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I.
It’s been days since he left the Underworld, days since she’s been able to see him, locked up in Bishamon’s care, but Kazuma had snuck her in to see him, promising only an hour of time before he had to come and get her.
Yato had looked so worn when she entered the room; the wounds from the Underworld were bandaged and covered, his skin healthier looking now that he was in the sunlight, but Hiyori saw shadows in his eyes, dark rings around his eyes that spoke of guilt and little sleep.
Yukine had opted not to come with her, and maybe Hiyori understands why, now. Yato looks wrecked, almost worse than he had when Ebisu died, and Hiyori wonders if he will even allow her to come near.
So she is only a little surprise when he looks at her, hands that were clenched into fists on his lap smoothing out. His mouth turns up in a small smile, welcoming and warm and Hiyori’s throat tightens. She has missed him this last month, more than she even realized.
“Hi,” she whispers, though she has no idea why. There is no one in the room besides the two of them. Still, it feels appropriate, even if she does blush a little self-consciously. “I can come back, if you aren’t up to--”
“No,” Yato interrupts, smile widening slightly. “I’m glad you came. Bishamon’s place is so boring.”
Hiyori pushes hair out of her face as she comes closer to the bed, sitting on the chair beside it and smiling. “You’re supposed to be getting better, Yato,” she chastises lightly. “Not having fun.”
He chuckles quietly--and this is something she is not used to, Yato doing things quietly, carefully, small; Yato is a shrill shout and big in almost every sense of the word. There is nothing subdued about the god, but here he sits, quiet and small and hurting.
“Are you feeling better?” She asks around the lump in her throat, ignoring his look when her voice breaks.
“Yes,” he answers, eyes searching her face, but Hiyori refuses to let her smile slip. “Are you?”
“Me?” She asks, eyes widening. “I’m--there is nothing wrong with me--you were the one nearly dead, Yato--”
Yato shrugs, albeit a little uncomfortably, and pins a look on her. “You just seemed reluctant to leave the other night. I was worried that maybe you were upset.”
Hiyori had been so tired, so bone achingly exhausted after getting him back the other day. Seeing Ebisu die, seeing how scared and angry and desperate Yato had been, how strong Yukine was...it took a lot out of her. But she had been so reluctant to leave them, scared that it would be too long before she saw them again, scared to close her eyes in case she forgot them again.
And there it is: the pain of forgetting Yato, the fear of doing it again. That month had been so freeing, and perhaps that is the part which scares her most; that it was so easy to forget Yato, so painless that it took something as stupid as a kiss to realize that something was wrong. That she did not even consider that anything was truly wrong until she realized that she was missing a part of herself--
“Hiyori,” Yato murmurs, hand touching her’s where it curls into a tight fist in her lap. Startled, her eyes dart up to meet his. Worried blue stares back, his mouth slightly open, and she can’t help it, her eyes fill with tears and she launches herself at him, fingers curling in the shirt he wears, eyes squeezed shut.
“Please,” Hiyori gasps, “don’t leave again.”
She had been so, so stupid to think that she was special enough to remember him, even without him around with constant reminders. Arrogant, really, to think that she meant anything to a god.
And yet, his face when he had first seen her, or the way he had held her--fast, strong, fiercely--had made her feel like maybe he hadn’t forgotten her.
His hands lift, fingers curling around hers where they bunch up the fabric of his shirt. It is so odd, to see him in anything but his track suit. So odd to see him wielding Nora and not Yukine, to have the name Yaboku in her mouth but not in her heart.
“Hiyori,” he whispers after several long moments. Her eyes are fixed on his hands; bigger than hers and splattered with bruises and scrapes. “I think this is the longest you’ve ever touched me.”
He chuckles at that, but Hiyori’s eyes burn along with her cheeks, and when she finally looks up at him, he looks stricken. “Hiyori--”
“Please don’t leave again,” Hiyori interrupts, words falling over each other before she can stop them. “Yukine, he missed you so much and Kofuku was worried and I--I--I forgot, Yato. For a month I forgot you a little each day until it ate away at me, and I kept thinking that there was something, something on the tip of my tongue, in the back of my mind, but. But I forgot.”
Her voice breaks on the last word, and she can’t help the tears that spill down her cheeks now, or the way her chest aches with sobs she refuses to release. She curls closer to him, and is distantly aware that he is soft, warm in her arms, not tense and nervous the way she thought he might be.
After a few minutes, Hiyori is able to control herself, sitting back slightly to scrub at her face, sniffling. “Sorry,” she whispers, hiccuping. “I’m sorry--”
She freezes when his bandaged hand comes up to rest along her cheek, and tentatively turns her gaze to his, biting her lip.
“Don’t apologize, Hiyori,” he tells her, voice low but fierce. “I...I never meant to leave or stay gone so long, but it is my fault that you forgot. You couldn’t help it, but I--I won’t let it happen again.”
Hiyori hiccups through a laugh, and she feels less sad now, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Her hand lies against the blankets, only inches from Yato’s. “It’s okay, Yato.”
“It isn’t,” Yato shakes his head, hands sliding down from her cheek to where her neck and shoulder meet. He looks so serious, so unlike himself that Hiyori can’t help but stare. “But I will make it okay. I promise.”
Hiyori shifts her hand the last few inches. “I’ll hold you to it, Yato.”
2.
“How did you know his name?” Nora asks.
Hiyori, frozen in place, stares at the Shinki standing only a few inches away, perched atop the fence. She should have accepted Yukine and Yato’s offer to walk her home, but she had felt bad making them walk so far just to drop her off and now--
She looks down at her body, now prone on the ground, and feels a sliver of dread slip down her spine. Her tail flickers anxiously as she looks at Nora, words stuck in her throat.
The girl tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Tell me.”
“I--” Hiyori swallows, wondering if she should stand her ground and protect her body or put space between herself and the Shinki. “I just...I just guessed. The character's in his name are similar to Yaboku and I--it was the only way to--”
“You are very hard to understand,” Nora says, lips pursing. “I do not know why he likes you so much. You are so...human. It’s disgusting.”
Hiyori flushes indignantly, hand curling into a fist. Who does this--this Nora think she is, telling Hiyori that she is disgusting? She clenches her jaw to bite back the words aching to spill out of her mouth and instead focuses on trying to return her body. She isn’t going to leave it there. If Nora wants a fight, Hiyori will give her one.
Nora’s lips twitch into something like a smile. “It does not matter, though. He always comes back to me eventually. It just might take a little while.”
“He isn’t going to come back to you,” Hiyori spits out, for herself and for Yukine and for Yato. “You’re nothing to him.”
Her lips pull back in a snarl and Hiyori steps back quickly, forgetting momentarily about her body, leg coming up instead to kick at Nora, who moves like a ghost.
Spinning around, Hiyori raises her fists defensively, ready to lash out at the smaller girl. She isn’t going to let Nora push her around; she won’t be a liability for Yato or Yukine, something that Nora can use against them.
She spots Nora several feet behind her, looking irritated. Hiyori huffs, blowing hair from her face as she glares at the Shinki. “Leave him alone, Nora.”
The girl’s eyes harden. “That isn’t my name, Iki Hiyori.”
Before Hiyori can say something back, a borderline cuts between the two of them and a hand settles on her shoulder, tight but not painful.
“Get out of here, Hiiro.” Yato says, voice calm and low. There is something sharp beneath it, menacing. Yukine comes up on Hiyori’s other side, eyes narrowed and angry, hand still outstretched as his borderline blazes between them. “I won’t ask twice.”
Nora smiles, small and mean. “See you soon, Yato.”
She is gone in the blink of an eye, and Yukine’s borderline settles between them. Hiyori allows herself a second to breathe before she rounds on Yato. “I had it covered!”
He blinks owlishly for a moment, then, “I’m sorry?”
Hiyori spins around, turning her back on Yato for a moment so she can throw her arms around Yukine. “That was such a good borderline, though! I’m very proud!”
Yukine stiffens, but his arms rise to hold her briefly. “T-thanks Hiyori!”
“Excuse me?” Yato snaps from behind her, and when she turns he looks so indignant that she almost bursts into laughter. “I was the one who made her leave!”
Hiyori scowls. “Maybe it was Yukine’s borderline. It was impressive.”
Yato glares, but begrudgingly says to Yukine, “It was nice. What is Kazuma teaching you up--”
She loses the rest of what he says as she returns to her body; one second she is standing beside Yukine, the next she is waking up with her face pressed against stone, sore and--bleeding. Darn.
Groaning a bit, Hiyori pushes herself to her feet. It’s a miracle she hasn’t been seriously injured leaving her body as often as she does. Either she has a hard head or she always falls on soft surfaces, but the stones she fell on were jagged this time, and she winces when she lifts her hand to touch the inflamed skin of her cheek.
She almost groans again when she realizes that she will have to go back to Kofuku’s house in order to get this cleaned up, since her parents would definitely overreact.
--
Yukine disappears when they get back to the house, probably to brag to someone about his borderline, based on the smile he wore, and Hiyori smiles a bit as she sits at the table, nodding when Daikoku asks her if she is alright, and laughing a bit when he seems reluctant to give Yato the first aid kit.
By the time he finally wrestles it away, her face has stopped its sluggish bleeding and it is only a dull throb. Still, Yato looks worried when he raises the alcohol wipe to her cheek, fingers gentle as he wipes away the dirt and disinfects the scrape.
“It’s alright, you know,” Hiyori tells him, flicking her fingers lightly against his knee. “Nothing to look so worried about.”
Yato’s eyes dart to hers and then quickly away as he focuses on the scrape. The alcohol stings a bit, but she ignores it in favor of trying to make him feel better. “Yato--”
“This wouldn’t happen if you weren’t--if we weren’t--” he swallows, dropping the wipe onto its wrapper and grabbing a few bandaids. “If you didn’t know me, you would never get hurt.”
“If I didn’t know you, I would be--” what, exactly? Unhappy? Hiyori was happy before she met Yato, but she is happy now. She was content with her life before she met Yato, and while her life is crazy now, she doesn’t regret it, but still. If she had never met Yato, she would be safer, would be a regular human girl with regular issues like acne or boys or school.
“Safe,” Yato finishes for her, and there is nothing bitter about the word, nothing that says I wish I had never met you, but it still feels as though that is what he is saying.
She jerks away from his hand, face colouring but mouth pursed angrily as she says, “I’m glad I met you. It doesn’t matter what happens, because if I didn’t know you or Yukine, I would not be as happy.”
Sometimes, Yato looks as old as he really is. Sometimes, Hiyori feels so desperately out of depth.
“You don’t know that,” Yato says quietly, hands falling to his lap.
“I do,” Hiyori replies hotly. Memories of when she forgot him filter back; how something always felt off-kilter, how she had imagined someone else grabbing her hand instead of Fujisaki.
He is quiet, watching her for a minute, before he smirks. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Hiyori.”
Turning her wounded cheek to him, she huffs. “You should be, Yato.”
She catches his smile in the corner of her eye and bites back one of her own.
3.
Hiyori wakes slowly, eyes gummy as she opens them. Something had woken her, but when she looks around her room all she sees is darkness and blue--
“Yato?” She asks, inhaling the familiar smell of him as he comes closer to her bed. Disoriented, she pulls her blankets tighter around her and sits up, yawning as she asks, “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer, just sits on the edge of her bed, close enough that she feels the heat emanating off of him, can hear the raggedness of his breathing. “Yato?” She asks again, reaching out tentatively.
He catches her hand before it can touch his shoulder and he moves closer so that she can see how pale he is. His eyes look haunted and she almost asks what happened when he exhales low, slumping close to her.
“I had a terrible dream,” he whispers, squeezing her hand. “I just...I had to take a walk and I guess it brought me here. I’m sorry for waking you, Hiyori.”
A hundred questions race through her mind. Why did his walk take him here? What was his dream about? Where was Yukine? But what she ends up asking is, “Are you alright?”
His blue eyes seem to almost glow in the dark. “I’m fine, it’s alright,” he mutters, releasing her hand. “I’m sorry for coming. I know you have school in the morning.”
“It’s fine,” Hiyori tells him. She wonders if it is the fact that she is still half asleep that she isn’t kicking him out of her room, or if it’s the scarred, hunted look in his eyes. Or maybe she’s just losing it, letting boys into her bedroom, on her bed.
She must be, because when he smiles at her and begins to stand, she grabs at his arm, tugging him back down. He has to be exhausted, too, because he comes willingly, falling back to the bed in an exhausted heap.
Yato keeps whispering, “sorry, sorry,” under his breath, his voice low and almost amused. Hiyori thinks he may even still be asleep, and a yawn steals her breath from her once more. “Just...just stay here. You’re in no shape to be walking back to Kofuku’s.”
“Hiyori...” he murmurs, but doesn’t resist when she pulls him down on top of the covers beside her. “Okay,” he concedes quietly, turning on his side to face her. “Maybe just...maybe just a minute. To make sure everything is okay here.”
She watches as his eyes struggle to stay open before finally falling shut, his breath evening out into something resembling sleep, and she allows herself to sink into sleep herself, ignoring the warm, heavy arm that drapes itself across her body.
Hiyori only wakes up once more that night, though she isn’t sure if she really wakes up or dreams the way Yato strokes a hand through her hair, carefully working the knots free. She figures it must have been a dream, because the next time she wakes she is alone in the bed and her hair is a knotted, frizzy mess.
4.
“Hey,” Yato says one night as they are walking to get food, hands shoved tight in his pockets. “When you and Fa--Fujisaki kissed, did you...like it?”
The night had been going perfectly well. Yukine had begged off getting food with them with a flushed face and darting eyes (Hiyori suspected that he had met someone) and the night had mostly been spent playing cards with Kofuku, who always lost.
So it is no wonder that Yato has to go and say something that makes it utterly terrible.
Hiyori blinks at him, eyes wide and mouth gaping as she tries to comprehend what he just asked.
“I-how could you ask me that? It’s so inappropriate!” Hiyori snaps, punching him solidly in the arm. He howls and winces away from her, but he doesn’t look too chastised, which leads her to believe that he might need a good kick in the head.
Yato keeps a careful, arms length away from her, still rubbing his arm. “It was just a question between friends!”
Hiyori scowls and swipes some hair away from her face, keeping her gaze ahead as she thinks the question over. Had she liked it? The kiss itself had been quick and chaste, nothing more to it than a quick press of lips to lips. But she flushes when she realizes that Yato had been the one she imagined holding her hand, and it was Yato she had wanted to kiss then, not Fujisaki, or whoever he really was.
But she couldn’t say that to Yato, not without sounding like a fool. “It was...normal.”
“Normal?” Yato asks after a pause. He sounds confused, and when she looks at him, his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s looking up to the sky, as if that will give him the answer.
Hiyori stutters, “I-I guess? I haven’t exactly had many kisses, Yato!”
He peers at her, closer now than she realized. “How many have you had?”
This is getting far too personal, but then again when has that ever stopped Yato? “Only the one.”
He hums noncommittally, staring ahead as he walks. The street is not very busy, and in her spirit form Hiyori wishes they could be leaping from roof to roof. At least then she could ignore him and blame it on the wind in her ears.
What did that humming mean? Was he judging her? She knows that he has been alive for hundreds of years, but how many kisses could he have had?
She glances at him from the corner of her eye and winces subtly. He isn’t bad looking, and when he isn’t acting like a fool he’s kind of...cool.
“Are you angry, then?” He asks, pulling her from her thoughts. Hiyori pauses on the sidewalk, hands behind her back as she looks at him. At her confused look, Yato continues, “That he was your first kiss.”
It hadn’t occurred to her to be angry, though she supposes that she has every right to be. Fujisaki kissing her had been a ploy to hurt Yato, to hurt her, and it hadn’t really been a real first kiss, because those were supposed to be nice, right? They were supposed to be special.
“I don’t really think about it,” she answers honestly, because she doesn’t. “And I don’t think it counts, because it wasn’t real. There weren’t really feelings involved. None that matter, anyway.”
Yato looks confused again. “A real kiss is when feelings are involved?”
Hiyori blushes. “I think so, yes.”
When he shifts, Hiyori realizes how close they have gotten. They aren’t touching, but it’s a near thing and she can feel the warmth coming off of his skin, can see the paleness of his arms without his jacket. She always seems to notice something different about him, like right now she notices that his eyes aren’t just a solid blue colour, but hundreds of different blues, all combining to make the bright, sky blue shade that is so him--
Hiyori freezes when his mouth touches hers. His lips are chapped but warm where they touch hers, and maybe a bit moist, like he’d licked his lips right before he decided to kiss her.
And they’re kissing, how did she not realize that this was what he was going to do, moving so close and asking about kisses. She doesn’t even realize she’s kissing him back, just a bit more pressure and the slightest movement of her lips against his the only evidence that she is.
Jerking away, Hiyori stares at him, wide-eyed and heart pounding. Why would he...why would he kiss her?
Yato’s eyes are heavy lidded for a second before his eyes snap up to meet hers, mimicking her own look, although there is something hurt on his face, there and gone before Hiyori can really understand it.
“Why would you do that?” Hiyori whispers, voice barely audible above the bustling on the sidewalk and the cars moving in the street.
His eyes search hers, but Hiyori has trouble keeping contact and moves farther from his reach, wrapping her arms around herself. She doesn’t know what she’s feeling right now; her stomach is a jumble of nerves and her lips tingle. She’s too overwhelmed right now.
“I thought...” he begins, searching her eyes, her face, before he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”
Hiyori’s throat feels tight, her eyes burn. “I have to...I have to go. I’ll see you later, Yato.”
She leaves before he can say anything else, walking quickly away from him, head down and heart pounding out sharp rhythm in her chest.
1.
She stays away for two weeks, the longest she has since he disappeared. And it is so hard doing it too, because she’s spent the last several months trying desperately not to forget Yato or Yukine, to keep them in her life and see them more than once a week. Maybe it isn’t the most healthy thing, but it’s kept her sane, and now she keeps turning to her phone, ready to text one of them something funny she saw, or wondering where they are, and--
Well, she thought Yukine would at least try and see her or text her, but she finds him avoiding her, whether because Yato ordered it or because he believes she needs space, she has no idea. All she knows is that it hurts and it sucks, but at least the constant thoughts about the two of them have kept her from forgetting.
She honestly hadn’t even meant to make her silence last this long. In fact, she had meant to speak to Yato only a few days after, but the thought had her panicking, hands sweaty and heart pounding.
Hiyori was not stupid or naive, no matter what her friends seemed to think. She can see the way Yato looks at her sometimes, the way he drifts toward her in a crowd, how he is always there to help her. She has known about his feelings for her for a while, and whenever she thought about them she always shoved them to the back of her mind.
It wasn’t because she was scared of her feelings for Yato--because she does have feelings for Yato--but it was more of a how. How does a human girl love a god? How does it work when Hiyori grows, ages, moves on, and Yato is always the same guy, never moving forward in time? She had been told more than once by more than one god that her relationship with Yato was too personal, too suffocating. She needed to focus on her world more, lest she become trapped in theirs.
How could Hiyori be with someone so deeply imbedded into the Far Shore without losing her place in the Near Shore?
How can she stay with Yato forever without losing everything she is?
That is why she avoids Yato. She wants to be with him, kiss him, be his, but she can’t risk losing herself in the process, and she isn’t sure how to balance her life with Yato with everything else.
What she needs, Hiyori realizes, is advice. Preferably from someone who won’t laugh at her, sugar-coat the situation, or just actively deter her from it. So one day after school, Hiyori gathers all of her courage and looks for Bishamon.
--
It isn’t hard finding Bishamon, really. Just look for the biggest disturbance and she’s likely there, whip in hand. The only issue is finding Bishamon without finding Yato. Because wherever Bishamon is, Yato is usually not far behind, determined to show her up.
When Hiyori finally manages to get Bishamon alone, the goddess looks ready to leave the Near Shore, and Hiyori doesn’t hesitate to check and see if Yato or Yukine are anywhere around; she jumps from the streetlight she was perched on and lands lightly before Bishamon, head bowed.
“Iki Hiyori?” Kazuma asks, already transformed. Hiyori keeps her head bowed and hands clasped in front of her, suddenly wondering what the heck has come over her. She’s about to ask a god of war about relationship advice! How ridiculously stupid--
“What’s happened?” Bishamon asks, prompting Hiyori to lift her head. Her eyes are narrowed, darting behind Hiyori. “Has something happened to that idiot?”
“No,” Hiyori squeaks out, clearing her throat when Bishamon turns her gaze back to Hiyori. “I-I was actually wondering if I could...speak to you? In private?”
Kazuma’s eyebrows are almost hitting his hairline, and he looks so shocked Hiyori wants to melt into the ground and forget this ever happened.
Bishamon tilts her head, long blonde hair trailing off behind her in a golden wave. One by one, she begins to call her Shinki back to their human forms, all of whom look at Hiyori like she’s lost her mind.
“You can all go home,” Bishamon says without looking at them, eyes still trained on Hiyori. “I will meet you there.”
“My lady--” A brown-haired girl begins, but Kazuma quietly turns her away, smiling slightly at Hiyori as he and the other Shinki disappear into a stream of light.
Bishamon smiles warmly when Hiyori turns her gaze back to her, and gestures to her left, where a park sits only a dozen feet away. “Would you like to sit, or walk?”
“Sit,” Hiyori decides, hands behind her back as she follows Bishamon, the digits clammy with nerves.
“Good,” the god smiles again. “I’ve been on my feet all day.”
“I’m sorry for bothering you,” Hiyori breathes as they sit at a bench overlooking a large field. “I just...need someone to talk to who will be honest and...well, I suppose in this case it won’t be unbiased, but I trust that you won’t be too harsh.”
Bishamon sits with her hands folded neatly on her lap, eyes looking out into the field. There are many people milling around, walking dogs and strolling along the paths, happy and oblivious to the god and half-spirit sitting only feet away. The small smile on Bishamon’s mouth is friendly enough that Hiyori spills her heart out, telling Bishamon about her troubles with her feelings and Yato, barely stopping until she’s done and a bit teary-eyed, stressed once more.
“I don’t know what to do,” Hiyori sighs, knees pulled to her chest. Looking down at her sneakers, she scowls at the crown Yato must have doodled there, and the two swords that she knows must be Yukine’s artwork. They are everywhere, Hiyori realizes. Her life is full of their presence.
Bishamon exhales a slow sigh, smile gone and replaced with a troubled frown. “I only know bits and pieces about how Yato was before, and of course I have my own feelings about him. But it is clear to me that he feels deeply for you, and he will protect and cherish you regardless of how you feel for him. I will give him this: the Yato god is not selfish.
I understand that you are worried about losing things in your own world, but consider how your life was before Yato kissed you. Would it be any different if you and Yato pursued a relationship? You can be human with him or spirit, it seems, and you still balance both lives easily enough.”
When Bishamon looks at Hiyori, her gaze is sad. “And you are young, Hiyori. There is plenty of time to figure out what you want; perhaps the best thing for you now is to enjoy yourself.”
Hiyori bites her lip, turning her gaze back to the field. The sun is almost set and little lights begin to illuminate the park. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you for speaking with me.”
A large, warm hand settles on Hiyori’s shoulder. “I think that you knew what you wanted before you spoke with me. All I did was allow you to see the answer you already knew.”
Her lip quirks up, and when Hiyori looks at Bishamon, she is grinning. “Still, thank you.”
--
Kofuku’s house is dark when Hiyori shows up a few hours later.
She had walked around after speaking with Bishamon, trying to figure out what she would say to Yato, wanting to get it right. After a while, though, she had decided that anything she came up with wouldn’t be as good as something that came out in the moment.
She had also looked for Yato every place she guessed he would be and had found no trace of him, so she really hopes he is here, because if not she might lose her nerve.
“Yato!” She whisper-shouts, not wanting to be too loud in case she wakes Kofuku or Daikoku, or even Yukine. Hiyori knows that this has to be between the two of them. Please be here, she thinks as she opens her mouth, prepared to make one last call.
She doesn’t get the chance; Yato appears to her left, looking tired and surprised to see her there.
“Hiyori?” He asks, coming toward her. “Is everything alright?”
Stupid, she thinks to herself, that you would even try to come up with something to say. All thoughts and ideas leave her head when he comes up to her, only inches away and emitting a warmth and smell that Hiyori has missed these last few weeks. “I’m okay,” she murmurs, watching his eyes take her in, looking for injuries.
She watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, then looks up at her with something she doesn’t recognize in his eyes. “I’m glad. I--I’ve missed you.”
Blinking, Hiyori offers a quiet smile. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that.”
He’s already shaking her head before she’s finished speaking, hand reaching out to clasp her upper arm. “No, Hiyori, don’t be sorry--”
“I am,” she tells him firmly, “I just needed time to think.”
He swallows again, and Hiyori’s own throat feels dry with the words she is about to speak, scared of what will happen next, and how things will change.
“And?” He asks, so quiet she almost doesn’t hear him.
It always fascinates her, how Yato can be so many different things. A goofball who screws around every chance he gets, a whiny baby when Yukine or Hiyori do not give him what he wants, a god of calamity when someone hurts or threatens the people or things that he loves. And this, a scared boy, waiting for the girl he--the girl he loves to admit her own feelings.
Hiyori leans up on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth to Yato’s in a warm, chaste kiss. His hand spasms against her arm before he slides it down to clasp her hand, fingers twining between hers.
They pull back after a moment, staring at each other and blushing like two little kids. “Was that a real kiss?” Yato asks, other hand rising to cup her cheek.
“That should have been my first kiss,” Hiyori replies, moving closer to him again. His hand slips behind her neck to twist into her hair. The smile on his face is blinding. “I told you,” she breathes, barely an inch between their lips. “I want to be with you forever, Yato.”
The sound he makes is relieved and happy, and he kisses her slowly, carefully.
After all, they have time.