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In the evening glow of the city, a woman lies on a park bench, gazing up at the splendid pink and white cherry blossoms in full bloom.
She feels content, worn out from her workout but in that satisfying way that closes out her usual day at the hospital. She beams at the laden branches, thinking how wonderful it is to be alive to see the spring trees bloom again this year-
There's a strange pull of nostalgia in her chest.
Beautiful petals drifting in the breeze, coating the ground like…
Like… snow.
Pure, white, chilling snow, cold as death, gleaming in the darkness of the night-
The night... And it's scent...
The woman blinks.
She stands blankly at the edge of a bizarre scene. A girl lying motionless in the snow, two children crying desperately to keep her warm, while a strange man repeats a series of hard, measured compressions into her chest. He is sweating with exertion, trembling with tiredness, but still he keeps the rhythm, pausing only to cover her nose and share a breath every few seconds.
She stares, uncomprehending. No one else is around. Nothing else is making noise. Just the man and the children, immune to the piles of snow settling on their heads and shoulders.
“Come back,” he begs with a gasp. “Come back to us, I'll do anything-”
Her heart aches at the plea in his voice. She can feel a current of emotion so strong it brings tears to her eyes. She has no body, and yet in her odd perception she can almost feel the man’s hands on her own chest, fighting through the painful cracking of ribs and his own physical limits to keep her alive-
The young doctor sits up, unsettled. Just now, up in the branches of the nearest tree, she could have sworn-
Her mouth moves on its own, soundless but natural.
She raises her fingers to her lips, repeating the motion in bewildered silence. Something important is in those missing sounds, something she's been missing for years, something she'd do anything to get back.
“...to,” she whispers, staring at the reflection of the tree in a deep pool of water near her feet.
A kiss that bruises and remains imprinted on her subconscious for years. A tear splashing wetly onto her face, unspoken words communicated through touch and emotion. Large, steady hands holding her close, cradled safely away from everything that could possibly hurt her... Even the person carrying her himself.
A love like nothing she can describe, only half her own.
A shadow stirs in the tree’s reflection.
She can't remember. But her lips can't forget.
“Ya. To,” she repeats.
Her heart stops at the sound of her own voice as a familiar figure comes into sudden focus among the blossoms. A rugged old tracksuit, a beat up white scarf, blue eyes like shards of pure ice, soft hair black as night.
She whips her head up and he's there, staring back with tense apprehension.
Her friend. Her god. Her other half.
“Yato!” she cries, overwhelming relief and joy rising in her breast. At last, she's found him, she remembers the missing part of her that's been waiting quietly to be picked up all this time.
His eyes widen with a torrent of emotion, a soft, almost audible gasp of shock leaves his lips.
She stands, excited as a child, wanting nothing more than to run right up to him and bury her face in his shirt, to thank him over and over for saving her, for coming back for her-
She takes a step forward.
He seems to shrink back into the shadows.
She falters just for a second, wondering if she's imagining-
No. That's his fluffy-fluff and those dumb cowboy boots, alright. She bets they're even the exact same ones.
“Yato, it is you, isn't it?!” she demands when he doesn't move or say anything. She doesn't understand; if he's come back, why won't he acknowledge her? Why isn't he jumping down to pull her into a totally inappropriate and overbearing hug? He can't have... reincarnated, right? "Yato...?"
He flinches at the trepidation and accusation in her voice but is suddenly looking pointedly away. “Sorry, you've got the wrong guy,” he mutters, and the woman gapes at him for a second before she bursts into laughter.
“As if!” She giggles. “Who else would ever go around wearing that same ugly tracksuit of yours?!”
Yato bristles.
“It is not ugly!”
“Is so!”
“Is not!! Back off, Hiyori!!”
Her breath catches. Unbidden tears spill from her eyes at the sound of her own name.
“It really is you, Yato!" she sniffles, covering her mouth with her hands. “What are you doing?! Where have you been, you stupid, dumb, idiot?!”
The sight of her in tears brings him scurrying out of the tree and down the trunk, landing a few feet away with easy grace. He hovers nervously near her, hands outstretched like he doesn't know whether to hug her or not.
“D-don’t cry, Hiyori,” he begs in a small voice. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have played dumb-"
"Why would you even do that to me after all these years?!" she sobs. "Why would you pretend-"
No.
She stares, horrified, into those eyes that have been haunting her since she was fifteen, searching them desperately for an explanation, anything other than the one that means he would willingly-
He can't hold her gaze, his shoulders slumping miserably forward in shame when it becomes clear that she knows what he's done.
"How could you?" she whispers into the evening air.
“I'm sorry," he says, his voice so thin it could break at any moment. "I'm so sorry, Hiyori... I didn't mean to hurt you, I just wanted to protect you-”
“How is forcing me to forget you protecting me?! You never asked if it was what I wanted!”
A guilty look darkens his expression.
“Y-you died for me, because of me… you were so young… I hadn't even realized how selfish I'd been, pulling you towards the Far Shore for my own sake all that time. Not until it was too late."
"I wanted to stay with you!"
Yato flinches.
"I know you did... And knowing that made me so, so happy. Stupidly, carelessly happy... I forgot that compared to me, you were just a child, just a sixteen-year old girl barely getting started with all the possibilities and excitement of her life. I'm not even human, but I was still the closest thing to the adult in that situation, and I never should have put you in danger. I know you were old enough to know your own heart, but... It's not about age. It's about who you are, what I am... It was wrong of me, it is wrong of me, as a being from the Far Shore, to steal away your precious time on this Shore. Tenjin and the others were right when they said you shouldn't waste your life on me, in my world, when you have your own -when you have living, changing, people who love and care about you- waiting for you."
"Even then, I didn't care," she doubles down. "I wanted to be at your side-"
"Which is why I couldn't let you!" he says, his expression hidden behind messy, overlong bangs, his fingers curled into such tight fists they must hurt. He seems to realize he's raised his voice because he gives a sudden flinch and flashes a deeply apologetic glance in her direction. "I-I'm sorry... I couldn't allow myself to be that selfish ever again."
“That never stopped you before!”
“... I'd never lost you before.”
Pained silence falls over them, standing awkwardly apart and avoiding each other's eyes.
“You cut our ties,” she accuses ruefully, putting the terrible crime into words. He casts his stormy, conflicted eyes down to the wet ground.
“... I did. It was the most painful decision I've ever made but... It was the right thing to do."
"But you've been following me around anyway, haven't you?" she asks, realizing that it can't be a coincidence that he's nearby. "Even though we're not bound anymore?"
"... I-I wanted to watch out for you," he says into his scarf, his cheeks red. "Make sure you got home safe... That kinda thing..."
"You mean you wanted to scare off any men that aren't you," she scoffs, unsure if she feels amused or annoyed by the thought. "Was that your plan then? To just hide and stalk me from the shadows and make sure I never date anyone until I die? How is that not selfish?"
His face is pale, eyes wide with reproach.
"I-I wouldn't have gotten in the way of someone you really cared about!!"
"Liar," she says, knowing all too well how possessive and overbearing he can be.
"I wouldn't have," he insists quietly, his eyes full of pain and sincerity, and she understands suddenly just how guilty he must feel for what happened to her while under his protection. He's telling the truth. He would step aside for someone she loved. He would hate it, but he'd never take more from her than he already has. He's too afraid to lose her in a much more terrible way.
Hiyori doesn't know what to do with this second, hurtful betrayal, this gentle, kindhearted wound. Doesn't he know that she wants him to be happy too...? That there's such a thing as being too selfless? After all that time they've spent together, everything they've overcome, how can he even consider letting someone else take his place in her heart? Doesn't he understand he's the only one she's ever wanted? Doesn't he know her soul belongs to-?
"So what, were you just going to wait, outlive your competition until you could take me back as 'Shiro?'" she demands bitterly, lashing out as another memory falls into place like a jigsaw puzzle. No, this isn't what she wants to say. She doesn't want to be upset, she doesn't even really care if that was his intent. She just wants him to admit that he was wrong, that her feelings matter too, and that they've always been meant to be together.
She just wants him to promise he'll never leave her behind again.
But she can't stop the hateful, dishonest words that tumble from her lips. It hurts too much to know he's so willing to let her go.
He snaps his head up to look at her with surprise.
“Y-you remember that?!”
Hiyori grimaces but bends down to roll down her sock and show him her Mark.
“It never went away,” she tells him. “I didn't really notice it before, but I knew it was there just now. I know you must have felt it all along."
He blushes. “T-Then you also remember…?”
All her misdirected and complicated anger melts away. She can still feel his breath on her lips after all this time. The same breath that returned her to life against every rational odd. She can still feel him give her everything he has, everything he is, just to bring her back. Not Shiro, but Hiyori. His Hiyori.
She died for him, but he all but died for her too. How can she resent him for that?
“I… I do,” she whispers, feeling her own face grow warm. There's no point pretending anymore. He knows, they both know.
He swallows loudly. “A-And... do… do you really... you still feel the same after that? After all this time? Even though it's my fault you were targeted, my fault you got killed... even though I hurt you...?”
He truly believes he's selfish. Hiyori wants to cry, not for herself, but in his stead.
“Yato... None of it was your fault... You saved my life,” she says, reaching out for his hand. He hesitates only a moment before he nervously takes it between his own clammy fingers. “I told you before, you've been my god of fortune for a very, very long time. Even without my memory, I… I've always longed to see you again.”
"But... That doesn't mean... I can't... It's not fair to you..." he says sadly, squeezing her fingers so softly it's like he's barely touching her at all.
"I'm not a schoolgirl anymore," she says firmly. "You can't use that as an excuse. I want to be with you, and I have a right to choose how to live my own life."
He bites his lip. “Even though being with me puts you in danger? You could get caught up in something terrible again, or have to miss important things in your normal life... or m-maybe you'll regret being with an idiot like me, now that you're old enough to know better..."
"I always knew you were an idiot, idiot," she smiles wryly. "And I'm sure you'll keep proving me right. Why would I regret something I've always known?"
He frowns but soldiers on stubbornly.
"E-Even then, there's so much more out there for you. You're smart, and kind, a-and beautiful, and you deserve all the happiness in the world. I'm not even a human being. I might not be able to give you what you need... I don't even know if I'm capable of being what you need... All I can offer is me, and I'm just a minor god with barely a shrine to my name. Do... D-do you really want to live like that?”
“As long as it's with you, I wouldn't care if we lived in a cardboard box under an overpass," she says, and she means it, though she mostly says it to see the tiny gleam of amusement under his uncertainty. "But luckily for you and your hopelessly high expectations, a doctor's salary is pretty good,” she says, raising a brow as she fights the small grin forming at the edge of her mouth. "My internship and residency won't last forever, soon enough I'll be able to live anywhere I like, and I'll make sure Yukine-kun and even Nora-chan get all the luxuries and opportunities they deserve. I could even build you a proper shrine now, if you've outgrown the little one I gave you... It's a really good deal, you know, an investment, even, living with me."
He sputters, caught between an involuntary laugh and indignation.
"W-what is this?! Some kinda custody dispute-slash-proposal?! I d-didn't mean- I wasn't talking about- not like, physical or just material needs-!"
Hiyori sighs. As much as she wants to enjoy the natural banter she's missed, this has gone on long enough.
"I'm not asking you to provide for or protect me or anything old fashioned like that, dummy. Being with you isn't a zero-sum game. I don't have to give up comfort, other people, or convenience to stay with you; I'm a working, modern, adult woman who can support herself, and a family. Whatever that family looks like. I don't want anything from you but what you already are."
"O-okay, but that's not-"
"Yato, would you just shut up and listen?!" she insists. She's tired of arguing, she's tired of feeling lonely and uneasy, like she's hollow inside when she knows she should feel content and fulfilled. "You and Yukine-kun, and Nora-chan too, you are what I need! Don't you get that? Why would I remember you if it weren't? If even Sekki couldn't fully cut through our intertwined fates, don't you think that means something?"
He stares at her as if he's never looked at her before.
"Maybe... Maybe I just want it to mean something," he finally says, so vulnerable and quiet she almost can't hear it.
"So why can't you just let it?" she asks sadly. "Let it mean what you want it to mean, stay with me! No one is telling you not to, no one except you. We... we were even soulmates, once. Why can't we be that again? This is what I want. If you want this too, all you have to do is ask!"
"I... I don't know," he says truthfully. "I just... I don't think I should...! What if I end up costing you everything a second time, for good?! What if I'm just the same, selfish magatsukami I've always been?! I-If I let myself believe this means something it doesn't...!"
"Well, you're not! It means something to me too!" she says, desperate to get through to him. "You keep saying I deserve to be happy, that I can do that without you, but I've spent years feeling like I've had a hole in my heart, like I've been missing something more important than I can bear! It's true, I wasn't unhappy, but... when I think about the difference between how I've felt the last few years, and how I feel right now, right here, with you... I don't want to go back to living like that! No matter how many friends I have, how much I love my job, my family, I still wanted to see you. I've missed you, every day. You should know better than anyone, I… I love you, Yato. I always have.”
He reaches out to touch her cheek with trembling fingertips. “Hiyori…”
“Aren't… aren't you going to say it back?” she asks, apprehensive as a minute passes and then another, and still he only watches her in thick, aching silence. "You kissed me, so I thought..." her voice shakes with the memory of what Kazuma once told her. "Please don't tell me... d-did I misunderstand? Did I fool myself into thinking it meant...? Do you really... not feel the same? Or... am I just too late now...?" Her eyes sting, feeling all of sixteen again, just wanting the boy she loves to look at her like she once thought he did...
“No,” he says firmly, cupping her face with utmost tenderness. “You could never be too late. Never. It's nothing like that. I'm just... I'm scared. I feel like the moment I say those words out loud, I'll wake up from this beautiful dream… and I just don't think I can take the crushing heartache I'll feel when I do..."
Her heart is unsteady, overwhelmed.
"Yato..."
Her fingers slide over his, trying to show him she understands. His expression softens, his thumb brushes the line of her jaw like she's a treasure much too fine for him to bear.
"... Of course I feel the same way, you know I do... It's just... I also know I don't deserve you, Hiyori."
Hiyori can't take it anymore. She throws herself into his arms, her favorite scent in the world rushing forward to envelop her like it's welcoming her home at last. She finds he's not quite as tall as she remembers, but she still fits perfectly in his embrace. Yato doesn't hesitate. He holds her tightly, desperately, his shoulders shaking with emotion. Hiyori wants to tell him he deserves every bit of happiness she does, but she knows his emotional and psychological scars are still too deep for that truth to sink in with only a single conversation. All she can do is reaffirm her own wish, make sure he understands that this is her deepest, most honest desire, that regardless of whether he thinks he deserves it, he is loved, and hope that it will be enough to coax that hurt, lonely, childlike heart of his out of the shadows and into the light.
"That's too bad, because I want you anyway," she whispers, clutching the back of his tracksuit as hard as she can. "So please, I'm begging you... stop pushing me away. I need you. It has to be you. No one else. And if this is a dream... then, please, dream with me, Yatogami," she says softly, gazing up into those vulnerable, ethereal blue depths.
He offers her the smallest, gentlest smile she thinks she's ever seen him make, even as fresh tears leak down the side of his face and he leans in close.
"If that's really your wish, Iki Hiyori..." he breathes, scalding the sliver of air between them. "Then... may our fates be intertwined, and..."
He never has to say the actual words aloud, not when he looks at her that way, or when she can feel them unspoken in every breathtaking kiss that follows.
But he says them anyway, every day for the rest of her life, and every day after that as well.
"I love you. Always."