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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. [redacted]
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.
…
Iki Hiyori wasn’t certain how to explain to her high school friends that she finally had a love other than Tono-sama. They were always making fun of her for only liking ugly guys and she wanted nothing more than to rub their faces in the fact that she had Yato. He was beyond gorgeous, after all, but she never told them anything about her newfound relationship. Besides, even if she introduced them to Yato, they would forget him soon after.
His love for her didn’t make him any less of a shadow to anyone else. Only Hiyori could hold him that close to her heart. Even so, her skin barely remembered him. Sometimes, when they kissed in her bed, he would fold his lips over the pulse in her throat and nip and suck until she was certain there would be a weeklong bruise, but nothing ever remained. She didn’t understand why that was. Was he more gentle than she understood or just more fleeting?
Now, his jersey and scarf lay over the back of her desk chair, casting an odd moonlit shadow on the floor of her room. Wearing only his t-shirt and track pants, his skin was warm and supple beneath her small hands as she caressed his chest. Her own pajamas were thin cotton shorts and a tank top. Yato had slipped the top up her torso and rested his hands on the bared skin just beneath her breasts. Hiyori shivered as the pads of his thumbs traced the contours of her ribs.
“Yato?” she asked gingerly.
“Yes?” he murmured and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat. His teeth scraped lightly against her sensitive skin.
She trembled and her fingers knotted in his threadbare shirt. “I was just wondering why… why you never leave a mark on me,” she whispered, “Even when you suck really hard.”
Yato studied her in the dimness. “I don’t think I can,” he said plainly, “unless you want me too.”
“Unless I want it?” Hiyori repeated.
Yato nodded and shifted his hand to cradle the weight of her breast.
She shivered, her nipples rising to peaks at his gentle touch.
His lips quirked into a satisfied little smile as he ghosted his thumb over Hiyori’s sensitive bud. “I’ve been asking around a little bit, talking to some of the other gods, and it turns out being in love with a mortal isn’t as uncommon as you would think,” he explained.
Hiyori gasped in delight, the muscles of her stomach contracting, as he rolled her nipple between his fingers.
“It seems that it only gets inconvenient as the mortal gets older since gods are immortal but we can alter our ages to match the age of the mortal,” he continued. “It isn’t taboo, but it’s hard for the gods afterwards. No matter our powers, the Reaper is still absolute. There’s nothing we can do to keep the mortal alive.”
Hiyori knotted her fingers in his t-shirt, gasping as he cupped both her breasts and squeezed gently. It was hard to concentrate on his words with his warm hands roving along her oversensitive skin. When he reached beneath her tank top and cupped her breasts with nothing between them, she felt a surge of heat and wetness between her thighs. “Y-Yato,” she gasped.
He smiled and feathered kisses along her jaw. He closed his lips over her pulse and sucked lightly.
“Please,” she gasped. “I want you too.” Hiyori clutched him, tangling her fingers in his soft dark tresses.
Yato’s teeth scraped gingerly, rasping over her skin. Abruptly, his mouth felt hotter than it ever had before. Hiyori cried out in searing pleasure as he marked her. Yato pulled away and gazed down at the small round hickey he had left just above her collarbone. He traced it with his tongue and pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin before tenderly running the pad of his finger over it.
“I did it,” he whispered.
Hiyori craned her neck, but she couldn’t see Yato’s mark. “Really?” she asked.
He smiled and leaned down to kiss her.
She melted into him, clinging to his narrow shoulders and pulling him closer. “Yato,” she whispered. “If we were to be together, would you… could you be my first?”
Yato’s hands stilled on her breasts, but he cradled them gently and absently strokes the sensitive sides. “If you wanted it enough,” he murmured. “You know all those legends about gods impregnating women yet they remained virgins?”
Now that his hands had stopped caressing her, it was easier to focus. Hiyori met his bright blue eyes and found deep sadness in them. Slowly, she nodded. There were tons of stories about gods and mortals, but hardly any of them ended happily or even normally. (1)
“If you didn’t want me, I wouldn’t take anything from you,” Yato murmured.
“I know you wouldn’t,” she began, but he cut her off.
“Not like that,” he told her. “If I wanted to, I could use my power to have you want me, but you wouldn’t want me enough. You wouldn’t want me to be your first. You would still be a virgin, even after we…”
Hiyori cupped his face in her hands and tugged him down for a kiss. “I want you,” she whispered when they broke apart. “I do.”
Slowly, Yato nodded and leaned down to kiss her deeply. His tongue slipped into her mouth, threading warm soft touches all along her teeth and lips, until she had melted. Her hands sought the bare skin beneath his shirt and ran over the revealed planes with practiced ease. She touched his nipples, just lightly enough to drive him wild. With a muted growl, Yato slipped off her shirt and shorts to leave her in only her panties. For a moment, Hiyori hesitated. Yato had seen her naked before. Hell, just last night, his lips and tongue had been at her core for the very first time. She wanted this, but…
“Are you frightened?” Yato breathed out.
Hiyori shook her head. “No, it’s just that… you’re a god. What if I’m not enough—?”
Yato cut her off with a deep kiss. “Would it make you feel better to say that you’re the first mortal I’ve been with?”
Hiyori pushed away the immediate thought that Yato had been with other gods and instead nodded slowly. At least this would be a new experience for both of them.
“Touch me,” he whispered. “Please.”
Hiyori peeled off his t-shirt and pulled down his pants. Naked, Yato pressed against her clothed core and let her feel him. Hiyori reached between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his length. For a moment, she didn’t recognize it. Usually, Yato was average-sized, maybe even a little bigger, but the length she found herself holding now was smaller and slimmer. It was more like the length and size of her own two fingers.
“Yato, what…?”
He flushed with embarrassment. “You’re nervous,” he said indignantly. “My body is changed to suit your emotions. Just… give it a little time and it’ll come back to normal.”
“What size are you really?” Hiyori whispered as she ran her fingers over his shortened member.
Yato’s eyes flashed in the moonlight and he smiled cheekily at her. “Do you really want to know?”
Choosing to ignore his overinflated ego, Hiyori cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Chuckling, Yato dissolved against her lips and kissed her with the utmost tenderness. Bits of his confidence seeped into her and she felt him grow a little bigger in her hand. Smiling against his lips, she ran her thumb over the sensitive head of him and he groaned in pleasure.
“Hiyori,” he whispered and tugged her soaked panties down her legs.
She flushed as she felt them stick to her core and thighs, suddenly aware of just how eagerly her body responded to his touch. She would have been embarrassed if the brush of his fingers hadn’t erased all the concerns from her mind. He stroked the length of her slit, dragged his fingernail over her pearl, and then dipped downwards again. He teased without ever entering where she needed him the most. Whimpering, Hiyori clung to him. In her hand, she felt his small member grow as her arousal rose.
Gently, Yato pushed one finger into her and stroked the clenching walls of her sheath. She gasped and her back arched at the familiar sensations. Her nails raked along his back and shoulders, clutching him closer as he thrust his fingers lightly inside her. When he added a second finger and pressed his thumb to her pearl, she nearly came undone. Moaning, she rocked her hips against his hand and kissed him hungrily. Teasingly, Yato slowed his thrusts and instead curled his fingers within her, stroking her elusive sensitive place.
“Ah,” she gasped and clutched his wrist. “Please.”
“Not yet,” he teased her tenderly and kissed her bare shoulder.
Hiyori opened her rose-red eyes to look at him and then her eyes traveled down his bared body. She stroked him, feeling the hardness beneath the velvet of his skin experimentally. She rasped her thumb over the mushroomed head and watched his bright blue eyes flutter beneath the fans of his lashes. Yato closed his fingers over hers, stilling her strokes so he could focus only on her.
“Are you ready?” he whispered.
She nodded and a little bubble of nervousness swelled in her chest. “Will it hurt?” she asked as she felt the girth of him waver between larger and smaller.
Yato pressed a kiss to her cheek and then her nose. “Only a little,” he confessed, “but that’s only if you want it too. This could be… nothing… if you wanted that.”
Hiyori shook her head and held his bare shoulders tightly. “No, I… I want you to be my first. I want you to take my virginity.”
Wetting his lips, Yato gently lined the head of his member up with her core. For a moment, he stared down at the small thing and grumbled, but he was also partly glad that his body would change to accommodate Hiyori. He wanted this to be good for her—he wanted that from the depths of his heart and soul.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
She nodded and shifted her hips slightly to meet him. The head of him bumped her soaked core and she moaned softly. “Please,” she whispered, “Yato.”
Slowly, he pushed into her, but his fingers had already prepared her for his newfound small size. There was no pain as he slid to the hilt inside her body. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and felt him swell a little inside her.
“That’s it,” Yato whispered. “You can trust me. Just… want me, Hiyori.”
“I do,” she insisted. “I do.”
Yato dipped his head and kissed her deeply, pouring all his feelings into her. He knew exactly how she liked to be kissed and she responded hungrily to the sweet gentleness of his lips and tongue as she adjusted to the hard shaft of him inside her. Though she could feel the girth and length of his member growing as her confidence increased, she didn’t let herself worry about it. This was Yato and she wanted all of him. She wanted as much of him as she could take. She wrapped her legs around his hips and kissed him with everything she had.
Almost abruptly, Hiyori found herself filled to bursting. “Oooooh,” she gasped as his length expanded to what she guessed was his true size. “Ah, Yato.”
His blue eyes were wide as he gazed down at her. “Hiyori, you…”
She shifted her hips and felt the thick girth of him move inside her. It bordered on painful. Despite the thinness of the rest of his body, he was almost too big to accept fully. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and forced herself to relax. As she did, it began to feel more natural even though she was certain Yato’s body hadn’t changed to accommodate her.
“Is this… your real size?” she asked and ran her hands down his back.
He nodded, studying her face for signs of discomfort and pain, deciding if it was too much. He shifted his hips and she winced at the intrusive overfull feeling. Yato rocked backwards to pull out of her, but she tightened her legs around him.
“No,” she insisted. “It’s okay. I… I like it.”
For a moment, Yato just stared at her in shock. There were some other gods who couldn’t take his full size and this sweet human girl was assuring him that she could accept him. She even liked it. The heated walls of her sheath clenched around him tightly, but he could feel her body beginning to relax. She was deliciously wet and warm, perfect, and her body adjusted to the intrusion of his size. With a soft breath, Yato leaned to kiss and poured every ounce of his gratitude and love into her.
“Hiyori, I…” he began.
“Please,” she broke in and tightened the walls of her body around his thick girth. “Please, move, please.”
Yato nodded and rocked his hips in a short thrust.
Hiyori cried out and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Her nails raked his shoulders and her breasts heaved as she panted for breath.
Yato stilled. “Hiyori,” he said. “You don’t have to take this much. Just think about it and I’ll—”
“No,” she said firmly. “It feels good and I… I want you. I want all of you.”
Yato’s chest swelled with warmth at her words and he set a languid pace. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but his slow shallow thrusts were driving her wild. She dug her heels into his back, clutching him closer and deeper. Finally, he took the hint and withdrew nearly to the tip. Her body felt empty without him, but they weren’t apart for long. Yato sheathed himself inside her sharply, his bare hips slapping against her bottom.
She threw her head back and moaned as he stretched her a little wider. There was no pain now, only an overwhelming fullness and hot coursing pleasure. She rocked her hips to meet him as best she could, but Yato took care of everything. He thrust deeply and slowly, letting her feel every inch of his thick shaft, and she welcomed him each time. As the ecstasy loosened her body, he thrust faster and harder until the breath rushed from her lungs.
Her small breasts heaved and bounced with the animal force of their lovemaking. He cupped the soft orbs and kneaded them gently, rolling her nipples between his rough fingers. She whimpered, arching off the bed with a cry of delight. Her body clutched him, milking his shaft as he moved. He could feel the wave of white-hot pleasure building inside her and reached between their bodies to caress her little pearl. As he had learned just last night, she liked to have it tugged a little bit and wasted no time giving her what she wanted.
Hiyori cried out something that might have once been his name and her muscles contracted around him in a hot vice. He thrust into her through the waves of her orgasm, letting her feel every scrap of pleasure she possibly could. Her fingers knotted in the sheets and she gasped in delight. Drawn over the edge by the bliss in her expression and the heat of her body, Yato spilled inside her. Hiyori moaned as the heat of him filled her to the brim and even seeped out a little bit.
Yato hugged her naked form to his chest and rolled over so that she was cushioned comfortably on top of him. Her skin was so warm and he ran his hands gently down her back and over the swell of her bottom. Hiyori panted against his skin, her breasts pressing into him as she struggled to come down from her high. For a long time, he just held her and touched her and was awed by her.
“Hiyori,” Yato whispered as his thick shaft began to soften inside her. “Are you alright?”
“Better than alright,” she murmured and looked up into his bright eyes. “That was… amazing.”
Yato couldn’t help the little swell of pride that welled in his chest beside all the other emotions he felt for her. “Really?”
She nodded and giggled softly. “That’s what I thought being with a god would be like,” she confessed. “What about you?”
Yato nuzzled her mussed chocolate tresses. “You’re the first person to every take me, to take all of me, Hiyori,” he told her gently.
For a moment, she stiffened and then asked, “Really?”
Yato nodded. “I’ve never had another god accept me so readily. If they wanted to take all of me, they had to adjust their own bodies, but you…” He kissed her. “You’re amazing.”
Hiyori blushed and buried her face against his bare chest. “Don’t say such embarrassing things,” she whispered.
Yato chuckled and wrapped his arms around her back. “It’s true,” was all he said.
Silence stretched between them as Hiyori stroked his bare chest with her fingertips. His skin was warm and solid beneath hers, pressed against every inch of her cooling body. He was deliciously warm and he smelled wonderful. Still feeling him buried comfortably deep inside her, she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his skin.
She whispered, “Yato, I…”
“I love you, Hiyori,” he interrupted. “Through all the lifetimes I live, I’ll always love you.”
Hiyori’s body warmed from the inside out and she clutched him closer. “Me too,” she whispered. “So will I.”
Yato cradled her closer and whispered, “Don’t ever forget this.”
“I won’t,” she promised and then relented as she felt his arms tighten around her. “Even if my mind forgets, my body will always remember my first time.”
Yato nodded in understanding and tried to let go of the worry that constantly plagued him. He held her tightly, feeling the press of her warm human body and memorizing it for the very first time. As much as he didn’t want her to forget, he wanted to remember, too. He would remember everything about her, even when she no longer existed, even when no memories or trace of her remained on this earth.
“Yato?” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“You feel… solid,” she said.
“Because I love you,” he told her. “I’m your god, Hiyori. Yours alone.”
She smiled against his bare skin and closed her eyes. “Good,” she murmured. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Yato held her all through the night, listening to the sound of her even breathing. He imagined that this is what having a shrine might have felt like. This was home to him. He would never belong anywhere else the way he belonged here with Hiyori. Hiyori was unyielding and warm in his arms and he was strong beneath her, inside her, all around her. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and skin. Finally, he closed his eyes and let himself sleep.
X X X
(1) [redacted, Greek myth]
I got this idea from knowing too much about Greek mythology and from the whole scene where Hiyori carries to Kofuku’s house. She did it so easily and Yukine was panting to keep up with her so I figured there must be more at work here than Yato just being skinny. This is what came out of it!
Questions, comments, concerns?