A/N:

I'm very happy with how this story came out - it's short, but I think it's pretty good. No romance, only bromance - I don't do yaoi or shounen-ai or any sort of girl/girl or guy/guy pairings, sorry. Please review, so I can improve!

Benefactor

Yato was his benefactor, the one who had saved Bishamonten's life and fulfilled Kazuma's wish; the one who had protected Bishamonten at the cost of her going after his life.

Kazuma was forever indebted to the calamity god. For years, he kept an eye out for Yato, watching the god and hoping something would come along that would allow Kazuma to finally repay him.

There wouldn't be anything, of course, that could make up for saving his master's life, but Kazuma would try nonetheless.

A year after Bishamonten had gotten over the loss of the "ma" clan, he came across Yato in a clearing near a stream that burbled softly as the cool water rushed over mossy stones. The canopy of the trees had blocked out the morning light, making the entire clearing dim, though sunbeams filtered through the branches, like the bars of a cage of light in which Yato lay sprawled against a stone, taking deep, heavy breaths; the dark captive of a star-bright prison.

"Yato-san?" Yato glanced up, and Kazuma saw that his face was strained with pain. Then Kazuma met his eyes and felt ice run down his spine - the orbs were hard and cold, defensive even then, and they glowed softly with bone-chilling light, like ice under blue light.

"Kazuma," Yato acknowledged, casting him a quick look before leaning his head back on the stone, taking a deep breath.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Blight. I'm gonna release the bastard as soon as I get back," Yato muttered, hand clenching into a fist. His gi slid down his shoulder to reveal a blotch of dark purple, like poison, creeping up and around his neck. Kazuma thought back to the battle that Yato'd had with Bishamonten the previous day, and realised that Yato had indeed been unusually breathless and tired, movements far more sluggish than usual. He'd flinched, too, more than once and without any reason that Kazuma had been able to see. His shinki must have been stabbing him.

"It looks like it's already spread considerably far! Why didn't you release him earlier?" Yato murmured something unintelligible in response.

"What?"

"I thought I'd give the damn boy another chance! But stupid teenagers are always the hardest to deal with." He spoke with the experience of someone well used to the different shinkis, and Kazuma supposed that Yato would know that, seeing how many he'd already had. Kazuma went silent with shock, because this was another of the rare occasions where Yato allowed the tiniest bit of his kind side to show, trying to hold on the the shinki when most gods would have excommunicated it at the first sting.

"You've really been trying, huh?"

"Shut up. It was just a whim," Yato snapped, glaring at Kazuma as if Kazuma had insulted him. Then he sighed, shutting his eyes again. "It's not working out though. I don't think I can…" His voice was tired, breaking. He trailed off, and Kazuma tried pressing him.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"It's nothing," Yato snarled, and Kazuma gave up; Yato was nothing if not stubborn, and wouldn't allow anyone to pry anything he didn't want to talk about out of him.

"Can I ask you a question, then?" Yato eyed him warily.

"What?"

"Why did you never tell Bishamonten that I hired you? You could have spared yourself a lot of pain." He'd seen the deep slashes Bishamonten had carved in Yato's stomach and shoulder - they wouldn't be healing any time soon - and the way Kuraha had mauled Yato's hand, which was now wrapped tightly in bandages. Yato eyed him again, then shut his eyes with a sigh.

"I cut frayed, broken bonds - I can see them, you know? Your bonds with Bishamonten." Kazuma blinked in surprise. He hadn't known; Yato had earned a reputation for being able to cut through anything, but cutting through bonds...

He made a note not to make an enemy out of Yato, the god with eyes cold as ice and a blade that could cut through anything in the world.

"They're not broken, not even the slightest bit frayed," Yato continued quietly. "They're stronger than ever. But don't you think, if I told her, it could fray them? Bonds like yours... They're precious. I want to try protecting something like that, just for once."

"Why?" Kazuma asked. Why hadn't Yato tried to protect his own bonds, why had he chosen to protect the bonds of a shinki and god he didn't really even know instead?

"Because I'm tired of breaking things," Yato replied, looking and sounding so terribly weary, his eyes so tired and pained and completelyexhausted. For all the youth of his body, his eyes were old - older than anything Kazuma had ever seen. And Kazuma didn't know what to say, to something that looked like a child, but spoke with all the wisdom and exhaustion of a tired, world-weary old man; to someone that had eyes filled with such complete, resigned understanding of the horror and terror and pain in the world, but so little knowledge of the things the good and happy and kind. So he said nothing, except a thank you, and Yato cast those weary, worn out eyes on him once more. They were bright and blue, but the glow in them had faded to a small, dying flame behind his irises.

"It's nothing," he said, a third time, and Kazuma wanted to tell him that it was not nothing, because didn't Yato know how much the bond with Bishamonten was worth to Kazuma? Didn't he understand what it meant to Kazuma, that he would suffer so much, just for their sake?

"It's not…"

He had started saying that it was not nothing - that it did matter - to tell Yato how much this meant to him, but one more look at the exhausted, bone-tired eyes mode him stop; he nodded his thanks to Yato, asked if Yato's wounds needed checking. Yato shook his head, the small tail he tied his hair in swinging as he drew his knees up to his chest and put his uninjured arm over them, resting his chin on his arm. Kazuma bowed deeply, and Yato gave the smallest dip of his head in return as Kazuma turned to exit the clearing.

"Oi, Kazuma." Yato's voice echoed once more, and Kazuma turned.

"What is it?" he asked, and Yato's shoulders slumped forward a little.

"I'm really tired," Yato said, and Kazuma nodded. It was easy - too easy; it almost scared him - to see that Yato was both physically and emotionally worn out; what surprised him was that Yato was telling this to him. "I'm not sure I can keep this up, so things may be… different when you next see me."

"Yato?" Kazuma stared at him uncomprehendingly, waiting for further explanation. He got none, though - Yato only gave an almost imperceptible nod as he dug his head even further into his arm, so that it covered most of his face. "Yato, what do you mean?"

"I've tried to become a delivery god, but things aren't working so well. It's because I'm too afraid, I think." Kazuma choked - afraid? Yato? The two words did not belong in the same sentence without a "not" or "never" between them. "I never let down my guard, and I think my clients suspect me of wanting to murder them."This was, unfortunately, very possible, and Kazuma had no trouble visualising it. "I'm going to try to fix things," Yato said, plain and simple, but something in the words felt wrong; foreboding.

And Kazuma realised that everything must have been weighing the god down - his utter and complete lack of believers, and his almost immediate loss of the ones he did have. His horrible luck with shinkis, who betrayed him at every turn, and his attempt to adapt to a new lifestyle of helping rather than killing people. Added to the new threat of the strongest god of war coming after his life, the burden was crushing. No wonder he looked so exhausted, tired down to his very bones - that was what Yato was. He couldn't set down his burdens, couldn't share them or even stop to rest, could only struggle alone, and Yato must've been so tired, so weary. It hurt, it physically hurt, because when Kazuma saw past the shields and defences, it was so obvious that Yato was exhausted, so evident that he needed help.

"Yato." Icy eyes flickered to meet his, locking with them with an almost painful intensity, as if Yato could see right through him, into his heart and soul. No wonder Yato's clients were afraid of him - Yato's very eyes were weapons enough, even with without the god's terrifying combat skills. But right now, Kazuma saw that there was no spirit in his eyes - there never had been. It was as if the god was empty, except for the rare flashes of kindness and emotion that he displayed, as well as that terrible, ever-present exhaustion. There was no one else to help Yato - Kazuma was the only one there to even offer a scrap of support, and he did owe the god. He spoke a few words to Yato, and watched the god's eyes widen with surprise.

Kazuma stood and gave him one last smile. Left the clearing, hoping the god would remember his words. They were all he could give to Yato.

"Don't give up. There will be people who believe in you, one day, and a wonderful, unique person who will stand by you and never leave your side, no matter what you do."

The next time they met, Yato had changed, completely and absolutely. At least, he had on the surface.

His eyes were warm rather than cold; wide and warm as the sky instead of being as cold as ice.

He'd exchanged his gi for a black jersey and cut his hair, so that it hung short around his head.

Kazuma was amazed, that he'd so effectively managed to create a whole new, nearly imperceptible defense in the span of a few years. Yato had changed his eyes from weapons into decorated shields, filling them with false warmth and laughter and joy, and made his actions more cheerful, less deadly. He joked and played around a lot more, and instead of threatening or scaring those who hurt or insulted him, he waved it off with a careless laugh and wide grin.

But Kazuma knew Yato, and he knew that this was not at all how Yato had been. Yato was not unaffected, and he was not as carefree as he would like others to think.

When Yato had said he wanted to fix things, that things may be different, Kazuma hadn't been expecting this.

"Yato?"

"Oh! Hey, Kazuma!" Yet another difference - Yato didn't usually greet him that way.

"You've changed," he said bluntly.

"Yep! Say hello to the new and improved version of Yatogami!" Yato struck a pose and flashed him a wide grin and a wink, and Kazuma couldn't help but compare this new person to the one Yato had been.

He wondered if Yato was happier this way.

They talked for a while, and Yato asked about Bishamonten, whom he had dubbed pervy-san (which made Kazuma's face twitch in ire). Still, it was nice of him to ask, considering that Bishamonten considered Yato her mortal enemy and Yato had spent the past couple of years trying not to be killed or maimed or crippled by her, and since Kazuma would always be indebted to Yato, he let it slide.

"She's fine."

"Still got a damn lot of shinki with her?"

"She's been gathering more, yes."

"The idiot. They're going to betray her, sooner or later."

"Bishamonten knows what she's doing. I won't… I won't allow a repeat of past mistakes," Kazuma snapped, springing to his master's defense. Yato sighed and rubbed his neck, his eyes taking on that weary, tired look that he'd had all those years ago, and Kazuma was reminded that Yato hadn't changed inside, not really. Only his mask was different.

"You can't stop the inevitable," Yato said.

"It is not inevitable."

"But it is. They will forever be spirits, human, Kazuma. You can't stop a human from feeling and hurting - especially not the way Bishamonten hides her pain from them and vice versa. Eventually they'll snap."

"No! They wouldn't -"

"Kazuma." Yato's voice was serious and severe, knife-sharp and diamond-hard. Kazuma flinched and looked up, eyes meeting Yato's blue, all too old ones. "You know it's the truth."

In front of Kazuma alone, Yato didn't bother to put on his childish, immature visage. Or perhaps, that conversation was serious enough that Yato was willing to drop the mask to make Kazuma listen. It struck Kazuma then, how un-childlike it was, and how starkly Yato's eyes and mannerism contrasted with the mask he seemed to favour those days.

"No. I won't let her be hurt or go through any more of those painful experiences again."

"You cannot change it," Yato reiterated, and Kazuma could not help but give in.

"I know. I know! But still I…" He didn't know what to do. Bishamonten was his master, and he, her shinki. He was bound to her, and he had to go along with her insistence to take in any soul she saw, even if…

Even if it would hurt her in the end.

Yato nodded, understanding in his blue eyes.

"Talk to her. Maybe you'll get through her thick skull." He turned to go, clapping Kazuma on one slumped shoulder.

"Yato." The god turned to look at him, blue eyes sharp and probing. "It may be invasive of me, but perhaps the reason your shinki keep leaving is because you don't trust them."

"I know." The reply was calm, if a little downcast, if a little resigned."But how can I trust them?"

Kazuma's head shot up, but Yato had turned and disappeared into the shadows before he could catch a glimpse of his benefactor's hard, sky blue eyes.

His question was answered.

Yato was no happier like that; he was still lonely, still unable to trust, still struggling through his life because even though he refused to die, living was just so damn hard for him.

And Kazuma wondered if Yato remembered those words he had given him as a parting, final gift, so many years ago.

A/N:

Do you like it? Or do you think it's a menace to society and a disgrace to writers everywhere? (Shoot, I really hope it's not the latter, but still...)

Please review to tell me what you think!

God bless!

15/12/2014:

Edited with the help of asdf123150's reviews. Much thanks and I hope this is slightly better!