Please, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger. (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

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Some SPOILERS for episodes eight and nine of the anime and the Yukine arc of the manga (but I don't think they're spoilers that no one saw coming. It's pretty obvious what's going to happen).

Noragami is a really adorable, really short anime. If you have the time, you should definitely check it out!

…

Anyway, I have MOVED this story's mature content COMPLETELY to another site. You can find this STORY and all its subsequent UPDATES here, just remove the spaces and asterisks (*): h*t*t*p :/ archiveofourown. o*r*g /works/1997979

I have the same penname there as I do here: ParadiseAvenger

X X X

The schoolyard smelled of cafeteria food, cherry blossoms, and urine. Iki Hiyori stepped cautiously, mindful of the shards of the broken box cutter lying on the ground and the puddle nearby. She crouched down beside the poor bullied student and put her hand on his warm back. She opened her mouth, about to speak, about to ask what had happened, about to try to console this terrible situation. Abruptly, from somewhere above, a familiar voice rang out.

"Wow. I'm surprised you were able to hold back all on your own," came the voice of the lazy god Hiyori had found herself involved with over the past few months. "I was ready to dump purification water on it if things turned ugly."

Hiyori snapped her head up to glower at him, suddenly aware of his sweet scent permeating the air. He stood on the staircase above, looking down at them with his bright blue eyes glowing in the dim shadows of the fading sunlight. At times like this, it was easy to see him as the 'Scary God' that Kofuku had told her about.

"I remembered what you said," the bullied student said, breaking Hiyori away from her thoughts. "How if I used this—" he swept a trembling hand at the broken blade "—to hurt someone, then I really wouldn't belong anywhere. I wouldn't even be human anymore. I realized that I needed to be strong, stronger than the ones who bullied me."

Hiyori's lips curved into a worried smile as she watched slow tears move down the young man's cheeks. "Manabu-kun," she murmured and pulled him gently to his feet.

His hands still trembled slightly as he pulled away from her, but his gaze was unwavering. "I guess everyone will just go back to ignoring me," he said sadly with a smile that didn't quite reach his tear-filled eyes.

"Man," Yato sighed as he walked down the stairs. Hiyori paused for a moment to glance at the god, wondering why he was taking the time to walk down the stairs when he could have just jumped over the railing. "Kids these days… They think school is just a competition to have the most friends."

Hiyori shot Yato a glare, protectively folding her hand over the bullied student's shoulder. Who was he to preach about friends or school? Yato was an invisible god without a single shrine and a half-filled bottle of five yen coins that couldn't buy a decent dinner. His name and phone number were scrawled all over the city like graffiti, but no one ever called or spoke his name.

"One is enough," Yato continued in a soft voice. "Find one person who is completely unique and likes you for who you are."

The bullied student wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded, just once, to show that he understood. Then, he gathered up the pieces of the broken blade, threw them into the garbage, and walked away. Yato and Hiyori remained where they stood, watching him go. Hiyori breathed deeply, thankful for the wonderful scent of Yato's skin and hair that chased away the lingering smells of fear and urine.

"Things almost took a really bad turn back there. I can't believe you gave him a knife." Hiyori asked, "Will he be alright?"

Yato rolled his narrow shoulders and a fleeting wince moved across his pale face. "The other kid peed his pants so I don't think he'll tell anyone what happened."

Hiyori sighed, her heart lightening. Even if Yato's execution had been irresponsible and dangerous, she knew he wouldn't have let anything happen to the bullied youth. He had been watching, prepared to step in to save the life of either student. He really was a good person, watchful in the way that no other god seemed to be. Maybe that was because his believers were so few and far between and his friends were even scarcer. Would he change if he developed a following and became a god that everyone prayed to?

Hiyori pushed those thoughts away. "I hope he finds a good friend," she murmured, watching as the bullied student disappeared around the side of the school.

As she looked at Yato then, her dark musings returned. She thought about how he didn't have a shrine or anything more than some five yen coins to his name. He wore the same threadbare jersey everyday with that tattered scarf looped around his neck. It was sad, she thought. He was a good person, a decent god, a nice guy. He didn't deserve to be ignored or picked on, least of all by her. She was about to say something comforting to him when he spoke.

"I'd like someone like that too," Yato murmured and looked off towards the setting sun.

Before Hiyori could say anything to answer that heartbreaking statement, there was a distant sound of shattering glass. Someone screamed, high and shrill.

Hiyori whirled around, her hair and skirt swirling with the motion. "What was that sound?"

Yato didn't answer.

The air moved, softly and without breeze. Something thumped, landing hard on the ground as if it had been dropped from a great height. Hiyori turned, but the space where Yato had been standing before was empty. He lay on the ground, facedown, his thin back lifting and falling raggedly as he gasped for breath.

"Yato!" she gasped.

The sound of breaking glass came again, echoed with a scream that was raw and agonized. It was a sound of loss, as pure and cutting as glass, and marked with sharp potent rage. Each sound moved visibly through Yato's body, ripping into him like physical wounds. His shoulders jerked and curled, his legs pulled in, and his fingers raked against the ground. He choked, breath wheezing and rattling in his lungs.

"Yato!"

Hiyori could hear the commotion of students screaming as more and more glass shattered.

Teachers shouted, calling out and demanding, "Who's there?" and "Who is it?"

It was in that moment that Hiyori realized what was happening. Yukine—Yato's shinki, the weapon that was bound to him and him alone—was giving into temptation. Though Yato had told Hiyori that Yukine was linked to him on a level that no human could understand, she had thought she had some grasp on the situation. She hadn't realized…

Again, the sound of shattering glass and screaming reached her.

Yato cried out sharply, his voice muffled by his hand.

Whenever a shinki gave into human sins, Yato felt a sting. Hiyori hadn't understood that that sting would linger and fester like a wound left untreated until it blighted Yato. Yukine was breaking, giving into his grief and rage, and Yato was feeling everything. He had been withstanding it for so long and Hiyori hadn't listened to him. She had helped Yukine, covered for his bad behavior since he was nothing more than a poor dead spirit. She hadn't understood just how much Yato was suffering.

Hiyori gripped Yato's shoulders and rolled him gently onto his back. He whimpered softly, breath hissing out between his clenched teeth, and Hiyori's heartbeat caught in her throat like a stone. Hideous dark marks, dense purple leaning towards black in color almost like bruises, spanned across Yato's face and hands. Even as she watched, they visibly spread and darkened. He stared up at her, his blue eyes only slits through the agony he must have felt.

"Yato!" she gasped. "Say something, Yato! Tell me what to do."

His lips parted, but no sound came out. Yato's fingers clenched in the material over his chest and he trembled.

Again, the sound of glass shattering reached them and Yato stifled a scream of pain. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye.

Panic shot through Hiyori's chest like a bullet, searing her from the inside out. What should she do? Yato was dying! Suddenly, in a moment of clarity that came through the fear like a light through darkness, she remembered something Yato had told her. How long ago had it been? He had pulled her close, enveloping her in the scent of his body, and whispered that if anything ever happened to him, she should go straight to Kofuku and her shinki, Daikoku.

Shedding her body was as easy as taking off a winter coat. Immediately, the lightness and purity of being only a spirit overwhelmed Hiyori. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Yato's neck and embraced him tightly as if she could comfort him. Weakly, his hand pressed against her chest as if to push her away. Only a moment too late did Hiyori remember that blight was contagious between spirits and then there was only searing pain.

She pulled away sharply and looked at her hand. Already, the dark marks were spreading across her skin. There was no accurate way to describe the throbbing agony that followed in its wake. Hiyori imagined that this was what a flesh-eating disease might feel like. The blight ate away at her skin and bones, sinking deeper and deeper, but she never grew numb to the agony. It remained, rotting through her spirit from the inside out.

"T-this is…?" Hiyori whispered. "This is blight?" She glanced down at the wounds spreading across every inch of Yato's visible skin. "You've been enduring it… all this time?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking her sight of his beautiful blue eyes so shadowed with pain.

"Get up. Come on," she said to him urgently. "You'll die, Yato!"

Yato didn't move. He didn't seem able to.

Steeling herself, Hiyori pulled him into a half-sitting position and eased his arms across her shoulders. Immediately, she felt the blight on her own body began to spread and deepen. The pain was excruciating, but she forced herself to bear it. Yato was dying. She had to get him to Kofuku before that happened. Hiyori called on Tono-sama, her favorite wrestler, and pleaded for him to lend her his strength. With surprising ease, she was able to stand while bearing Yato's weight.

Yato's body was shockingly light, stunningly warm, almost insubstantial. It was like carrying a child. Hiyori suddenly feared that every moment she wasted was just a little more of him that she was losing. She hefted his body a little higher on her back, biting her lower lip to hold back the whimper of anguish as his blight spread further over her. She could sense that he wanted to protest her harming herself just for him, but he was too weak to argue.

It was an easy matter to find Yukine. She followed the trail of destruction and broken glass, listening to Yato whimper quietly with every step she took and every breath he managed. She moved quickly, easily, with his weight soft and thin against her back. She found Yukine hear the entrance to the school, holding a bat and weeping.

"Yukine-kun," she called firmly.

He turned to face her, bright orange eyes red-rimmed and shadowed. His face was like a jack-o-lantern. When he took in the sight of the dark blight on her face and the slumped body of Yato that she carried, something in his expression cracked like a candle being snuffed out. "What is…? What happened…?"

"Yato was trying to withstand it," Hiyori said softly. "Every time you do something bad, Yato feels this suffering. Even so… he kept enduring it… for you…"

"But—!" Yukine protested and his voice broke with emotion and tears. It was an easy matter for him to pretend he didn't care when Yato was shouting at him for doing bad things, but to see the stray god that had taken him in suffer so clearly was an entirely different matter.

"I should have tried to stop you like he did," Hiyori whispered as the blight crept in around her eye. "I'm sorry, Yato." Then, she lifted him a little higher on her back. His breath rasped against her shoulder and he trembled. If possible, he felt even lighter, thinner, as if he was wasting away even as she held him. "Let's go, Yukine-kun. You're coming with us."

Then, she leaped into the air and bounded along the telephone lines that ran all throughout the city. She didn't turn to see if Yukine was following her. She could hear him panting behind her, struggling to keep up. Yato murmured softly, his breath rattling in his lungs like shards of something broken. Hiyori closed her hands around his thin thighs, holding him tight and close against her back even if the blight just seared through her more greedily for how securely she held him.

Hiyori smelled the fried rice before they reached Kofuku and Daikoku's house.

She leaped down from the wires and landed hard, staggering on the uneven ground. Panting for breath, Hiyori managed to find her footing and released Yato with one hand to bang on the door. He was so light now, as if water moved beneath his skin rather than bone or muscle.

Daikoku opened the door a moment later and Hiyori let out a breath of relief at the sight of the hulking man. Kofuku stood behind him, her eyes wide with shock and horror. They stared at the sight of Yato for only a moment before Hiyori's relief ended. With a sharp shout, Daikoku threw out his hand and drew a borderline between himself, his god, and the trio that showed up on his doorstep.

"Yato-chan!" Kofuku gasped, her painted nails pressed to her lips.

The force of the barrier threw Hiyori backwards and Yato fell from her grasp. He cried out as he hit the ground, blood seeping from the corner of his lips. He lay on his side, strewn like a paper doll, so thin and fading ever more. Hiyori glanced at him and then threw herself at the glowing barricade, beating her small fists on it.

"Please!" she begged. "Please, you have to help! Yato is… he's going to die! Please!"

After a moment, Daikoku said, "I'll only let you in."

The barrier abruptly gave beneath Hiyori's hands and she stumbled beyond it, coming up just sort of touching Kofuku and spreading the blight. "T-thank you," she began, "but Yato…"

"Come inside," Kofuku said quickly. "We need to cleanse your blight."

"But—"

Kofuku beckoned her and Hiyori barely had the presence of mind to remove her shoes before entering the house. Kofuku brought her to small bathroom and turned on a tap with a garden hose attached to it. She let the water run for a few moments, comforted by the sound and purity, before turning to Hiyori. "This water comes directly from a spring," she explained. "It's cleansing. Wash your body with it and the blight will—"

"Yato needs this too," Hiyori protested even as the blight ate over a patch of thin sensitive skin behind her ear and she winced.

Kofuku shook her head. "This won't help Yato-chan anymore," she murmured. "Hurry and wash your body, Hiyorin, and then come out to the porch. I'll be waiting."

Before Hiyori could protest, Kofuku was gone from the bathroom. With shaking hands, Hiyori stripped off her uniform, stricken to see the amount of blight that had spread across her chest and stomach. Without the feeling of carrying Yato to focus on, the agonizing pain washed over her. Quickly, Hiyori took the small sprayer and pressed it to her chest. The water was cold, but it numbed the blight even as it cured it. Finally, she was able to breathe.

…

Kofuku bid Daikoku farewell as he departed to find two other shinkis to perform the ritual that would save Yato's life and Yukine's soul. Then, she knelt down on the porch and watched over the nightmarish image strewn across her lawn. Yukine stood to one side, his face shadowed with shame and potent emotion. Without Hiyori holding and anchoring him, Yato was lost to the pain that raged through his slender body. He convulsed, hands knotting over his throat and in the thin material of his jersey. He cried out softly, weakly, frailly.

The corruption and blight caused by Yukine's horrible behavior was devouring and destroying him.

When Hiyori finished washing away the blight, Kofuku had just received a phone call from Daikoku. It must have been bad news because her smile was thin and didn't reach her eyes. She returned to sitting on the porch, holding vigil, patient and watchful, even though her presence could do nothing.

Hiyori came to stand beside her for a moment, looking down at Yato's shrinking form. Hiyori couldn't do anything to help Yato. She couldn't even hold his hand without the blight spreading through her again. She was useless, she was nothing to him—not a god, not a shinki, and just half a spirit. She was only human.

"We need one more shinki," Kofuku murmured more to herself than to Hiyori. "Just one more."

Yato cried out sharply, blood running between his lips.

Hiyori couldn't watch anymore. She had to do something. She had to try. She made her way through the city quickly, practically flying, until she reached Bishamon's shrine. Though the war goddess was out to kill Yato, one of her shinkis had told Hiyori that Yato was his benefactor. He had even warned Hiyori about Yukine's behavior, but she hadn't listened. If only he would come to aid Yato now… She screamed his name, over and over and over until her throat was raw.

"Kazuma-san! Kazuma-san!"

If only—

Hiyori returned with Kazuma just as Daikoku and a shinki who had once been Yato's, Mayu, arrived. Everyone was gathered in the yard though it didn't look like much had changed. Yukine was still standing just where Hiyori had left him, Kofuku waited on the porch with her hands clasped together, and Yato remained on the ground. Was there more blood around him, seeping from his mouth? Had the blight spread further across his pale skin?

Mayu was crouched beside him, calling his name as if she could bring him back through willpower alone. They had once been connected as god and shinki and, for just a moment, Hiyori was jealous of that bond. If only she could be of help to Yato… but she had done all she could.

Kazuma knelt beside Yato as well, pulled his sleeve over his hand, and gingerly peeled up Yato's jersey. His stomach was thin and flat, but the blight had spread all down his back and over his ribcage. "Yato," Kazuma asked softly. "Can you hear me?"

Yato opened his eyes just a fraction, bright blue shining through the darkness of the stain on his skin.

"You have to revoke Yukine's name and banish him," Kazuma continued. "Your condition is too serious to endure."

With more strength than he had shown this entire time, Yato shook his head vehemently.

A little shard of Hiyori's heart shattered for him.

"An ablution is the only option," Daikoku said fiercely. "He won't see reason."

Things happened quickly after that.

Watching the ablution of the boy Hiyori considered almost a brother was one of the hardest things she had ever had to watch. Screaming, he changed into a monster almost beyond recognition. Each sin he committed speared through Yato, ripping and shredding the stray god. He screamed sometimes, deep heart-wrenching sounds of agony and hope. Blood spread around him. There were times when Hiyori didn't think either of them would survive. She begged the trio of shinkis to stop, but they continued into the night.

Kofuku stood off to the side with Hiyori, holding onto her when she tried to run to help. Though she spoke, explaining what was happening, Hiyori couldn't hear the words. Her eyes were fastened on Yato and Yukine, watching in horror as more of Yato withered while more of Yukine raged out of control. Yato convulsed, spitting blood, looking as if he wanted to do something as the strife of Yukine's death poured out of the boy. The pain crippled Yato and he sank into the dirt, gasping and choking.

Then, the ablution stormed beyond all semblance of control. Yukine's voice morphed, changing and screaming into the darkest phantom sounds. He roared for everyone to die, to be dead like him, to be alone like him. The shinkis fought to hold him within the prison they had created, trying to cleanse him, but his anguish moved out of control. Yato's voice vanished into the black agony even as his lips parted. He curled inward desperately, trying to hold himself together with his hands.

Then, in a moment when it should have all been over, Hiyori broke free of Kofuku's hands and shouted, "Stop it, Yukine-kun!" Her voice echoed through everything, slicing deep like the knife Yato had given the bullied student. It carved through the blight, through the impurities, through the phantoms and the corruption. "Can't you see you're hurting Yato? Even when you hurt him, even when you betrayed him, Yato endured it all. If you're going to kill someone like that, then we're not friends anymore!"

No one would ever know where Yato found the strength to speak after that. Greater gods with more shinki and more believers had died for less blight than this. Yato should have died three times over by now, but he held on with those fingers as thin as sticks of incense. Somehow, he even found the power to speak and he said, "It's true that you can't interact with the living on equal terms ever again, but… Yukine, I granted you a person's name… so live as a person!"

Just like that, it was over. The light that spread from Yukine's name was as blinding and warm as the sun. Like blood pouring from a wound, he confessed everything he had done. Sobbing and shaking, Yukine apologized until there was nothing left.

At some point, Hiyori turned away from Yukine to look down at Yato. Though the young god still lay in the dirt, blood dripping from her corner of his lips and the blight marring his pale face, he looked peaceful. For a moment, Hiyori feared that he had died despite everything they had done. Then, she saw the slow rise and fall of his back as he breathed and his bright blue eyes flickered open. He looked at her and then he smiled.

Morning dawned slowly.

It felt like an eternity had passed before the ablution finished and everyone found themselves slumped, exhausted, inside Kofuku's house. She rushed about like an eager mother, dropping wet cloths over everyone's faces and patting Yato's battered skin with purified water. Yukine was still crying and apologizing, wiping his face with his hands, pathetically shirtless. Hiyori watched, tired to her very core.

"I thought I was going to die back there," Yato and Yukine groaned once Kofuku deemed them healed.

"You're already dead," Kofuku said to Yukine helpfully.

Daikoku sighed heavily. "This is why I hate performing ablutions," he muttered.

Yato turned away from Yukine, his face pale but healthier than it had looked in weeks. "Thank you for helping this dimwit. I appreciate it," he said as if his own life hadn't been on the line as well.

"You'd better," Kazuma said and took his glasses off to wipe his face with a damp cloth Kofuku supplied.

"I never thought it would cause you this much trouble either, Hiyori," Yato said and turned his head to grasp Yukine by the arm. "Come here and apologize to Hiyori." He put his hand on top of Yukine's blond head and pushed it down in a graceless bow. "We're sorry," Yato said fiercely.

"I'm sorry, Hiyori," Yukine wailed. "I'm sorry."

When she didn't immediately respond (and a god bowing to you and apologizing was a pretty big deal that most people would react to), Yato looked up at her through his hair. Hiyori's rose-colored eyes were filled with tears and she was biting her lower lip to keep from crying. Even as he watched, she sniffled and gasped out, "I'm glad! I'm so glad you're alright!" Then, with a half-stifled sob, she threw her arms around both of them and hugged them tightly.

Hiyori pressed her face into the soft dark hair on the side of Yato's head and breathed in the sweet smell of him. She pulled him closer, squeezing with all the strength of her spiritual body. Yato's narrow bony shoulders felt insubstantial beneath her hands, fragile and slender. At the time, Hiyori thought that he only felt that way because of what he had just been through. She hugged him a little tighter, holding him to her with willpower alone.

Yukine wrapped his arms around her waist and clung to Hiyori, sobbing his heart out. His small body trembled, wracked with emotion, but he felt solid to Hiyori's clutching fingers. After a long moment, Yato lifted his hand and laid it along Hiyori's back. His touch was as light and soft as a butterfly's, fleeting but so warm. His fingers curled gently over the fabric of her shirt, smoothing it down against her skin. Even as he touched her, his caress seemed to fall away. Maybe Hiyori's spiritual body made it seem that way.

As she held them, she let those thoughts slide away. Yato was here, he was alive, and Yukine had been mended from the inside out. Everything was alright. Everything would be okay. The buttery sun hung in the sky, streaming its rays down on the small smiling assembly.

When it was all over, it felt like years had passed them by.

…

In the months that followed, Hiyori touched Yato whenever she could without raising questions. It was easy enough to do so. Aside from glancing over at her with his intensely bright eyes, Yato never mentioned how she was always brushing her hand along his shoulder, smoothing his mussed hair, or running her fingers down the line of his threadbare jersey.

Hiyori was surprised to find that Yato's body felt different each time she touched him. Sometimes, his back was like a fortress as strong and solid as stone. Other times, Hiyori felt as if her touch was enough to break him. His shoulders moved like water, melting away beneath her fingers. Most of the time, his body was as incorporeal as a wisp of smoke or a scrap of fog. He flit through Hiyori's hands, through the memories of others, as if he had never been there.

With a jolt, Hiyori wondered if this was why humans so easily forgot him. Was it because of his body? Though he was amazingly handsome, his features always seemed to remind her of someone else. Only his eyes stood out sharply, belonging only to him. He didn't have much presence, only his scent ever seemed to linger. Her mind flew back to the time she had carried him to Kofuku's place, blighted and dying. He had been so light, so fragile, so slender…

He was so forgettable—just an unknown god without a single shrine and only a bottle of five yen coins to his half-remembered name.

And yet, Yato was so strong. Since Hiyori had known him, he had defeated countless phantoms. Though he had failed to return her body to normal and prevent her soul from sliding out, he had helped so many other people even though they forgot him soon afterwards. Even the bullied student Yato had practically saved had forgotten him. He remembered only Hiyori and thanked her for helping him with his bullies. Yato was an ethereal dream and his body reflected that.

"Yato?" Hiyori asked suddenly.

He and Yukine were walking ahead of her, heads tilted back to admire the cherry blossoms overhead and arguing half-heartedly about money. Yato's sweet scent mingled with the perfumes of the flowers, making Hiyori dizzy. He stopped walking when she didn't speak, letting her catch up to them.

Hiyori slid into step between them with a small shake of her head. After a moment, Hiyori reached out her hand and closed her fingers around his wrist. Yato didn't react save to glance over at her and smile thinly. He accepted her touch as if it had always been there.

Hiyori ran her fingers along the sensitive skin inside his wrist, trying to pinpoint what touching him felt like today. His skin was like water. She was aware that she was touching him, felt the heat of his skin, but there was no real sensation. He moved through her hands like smoke, liquid and then gone as if he had never existed. Hiyori tightened her grasp, unwilling to let him go, and Yato slid his hand within hers so that he could hold it securely.

She glanced up at his face, surprised. This was the first time Yato had ever returned her touch even though he soaked them up gratefully. It was as if… he was preparing himself for the time when she would forget him and her caresses would be gone.

"Yato," she said again.

He looked at her, his bright blue eyes glowing as if lit from the inside.

She shook her head and squeezed his hand gently. Hiyori couldn't be certain, but she was pretty sure that was when she started to fall in love with him—irrevocably, unfailingly, perfectly. A warm breeze moved through the trees, whispering, and petals obscured her vision. Only his warm hold on her hand and the scent of him assured her that he was still there.

…

Fluffy white flakes were falling beyond Hiyori's bedroom window, lit by the moonlight so they were reminiscent of the fireflies in summer, and everything was peaceful. Hiyori didn't know what had woken her from her slumber. Pushing back her tousled hair, she sat up and turned on her bedside lamp. Abruptly, a startled shadow flashed through the sudden brightness and Hiyori immediately went through her repertoire of borrowed wrestling moves. As it opened her window to slip out into the snowy night, she recognized it.

"Yato!" she exclaimed sternly. "What are you doing here?"

He froze, half-in and half-out of the threshold. "Um," he said helplessly.

"Do you always hide in my room while I'm sleeping?" Hiyori continued stridently. "That's creepy!"

"Sorry," Yato said, his cheeks going pink with shame. "Usually, I stay outside and watch through the window, but it's cold. I didn't think you'd notice."

Hiyori opened her mouth, but was unable to speak as his words sunk in. She knew he feared her forgetting him, but she had never thought that it would lead him to lurk outside her window like a misplaced shadow. How long had he sat outside in the cold, watching over her, before sneaking inside? Suddenly, she couldn't be angry at him any longer.

With a sigh, Hiyori patted the space on the bed beside her. "Close the window," she murmured. "Come. Sit."

If she had been holding onto any anger, it would have disappeared just then as Yato closed the window and came towards her with an expression walking the line between desperation and open adoration. He sat on the edge of her bed and his weight barely rumpled the covers. The mattress didn't even dip. He really was just a slip of wind and Hiyori reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers to assure herself that he was really there. He allowed this, looking at her with those eyes of his that seemed to glow in the dark.

"You don't… have to do that, you know?" Hiyori murmured in the silence.

"What?" he asked.

"Watch me," she said. "I won't forget you. I promised, remember?"

Yato nodded in a way that said he didn't really believe her, as if he had heard those words before and had his heart broken. Hiyori ran her thumb across his knuckles, feeling the texture of his skin even as the sensation of him faded.

"Why do you feel like this?" she murmured suddenly.

Yato looked down at their hands, at the slow trace of her fingertip along the dark veins. "Like what?"

"I can't describe it," Hiyori whispered, shaking her head slowly. "Like the time I carried you to Kofuku's, you were so light that I outran Yukine. I can touch you. I know I can, but still… it feels like I'm not."

Yato's brow lifted. "What do you mean?"

Hiyori looked up and met his eyes, falling into the intense blue depths until she was drowning within his scent. All at once, his skin seemed to solidify beneath her fingers. It felt normal, like she was touching any other human, but then… it also felt nothing like that. Where her hand was folded over his, tiny fireworks exploded all along her nerves. She was hyper-aware of the places where they touched, of the closeness of his body, of his sweet scent, and her body hummed with it.

Heat coursed through her veins. It rushed through her, tightening in her chest and then sliding lower. Curious, she ran her hand up his arm, over his shoulder, and pressed her hand to the side of his throat. Though he looked puzzled, he did nothing to stop her as she caressed the pale skin hidden by his ragged scarf. A little tremor ran through him, goose bumps rising all long his collarbones and arms, as she touched him. He had never felt anything like her touch before.

Hiyori allowed her fingers to slide upwards along the column of his throat. His pulse beat slowly, steadily, strongly, like a drum just beneath his skin. She cupped his face in her hand and ran her thumb along the curve of his cheek. Her fingertips caressed the shell of his ear and tangled in the soft tresses there. Then, she threaded her fingers through his dark hair and tugged lightly. Yato's head moved with her, dipping closer, and suddenly she could feel his breath on her lips.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Hiyori hesitated, but Yato had the patience of an immortal. Breathing quietly, shakily, he remained seated beside her. His scent wrapped all around her, sweet and wonderful, and she breathed deeply until her heart stopped pounding like it wanted to escape her body.

After a long moment, her desire to kiss him overwhelmed her fear that his lips would be as insubstantial as his hands usually were. Hiyori finally leaned in to close the space between them. So lightly, she ghosted her lips against his. She could feel the heat of his breath, the softness of his skin, the tingle where they just barely touched, but that was all. She almost sobbed in shock and horror, but then Yato's warm fingers caught her chin and tugged her closer.

This time, when he kissed her, it was like an explosion of pinwheels and light. His mouth was warm and soft, molding to hers as if he had been cut perfectly just for her. She clutched at his jersey, at his arms, at his shoulders, until he folded her into his embrace. She felt him against her, hard and strong, heavy and alive. She kissed him with more passion, clumsy and desperate. She ran her hands through his hair, along his back, against his cheeks.

His lips parted like the petals of a flower and the warm wetness of his tongue moved along her lower lip. She gasped, surprised, but quickly dissolved into the new sensations. He didn't taste like anything and for a moment, that surprised her. She had always heard that kisses tasted like something, but they didn't. They only felt, a blur and myriad of sensations that threatened to swallow her whole. Breathing out, the ravenous way she kissed him faded.

Gently, delicately, she kissed him. Yato took over gently, smoothing his hands along her hair and cheeks as if memorizing her face. His lips pressed to hers, deepening the kiss as his tongue expertly slipped just behind her teeth and pried a shudder of delight from her. She nearly bit him, but stopped just short, feeling his tongue scrape along her teeth. He murmured softly, slid his fingers around her jaw, and drew back to kiss her lips as lightly as prince.

Then, he pulled away to let her breathe.

In the silence that followed, Yato remained seated on her bed. He was close enough that she could have crawled into his lap, but the covers were still barely rumpled as if he didn't exist. When she reached to touch him, his skin still felt firm and strong, unyielding beneath her fingers. She soaked up that feeling, memorizing it to recall later.

"It feels like you change," Hiyori whispered suddenly.

"I am a god," he murmured. "I'm exactly what you want me to be."

She paused, gazing at him and mulling over those words. What did that mean? Did she want Yato to be fleeting and untouchable? Did she want him whole and strong? "But," she began. "Sometimes… it feels like you barely exist."

Yato's eyes darkened with suffering. "Does it?"

Hiyori tightened her grasp on his jersey and pulled him closer as if he would disappear with those words.

"Yato," she began.

"You should get some sleep," Yato murmured. "Don't you have school tomorrow? You don't want to doze off in class and get eaten by a phantom, do you?"

A jolt ran through Hiyori's body and the shock must have shown on her face because he chuckled warmly.

"Don't worry," Yato said and leaned in to brush the tip of his nose along her cheek. He breathed in deeply. "I'll protect you."

Hiyori's fingers knotted in his threadbare jersey, surprised by that admission.

"Tomorrow," Yato whispered.

"What?" she asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he said. "And the day after and the day after… until the day you… forget me…"

"I won't forget you," Hiyori promised.

His blue eyes glowed sadly in the darkness, catching the moonlight like twin mirrors. "I'm glad," he whispered and then leaned in to press another kiss to her lips. Though chaste and precious, this one felt just as strong and solid as the first. For that, Hiyori was grateful.

(And… over 3,000 words of mature content removed and posted only on Archive of Our Own.)

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