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"Yukine," Yato pleaded. His eyes were weary and full of pain. Yato took a step towards his shinki. "You're hurting. . . please. . ."
Yukine watched his own hand raise against his master as he drew a shimmering, crackling borderline, a barrier between himself and Yato. Through the blue glow, Yukine saw Yato's face twist in pain. He clutched his chest in agony just before his body collapsed to the pavement.
Yukine brought his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.
Suddenly, Yukine felt something trickling down his arms. He brought his hands down in front of him. His eyes widened and he felt like he had forgotten to breathe. His hands were coated in blood.
"What is this? What—" Yukine stammered.
He couldn't take his terrified eyes off of his bloody hands. Was it his blood? To his horror, his blood-stained nails started to grow. They slowly lengthened into sharpened claws. The roots of his hair turned to black and the dark color spread like a disease to his tips, leaving not a single strand of blond left.
"No, no, no, NO!" he cried.
A distant, familiar voice echoed around him. They seemed so far away.
Yukine slowly looked up.
A man was sitting on the ground with his back leaning against an old refrigerator in the woods. His hands, legs, and head were limp and lifeless. Yukine couldn't see his face, but he instantly recoiled as sheer terror flooded his veins from the sight of the man who had left him to die. Something had penetrated his dad's white tank top to leave a open gash in his midsection. Blood. . . there was so much blood. Yukine's breathing was rapid now and he felt like he wasn't able to get enough air. His vision started to blur. Yukine blinked.
"Y-Yato?"
Both his dad and the fridge were gone. It was Yato on the ground, slumped against the trunk of a cherry blossom tree. His arms and legs were limp and unmoving. His tracksuit jacket and white t-shirt were stained with a horrifying amount of blood. Yukine's breathing grew even more shallow and desperate. Any air that he could breathe in felt like it was stabbing his lungs with tiny needles. Yukine stumbled towards his master, reaching out to him, but stopped in his tracks when he realized he wouldn't be able to help Yato with his claws—he would only hurt him. Yukine's eyes widened further when Yato's hand twitched.
Yato struggled to raise his chin off his chest and slowly raised his head. Though he couldn't see his face, Yukine heard Yato's strained voice. "Yukine. . ."
Yukine held his bloody hands and claws in front of him again. "Wait. . . Is this—is this Yato's blood?" Yukine's tears streamed down his face as his lungs begged for air.
Finally, Yato's lifted his head enough for his weary eyes to become visible through his black hair. They were clouded and dimmed, as if he was using the last of his strength. A tear rolled down the god's cheek. "Yuki. . ." As the remaining light faded from his eyes, Yato and the forest around Yukine dimmed and darkened, slowly disappearing.
"Yato," Yukine pleaded, "please don’t leave me.” His surroundings continued to fade until there was nothing but pitch black night. Even the trees of the forest had abandoned him. He watched helplessly as Yato was drained of all life and limply fell to the ground on his side. Yukine screamed as Yato vanished into the black.
"YATO!"
That familiar voice echoed again. Someone was calling his name. They seemed closer now.
The darkness was suffocating Yukine and he felt it swallowing him alive. His mind was fracturing, like pieces of his sanity were being chipped away.
"Can you hear me?"
Suddenly, he could hear voices fading in from every direction through the dark. They grew louder and louder until they sounded more like sirens than voices. Yukine couldn't take it anymore. His hands forcefully clapped over his ears. "Stop. . .! Please. . .!" he sobbed.
“Shut up, Hagusa!. . .You don't have what it takes to carry Yato's burden. . .It's going to be okay. . .Why would Yato even use a regalia like that? It should be disposed of. . . He abandoned you. . . I'm here. . .Revoke his name and release him. . .You dying ain't my fault. This is what you deserve, Haruki. . .I won't let anyone hurt you. . .You're acting like a child. Your master is not your father. . . Hagusa. . .Poor little boy. . .Haruki. . . Die. . . Open your eyes. . .Hagusa! Haruki! Hagusa! Haruki! Hagusa! Haruki!"
Yukine's legs gave out. He dropped to his knees and, as he opened his mouth, the primal scream of a broken child erupted out of him. He couldn't breathe.
A voice called out, silencing all the others.
"YUKINE! "
Yukine's eyes opened. Everything was painfully bright. The white light obscured everything and his vision was so blurry he couldn't make out where he was. He gasped for air as he felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. The overwhelming white softly dulled to a warm golden yellow. He could start to make out a silhouette. Someone was leaning over him. Someone was holding him. The light's glow softened further to reveal their features. Yukine's vision blurred in and out a few times before he was finally able to focus on the concerned blue eyes in front of him.
"Yato?"
"Yes! I'm here, Yukine," Yato said, his voice a little more desperate than he had meant it to sound.
Yato had awakened in the middle of the night to a terrible feeling that something was wrong. He turned in horror to see Yukine writhing and crying in his sleep. Yato had never felt himself move so fast as when he stumbled over to Yukine's side. The kid was in obvious distress and Yato had tried everything to wake him up, but it seemed like nothing he did could reach him. After 15 agonizing minutes of gently shaking his shoulders, calling his name, and telling Yukine every reassuring phrase he could think of, the only feeling that started to overtake Yato's sense of desperation was despair. He was born from a horrible wish—born a god of calamity—and he was no stranger to war, so how could he not fight off a nightmare? How could he feel so powerless to help his own kid?
Yukine's small hand trembled as he hesitantly reached for Yato's face. His fingertips barely touched Yato's cheek.
"Is it. . . really you?" Yukine asked weakly.
Yato's throat tightened as his eyes started to glisten. He gently took Yukine's hand and guided it closer so that Yukine's palm cupped his cheek, hoping it would ground him in reality.
"That's right, it's me. It's Yato."
A tear escaped the corner of Yukine's eye to run down the side of his face.
"Please don't go," he whispered.
Yato's heart sank. He gently squeezed Yukine's hand.
'I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm staying right here with you."
As if those words held some kind of magic, Yato looked on as Yukine's eyes started to regain a sort of clarity, as if he gained more awareness of where he was. His bottom lip quivered and then, the floodgates opened. Yukine grabbed on to Yato's shirt like he was his only lifeline, like if he let go, the darkness would take him away again. Tears cascaded down his face as he wailed like a small child.
Yato acted on pure instinct. He let go of Yukine's hand to wrap his arms around the boy's smaller frame and pulled him as close as possible without crushing him. Yukine's cries were so loud that, if Kofuku and Daikoku were here, they surely would have come racing up the stairs. The last thing Yukine needed was to feel embarrassed by the outpouring of raw emotion he was experiencing, so Yato was thankful that Kofuku and Daikoku were spending one more night in Takamagahara after the conclusion of this year's Divine Council.
Yukine's sobs continued for several minutes. All Yato could really do was hold him, but he tried to reassure him anyway. "It's alright," Yato said in the most soothing voice he could muster. The front of Yato's shirt became drenched with the boy's tears. He struggled to catch his breath, hiccupping and taking sharp inhalations of air. His shoulders shook and his hands trembled. "Shhhhh, it's okay, Yukine. It was just a bad dream. It's over now."
Just a bad dream.
Yukine's nightmares were anything but typical bad dreams. Some were so vivid that it took several minutes of Yato convincing Yukine that he was actually awake. Others would have him waking up sweating, hyperventilating, crying, screaming, or so nauseous that he'd try to stumble to the bathroom on pure muscle memory. To Yato's dismay, it was often a combination of those terrible things.
Yukine would never know how much it hurt Yato to see him suffer like this. He also didn't realize how frustrating it was for Yukine to reject him when he obviously needed him. Sometimes all Yato could do was endure Yukine’s scolding for staying awake with him as he stubbornly tried to pull himself together on his own. Other times, in his worst moments, Yukine would reach for him or call out to him. After Yato would stay by his side or hold him for awhile, Yukine's embarrassment as a forever 14-year-old would eventually overpower his craving for comfort. Inevitably, Yukine would push Yato away.
Thankfully, the nightmares hadn't been as frequent as they once were. In fact, Yukine had been showing good improvement, as he didn't seem to be involuntarily transforming into his wolf-like ayakashi form as often. Tonight was different though. Yukine had been writhing around on the floor in his wolf form for about 10 minutes before shifting back into a human boy. Even though Yato had been encouraged by Yukine's recent progress, tonight felt like one of the worst reactions to a nightmare that Yukine had experienced in awhile. Yato's chest ached.
After a few more minutes, Yukine's body didn't shake as violently, but he still struggled to speak between labored breaths.
"Yato," his breath hitched, "I'm sorry."
Yato blinked. "Sorry? For what?"
"Everything."
The weight behind that one word was heavy enough to make Yato's heart to sink again.
"Yukine. . ."
Words started pouring out of his young shinki as if it were his ablution. They grew louder and louder until Yukine was almost shouting.
"Yato, I—I'm sorry for hurting you! I fought you and Kazuma! I said horrible things to you! I'm sorry for asking your dad to give me a name and I'm sorry I didn't trust you! I just—I'm so—I'm so sorry!" Yukine started to sob again. Yato held him close, his heart aching to see Yukine so broken. Whatever nightmare the kid had, it was obviously a terrible one for him to be in such a state.
"Yukine, listen to me." Yato waited a few seconds for Yukine to catch his breath. "It's okay."
"How can you say that?!" Yukine cried. "I'm your blessed vessel—your guide! I'm supposed to protect you and I . . ."
Yukine couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence and Yato felt his shirt being pulled as the child's grasp on his t-shirt strengthened.
"Yukine, I'm the one who's sorry."
Yukine lifted his head to meet Yato's eyes, but Yato had already closed his own as a feeling of regret almost overwhelmed him. Yato had hundreds of years' worth of regrets, but nothing compared to Yukine being forced to face the memories of his death without him, and even worse, Yukine went through that horror poisoned by his manipulative father.
"I should have been with you when your memories of—when you were starting to remember. . ."
It was Yato's turn to not finish his sentence. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, especially when Yukine's horrifying final moments alive flashed through his mind. When he opened his eyes again, he knew by the look on the child's face that Yukine understood what he had left unsaid. Yato took a breath.
"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before I left. I left you behind because if something happened to me, I wanted you to be okay. At the time, I felt like it was the only choice I had, but you. . ."
Yukine listened quietly. It was rare for him to not jump in with his own comments and opinions. Yato couldn't tell if it was because Yukine was trying to be supportive or if it was because he didn't feel very well. Maybe it was both. Yukine seemed to be waiting for Yato to continue, but Yato hesitated.
To say he was uncomfortable was an understatement. He didn’t exactly know how to do this. Yato never had anyone he could truly talk to before meeting Hiyori and Yukine and, even then, he struggled to tell them much about himself. It’s not like his dad ever showed him how to have meaningful conversations. His dad's words could never be trusted after all. There was always an angle, always a way to weaponize Yato's feelings or desires. He knew Hiyori and Yukine were nothing like that, but confiding in them still didn't come naturally. Now, here Yato was, trying to figure out what to say to a kid who knew all too well about that aspect of him.
There had been multiple times in the past when he hadn’t told Yukine the full truth or much of anything really, and when Yukine found out later, it really upset him. Yukine always angrily pointed out that he was his blessed vessel and his guide—that he should be able to tell him anything. Though Yato never admitted it, he knew Yukine was right. Maybe he could try now. He didn't really have any other ideas.
Yato resisted the urge to clutch his chest as he remembered feeling Yukine’s painful emotions when they were apart, back when Yukine's name was cracking on his collarbone. Yato took a breath.
“When I left you, you felt unwanted and abandoned. You were scared. You were. . . drowning. Every drowning person naturally tries to reach out to someone and my dad was the only one there."
More like my dad made sure he was there to prey on you.
Yato gritted his teeth as he looked away.
"It was my fault.”
Yukine weakly tugged on Yato's shirt in protest.
"No, it was—"
"Yukine."
Yukine's eyes widened slightly at the authority in Yato's tone.
"I appreciate that you take the responsibility of being my guide seriously, but I also have a responsibility to you as your master. You don't need to feel guilty about this anymore. This one's on me."
Despite his best efforts, it was obvious to Yato that he hadn't fully convinced him. The kid looked like he wanted to say more, but he almost seemed too tired to argue. Yukine's weary and glistening eyes were still fixed on him so Yato took the chance to gently push back Yukine's hair to feel his forehead. It was warm, maybe even feverishly so. Yato smiled sadly, his voice softening.
"We both made choices we wish we could take back. You may have regrets, but don't forget you made me into a god of fortune, a god of happiness. You and Hiyori were why I could finally cut ties with my dad. I’m here now because I asked you to show me the way and you helped me become who I wanted to be.” Yato's eyes softened in realization.
"Yukine, you made me who I am."
Tears silently rolled down Yukine's face. The boy didn't say anything. He just lowered his head and leaned once again into Yato's chest.
Suddenly, Yato felt something unexpected settle over the room. The air was thick with tension and Yato sensed a mixture of fear and uncertainty from Yukine. Had he said something wrong? Yato didn't know what else to say or what to do next. He just kept his arms wrapped around his kid and hoped it would be enough. The long moment of uncomfortable silence was only broken occasionally by Yukine's sniffles. Then, out of the quiet, came the smallest, most fragile voice he had ever heard from Yukine.
"So you don't regret naming me?"
Yukine curled up with his muscles tensed, like he was terrified of the answer—like he was bracing for the impact of whatever words were coming. Yato was stunned.
"Of course not. I love you, kid."
WAIT.
Did he actually just say "I love you?" To Yukine? To the epitome of teenagers? Yato's thoughts started racing. Best case scenario, Yukine wouldn’t look him in the eye for a full day. Worst case. . . Yato felt himself grow pale as a horrifying thought crossed his mind. What if Yukine told Kofuku and Daikoku what he said? Yato almost physically recoiled from imagining their over-the-top reactions. Suddenly reincarnating didn’t seem so bad. What made things worse was when Yato realized that Yukine probably sensed his internal panic. He was leaning against his chest after all. He could probably feel the difference in his heart rate and his hands were probably sweatier than usual too. Yato almost sighed. He'd never hear the end of this.
Yato couldn’t see his shinki's face from this position, but he was starting to suspect that Yukine may have actually died from embarrassment. The kid hadn't shown any perceivable reaction. In fact, he hadn't even moved or made a sound. The room was painfully silent. Still, a part of Yato didn’t regret saying he loved the kid. He definitely didn't think before saying it, but it didn't change the truth.
He meant what he said.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Yukine showed the first sign of life. He turned his head, burying his face into Yato's shirt. Yato could barely make out the words of Yukine's muffled, yet flat voice.
"Idiot. Why are you like this?"
A grin burst across Yato's face.
"Did you not hear anything I said? It wouldn’t kill you to actually listen to your master once in awhile, you know.”
He gently ruffled Yukine's blond hair.
”You made me who I am, remember? This one's on you."
Yukine made a couple of noises that sounded suspiciously like tired laughter and, to Yato's surprise, Yukine didn't push him away like he had so many times before. Instead, Yato felt him melt, his shoulders finally relaxing and his grip on his shirt loosened. Yato rested his chin in Yukine's soft hair. He didn't say anything more and neither did Yukine. They didn't need to. The two of them were finally able to rest in the moment, comforted by each other's presence.
After a while, Yukine's breathing became even and unlabored, a sure sign that he had fallen back asleep. Yato slowly laid him down in his futon and very carefully pulled the cover over him. Yato glanced back over his own shoulder, considering returning to his own futon, but ultimately decided he should stick close to Yukine for the rest of the night. The kid may be embarrassed in the morning, but he'd just have to get over it.
Yato slowly laid down next to his sleeping shinki. It was strangely quiet now. Yato could only hear the faint ticking of a nearby clock and Yukine's steady breathing. There was a moment of stillness before Yukine shifted and turned on his side, giving Yato a clear view of his face.
Yukine’s face was still a little reddened from crying, but his eyes were gently closed and his features were finally free of tension. His lips were slightly parted as he slowly breathed in and out. His golden hair lay across his forehead and face. Yato took in the sight of his kid finally sleeping peacefully as he reached over and gently brushed a lock of Yukine's hair out of his eyes. He pulled back his hand and rested it next to his face as his eyelids became heavy with exhaustion. It didn't take long for Yato to close his eyes.
He was almost asleep when he heard the sound of slowly shifting fabric, followed by the sensation of something on his arm. Yato's eyes drowsily opened to see Yukine was still sleeping soundly in the same position, but his small fingers were now gently curled around Yato's wrist. A small smile appeared on Yato's face as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.