anymore. But Kofuku had looked at him with those bright eyes and the fucking bite mark on her arm and a promise that every shitty thing they had done would be absolved if they got him to the Fireflies, and fuck it all, it isn’t supposed to be like this goddammit!
Yukine has the presence of mind to say nothing further as they navigate the underground pathways. He looks even smaller now, if that were even possible, with hunched shoulders and amber eyes that can’t meet Yato’s. It’s fine with the smuggler. The less they have to deal with each other, the easier it will be to walk away.
“You ever stay in one of these?” asks the boy too small for his age and too sharp for a world that is no longer kind.
Yato scoffs as he looks around the decaying foyer of a grand hotel. “Too rich for my blood.”
They do their cursory shakedown of the place, dumping drawers and scrounging for whatever leftover supplies they can find. It’s not much, but even the smallest bottle of alcohol could mean the difference between life or death.
“You know,” Yukine says after a long silence, “I should have a gun—”
“No.”
“C’mon! I know how to use it. I was in FEDRA’s military school, remember?”
“Exactly.”
The kid pouts, glaring daggers at the older man, but Yato is unperturbed. He’s decided to follow through with Kofuku’s dying wish to get the kid to the Fireflies so they can work their science shit or whatever they do to figure out a vaccine. He’ll drop the brat off with his sister out west, she can take him to her Firefly buddies, and Yato can wash his hands of this whole ordeal.
“It’s a long way to your sister, right? You expect me to just use a knife to fight infected the entire way?”
“Yes.” He knows how reckless boys are at this age, and a mistake with a gun is the last thing he needs to deal with.
Yukine rolls his eyes and slams an empty drawer.
Later, when Yato isn’t quite as quick as he should have been, and a raider jams a bat against his throat, Yukine is the one that scrambles to pick up his discard pistol and blows the man’s head off. Yato gasps for air, clutching his throat as he stumbles to his feet.
“You’re welcome,” mutters Yukine as Yato wrenches the gun from his hand.
The water is frigid, soaking through Yato’s thin jersey and chilling him to his core, but the boy can’t swim and they need to traverse the flooded building. Yukine hunches over the wood pallet, gripping onto the slats until his knuckles are white, his eyes fixing on the solid platform at the end of the room that Yato pushes them towards.
“Thank you,” Yato says suddenly, pumping his legs in the murky water, “for earlier.”
“You’re saying this now?” rasps Yukine through gritted teeth.
“Well,” the other man grumbles with a smirk, “you can’t run away right now.”
He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “It’s fine.”
Yato continues, “You saved my life. I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”
“I said it’s fine.” Solid ground is getting closer, but not soon enough.
“You shouldn’t have had to do that. For someone so young—”
“It’s not the first time,” Yukine cuts in.
Before Yato can say anything further, Yukine jumps from the pallet onto the walkway. He barely makes it—they aren’t quite close enough—but he scrambles to his feet and makes his way to the door at the end of the platform.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Yato pulls himself out of the water, a soaking, sopping mess, and follows after him.
“How does the moon cut its hair?”
Looking up from his journal, Yato stills his pen and turns to the kid lying down on the other side of their makeshift camp. The summer night is beginning to cool down, but it's too dangerous for a fire. Yukine is wrapped in his sleeping bag, a book held open on his chest. He looks at Yato expectantly.
When no response comes, he continues on regardless. “Eclipse it!”
Yato blinks, scrunches his face, then goes back to his journal with a shake of his head.
A couple flips of the book’s pages and Yukine has another lame joke. “Why didn’t the skeleton go to the dentist?” A pause. “He had no guts.”
The only response from Yato is a snort.
“Okay, okay. I have a good one.”
While Yukine fumbles through his book to find his perfect joke, Yato continues scribbling.
“How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?” A beat passes. “Tentacles.”
This one manages to elicit a single laugh from Yato. Yukine’s face glows at the accomplishment.
“Alright,” says Yato, putting his journal and pen to the side. “It’s time to sleep. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah. But you did laugh at my joke.” Yukine waves his book around for added emphasis.
“Go to bed, kid.”
“Fine. Night.”
A moment goes by. “Night.”
Three weeks ago, Yukine had been infection-free, and Suzuha was still alive.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” the boy demanded, standing in his pajamas in a half-empty dorm room. A nightlight flickered in the corner.
Suzuha, for all the vitriol Yukine threw his way, only smiled and handed his best friend his necklace.
Amber eyes widened at the dog tag in his hand, and Yukine gasped, “You’re a Firefly?”
“Come with me,” said Suzuha, and the boy found he couldn’t say no.
When Suzuha flipped a switch and the mall came alive, Yukine gasped. Suzuha watched the lights reflect in Yukine’s eyes for a moment too long, then grabbed his hand and dragged him down the corridor. They gawked at the storefronts—toys, and clothes, and boxes of rotten tea—and danced their way through the night. From an escalator ride to the arcade, a trip around the carousel to the Halloween store, Yukine was sure there wasn’t anything else that could top their night.
Suzuha smiled, and Yukine felt himself swirling in its brilliance.
With a roar, Yukine jumps into the air and plunges his knife into the head of the runner at Yato’s back. He yanks the knife out and thrusts it back in several times for good measure, then drops to the floor into a panting heap. Yato throws the corpse off in disgust and staggers as he wipes at the blood on his face.
“Watch out!” yells Yukine as a clicker runs around the corner.
Cursing, Yato fumbles for his shotgun and barely manages to aim before blowing the infected’s fungal face off.
“Any more?” he asks, scanning the room with the shotgun.
“I think…I think that’s it,” answers Yukine, pulling himself off the floor of the abandoned shop. They had wandered in looking for supplies, but found a horde of infected instead. “You’re bleeding.”
Yato, merely grunting in response, finally lowers his gun. He steps to the front of the store, broken glass crunching under his boots, and scours the street for any looming infected.
“I said you’re bleeding.”
“I heard.”
Yukine rolls his eyes and slings his backpack off his shoulders. “Come here, you idiot,” he growls, pulling out the last of their bandages.
“I’m fine,” stresses Yato.
“You’re going to bleed all over your dumbass jersey.”
Yato throws the teenager a tired scowl before shuffling to where Yukine lays out their meager medical supplies. He wants to tell him they should save it for something more critical, but the care he sees Yukine handle everything with makes him pause. The boy has clearly seen the state of their supplies, and he fuses over what little they have. But when he finally settles on a course of action, his warm eyes stare at Yato with pure determination.
“Ow,” Yato hisses as Yukine dabs at the deep scratches on his face with an alcohol-soaked bandage.
“Quit being a baby,” is all the boy says as he continues with his work.
“Yes, Dad,” Yato snarks.
Yukine holds the bandage to his face for a few seconds longer than necessary.
They need a car, Yato says, and Yukine doesn’t disagree. He’s tired from walking mile after mile everyday, and Yato makes for a poor traveling companion. At least in a car he could sleep.
“So your friend,” the boy begins, “he has a car we can borrow?”
“He should.”
He frowns. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
Yato shrugs. “If anyone has a working car, it would be him.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then we’re walking.”
Yukine groans.
Takemikazuchi is not exactly what Yukine was picturing when Yato said “friend.” A perpetual scowl seems to grace the stranger’s face whenever Yato speaks, and Yukine is beginning to think Yato may have been a bit generous when he initially described the other man. He stands in a corner of Takemikazuchi’s dilapidated home and scans the room for anything they could take when he turns his back.
“Fuck off, Yato.”
“You owe me, Take.”
“I fucking owe you?” Takemikazuchi growls, hand gripping the hilt of a machete. “Whatever the hell you think I owe you, it’s not worth a car.”
“You know it fucking is.”
“What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in? Where’s Kofuku? And what’s with the fucking punk over there?” He points a machete at Yukine’s way with a menacing glare. The boy is one second from snapping back a scathing reply when Yato steps in front of him, blocking Take’s gaze.
“It’s just another job,” Yato says, “and it’s just me this time.”
Take scoffs. “You’re going to get yourself and the kid killed.”
“Then give us a fucking car and we’ll leave your goddamn city.”
“Fine,” he all but hisses. “But after this, we’re even.”
“Fine.”
They begin a trek to the other side of the city, dodging roving bands of infected when they could and shooting through when they couldn’t. A clicker nearly rips through Take, but a well-swung bat from Yukine sends its head flying. They duck into an abandoned house when the sun begins to set.
“The car in the garage should be working,” says Take, stepping through the living room towards a door. “We’ll—”
“Shit,” mutters Yato. Yukine stumbles into his back at his abrupt stop. He leans around Yato to see a body on the floor, decomposed, but intact enough that the bite marks are visible. A gun lies beside it.
“Fucking hell,” Take grumbles.
“Kiun?” asks Yato, after a moment.
“...Yeah.”
“Take—”
“Let’s go.” He steps over the body as he heads to the garage.
Yato nudges Yukine forward. He knows he shouldn’t look, but Yukine’s eyes linger on the body for a brief moment before he steps around it.
“You have…strange friends.”
Yato turns to the boy sitting beside him. Yukine’s feet are tucked under him on the seat, his elbow propped up on the door with his cheek in his palm. He eyes the quickly disappearing landscape as they drive down an endless highway.
“Friend is probably the wrong word,” Yato concedes, one hand gripping the steering wheel.
He scoffs. “Yeah, I’ll say.” He digs through the center console and glove box.
Yato is about to ask what he’s looking for when the boy holds up a cassette tape with a satisfied smirk. He pops it into the radio, and soft classical music filters through the cabin.
“Not what I was hoping for,” the kid mutters, “but better than nothing.”
They lapse into another silence. Yukine drums his fingers on the car door. After a moment, he asks, “What did you do to make Take owe you?”
Yato frowns at first, then sighs. “Kofuku and I saved his life.”
“Whoa. How’d you do that?”
“We came across him on a job. He was injured, we had medicine. Simple as that.”
“Can’t imagine he was very thankful. Seems pretty distrusting.”
“He’s a pain in the ass to deal with. Especially after Kiun left.”
“Oh, that guy at the house. Who was he?”
Yato runs a hand through his hair. “Take’s old partner. Boyfriend. Something like that. They never seemed to get along, so it was hard to tell exactly.”
Yukine nods in understanding, but he didn’t really. Before he can open his mouth to ask another question, Yato speaks, “Get some sleep. You’ve been up for a while.”
“What about you?”
“Someone’s gotta drive.”
“I could—”
“No.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, but he leans back and closes his eyes. He’s asleep before he even realizes.
Yato lowers the volume on the radio.
“How’d you find this place?” Yukine questioned as he plopped down beside his friend. They’re both soaked and breathing hard from the water gun fight around the electronics store.
“Hmm, came across it on one of my missions for Bishamon,” Suzuha answered, tossing his empty water gun to the side.
“You go on missions?” he breathed.
Suzuha flashed him a smile, and Yukine flushed at the way his eyes shone.
“Yukine,” Suzuha began, but Yukine stopped him with a hand.
“I know,” he said. “You have to leave, right?”
“Yukine…”
“It’s okay.” The blonde boy sniffled but turned his head to hide his glassy eyes. “You have to go save the world.”
Suzuha looked down. “I asked Bishamon if you could come, but she said no.”
Standing, Yukine wrapped his arms around himself, wandering around the counter they were leaning against. “It’s fine. I get it, you know? And Bishamon never liked me, to be honest. Not sure why though.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Then why wouldn’t she let me be a Firefly?”
Suzuha sighed. “I don’t know.”
Yukine stood by himself, gazing out into nothingness. The walkman they hooked up to the speakers blared some old pop song he’s heard a million times, but he had become numb.
“What was this?”
“Huh?”
“All this,” Yukine said as he waved his hand around. “The mall, the arcade, the water guns. What was all this? Some kind of last minute, going-away present?”
“Not sure I’d call it a present—”
“You just up and leave! For months! I thought you were dead!”
“I’m sorry,” Suzuha pleaded as he approached Yukine. “I just couldn’t stay at that school any longer.”
“And you think I wanted to?”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Yukine was in one of his moods again, eyes darting around at everything except his friend, anger bubbling low in his belly.
“And you finally come back,” Yukine continued, “just to say you’re leaving. What am I supposed to do? How do you expect me to react to that?”
After a pained moment of silence, Suzuha said, “You’re right. I did leave. But I came back. I…you know we never know what’s going to happen on a mission. If we’ll survive. If we’ll even come back to the city. I just wanted one last night with you.”
“One last night, huh?” Yukine shook his head, letting out a harsh laugh. “At least I’m worth one last night.”
Suzuha was at a loss for words. He knew it would be hard telling his friend of his upcoming departure, knew the mall and the arcade would never be enough to make up for it, but there was no other way. “I even asked if I could stay instead, but Bishamon said I was needed elsewhere.”
“Then don’t ask,” Yukine said suddenly, still looking down.
“Huh?”
“Don’t ask,” he repeated, looking up. His glistening eyes bore into Suzuha’s soul. “Just stay. Don’t go.”
Maybe it was the fire in Yukine’s gaze, or the warmth rising from his belly, but Suzuha answered without thinking, “Okay.”
He only had a moment to register the look on Yukine’s face before the smaller boy moved in quickly, pressing his warm, chapped lips against his own. Suzuha answered with the same desire. When they pulled away, Yukine had a deep flush on his cheeks, and he couldn’t meet Suzuha’s eyes.
Perhaps the music had been too loud, or the magic of the moment had enraptured them, but whatever the reason, they heard the oncoming infected far too late.
The sudden slowing down of the car wakes Yukine from his sleep. He blinks, turning to the window and taking in the sunlight filtering through. He rubs at his eyes and yawns, settling back in his seat, and eyes the towering buildings looming before them.
“Did you drive through the night?” he asks in a raspy voice.
“I stopped for a few hours to sleep,” responds Yato. The kid must have been exhausted since he slept through it all. Yato doesn’t blame him. The past few weeks had been tough for both of them.
In the silence of the car, Yukine realizes the cassette must have run out some time ago. “Where are we?” Yukine yawns again as he moves to flip the cassette in the radio.
“Some big city. We’ll stop to find some supplies, but we’ll have to keep moving.”
“Are we close to your sister?”
“By car, probably a day or two out.”
The soft musings of classical music waft over the two companions. Bored, Yukine stares at the beckoning city, wondering what they might find. Yato, as stoic as ever, focuses on the road before them.
“So,” begins Yukine, unsure if it was wise to continue with his train of thought, but he pressed on anyway, “your sister.”
Yato casts a brief glance his way, but doesn’t immediately object.
Emboldened, he continues, “She was a Firefly?”
It takes a moment before Yato decides to answer. “Yes. For a time.”
“Only a while?”
“I guess she found something else to join. It always seemed like she was looking for something. Somewhere to belong, maybe.”
“What about you? Why didn’t you join?”
Scoffing, Yato shakes his head. “No thanks. I work better alone.”
“Except for Kofuku.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. A look crosses Yato’s face, and Yukine immediately regrets his words. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I didn’t—”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
The guilt eats away at his stomach. He bites his lip and turns away. Fiddling with his hands, Yukine is unsure if he should continue to apologize or stay quiet.
“Last I heard from her,” speaks Yato suddenly, his eyes staring down the road, “my sister joined some commune. Not sure what kind. Guess we’ll see.”
“What’s her name?” Yukine asks quietly.
“Mizuchi.”
“Younger?”
“No.” Yato gives a short chuckle. “Older. Why does everyone assume she’s younger?”
“It’s hard to imagine anyone older than you.”
Yato glares at the smirk on the kid’s face. “I’m not that old.”
“Whatever. You’re ancient. We should leave you with the wreckage of this city. You’ll fit right in.”
“Fucking punk,” Yato mutters.
“Yato!” Yukine wrenches against the arms around his upper body and thrashes as he tries to escape. “Yato! Let me go, you fucker!”
Yato catches the boy’s arm for a brief moment before he’s yanked backwards and pulled from the car. He lands on the glass-covered floor of the shop their car crashed through when they were ambushed by raiders and receives a sharp kick to the abdomen. He coughs as the air is forced from his lungs. When the raider goes in for another kick, Yato twists out of the way, grabs the man’s leg, and pulls him down. Stunned, the raider has no chance to react before Yato forces him into a headlock and twists his neck with a sickening crunch.
Across the shop, Yukine struggles against his attacker, raging at his small physique that puts him at a major disadvantage. His feral flailing would be more effective at knocking the raider off him if he were only bigger. When the larger man’s hands close around his throat, pinching his airways and clouding his vision, Yukine is sure this is the end. His hands stop clawing at the man’s fingers and grow limp.
Suddenly, the raider’s head is bashed in the side with a metal pipe, and his grip loosens from around Yukine’s throat. The boy sucks in gulps of air, coughing in between breaths, and rolls to the side. He doesn’t watch as Yato beats the man’s head in, the pipe banging against the floor with each swing.
“Are you okay, Yukine?” Yato asks when the raider is long dead. He kneels over the boy, a hand on his back.
“Yes,” whispers Yukine, his voice grating and harsh.
“Let’s get going before more come. I fucking hate this city already.”
He stomps over to the car, reaching through the broken window to gather their packs. Yukine wavers as he rises to his feet, reaching out to steady himself. Yato grabs his arm, giving him a moment to adjust, then slings his pack on his back for him.
“Ready?” Yato asks.
Yukine shakes his head to clear the pounding behind his eyes. “Yes,” he answers.
They find a pair of brothers, Kunimi and Ebisu, hiding in an apartment building from the same raiders they were running from. If Yato thinks it alarming having a ten-year-old point a loaded gun at him, having Yukine immediately warm up to the strangers is even worse. Kunimi shakes off the punches Yato so fervently gave him and convinces them to band together to escape the godforsaken city.
Yato’s natural inclination to distrust anyone rears its ugly head, but Yukine is already besotted with the young boy.
“Why do bees have sticky hair?” Yukine asks, joke book in hand. He’s nestled in a corner of the derelict office building they found after fighting through the army of raiders. In the morning, they’ll push through the raider’s last outpost and escape into the country.
“Why?” asks the young boy. He sits beside Yukine, rapt with anticipation.
“Because they use a honeycomb!”
Ebisu erupts into fits of giggles, and Yukine grins as he flips through the book for a new joke.
“I haven’t heard him laugh like that ages,” Kunimi murmurs as he picks at the last of their dinner. “It’s good to hear it.”
Yato only grunts in response. He taps his pen on his journal, eyeing the two young boys in the corner.
“Where are you and your son headed after this?” asks Kunimi suddenly.
“He’s not my son,” Yato says a little too quickly. “I just agreed to look after him for someone.”
“Ah, my apologies.”
“We’re…headed west.”
“West?” Kunimi asks with a raised brow.
“Yes,” is all Yato offers.
The next day, when they find they can’t outgun the raiders, they jump into the sewers as a quick escape route. It’s beset with infected, their twitching and clicking noises echoing off the dank walls, and they barely manage to escape unscathed. Ebisu ends up being their savior; he crawls through a small crack in the wall to unlock a sewer grate that leads to the bright outdoors. That night, in a shabby abandoned house missing its roof, the group settle for the next day’s travel.
“We’re looking for the Fireflies,” Yato says as Kunimi pulls out the canned food for their dinner. The boys are exploring the rest of the house.
“The Fireflies?”
“Yeah. If you’ve no other plans, you could join us.”
Kunimi smiles. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m sure Ebisu would like that.”
Upstairs, Yukine points out the waning moon above through the missing ceiling. Ebisu stands transfixed. After a moment, he wanders over to a broken widow and stares out.
“Yukine,” the little boy begins, “are you ever scared?”
Surprised by the change in Ebisu’s demeanor, Yukine thinks for a moment. “Yeah. Scorpions are pretty freaky.”
With a huff, Ebisu turns, saying in his most grown-up voice, “No, I’m being serious.”
Yukine kneels by the young boy. “Okay. Well, I guess…I guess I’m scared of being alone. Of ending up alone. What about you?”
Ebisu looks away. “I’m scared of the infected.”
“That’s understandable. They are pretty scary.”
“Do you think they’re still inside? The people, I mean.”
“Hmm. Yato doesn’t think so.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Ebisu murmurs.
In the morning, when Yukine finds an turned Ebisu twitching in a corner, it takes all Yato has not to jump for his gun despite Kunimi’s warning. Yukine’s screams and calls for Yato as Ebisu claws at him send a chill through Yato’s heart. He’s one step away from lunging for his backpack when Kunimi sends a shot through the room. Ebisu falls away lifeless, and Kunimi follows a minute later with a self-inflicted gunshot through the temple.
In the aftermath, Yato scoops up a numb Yukine and cradles him until the shock wears off.
Twenty years ago, the world was infection-free, and Sakura was still alive.
“Dad?” asked Sakura. She rubbed at her eyes and sat up, looking around the dark room.
“In here, sweetie,” her father answered from the kitchen.
Yawning, she stood up, stretched, and reached for the bag on the coffee table. In the kitchen, her father munched on a cupcake he found on the counter and flipped through the day’s mail. He was home late again and still wearing his dirty work clothes. At least he remembered to take his shoes off this time.
“Did your aunt come by earlier?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sakura responded. “Hiyori too.”
“Oh?” Yato looked up, intrigued.
“Yes.” She laughed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “She brought the cupcakes. When are you going to ask her out?”
Scoffing, Yato reached over and mussed up her hair. “When you move out in five years.”
“Hey!” Sakura wiped at his hands, the bangles on her wrist jangling at the movement, and pouted. “Well, fine. Then I won’t give you Aunt Mizuchi’s present. I’ll just keep it for myself.”
“Hand it over, kid.”
She gave him the bag from the living room, a “Happy Birthday!” written in a colorful font across its side and colored tissue paper sticking out from the top. Inside, a card with the message “Stop getting old. -Mizuchi” was tucked into the side, but Yato was far more interested in the plushie that was hidden among the tissue.
“Another capypa?” his daughter inquired as he pulled it out.
“Hell yeah!” Yato exclaimed while Sakura rolled her eyes.
“You are so ridiculous.”
“I’m your dad. I get to be ridiculous.” He pulled her in for a hug and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Happy birthday, you doofus,” she said, leaning in to return the hug.
“Ah, damn,” mumbles Yukine, mostly to himself. “I meant to leave the joke book on Ebisu’s grave.”
Yato turns back to the boy, rubbing at his cheeks and flicking the long hair out of his face. “Nothing you can do about it now,” he says.
“Yeah,” Yukine admits, with a sigh. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on him in the tunnels.”
“It’s not your fault,” Yato begins.
“I know, I know. I just…I just wish it didn’t end like that.” He fiddles with his backpack, adjusting it even though it didn’t change anything. He strides past Yato up the mountain path and hides his sighs as huffs.
“No use in thinking about it. What’s done is done.”
“I know, but he was only ten—”
“Yukine,” Yato says, harsher, with a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s done. Let it go.”
When Yukine meets his eyes, Yato can see the swirl of emotions and anguish behind them. Finally, the boy gives a sad nod. “You’re right. Let’s keep going.”
“So you never wanted to be anything when you grew up?” Yukine asks in disbelief.
“Nope.”
Yukine pauses to stare at Yato with narrowed eyes. “Liar.”
“Keep moving. And no, I’m not a liar.”
“You’re such a dumbass. You lived in the before, when everything was fine and possibilities were endless, and you never had a dream to be anything?”
Yato smirks. “Nope.”
“I don’t fucking believe you.”
“Okay, if you lived in the ‘before,’ what would you want to be when you grew up?”
“An astronaut,” answers Yukine without hesitation. “Do you know how fucking cool it would be to go to the moon?”
Yato nods in agreement.
“I can’t believe you,” the boy says again. “No aspirations or anything.”
“Some people just want to live a simple life.”
“Yeah, but the fucking moon.” He waves his arms upwards for added emphasis.
They argue for another twenty minutes. Yukine is so captivated with convincing Yato the virtues of visiting space that they don’t notice the group of raiders on horseback circling them through the trees. When the leader gives the signal, the group surrounds the pair before Yato can reach for his rifle.
Yukine stumbles, and a horse gallops between him and Yato, cutting them off from each other. Panicked, he tries to run to Yato, but a raider dismounts and grabs his arm, yanking him back. Yato, with his anger flaring, aims his rifle, but a swift kick to the back of his knees has him falling to the ground and his gun clattering to the side. Someone kicks it away. As he kneels in the dirt, the mounted raiders continue to circle them, barring any potential escape.
“Fuck off!” Yukine shrieks as he’s wrestled to the ground by several raiders. “Get your motherfucking hands fucking off me!” He howls in anger.
Someone bends down to reach for Yato’s arm, but a quick elbow jab to their face sends them reeling backwards. He jumps to his feet and punches someone to his left. In the background, Yukine is screaming, and the sound has murder coursing through Yato’s veins.
“Yato! Yato!”
“Get your filthy hands off him!” Yato growls as he tries to fight his way to Yukine. “You goddamn bastards!”
In the end, it takes three men to subdue Yato. They hold him in a kneeling position on the ground, head down and arms bound behind his back. Someone walks over to him, their shoes landing right in his field of vision.
“What are you doing out here?” a female voice asks.
He doesn’t bother responding. Instead, he focuses on slowing his harsh breathing and waits for another chance to attack.
“I said, what are you doing out here?” she asks again, and he can hear her readjust her grip on the gun she’s no doubt pointing at him.
Another pair of boots comes into his vision, landing right beside the first.
“Mayu,” says another woman. “Let me handle this.”
The first woman steps back, and the second dares to come closer. He’s just about to spit on her shoes when his head is yanked backwards roughly, and he stares up at her.
“Hello, little brother,” the woman says before waving her hand, and the rough grips on him let go.
Without the support of the other men, Yato slumps onto the ground, dumbfounded. In the distance, he can hear Yukine clamoring to get away from his captors, and he grunts in pain when the boy crashes into him.
“Yato! Yato, are you okay?” Yukine demands.
“I’m—I’m fine. Are you okay?”
The boy nods. He turns finally to the woman standing before them, a rifle casually hanging off her shoulder.
“Yukine,” Yato breathes, “meet Mizuchi.”
Someone gives them a horse to ride, and Yukine grips Yato’s midsection a bit too hard from behind. He doesn’t say anything, even though his body hurts from the fight and his shoulder feels weird. Beside them, Mizuchi sits atop a chestnut horse and holds their conversation as if she didn’t have her people almost kill them twenty minutes before.
“So what are you doing all the way out here?” she asks.
“I’ll tell you later,” Yato mutters. It’s getting harder to breathe with how tight Yukine squeezes him.
“Does it have something to do with the kid?”
“I have a name, you know,” Yukine pipes up.
“Do you?” Mizuchi smirks. It looks just like Yato’s. “I’m surprised you can still talk with all the shouting you did earlier.”
He huffs in indignation. “Well, you guys attacked us. What was I supposed to do?”
“Fair enough. Although we hadn’t attacked yet, just surrounded you. Yaboku was the one who pulled out a gun first.”
Yato grimaces at the childhood nickname. Yukine rolls it around his tongue quietly behind him.
“Yeah, well, you don’t typically surround people you don’t intend to kill,” Yato throws back.
“We have to protect ourselves out here,” Mizuchi counters. “You could’ve been raiders, or bandits. Our settlement’s not far off, and we try to discourage unfriendlies from finding it.”
They crest a hill, and Mizuchi stops the group from going further. Yukine’s eyes grow wide at the sight below them: a bustling town, fortified by tall, defensive walls. The lights are bright in the waning evening sunlight, and sentries along the wall keep a sharp lookout. They can see people ambling about their day in relative carefree peace. Even Yato is impressed.
“Welcome to Takamagahara,” says Mizuchi.