Archive of Our Own

Hiyori is dying.

This is not a surprise to Yato; all mortals must die. He has watched more mortals than he could ever count die, has even killed a few himself. Mortals are fragile things whose bodies weaken so their spirits could be free to travel to the Far Shore. Hiyori has been dying since the moment that he met her, her body decaying ever so slowly.

Hiyori is dying, but Yato didn’t expect for it to happen so soon. She’s only twenty years old. Two decades, which to him passed in the blink of an eye. Even to humans that isn’t very long.

It’s a tragedy when someone dies this young. Everyone at the hospital keeps saying it. What a tragedy, she’s so young, the hospital manager’s daughter, in college now, so pretty and successful, no one deserves to die this young-. They whisper, to make sure that Hiyori can’t hear them, but Yato is sure that she knows.

Yato has never mourned a human before. He finds it pointless--why mourn an outcome that is inevitable?--but there is a part of him that mourns for Hiyori. The only reason that she is dying is because of all the time that she spent outside of her body when she was a teenager.

He was never able to grant her wish to be fixed, after all.

Hiyori does not suffer as she dies. It’s just that she falls asleep for long and longer increments now. One day, she will simply not wake up.

Hiyori is dying, and Yato can’t do anything but watch.

Because of her father’s status at the hospital, Hiyori has a pretty nice room. The view is decent and she’s completely alone, even though her room probably has room another patient. She’s looking out the window when Yato materializes.

“Oh, Yato,” she says when she finally notices him standing there. Her hand comes up to her chest and she winces a bit at the way the needle from her IV digs into her skin. “Where’s Yukine?”

“He’s doing some of the homework you gave him,” Yato shrugs. More like he didn’t enjoy coming to the hospital, really. Yato can’t blame him for that. Hiyori doesn’t look like she once did--she’s lost so much weight that her veins and bones have are the first thing that you notice about her. The second are the bags under her eyes, delicate purple bruises that take up almost half of her face.

Yukine still makes a point to visit Hiyori most of the time, even though Yato knows that it’s hard on him. Shinki always get a little bit weird about death, but watching Hiyori wither away is the worst part, and so Yato had gone to see Hiyori without taking Yukine with him.

Hiyori smiles a small smile, and Yato knows that it’s all she can muster these days. “I’m glad. He needs to get it all done now before I’m not around to teach him anymore.”

They let silence settle between them. This wasn’t something that ever happened before, when Hiyori was well. But Hiyori doesn’t have the energy to bicker anymore, or stand on telephone poles, or jump from rooftop to rooftop in search of a Phantom, the way that she once did. Yato doesn’t even know if she’s left her physical body since she came to the hospital, but he can’t imagine it would be a good thing if she did.

Finally Yato gathers up the courage to ask what he came here for. Yato has lived a long, long life, full of hard choices, but this has to be one of the difficult things that he’s ever done. He wipes his hands on his tracksuit--they’re sweaty, he realizes dimly--making sure he has every ounce of courage within him before he just says it.

“Hiyori,” he starts. During the silence Hiyori had began looking out the window again. At the sound of her name she looks at him, and once again Yato is struck by how fragile and sickly she has become. The sight strengthens his resolve.

“Yes?” she says, when he doesn’t say more.

“Did you mean it,” he says finally, “when you said that you wanted to stay with me forever? With us,” he tacks on the end, trying not to be too forceful. He doesn’t want to make this about him. This has to be all Hiyori’s decision.

Yato knows that Hiyori has more than proved her dedication to him and Yukine. She has done so much for them both that there’s no way that Yato could ever repay her, not for the rest of his long life. He knows that she cares about them. But now Hiyori is dying, and the question of forever doesn’t have the rest of her life to be answered. They only have right now.

Hiyori nods slowly. “Of course,” she says finally. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You know that. I chose that. I’ve stuck with you this long haven’t I?” She tries to smile, like it’s nothing more than a joke, but she’s so tired that it falls a little flat.

“I know,” Yato replies. “The rest of your life, you said. But what if...you could have more time than that?”

Hiyori stares at him, questions in her eyes, before what Yato is really asking finally hits her. Yato’s heart pounds in his ears. Hiyori has more power over him in this moment than any god in heaven, and she doesn’t even know.

Finally, Hiyori smiles. “I said forever, didn’t I?”

Hiyori is a shinki.

“Let’s go have a picnic,” she says to him brightly one day, “Just us. You can teach me more about making Borderlines after we’re done eating.” She smiles, and Yukine knows that he’s not going to say no. Daikoku packs them a basket full of food, and Hiyori carries it all the way to the park. Yato had noticed them going and pouted, but otherwise didn’t say anything, but Yukine knows now not to be surprised if he comes around later. He seems to recognize, though, that sometimes Yukine and Hiyori need alone time.

Hiyori is a shinki, and as dead as he is, but it still feels like nothing has changed.

She doesn’t seem to have any of the angst that Yukine had when he’d been a new shinki, confused and upset and hungry and so, so angry that he was dead. Maybe part of it has to do with the fact that Yukine had still had the books he’d drawn her all those years ago, and he’d showed them to her so that she’d have some context as to why Yato and Yukine were already so attached to her.

Yukine doesn’t know, but he’s glad that Hiyori is here and that she’s mostly happy. Things with Yato are a lot more comfortable now than they were back when Yukine became his shinki, and they’re getting jobs with regularity. It’s not a bad way to be.

He feels bad for being happy that Hiyori is with them now--that she had to die to be with them forever, because he remembers how much being dead had hurt him at first. He’s just glad that she’s here. Watching her waste away in that sterile hospital room had almost been more than he could bear. Humans died, he had died, but he’d never seen it up close like that before, leeching away at Hiyori until she was not the girl that he had once known.

But she’s here now, with him and Yato, forever. She’s not great at creating borderlines yet, but she’ll get there, he knows. That’s why they have to practice.

It’s springtime now--Hiyori had died in the dead of winter, on a day that had been so disgusting and cold that it had felt like the mortal realm had been mourning for her, even though Yukine knows that it wasn’t doing any such thing--and so there’s a little chill in the air, but not much. Just enough to be comfortable. More than that the sakura blossoms are in full bloom, and it’s absolutely stunning. It doesn’t even matter that they’ll be gone in only a few more days.

They choose a huge, old tree to sit under, and open the basket Daikoku had given them. There are six ongiri and kimchi and even two slices of cake. “Daikoku’s food is always delicious, isn’t it?” Hiyori says, after they give thanks for the meal.

“Yeah,” Yukine says, reaching for an ongiri. He frowns when he notices that there are only three left--he’s only had one, and he thought Hiyori had only had one, but what did he know. He didn’t want to accuse Hiyori of eating too much or anything, so he just leaves it alone.

Only another ongiri goes missing, and he knows he hasn’t seen Hiyori reach for another one. When he looks up into the tree that they’re sitting under, he sees Yato sitting there, rice stuck to his face.

“What the hell?” Yukine stands up. “Why are you stealing our lunch?”

“I just got done with a job and I’m hungry!” Yato jumps from the tree, landing lightly on their blanket.

“Well that’s what you get when you go on a job all alone!”

From her place sitting on the blanket, Hiyori starts laughing, and both Yukine and Yato turn around to look at her. When she notices them staring she quiets a little. “Sorry,” she says. “It’s just, you two are very close, aren’t you? It’s just weird to realize that sometimes. You fight like family would, I think.”

She’s smiling, and Yukine knows that she doesn’t mean to say something that hurts, only it does, a little. It’s a reminder that Hiyori really doesn’t remember everything that they’ve been through. They have told her everything, but there’s a difference between hearing the story and actually having the memories.

Yato’s stopped and he’s smiling in a way that's fragile. “Yeah, we are,” he says, a little sadly. Then he steals another ongiri and Yukine scolds him again and Hiyori laughs, the sound carrying in the wind.

Yeah, Yukine decides. Even if things aren’t exactly the same, he’s still glad they’re here together in this moment. And for so many moments to come.

Hiyori knows that she can’t remember anything from her human life.

She’s a shinki now, and all shinki lose the memories from when they’re human. It’s probably because it’s easier that way, to have no attachments to the Near Shore. Shinki are creatures of the Far Shore, after all, for all that they can go back and forth between realms. If they could remember their human lives, it would be too tempting to try to go back to that, even though they can’t.

Hiyori knows that she can’t remember anything from her human life, but sometimes she thinks that she can.

There’s something comfortable about being with Yato and Yukine. She feels like she’s been with them before--knows she has, because Yukine has told her that she had--but it goes beyond deja vu.

She honestly feels like she belongs here, with them.

One night she can’t sleep, and so she goes out to sit on the porch. The stars are shining, bright and beautiful. She’s been to heaven before, but there’s something about the mortal world that’s just so beautiful. She understands why some gods would rather spend all their time here.

Yato is the one that finds her on the porch. “What are you doing?” he asks.

Hiyori knows that he tries to hide it, but sometimes it feels like he’s watching her. Making sure she’s acclimating. That she’s happy. He told her that he asked her when she was alive to become one of his shinki, and she knows that he is just making sure that she’s still happy.

“There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight,” she says, shrugging. “I just wanted to see it.”

Yato lingers for a little bit, sitting beside her. He smells so good and feels so warm that she leans into him for a little bit, looking at the stars. Then he stands up. “I’m going to go get Yukine,” he says.

The meteor shower begins just as Yukine stumbles outside, hair messy and face puffy with sleep. He looks grumpy, freshly woken up, but he brightens when he sees the stars.

“You know, people used to think that gods were born this way,” Yato says. “That they fell from heaven onto the earth new beings.”

“Is it true?” Yukine asks, still watching the stars with wonder. He’s been a shinki for a long time, but Hiyori thinks that even he feels in awe of the world sometimes.

Yato shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never met any gods born that way. But maybe. Anything’s possible.” He reclines, putting his hands behind his head to watch the sky. Hiyori scoots closer to him, just to feel him one one side of her, Yukine on the other.

Hiyori knows that she can’t remember anything from her human life, but she doesn’t think that she could ever have been this happy.