Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’m a god!”

Those were the first words he spoke to her, perched atop the jungle gym.

A wide grin was plastered on his face, and he looked to be just a bit older than her, with messy, dark hair. Outwardly, totally normal. But when his eyes caught hers, they were brilliantly, inhumanly blue, sparkling with charisma, all the mysteries of the universe within them.

She looked back up at him, squinting in the sunlight, and smirked. “Oh yeah?” she said.

“Yeah!” The confident smile didn't falter for a second.

“Prove it!”

“Fine!” His next words were at her ear. “How’s this?”

“Ahhhh!” She jumped back. Her head flicked between the jungle gym and the ground in front of her. “You scared me! How did you do that?”

“I told you! I’m a god!” He kept smiling that toothy grin, hands on hips.

“Fine, I believe you!” She held out her hand, her smirk having evolved into a genuine smile. “My name is Iki Hiyori. Let’s be friends!”

The boy hesitated for the briefest moment, then took it. His grasp was oddly clammy. “I’m...Yato. Yeah, let’s be friends!”

He smiled that bright smile once more.

And that was the end of that.

They started meeting every day from then on. The mysterious boy claiming to be a god quickly became a regular part of her routine. After preschool let out at noon, she'd practically burst with excitement at getting to play with Yato until sundown when her parents picked her back up.

The two of them were instantly as thick as thieves, and it seemed like they would never run out of things to talk about. The boy named Yato was an amazing storyteller and full of all sorts of fantastic tales, about warriors and monsters in long-ago times. And he knew so much of the kami ! The early days of the kami were Hiyori’s favorite.

“Tell me the story of the Land of the Dead again!” she begged, pulling on his shoulder, eyes shining. He always came up with different, funny voices for the characters in it, accompanied with lively acting, and the way he described Yomi sent chills down her spine. His telling of Izanagi’s brave venture to the Underworld to return his wife, Izanami, to the world of the living kept her spellbound time after time.

Yato lightly slapped the back of her head. “I’ve already told you that one several times. That’s no fun. I’ll tell you something new!”

“No!” she insisted. “I wanna hear about the Land of the Dead again!”

When Izanami gave birth to Kagutsuchi, the god of fire, her body became badly burned, and she fell ill and died. Before she traveled to Yomi, she warned Izanagi not to follow her. But, desperately missing his wife, he did so anyway.

And yet, despite his extensive mental collection on fiction and fairy tales, Yato seemed to lack a great deal of knowledge about everyday things. He took great interest in hearing about what Hiyori had learned at preschool that day, what her parents were like, what her brother was like, and always came back with more questions. Hiyori thought, surely, her life must be so much more boring than this boy’s—this god’s —seemingly always exciting one.

But there was something odd about him.

She never saw his parents.

Even though Hiyori’s parents came to pick her up shortly before sundown, he was always still there after she left.

And when she turned away, when he thought she couldn’t see him anymore, he looked so forlorn, like only the wearies of the world and the abyss lay before him.

Like there was nothing for him to go home to.

She asked him about it one day. Straight to the point, as only children can do.

“Hey, Yato, what are your parents like?” This question was sprung innocuously as they took a break from playing, resting under the shade of a tree. Hiyori was on her stomach in the grass, poking around with a stick to see if there was anything interesting hidden away beneath it. Yato was behind her, leaning against the tree, gazing sleepily at the sky.

“Why do you want to know?”

She twisted around to look at him. Though his slumped posture and half-closed eyes made it seem like he was about to doze off, his voice was perfectly alert.

“I was just wondering. ‘Cause you’re always still here when my mom and dad come to get me. So where are your mom and dad? Can I meet them?”

“I don’t have a mom,” he said bluntly.

“Oh.” Hiyori continued prodding at the grass with her stick. “Then what about your dad? Do you have a dad? What’s he like?”

“Dunno.”

Hiyori sat up and turned to him, confused. “What?”

“It’s weird to talk about my dad. Can we talk about something else?” His nearly-closed eyes were still fixated on the sky, though there were no clouds and there was nothing in particular to see.

“But why does he pick you up so late? Is he how you know so much about the kami ? Can I meet him? I think my mom and dad want to.”

“No.” Suddenly, he was on his feet, perked up once more. “No. Can we please stop talking about it now?”

“Um, okay.” Hiyori blinked at him, more questions than ever bubbling up inside of her.

His eyes, still as burningly blue as ever, poured into her soul.

“Wanna hear about the Land of the Dead?” His cocky grin was back.

Hiyori jumped up. “Yes!” She nodded fervently.

A bruise showed up on his arm one day. His sleeve slipped up too far while they chased each other around on a chilly fall afternoon. Hiyori immediately caught sight of it and stopped running.

He turned back. “What’s wrong?”

“Your arm,” she called out. He walked back toward her. “What?”

“It’s hurt. Lemme see.” She reached out for it, but he yanked it away.

“It’s nothing, I just hit it against a door yesterday.”

“Oh.” Hiyori’s eyes couldn’t help but follow how he gently folded his arm behind him, like it hurt beyond just the bruise she’d seen.

“Are you—”

“I’m fine. ” He glared at her. His eyes seemed to be staring into her soul again.

“Prove it.”

She spoke those words in the same tone she’d used when he claimed to be a god.

For a moment, he looked uneasy.

Then his normal, cheerful grin was back on his face. “Hey, wanna hear a story?”

Hiyori followed him, unwilling to abandon that topic quite yet, to their favorite place—the jungle gym, where they’d first met. He liked to hang upside down while he told his amazing tales, accompanied by plenty of sound effects and lots of arm-waving.

“I have a new one for you.”

She pouted. “No fair! I thought you were gonna tell me about the Land of the Dead again!”

“What’s the fun in that?” Yato bounded to the top with seemingly no effort. “I’ve told you so many times. Just listen to my new one.”

Huffing, she clambered to the top and sat next to him. “Fine.”

He hooked his legs around the bar, and fell backward. For a moment, she thought she’d see him tumble to the ground, but his legs caught him and he grinned his usual grin at her, upside down. He crossed his arms and swung back and forth. “Ready? This one’s about Unigi and the Middle World….”

Something else was strange about him. Sometimes she caught him looking at her, when she turned away and he thought she couldn't see him, and his eyes were so sad.

Like he was afraid of her disappearing right before him.

“You’ll always be here, right?” he asked her.

“Yeah!” She smiled at him, and that was all he needed.

Hiyori held out her hand, and he took it, and they ran off again.

When Izanagi arrived, he found Izanami quickly and urged her to return. It was completely black in Yomi, and he could not see her, but the sound of her voice was all he needed at that moment. However, by then, she had already eaten food of Yomi and could never leave.

There was a day when her parents were late.

The sun sank lower in the sky, and the shadows cast grew longer and longer. And still she waited.

She shivered in the cold, her breath steaming out before her. Yato looked sidelong at her.

“Where are your parents?”

“I don’t know.” Hiyori hunched over, burrowing her hands under her arms and tucking her chin into her scarf. It was more than a little chilly out, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than to go home and drink some hot tea. But here she was. And it was getting dark out. Most of the other kids had left.

After about ten minutes, it was just her and the mysterious boy named Yato. They stood side by side, watching the park entrance for the familiar car her parents drove to pull up.

“You should go home,” she told him.

“I’m staying here,” he replied, with a stubborn glare. “I’m not leaving you alone in the dark.” After a moment, he reached out and took her hand. Their fingers wrapped tightly around each other, and she smiled slightly. She was glad to have him there. Secretly, she worried her parents would never come. But his presence made her feel at ease.

“Aren’t you gonna get in trouble?” she asked after a short pause, looking sideways at him.

Yato didn’t say anything, but he looked troubled.

When he replied, his voice was tense. “I’m not supposed to stay out past dark. My dad doesn’t like it. It’s not safe.”

“Oh.” Hiyori blinked a couple of times. “Well, if you want, you can come stay at my house when my parents come.”

Yato shook his head. “No. I’ll just walk home after you leave. I’ll explain to him. He’ll understand.”

“Do you want us to give you a ride?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” he snapped back. Immediately he looked regretful. “Sorry. I’ll tell you about the Land of the Dead again.”

“Yay!” Hiyori brightened up instantly.

And that was how they passed the time.

Until, midway through the story, a visitor arrived.

By then, the sky had darkened nearly completely, and the lamppost by the entrance had flickered on, leaving the park in darkness aside from that. The two children stood alone in the rapidly dropping temperature, isolated by the only pool of light from an otherwise pitch-black night.

“And Yomi looked just like this when Izanagi descended, except there were no lights like this lamp. Instead, it was completely black. The creatures of Yomi were lying in wait...to catch him!”

Hiyori jumped as he grabbed her shoulder, then burst out laughing. “Stop it, you’re scaring me!”

The visitor approached silently, from behind. Hiyori didn’t even notice him approaching their little circle of light, until Yato stiffened and spun around. Their grip on each other’s hands broke.

“Father.”

Hiyori looked up in surprise at the man before him. He looked nondescript enough, but something about his smile sent chills down her spine. Perhaps it was because she was still immersed in Yato’s scary story, but she perceived that the grin on his face had none of Yato’s warmth. It was as cold as ice.

He looked down at her, still smiling that strange smile, and her words failed her.

“And who is this lovely young lady?”

“This is my friend.” Yato stepped in front of her slightly, arm out as if to shield her. “My new friend.”

“A new friend? How interesting, Yaboku.”

Hiyori frowned. “Yaboku?”

Suddenly Yato’s father echoed her frown. “Yes, this is Yaboku. Has he been feeding you lies?”

She felt trapped, and strangely guilty, like she’d said something she shouldn’t have. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the smile returned to the man’s face, and he ruffled Yato’s hair.

“That’s my Yaboku. Always causing mischief!”

He turned back to Hiyori and leaned down. “And you are quite a lovely young lady. What’s your name?”

“Iki Hiyori.” She stared right back at him. Something about him just felt wrong.

Yato’s father straightened up, looking surprised. “Ah! Iki? I know of your parents. Their hospital is quite famous.”

“You know my mom and dad?” Hiyori was equally surprised.

“Of course!” He was still giving her that strange, cold smile. “Why don’t you come back home with me and Yaboku, and I’ll give them a call. It’s getting quite late out. You shouldn’t stay here in the cold.”

“No.” Yato, still standing protectively in front of her, spoke up suddenly. “I was waiting for her parents with her.”

“Well, yes, that’s why I came here too,” Yato’s father said. “You had me worried, Yaboku.”

“She doesn’t need to come home with us. We’ll just wait here.” His voice sounded uneasy, just as it had when he had said he wasn’t supposed to stay out after dark.

“Nonsense, it’s too cold to be waiting outdoors!” Yato’s father slipped behind the two children, kneeling and putting a firm arm around Hiyori. The light shone behind his head, blocking out his face. “Come with us! You can wait at our house until your parents come to pick you up.”

“I said no!” Yato was shouting now. He tried to yank his father’s arm off of Hiyori, with no success. He retreated back to the safety of the lamp with a hiss.

“It’s perfectly all right,” his father replied smoothly. “Right, miss Iki?”

Hiyori looked at the ground. “I don’t know. I don’t want my parents to get here right as we leave. Also, they don’t like me to go with strangers.”

Yato’s father laughed. Like his smile, it had no warmth in it. “That’s silly! I’m no stranger, just Yaboku’s dad!”

“No, I shouldn’t go with strangers,” Hiyori said again, more firmly this time. She tugged away from his grasp and moved a couple of paces back, to stand next to Yato, back in the solitary pool of light.

Yato’s father stood up, his smile vanishing. “Come with us. Now.”

“I won’t!” The two children stared defiantly up at him.

The situation seemed close to breaking point.

Suddenly, a car pulled up, tires screeching. Hiyori spun around, hoping for some kind of rescue.

Her mom practically barreled out of the car and folded her in a squeezing hug. “Hiyori! I’m so sorry! A meeting ran late and we weren’t able to get here in time. Come home with us now. We’ll make some nice hot food and you can have a hot bath too. Does that sound good?” Her words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush as she continued to hug her daughter.

Finally, Hiyori broke away. “I just wanna say goodbye to my friend really quick.” She turned back to the lamppost she’d been standing under with Yato and his father.

But no one was there.

The lamp's light flickered out.

Unwilling to give up, Izanagi urged her to try anyway. Izanami agreed that she would consult with the leaders of Yomi and attempt to persuade them, but she was tired. She told Izanagi to wait outside of her chambers while she rested and to not, under any circumstances, try and go looking for her.

That night, she approached her dad with an odd question.

“Can you tell me about the Land of the Dead?”

He was surprised. “Isn’t that a bit scary for someone your age?”

Hiyori pouted. “No! I’m four and a quarter! I can handle it!” She wanted to mention that Yato told her the same story all the time, but she knew her parents doubted his existence despite all her stories about him, that he was a real person, a real god.

Her father was also quite a good storyteller and held the young Hiyori riveted, as he described, in slightly different words, Izanagi’s brave journey to save his wife, and his subsequent flight from Yomi. Not much had changed details-wise until after this escape, when her father described Izanagi’s purification ritual.

“And when he washed himself clean in the ocean, many kami were born from the clothing he rinsed, but when he washed his face, the most important ones came about. From his left eye was born Amaterasu—” he poked his finger near her eye— “from his right was Tsukuyomi—” now he went for her other eye— “and from his nose—” he grabbed her nose— “was Susanoo.”

Hiyori giggled and pulled away from his grasp.

But something struck her as odd. “Wait,” she said, her smile turning into a slight frown. “I thought that those three kami were born before Izanami went to Yomi.”

Her father looked at her, confused. “I’m not sure what you mean. This is how I always heard it told, and I think this is the most popular version.”

Hiyori thought for a second. “My friend Yato told me that Izanami had them before she died.”

“Huh. I guess your friend Yato has parents that believe different things than your mom and dad,” he said, reaching for her nose again. She backed away with a squeal. Her father chuckled.

“Now, where were we…?”

After that incident, Hiyori’s parents decided to hire a nanny to shuttle her back and forth from the park so that she could leave on time from now on, without needing to wait for her parents. An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between them. They were worried about the “friend” she’d been playing with at the park lately. Though she insisted he wasn’t, they thought he was imaginary. How else could they explain the fact that they always seemed to just miss each other? Even when Hiyori said goodbye to him, there was no one there. But she was so insistent on it.

“He is real, I know it!” And they had no choice but to humor her.

“Yes, yes, okay dear. I believe you.”

And the next day after Yato’s father mysteriously showing up, Hiyori, upon arriving at the park, looked eagerly around for her companion, hoping he wasn’t in trouble.

She heard a voice calling her name, and there was Yato, waving at her from underneath the tree where they’d sat when she asked him about his family. As she ran to him, she suddenly noticed that there was someone else standing with him. A girl, who looked to be much older, maybe ten or twelve.

Hiyori arrived breathless, then glanced at the girl, then at Yato. She noticed that his wide smile was absent, and he instead looked terse.

“Uh...hi. I’m Iki Hiyori! Are you Yato’s friend too?” She held out her hand and offered a smile.

The girl just stared at her, making no movement to return the handshake.

Hiyori dropped her hand, confused.

That was when Yato spoke up. “Hi, Hiyori. This is...my sister, Hiiro.” He indicated the girl next to him. Her face bore a strong resemblance to a porcelain doll, and to match the look, she wore a white kimono. “She’s going to play with us from now on.”

“Hi, Hiiro!” Hiyori flashed another smile at her, but Hiiro just stared directly at her, still not moving. Her eyes were fascinating, both like and unlike Yato’s. They too seemed too old for her face, containing all the mysteries of the world and the infinite void of space, but in contrast to Yato’s eyes, which usually sparkled full of laughter, hers were cold, dark, and empty.

Lost, Hiyori turned back to Yato. Sensing her distress, he looked up at his older sister. “Hiiro, we’re going to go play. Do you want to come with us?”

Finally, the mysterious girl seemed roused and opened her mouth to answer, but still not taking her eyes off of Hiyori. “No. It’s stupid. I'll stay here.”

Her voice was as delicate as her face, but, like her eyes, it contained no warmth. Hiyori shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the chilly day.

“I don’t think your sister likes me very much,” Hiyori confessed, as soon as the two were out of earshot of Yato’s strange kimono-clad companion.

“Guess not,” muttered Yato, glancing over his shoulder at her. Hiyori did the same, and still, Hiiro stared at them, her dark eyes piercing the already gloomy day and seeming to deepen the chill they felt.

“How come you never told me you had a sister?” Hiyori asked, turning back to her friend.

Yato shrugged. “It never felt important.”

A million more questions sprung to her mind. She had so much to ask about what had happened last night.

As they climbed to their usual spot atop the jungle gym, she ventured one of the most pressing ones. “What’s Yaboku?”

Yato frowned, glaring down at the ground. “My real name.” He swung his legs through the air, kicking the side of the structure.

As Hiyori opened her mouth to say more, he spoke again. “I don’t like it though. Just call me Yato. I got this name from an old shinki of mine.”

“What’s a—”

“I’ll tell you later. But...yeah. She gave me this name, and taught me some stuff.”

“What kind of—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Yato kept swinging his legs, staring off into the distance, his back turned to Hiiro. “But I don’t remember any of that. That was all by my previous incarnation.”

In...car... Hiyori found herself lost by the long word. She spoke again. “What’s an in...incar...that thing?”

Yato was now positively glowering, but his gaze was focused on nothing. “I was alive before. I was all grown up. Then I died. Now I’m here.”

Hiyori’s breath caught. “You died? ”

“I guess so,” he said. His legs stopped swinging for a second. “Like I said, I don’t remember any of it. I don’t even remember the one who gave me the name Yato, but I like it way better than stupid Yaboku. ”

He started swinging his legs again, still glaring angrily at the horizon.

“Then how do you know what you were like?” Hiyori was staring at him wide-eyed, not quite over the concept that he had somehow been reborn.

“Hiiro,” he said simply. He then turned to face her, and she was struck by the intensity of his eyes once more. He was very close to her.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” The moment of somber stillness was over, and his goofy grin crept back up onto his face.

“What?” Hiyori asked.

And Yato swung backward to hang upside down, just like when he told his stories. “Hang back like this and I’ll show you!”

She started. “I can’t, I’ll fall!”

“I’ll catch you! C’mon!” Yato held out a hand, and she thought, If he can do it, why shouldn’t I be able to?

But she was still afraid.

“Prove it!”

Yato’s smile turned devious, and he gave her arm a gentle tug backward.

And she was falling.

With a scream and a burst of adrenaline, the sky spun above her, and then Hiyori was dangling upside down, next to Yato. He tucked his arms behind his head, still grinning mischievously.

“See?”

She clung to the bar above her with all her strength. “You scared me! Don’t do that again!”

Yato chuckled, then pointed above them at the sun, hazy behind a thin layer of clouds. “You see up there?”

Hiyori followed his gaze, squinting in the brightness. “Yeah?”

“That’s where Amaterasu lives.” Yato’s voice was full of reverence. “Like in the stories.”

“Whoa.” She echoed his awe.

“Yeah. It’s cool to see it like this, huh?”

“Yeah….” Hiyori cast her eyes away from the sun, and to her surprise, when she glanced left, her gaze was filled with Yato’s blue eyes.

“Boo!”

She jumped, nearly losing her grip on the bar.

Yato laughed again, righting himself. He extended a helping hand, and pulled her up too, so that they sat side by side, right side up, on top of the jungle gym.

“Hiiiiiyori.” His voice was right next to her ear. She jumped again.

“Yato! Stop!” she shrieked, but the giggle she emitted with it betrayed her true emotion.

He was staring at her again, his usual large smile on his face.

“Hiyori.”

“What?”

“Marry me.”

Hiyori stared at him for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. “Why should I?”

Yato looked hurt for a second, before leaning in again. “‘Cause I like you! You’re fun to be with! And you like my stories, and you don’t….” His voice trailed off unexpectedly, and his smile was gone.

“I don’t what?”

“Forget me,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet she could barely hear him.

“Why would I do that? I said I’d always be here, right?” Hiyori smiled.

His response was even quieter than before. “Prove it.”

So she did.

In the form of a kiss on the cheek.

Now it was Yato’s turn to nearly fall over. He turned bright red while Hiyori roared with laughter at the reaction she’d elicited.

“You see?” she giggled, out of breath. “I said I’m not going anywhere, silly.” She grabbed his hand, and held onto it as tight as she could, interlocking their fingers.

Though she did not realize it, her grip was his anchor.

And there was a rock threatening to yank them both down to the depths of the sea.

But for now, the child and the god remained together. The two people of different worlds held hands and laughed, bound as one by the happiness they’d found together.

Every time Hiyori thought she had recovered from seeing Yato’s utterly shocked face, one look at it sent her back into peals of laughter. Tears of mirth coated her cheeks before she finally settled back into nonstop giggling.

Her face burned red, too.

Once they had finally, finally calmed down from that, Hiyori remembered another question she’d had earlier.

“Hey, Yato?” she began, swinging their hands, still woven together, back and forth.

“What?” He looked a bit grumpy, annoyed that she’d managed to beat him at his own game of proving a point in the most dramatic way possible.

“You said you had a...a...something. Hm. What was it….” Hiyori couldn’t remember the strange word he’d used. “Well, anyway, you said that this...person gave you your name. And I asked you what you meant, and you said you’d tell me later. So can you tell me now?”

Yato looked at her, puzzled. “You mean who gave me my name of Yato?”

Hiyori nodded. “Yeah! What did you call her?”

His eyes widened. “Oh! She was my shinki.”

“That’s the word!” Hiyori crowed. “Shin...ki. What is it?”

Yato’s eyebrows knitted together. “I dunno how to explain it. They’re spirits? They can be weapons, but also people. It’s weird.”

“Ooooh.” Hiyori was fascinated, sensing another story coming on. “Like the three Imperial Regalia of Japan you told me about?”

He nodded. “Yeah! Like that. Except, I think those ones are really powerful.”

Hiyori watched him closely, expecting him to launch into another tale.

“Actually….” An idea dawned on his face. “Hiiro is my shinki right now. She’s really good. Want me to show you? It’s a story, but a different kind of story.”

Hiyori gasped. “Really?! Yes! Please!”

“Then come on!” Yato untangled his hand from hers, and slid down the side of the jungle gym. Hiyori followed behind, and not a moment after her feet touched the ground, he’d reached out his hand again.

And the two marched over to the aloof girl, still standing stock-still underneath the tree in her white kimono.

“Hiiro!” Yato called out as they approached her. “I’m gonna show my friend how I use you. Come with us!”

And he turned and led Hiyori, and Hiiro, off in another direction, to a sheltered corner of the park, where prying eyes couldn’t spot them.

“Why over here?” Hiyori asked, more than a little confused.

“I’m a god, remember?” Yato said with his usual impish grin. “Everyone would want a shinki if they knew what they could do. But you’re special. I trust you.”

As they arrived beneath a copse of trees, he turned to her, suddenly solemn. “Now, what I’m about to show you, you must never, ever tell anyone. Okay? Ever.”

“Not even my parents?” Hiyori breathed.

“Not even your parents,” he echoed. He then turned to the other girl. “Ready, Hiiro?”

“Father won’t like this,” she warned.

Yato stuck out his tongue. “ Come, Hiki! ”

Hiyori’s eyes were dazzled by a blinding flash of light. But it only lasted a second, and she lowered her hand from her face to see that Yato was standing in front of her, now holding a sword much too big for his small body.

Hiiro was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d she go?” she gasped, looking around.

“She’s right here!” exclaimed Yato, waving the sword. “Now watch this!”

And with a leap, he began to engage an imaginary enemy, whirling and ducking around as he evaded unseen blows. His sword, though about twice the size of him, was quite impressive too, seemingly able to transform into water that swirled in perfect time with Yato’s movements, and reforming into a shiny, definitely metal blade at the last second.

The young Hiyori was awestruck. She sat on the grass, transfixed by the wild movement of battle. She’d never seen anything remotely like it, and the frenzied movements of battle seemed to spin a tale more vivid than even his storytelling.

When he finished slaying the nonexistent enemy, he turned to his companion with his wide grin back in place.

She leaped up, clapping her hands together as fast as she could move them. “Wow! That was incredible! ”

Yato looked slightly embarrassed. “Ah, it was nothing. Revert, Hiiro!”

A dimmer flash of light, more of sparkles this time, and the girl in the kimono was standing with them again. Even after the intense battle, not a hair was out of place, and she still looked at Hiyori with those cold, empty eyes.

“Is it really wise, Yato?” she asked, never shifting her gaze. “To be giving away our secrets to a normal human?”

“It’s fine,” Yato grumbled. He reached out to hold Hiyori’s hand again. “She’s special. She’s my friend. My best friend.”

Hiiro didn’t seem to have anything more to say.

And by the time Hiyori left that day, she had still not spoken another word.

But after a long wait, Izanagi grew worried and impatient. He entered Izanami's room, and saw her body, rotting and crawling with maggots.

The next day, Hiyori arrived at the park to a very worried-looking Yato. As before, Hiiro was standing sentinel underneath the tree, arms crossed, never taking her eyes off of Hiyori.

“Hi, Yato,” she said, taking his hand. “What’s wrong?”

She swung their arms back and forth, and he winced. Noticing this, she dropped her hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He took her hand back. “Nothing’s wrong. Except….” He paused, staring off into the distance as they headed to the jungle gym.

“Except?” Hiyori prodded when he didn’t continue.

Yato shook his head. “Father’s unhappy with me. He didn’t like that I showed you my godly powers. He wonders why you won’t forget me.”

Hiyori laughed. “I told you, I’m not gonna forget you!”

Yato frowned, staring at the ground. “It’s not like that. Humans don’t really remember gods. But you remember me.”

“Obviously that’s ‘cause we were meant to be friends!” Hiyori grinned at him, and he returned the favor with a weak smile of his own.

“You’re right.”

As they took their usual place at the very top of the jungle gym, Yato’s smile had reached its usual goofiness.

He swung upside down. Hiyori, expecting a story, watched him eagerly.

“Our story begins up there,” he said, pointing at the sky.

“Is it about Amater—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes fixed on Yato’s arm, the sleeve having slipped up to his elbow.

Like before, it was bruised, but unlike before, the bruise was deeply purple and yellow, covering most of his forearm. It spread like a blight across the skin. Hiyori’s eyes grew wide. “Yato, what’s wrong with your arm?”

“It’s nothing,” he snapped, attempting to tug his sleeve back up without success. With a mighty swing, he instead righted himself and then fixed his jacket. He sighed, looking back at his friend.

“You know, never mind. I’m gonna tell you a different story today. A new one.”

And he began again, this time not accompanied by upside down swinging and gesturing with funny voices. He spoke solemnly, his voice spinning visions inside Hiyori’s mind.

“This story is about a god. A god that no one knew, and no one remembered.”

Hiyori interrupted, laughing. “Is this god you?”

“No. This takes place a really, really long time ago.”

“Oh. Okay. Keep going.”

Yato sighed, fixing his eyes on the ground. “This god had no friends. No one wanted to stay around him for too long. Because he was a god of war, and he caused nothing but calamity in his wake.”

“Ca...cala….” Hiyori was lost again, stuck on the complicated word.

“It means bad things. Anyway, this went on for hundreds and hundreds of years. All he wanted was someone to really believe in him, to really be his friend, but no one wanted to be friends with a god of war. Especially not one that no one remembered.”

“I remember you!” Hiyori interjected again.

“It’s not me!” he exclaimed. “So this god had begun to lose hope for himself. Then he did something really bad: He killed lots and lots of people, and he died too, but somehow, he got reborn. Even though no one remembered him. The man who said he was his father said that he had wished the god into existence, and his belief was strong enough to make him reincarnate when he died.”

“Reincar...Wait, I know this one,” Hiyori said. “It means reborn, right?”

Yato nodded. “So this god began another life, but still felt lonely because he couldn’t make any friends. And then, one day, he finally did make a friend.”

“Is it me?” Hiyori giggled.

“For the last time, the god isn’t me!” Yato smacked her head playfully.

“Prove it.” Her words shot right back.

He looked conflicted at that. “Uh...because his name was Bakagami! Ragh!!! ” He lunged at her, grabbing at her shoulder.

Hiyori nearly fell off the jungle gym, laughing and avoiding Yato’s outstretched hands.

“Okay, I believe you. What’s next in the story?”

“Um...hm….” Yato sobered up again, looking pensive. “Well, he made a friend. And he thought maybe, just maybe, that this time things could….” He trailed off, whipping around suddenly.

Hiiro was walking toward them. Her eyes no longer took note of Hiyori, and she spoke only to Yato.

“Yato. We have to leave. Right now.”

His face fell. “But—”

“Father is expecting us. Now!”

Hiyori was surprised at the emotion in Hiiro’s voice, which before had been so melancholy and steady.

Yato slipped off the jungle gym, grumbling. "I thought I'd at least have time to finish one story."

Hiyori called after him. “Wait, what about the story? How does it end?”

“I’ll finish it tomorrow! I promise!” he shouted over his shoulder. Hiiro was leading him out of the park, the two of them nearly running. They rounded the corner, disappearing from sight. It seemed like Yato had left just as suddenly as he did when her parents came to pick her up.

“Prove it,” she mumbled sadly.

Hiyori kicked the jungle gym, hearing the metal reverberate. There was nothing to do except wait to see him tomorrow for the end of the story.

The sun was still high in the sky, and now Hiyori had many empty hours left to fill before the new nanny came to get her. As much as Yato’s father scared her, she had half a mind to follow him.

Waiting for the sun to sink, Hiyori thought about the god with no friends and how this story would end. She hoped it would have a happy ending.

Izanagi fled to the entrance of Yomi, frightened by the decaying body of his wife. Upset and angered by his reaction, Izanami pursued him, calling creatures of Yomi to her to hinder his escape.

But why wait till tomorrow? They hadn’t left that long ago; there was still time to catch up. She wanted to see the house he’d been so afraid to show her.

And before she could rethink her choice, Hiyori slid down from the jungle gym and trotted to the park entrance. Provided Yato hadn’t done his weird vanishing trick again, she might still be able to reach them. And, as she turned the street corner, she saw the two kids nearly at the end of the block.

Keeping well back, Hiyori watched as they turned into a dingy alleyway and disappeared from sight again. She slunk around the corner of the alley just in time to see Hiiro shove Yato to the left, onto another street.

This pattern continued for a while, Hiyori careful not to be seen, while Hiiro and Yato hurried through many winding roads, some barely wider than a meter.

They arrived at a maze of broken-down homes and low apartment buildings, patched with dirt and a few scruffy trees that provided no shade.

The day grew unusually dark, the towering buildings around the slum blocking out most of the already weak sunlight.

The place was strangely completely deserted.

Truly, Hiyori was in the underbelly of the city by now, and more terrified than she’d ever been.

She wanted to turn back, but it was too late.

How will I ever get back to the park now?

Caught in a labyrinth of neglected houses and people on the brink of death, she felt like sitting down and wailing her heart out until someone, anyone took pity on her and called the police.

She stuck out too much with her expensive shoes and coat, but then, so did Hiiro, whose kimono was still spotlessly white even after trudging through what seemed like half of the city.

Yato and his sister kept walking unhindered, and Hiyori followed, now more desperate than ever to hope that Yato would notice her and bring her back to the sunny park.

But if Yato saw her, so would Hiiro, and she was afraid of what the older girl would do to her if she were spotted. Or, perhaps, not her, but their frightening father.

Her foot crunched on an errant leaf, and she ducked behind a low wall, trying to hold in her gasping breath.

Holding her breath, she waited for what seemed like an eternity.

“What’s going on?” Yato’s voice cut through the cold day.

“...It’s nothing.” Hiiro’s reply was as clear as a bell.

The sound of footsteps started again. Hiyori poked her head around the wall after a few seconds, spotting Hiiro’s white kimono much farther ahead. She hurried after them.

After the houses had transformed into a group of dying trees, the two children Hiyori was following suddenly stopped at a run-down shack in the middle of the sad forest.

The building had low walls and barely any ceiling. Yato and Hiiro stepped inside, Hiyori poking her head around a tree some meters back.

Do they live here?  She barely had time to wonder about it before Hiiro spoke again.

“Hello, Father.”

His reply was too quiet to hear. Practically on the ground, Hiyori darted closer to the outer wall of the house. She pressed her back against the flimsy wood.

All she wanted was a way to signal Yato to save her without alerting his creepy sister and father.

The latter was speaking again.

“I’m sorry to pull you from your very important friend, Yaboku, but you need to play with Hiiro right now. The target is the one by the park you were assigned to survey. I trust you know what I mean.”

Hiyori frowned. Playtime?

“The office near the park. The executives making underhanded deals. They’re murderers.” Yato’s response was robotic, with none of the liveliness she heard when they played together.

“Yes, very good,” his father said. “And now we have concrete evidence of their treachery. So you know what you and Hiiro must do.”

“Cull the herd.” His voice was so very monotone.

In contrast, his father’s voice had frozen to absolute zero. “Yes, that’s absolutely right. What good kids you are! Come give me a hug.”

Hiyori, pressed up as close as she could be to the wooden wall, heard the old plank suddenly creak loudly behind her.

She didn’t even have time to feel afraid before heavy footfalls approached her. One glance up, and Yato’s father was staring directly into her eyes.

He was not smiling.

“You….” For once, he seemed at a loss for words. But only for a moment. “Yaboku, come here.”

She heard more footsteps, and then Yato’s head poked over the wall. His eyes widened. “Hiyori! What are you doing here? Did you—”

“Silence.” Yato’s father continued staring at her for another moment, then spoke again. “You know what you must do, Yaboku.”

His breath caught. “No.”

“You must. She cannot walk away from here, knowing our secrets.”

“I won’t do it!”

Yato and his father were staring at each other now, Hiyori still craning her neck straight up, still pressed against the wall.

Neither gaze yielded, until...

“...Very well. But you know what must happen instead.”

“Fine. Anything but that.” Yato’s voice had returned to the robotic tone from earlier.

“Good. Then I will escort miss Iki back to the park. Mizuchi, see to it that Yaboku fulfills the mission."

“Yes, Father.”

Yato’s father stepped over the wall and pulled Hiyori up. He placed a firm hand on her back, guiding back through the maze of streets at a rapid pace.

Moving too quickly to catch a glimpse of Yato, she didn’t see his face. And the expression of utter despair written all over it.

Izanagi made it to the outside world just in time. With the last of his strength, he pushed a boulder over the entrance. Izanami's horrific screams were still audible from beyond it, but her body was trapped forever in the land of the shadows.

 
The next morning, Hiyori’s parents looked grim over breakfast. They knew nothing of yesterday’s incident, as Hiyori had returned to the park just before sundown.

“Mommy, Daddy, why are you sad?” she finally asked, looking at them each in turn.

“Oh, it’s nothing, honey,” her mother said with a smile. She patted her daughter’s head. "Now finish up your food. You don’t want to be late to school.”

Going back up to her room to get dressed, Hiyori realized her brother was following her upstairs too, having finished his own breakfast.

She decided to question him as well. “Hey, Masaomi, what’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy?”

Her brother frowned. “Nothing’s wrong with them, but there is something wrong...They’ll probably be mad if they knew I’m telling you this, but there was a murder in the city yesterday.”

Hiyori gasped, her eyes and mouth round. “Someone died?”

Masaomi nodded. “Several people did, actually. It was in a building right by the park where you usually go. Apparently some bad people worked there, and someone killed them.”

“That’s horrible,” she said softly.

“Yeah….” Her brother turned back to her. “Don’t mention anything about this to Mom and Dad, okay? I don’t want them to get mad at me. And, hey, don’t cry,” he added, seeing the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. “It’s okay. The bad guys won’t get you too, I promise.”

He rubbed the top of her head and beamed. “I’ll try to play with you from now on.”

Hiyori was shocked. “Really?!”

Masaomi chuckled, giving her hair one last pat before standing up. “Yes. Now go get ready for school.”

Izanami was deeply wounded by her husband's escape, vowing to kill a thousand people every day in revenge. Izanagi shouted back that he would birth that much plus five hundred more every day.

Hiyori was heartbroken when her nanny, about to open the door and set her loose at the park, told her that today was the last day she could come here.

“But why? ” she asked, starting to cry.

“Your mommy and daddy told me it wasn’t safe, honey. I’m sorry. We’ll go find a new park, and it’ll be great, I promise. There’s lots of parks to choose from.”

“But none of those parks have Yato in them!”

“I know, sweetie, I’m sorry. Maybe Yato will come play at the new park, too.” Her nanny finally opened the car door, smiling. “Now go have fun. I’ll be back at sundown.”

Hiyori ran outside and entered the park, tears streaming down her face.

The park was nearly deserted.

And Yato was nowhere to be seen.

She sat under the tree for him, but as the day drew on, her fears that he would never return grew by the hour. Trying to battle away these thoughts, she decided to climb the jungle gym to see if she could get a better view from the top.

Please come, Yato, she begged silently. Even if Hiiro is here, I still want you to come play with me. Finish the story of the lonely god, and tell me about the Land of the Dead again!

As she reached the top, she saw a crumpled piece of paper hastily taped to one of the bars.

Curiosity overcame her, and she tugged it toward her, smoothing it out.

She couldn’t read very well, but she could make out her own name, IKI HIYORI, written at the top in large letters.

“It’s from Yato!” she breathed, trying to read the rest of the paper. “It’s a letter! He left me a letter!”

But, unfortunately, though Yato had tried to simplify his kanji, most of the letter was simply too archaic for the young Hiyori to understand. She could make out her own name, and some bits here and there, but nothing beyond that. And many of the characters were practically blobs of ink, seemingly scrawled in a hurry.

Frustrated, Hiyori balled up the note and shoved it in her jacket pocket, determined to keep it safe for now, and ask Yato what it said when she saw him next.

And by the time the sun set and her nanny was back, she was the only child in the park.

Izanagi left Yomi for good, never looking back.

Memories are a fickle thing. Though Hiyori carefully placed the letter inside her desk when she got home, determined to wait until seeing Yato again to unravel the meaning, her memories of the gods evaporated like water on a hot day, until she dismissed the crumpled paper as trash one day many years later and tossed it out.

Every day, the young Hiyori waited in vain for her friend to find the new park she went to, and every day, her hopes dwindled, until she forgot what she was anticipating and why she felt so sad when the sun set.

And her life moved on.

Though she soon forgot about Yato and Hiiro and their mysterious father (and her parents were secretly glad that she stopped mentioning her “imaginary friend”), some distant vestiges remained with her, such as insisting that Amaterasu and her brothers were born before Izanagi went to Yomi. It doesn’t matter, everyone told her, it’s not a significant detail. Yet no matter how many times she was disagreed with, she stuck to Yato’s version of the story, though she soon forgot where she heard it. Her conviction that she was right stayed with her.

She also remembered a pair of brilliantly blue eyes.

Many years later, she thought she saw the eyes again.

But the moment passed, and in an instant she had forgotten them.

Seconds later, she turned again to see a man in the middle of the street. He was chasing after a cat, not noticing the bus heading toward him. His head looked up and around, making eye contact with her for a split second.

His eyes were inhumanly blue, and looked like all the knowledge in the universe was hidden in them.

The bus sped closer, horn blaring.

So the girl, chasing after the phantom of a dream, shoved him out of the way.

And the story unfolds from there.

“I’m a god!”

Those were the first words he spoke to her, perched atop the jungle gym.

Though Hiyori no longer remembered their time together as children, something deep inside of her clicked and the response was out before she could think.

“Prove it!”

Sometimes, the memories rose up and threatened to take over.

Sometimes, Yato looked at her like he had something to say, but could never quite put it into words.

Vague, seemingly random actions felt strangely familiar, but she never knew the reason why.

Some time later.

“Yato! Yato!” Hiyori called desperately, banging her fists onto the ground.

“That’s obviously not his real name,” Kofuku said sadly.

“No!” She shook her head. “Why would Yato lie to us about his name?”

She thought of him, down in Yomi, being tempted to eat the food and remain trapped there forever.

Bishamon’s name had worked, so why wouldn’t his?

“Yato!” she shouted again.

And slowly, a long-discarded tale worked its way to the front of her memory.

The story of Izanagi’s descent into Yomi, so very long ago.

Her favorite story as a child.

But why?

She also remembered a dark, chilly night, a boy holding her hand, and a pool of light under a lamppost.

A man had come up behind them.

What had he called her companion…?

Her eyes widened, and she remembered the engraving she had toiled over on the small shrine.

“Yaboku!”

Though Hiyori had thrown away the letter her friend had left for her on the jungle gym that day, Yato never forgot what he had written.

This is what it said.

Dear Hiyori,

I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to play again. My father needs me, and we must leave. I’m also sorry that I won’t be able to tell you about the Land of the Dead again and that I never got to finish the story of the lonely god. I wish I could write down that ending, but I never came up with one. Stories never truly end anyway, so make sure yours is a good one.

I hope we meet again someday.

Yato