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linkemon · 6 months ago

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Never ending song (Yato x Reader)

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ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ? ɪꜱ ɪᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ ɪꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ? ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇʀᴀꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴛʀᴏᴄɪᴛɪᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ? ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛ ʏᴀʙᴏᴋᴜ ᴀɴᴅ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]. ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ��ᴡɴ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀꜱ.

The blackness of night enveloped the field strewn with corpses. [Reader] felt as if she were looking at a burial shroud. Beneath it were the mangled faces of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, brothers and sisters. They all looked at each other with empty gazes. Their eyes were like glass beads she could put on a string. Intertwined with bloody, undrying rivulets of blood. The earth couldn’t get any redder. Perhaps that was why Yaboku’s blue eyes seemed to be calling her from afar. They stood out against the carnage. Like the sky before a storm. Like lightning streaking across the horizon seconds before a thunderbolt struck. But he wasn’t loud. His katana didn’t make even the slightest sound as it sank into another body.

A soft groan escaped from beneath the long-dead horse. The man, crushed by the weight of his steed, was bleeding out slowly. Leaning over him, she found only boundless terror in his gaze. His kimono looked torn and frayed even before the fight. The severed hand still held the rake clenched in it. It must have belonged to one of the lords who had started this war. It didn't matter which side of the conflict he was on, he would have ended the same way.

— Are you — a wheezing sound tried to escape his lips — a shinigami? — he asked, trembling.

— No, but death is the best I can offer you — replied the goddess.

The man nodded slightly.

[Reader] didn't have to call upon her shinki. They almost never reverted to their human forms. Not when they knew they'd be working from night until dawn. Which had not been a rare occurrence over the past few decades.

Black wings flapped right next to her ear. The world momentarily transformed into a cloud of feathers. The ravens got to work. They cut the skin and with a practiced movement of their beaks reached the artery. With a loud squawk they announced the end of their work. Immediately afterwards they began to eat the carrion.

The goddess swept her gaze over the battlefield. All those lying there were already in Yomi. The bloody pallet on which they had laid their heads for the last time. She wanted to call off the shinki. Why did she have to deal with this? Why did she have to watch the lords fighting for the land day after day? Listen to the prayers of people begging for the ravens to eat the corpses of their enemies? Watch as supposedly honorable samurai and daughters who disgraced their families became carrion?

— That one was mine. — Yaboku's eyes flashed dangerously.

He stared at the meat covered in flies.

— He begged for mercy — the woman replied hesitantly.

[Reader] knew exactly what the God of Calamity meant. It wasn't a specific prayer but she shouldn't answer it. Mercy wasn't in her control.

— You're bound to misfortune as I am. You have to accept that. — The words cut like a sharpened katana but they were true.

Yaboku sighed and sat down on the edge of the massacre. [Reader] followed suit. She rested her head on his shoulder. It felt exceptionally heavy to her. As if the pressure of thoughts had actually become a physical burden that was hard to bear alone.

— You’re still thinking about it. — He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.

Fingers stained with blood stroked her cheek. Involuntarily, she leaned into the familiar hand.

— I don't know anymore... Sometimes I think about what it would be like if we were someone else. Gods of Fortune or... just something else. Something happier.

These worries had been rumbling in her head for some time now. Seeing people's suffering echoed in her mind. Even if she watched their happy moments, she could never take part in them. She had no way of contributing to them. She envied those who showered people with favor. Their festivals were loud and joyful. Like fireworks lighting up the night. She welcomed people into the tattered shrine. Always with bad intentions. No good person wished for others to be eaten by ravens.

— Look at me.

Yaboku gently grabbed her chin but there was a hint of command in his voice. In his gaze there was a steely certainty that what he was saying was true.

— We are gods. Our destiny is written in advance. There is no point in fighting it. Just submit to it and do your job.

[Reader] nodded. This was a god who didn't hesitate. She shouldn't have either.

Cherry blossoms danced in the cool air, stirred by the gentle breeze. [Reader] looked at them as if she was seeing them for the first time. Perhaps because it had been a long time since she had had time to really look at them. They seemed so right and so out of place at the same time. With their delicate, pink and white petals. With their proudly twisted, dark branches. They were a stark contrast to anything she had seen in the past few years.

What were a few years in a godly life? They should have seemed like nothing. The fleeting flutter of butterfly wings. And yet they seemed to weigh her down. Like fat, human-fed ravens perching on her shoulders. Her shinki wandered around in their human forms. They seemed amazed by their own bodies. She could feel their unease. Their true forms seemed strange to them. They circled the trees and absorbed everything around them, as if seeing the world anew.

Those eyes. Like cornflowers amidst a swirl of cherry blossoms. She had always spotted them from afar. Yaboku in the midst of this garden looked like a harbinger of war. One that had recently been ended by some treaty. [Reader] knew well, however, that human truces did not last forever. There would always be someone to break them. Sooner or later, they always lost to their own greed. They would draw their weapons, commit a bloody massacre and then make up. And as always, she would come to clean up their mess.

— You look sluggish — Yaboku tilted his head.

— I'm tired — she admitted.

He took her hand. His own was incredibly cold. As if the warm rays of the sun couldn't reach it.

— Your name won't disappear overnight. You can rest. — Yaboku pulled her along. — You shouldn't torment yourself.

— Maybe you’re right. — She nodded, slowly moving forward.

She couldn’t forget. She didn’t want to forget, really. Many people had called her during the war. The piles of corpses grew so fast that she couldn’t keep up with the acquisition of new shinki. They couldn’t eat all of the people. And yet the scream of that one mother had burned into her memory like a hot iron. What the soldiers had done to her daughter was impossible to put into words. For the battered girl, shivering with cold and terror, the death inflicted by Yaboku had been a mercy. When the woman realized what had happened, she fell before the shrine of [Reader]. May the crows eat these monsters in human skin, she repeated over and over like a mantra. The goddess answered but the soldiers had their own lives. Their own families, eager for revenge. They said that the red thread symbolized love. She deeply believed that wasn’t true. It was a string of hatred the colour of blood. Connecting generations, crossing divides and tightening around the necks of people as crows pecked out their insides. A never-ending story.

Hiro looked at [Reader] searchingly. Then she turned her gaze to Yaboku. She locked eyes with him and walked away in a direction known only to her. The goddess knew that the shinki didn't like her. They had never gotten along very well. Nora did everything to please her father. She didn't have the time or luxury of thinking. Sometimes she envied her ability. To do tasks. Just like that. Without breaking them down into factors.

— I can almost see the gears turning in your head. — Yaboku tapped her squarely on the forehead. — That's our role and job. We were created to bring misfortune to people. Sometimes I also think I'd like to bring them joy for a reason other than murder...

— Really? — she asked in disbelief.

It was the first time the god had ever made it known that something like this was on his mind. A few hundred years ago, she had despaired about it constantly but now she simply accepted the status quo. As something that could not be changed. But occasionally, in times of greatest tragedy, melancholy would overwhelm her. What if she were someone else?

— Really. But it's better just not to dwell on it.

The kiss was sweet. Just like the scent around them. Like thick honey, it enveloped the senses. It allowed them to forget. At least for a moment. Familiar lips, the corner of which still held the rest of the dried blood. Black hair that she could so easily tangle her fingers in. Blue eyes that were so easy to drown in. All she had to do was take a step.

Yaboku rolled over. He looked around the small hut. The soft light made out its outline. Not that there was anything inside, apart from a futon. He didn't have many material possessions. A faint cawing reached him from outside. Probably [Reader]'s shinki were returning, tired from their tasks.

He looked at his hands. In the dim light, they seemed almost bloody. As if the gore he had washed off yesterday had not left them at all. He was used to this. To the particles under his fingernails. To the constant vigilance. To the thoughtless beheadings. Meanwhile, the shadow on the wall now resembled human silhouettes. The shuffling from under the floor seemed to whisper. His own body seemed not to belong to him.

He rubbed his eyelids as hard as he could. Just to chase away the strange feeling of nightmares lurking beneath them.

[Reader] was still asleep. She was breathing evenly. The light of the rising sun gently illuminated her face. She instinctively snuggled into his chest, which he accepted with a measure of relief. It seemed she was sleeping peacefully. Unlike him.

Yaboku felt fear for the first time in his life. He was torn. He had never felt like what he was doing was wrong before. He had lived hundreds of years of his monotonous life, reconciled with his fate. But now the thought was brewing in his head that it didn't have to be that way. It had been growing in him for the past few years. Only to start questioning everything. The validity of his father's teachings, Hiro's advice and his own decisions. Like the sun rising over the horizon. On the verge, still hiding its head but showing its first rays, not letting itself be ignored.

He wanted more. He wanted something better. Why didn't he deserve to bring joy to people? Why did he always have to see them only at their worst? He didn't know if it was yet another great war that had brought him to these questions. What he was certain of, however, was his aversion to the state of limbo. He had to do something about it. Make a decision. Could he change? Was it even possible?

He was almost certain he was already grasping for the answers to his own questions but a few days ago he had murdered the entire Ma clan. If even shinki, who were supposed to be pure souls, couldn't avoid being corrupted, what chance did humans have? Were they naturally doomed to be evil beings? If one of the Seven Gods of Fortune needed his help, even though she dealt with luck, did it even make sense? Maybe the only thing waiting for him at the end of such a path would be disappointment.

— You're up to something. — [Reader]'s sleepy voice reached him as if with a delay.

— Where does this belief come from? — he asked.

— I know that look, Yaboku. You look like you're fighting but there's no one here, so you're probably fighting yourself — the goddess commented.

That was it. But should this battle see the light of day? Should he tell her? He hesitated for a moment longer.

— I have to disappear for a while. — The weight of those words only hit him after he had said them.

— What exactly do you mean by that? — [Reader] sat up on the futon. — Does this have anything to do with Bishamonten? You know very well it's not your fault. You did what Kazuma asked you to do. It was your duty.

— I have a few things to think over... Father can't know where I'll be — he finished lamely.

—Yaboku, this is our role. It's not like you to ponder this and...

God sent her a pleading look that made her fall silent.

— Please don't tell him when I disappear. At least not for a while.

He knew that if his father came looking for him, she would be one of the first people he would turn to. She was one of the few who had a chance of finding him quickly.

— Do you promise we’ll meet again? — [Reader] asked uncertainly.

Never, in hundreds of years, had this happened. They had never been apart for very long. They had never been apart with the idea that this was what they were doing. They had always somehow found their way back together. They had no need to plan to meet. It was inevitable that they would be so close and so often that it never occurred to them.

The goddess frantically began searching for something in her kimono.

— Here. — She pressed a small coin into his hand.

Five yen glinted faintly in the dawn light. It was a poor rate but a wish was a wish. So, trying to control his breaking voice, he said:

— Your prayer has been answered.

— So this is where you were hiding, Yaboku. — Even after decades, he would still recognize that voice.

Kofuku wanted to say something but Daikoku mumbled something in an extremely serious tone and they obediently left him with [Reader]. The smell of freshly cooked broth wafted from the cottage. They would probably eat ramen. Pleasantly mild noodles accompanied by side dishes. The clinking of bowls began to merge with laughter. The light on the upper floor went out. Hiyori had probably finished teaching Yukine. The interior beckoned with warmth. Like a pleasant, heated stove in the evening darkness. The autumn chill was making itself felt. The remains of gray-brown leaves trembled on the trees like a god. He covered himself tightly with a scarf, hoping to retain the warmth for a while longer.

— Yato. My name is Yato — he corrected her. — I'm no longer...

— Yeah, I know. I only came here to warn you. Hiro's looking for you.

This wasn't good news. If the Nora was looking for him, then his father was probably looking for him too. He didn't know what was happening to him but he hoped to stay out of its reach. He had a new life now, a new family. The one he had chosen for himself. There was no place for father in it.

— Thank you — he replied laconically. — You don’t have to worry, I’ll fine.

— I see. You were supposed to go away for a while but instead you built yourself a whole new life. — [Reader] nodded toward the cottage.

The words were bitter and reproachful. They left a disgusting aftertaste, even though he hadn't spoken them. He didn't feel good about what he had done. He had left her alone. Even though she had agreed to it, several decades without a response wasn't right. But he couldn't reach her without risking being discovered by his father. Or maybe he didn't want to? He was held back by the uncertainty of how she would react to his decision. Then everything went in a different, better for him, direction. He didn't feel like turning back at all.

— I am the God of Fortune now. — He pointed at himself.

His roughened hands and sweaty sweatpants were evidence that he had done something with himself. He had worked for what he had. Even if it wasn't much. He didn't have his own shrine yet but he had something equally important. A roof over his head and people who cared about him.

— Don't be ridiculous! — [Reader] said angrily. — You have been and always will be bound to misfortune. You told me so yourself. Why can't you just accept that our fate is predetermined?

The treetops bent under the weight of a strong wind. In the past, a raven would have squawked right after that. But god knew that [Reader] never went anywhere without her shinki. He didn't think much had changed in that regard. It could mean that she no longer had any at all. That never boded well. He knew when that usually happened. The number of her followers had probably decreased. Now, in times of relative peace, few people wanted such a specific desecration of a corpse as being eaten by ravens. That could only mean one thing. What he himself feared most and what he had tried so desperately to escape from. Disappearance. Being erased forever. Oblivion. Death.

— I was wrong. We are gods. We determine what is right. Therefore, I can choose my own path.

He clutched the old, worn-out five yen in his pocket. He kept telling himself that he couldn't pay with it because the current coins looked different. But deep down, he knew that wasn't the only reason. He carried it with him all the time. As a reminder of the life he had left behind.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket. He pressed five yen into [Reader]'s palm, then closed it. He wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this. Maybe he wanted to convey to her the part of himself that had pushed him to change. After all, a long, long time ago, she had it in her too. Before human anger, years of greed, jealousy and a sea of spilled blood had killed it.

— Yatooo! — Hiyori's voice reached his ears. — It's freezing cold. Come inside. Everyone's waiting for you. — She ran outside the cottage to invite him to dinner.

When he turned around, [Reader] was gone.

#yato x reader #noragami x reader #yaboku #oneshot x reader #hiyori iki #bishamonten #kazuma #daikoku #kofuku

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