#i just KNOW kazuma was tearing himself apart on the inside

[amaranthdahlia]

(about ryuunosuke)

kazuma : if you screw up again ill *death threat*

also kazuma: aibou is disappointed in me. wish i was dead

[lesbian-kyoru]

loved this scene from 3x4 so much but in particular i can’t stop thinking about these lines!! obviously it’s a really powerful moment for haru, but i also love how it’s setting up a direct parallel with kyo and tohru, and also foreshadowing this future scene with kazuma:

here, kazuma is primarily asking himself a question that akito asks haru directly. even though the phrasing and overall idea is directly paralleled, i like the subtle differences and similarities here.

by this point, kazuma (and most of the cast, for that matter) pretty much has already guessed that tohru is in love with kyo. i think it’s interesting that kazuma isn’t really searching for an answer here, in contrast to how akito is questioning haru directly about his motives. rather, kazuma is trying to discern if, beneath the surface level, tohru being in love with kyo is just the same pity that the cat always receives.

when comparing this to haru and akito’s scene, to me akito approaches the conversation (and the overall question) from almost the opposite end. rather than questioning the sincerity of haru’s love for rin, akito automatically jumps to pity as his motive and doesn’t even consider love being his reason. i think there are many layers here, because i don’t think akito didn’t know that haru loved rin before this moment. it’s not a big surprise—but i do think it’s something that akito doesn’t fully believe because 1) it conflicts directly with her hatred of rin and belief that rin is unworthy of love, and 2) it flairs up her own issues with self-worth, love, etc. that she doesn’t want to deal with.

i find it interesting that for different reasons, kazuma and akito both have reason to doubt the intentions of tohru and haru, respectively. even though the approach is different, it’s the same question. on the other hand, though, kazuma’s questioning comes from a place of concern and wanting to protect kyo, whereas akito is questioning haru from a place of manipulation. kazuma is afraid that tohru’s love is rooted in pity; akito wants haru’s love to be insincere—and more than that, she wants haru to start believing that himself.

all that to say, i love how this scene with akito and haru ends up narratively foreshadowing tohru’s revelations about her own feelings—and drawing a further parallel between harurin and kyoru. also of note is that, while kazuma doesn’t ask tohru directly about her feelings, rin does:

and while haru, in a fit of rage, is able to tell akito very simply that he’s kind to rin because he loves her—for tohru, it’s a much more difficult admission. loving kyo without pity or trying to atone for anything, for tohru, is the most selfish thing she can do. while it’s something that sets her apart from every other person who has shown kyo kindness, it’s something that tears tohru up inside. loving kyo with no ulterior motives, just because she selfishly wants to be near him, is the ultimate betrayal of her mother’s memory.

neither haru nor tohru are hoping to get a pat on the back or win a prize by showing kindess to rin and kyo. haru fell in love with rin not because of pity, but because he loved her. and tohru loves kyo, not out of misplaced discomfort or obligation because he’s the cat, a monster, an object of pity. it’s because she just likes him as a person, as his whole self. 

although tohru has a bit longer to go before she’ll let herself admit her feelings, i love how this episode subtly sets up the concept of genuine love vs love out of pity. it serves rin and haru’s relationship well, and it thematically comes to a climax through tohru and kyo’s relationship. it’s a very nuanced way of examining love and why we develop feelings for someone—and i love how fruits basket weaves that question into its central love stories.

[bucketofcowboys]

I Don’t Mind

Just a short drabble I wrote at 3 am :)

It’s pretty short so I’ll be posting it on AO3 and tumblr

Relationship: Kazuma Kiryu/Goro Majima, Kazuma Kiryu & Haruka Sawamura, Goro Majima & Haruka Sawamura

Warning: NSFW but not complete NSFW-- turns into domestic fluff

Words: 1,748

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952348

Summary: The only thing he could really think of in that moment was a stream of consecutive, desperate, 'no's. Don't get him wrong, he loved Haru-Chan. Haru-Chan is an absolute treasure to be around and every moment spent with her was a moment coated in diamonds and gold, but right now was not one of those moments. Not when he is so damn close to getting off.

(aka. Kiryu and Majima are getting it on but have to put it to a halt when Haruka has a nightmare)

----

Riding Kiryu was like riding a fucking bull. All hard muscles and sweat, squeezing his thighs just hard enough to not get bucked off, and feeling the sweet satisfaction of victory each minute he stayed on. Though, he was sure in actual bull riding the bull wouldn't be making noises like Kiryu did. He didn't even think bulls had the proper vocal chords to moan his name. Kiryu definitely did, and God, he found every way to roll around the name 'Majima' in his mouth until the name didn't even sound like a name anymore. Maybe a war cry or the last thing a man says when he takes his dying breath. 

Majima was close, and he wouldn't stop for anything. The only thing he wanted in that moment was to paint white across Kiryu's abdomen until they're both shaking, sputtering messes of human putty. He grabbed ahold of his own cock and stroked himself with a wet and fast pace. His back arched and he slammed down hard onto Kiryu's dick until he was whining like a kicked puppy. Kiryu looked so good like that, lips pink and puffy with kiss-abused bruises, parted beautifully in ecstacy, skin flushed cherry red from his cheeks all the way down to his ears, eyes half lidded and pupils dilated as he tried to watch the show Majima was giving him. He looked like a meal to be devoured and Majima was absolutely fucking famished. He could just eat him up. He wanted to eat him up.

"M'gonna cum baby, you gonna cum too? Wanna cum inside me baby? Fill my tight lil' hole, huh?" Majima blabbered out and Kiryu nodded enthusiastically. He smirked. "Ya so pretty. God, ya so pretty..." 

He leaned down and captured Kiryu's swollen lips in a kiss. He stole each noise that left Kiryu's mouth and swallowed it down like a man dying of dehydration. Their lips moved sporadically and Majima's teeth clacked against Kiryu's with every downwards movement. He ran his hands though that carefully slicked back hair and tugged until each strand of black stuck out at odd ends, ruining every last bit of collectiveness the other man had. He wanted to ravish him, destroy him, leave nothing but bone in his wake. 

He could feel himself getting closer and closer with each movement of his hips. He moved at different angles each time, trying his best to find the best way to hit his prostate and when he did, a throaty groan left him. He needed this. He needed this like he needed a pulse. He needed this like he needed food and water. He needed this like he needed to breathe. 

He felt that pressure building up quick inside of him, and he's just about to spill over like blood from a fresh stab wound when--

Knock knock

Two gentle hits on hardwood broke their near-orgasmic haze. Kiryu put his hands on Majima's hips and gripped hard to pull him down and stop his movements. Majima whined with frustration and Kiryu quickly shushed him. They sat in silence for a moment, Kiryu listening closely for any other noise like a dog listens for an intruder late in the night. Majima was almost convinced his ears were gonna perk up, and maybe he'd even start panting with his tongue out for show. 

"Ojisan?" A quiet voice muffled by the thick door of the bedroom finally rang out. Majima began to feel his whole world crashing down. 

The only thing he could really think of in that moment was a stream of consecutive, desperate, 'no's. Don't get him wrong, he loved Haru-Chan. Haru-Chan is an absolute treasure to be around and every moment spent with her was a moment coated in diamonds and gold, but right now was not one of those moments. Not when he is so damn close to getting off. 

"Get off, Majima..." Kiryu said softly, apologetic. Funny, cause that was exactly what he wanted.

"Maybe if we stay quiet, she'll go away." Majima didn't know if he was joking or not at this point. He was so desperate, clinging to any last scraps of being able to get off by the end of the night. Kiryu shot him a disapproving glare likened to that of a stern mother goose. He wouldn't even humor him. A damn shame. 

Majima sighed and begrudgingly sat up, shivering at the empty feeling and collapsing on the bed next to Kiryu. He couldn't even look up before Kiryu was up from the bed and fumbling to pull his clothes back on. Majima watched with a mournful stare as all of that beautiful tanned skin was covered in seconds. A depressing loss. He was so distracted by planning a funeral for Kiryu's naked ass that he didn't have time to react when something wacked him in the face.

"Hey--!" It took him a moment to realize that he had thrown his boxers at him.

"Get dressed." Kiryu grunted, standing there and crossing his arms as he waited for him to comply. Majima huffed, but he did as he was told, lazily pulling his boxers up his legs. It was like a snake slithering back into its shed skin-- unnatural and uncomfortable. Once he was done he rolled himself up in Kiryu's comforter and buried his face in the mattress like a moody toddler. He could almost feel Kiryu rolling his eyes.

Another gentle knock interrupted them, but this time it was followed by a few sniffles. Oh yeah, this was bad. 

Majima lifted his head until his good eye was poking up. Kiryu was already at the door, rushing to Haruka’s aid like the good parental figure he was.

"What's the matter?" His voice was soft as he spoke to her, the kind of soft that sent shivers down Majima's spine. Haruka was standing in the doorway in her pj's with tears staining her flushed cheeks. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled a few times to try and regain her composure. 

"I... I had a bad dream.” She finally fessed up. Her shoulders shuddered as she tried to hold back from becoming a sobbing mess. Kiryu kneeled down and gently gasped at her shoulders, one hand gently stroking the tears away from her cheek. So soft. So domestic. Majima could almost feel his heart melting into a puddle in his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Haruka quickly shook her head, and he just nodded. 

“Can I come in?” She asked. Kiryu looked back at Majima with a look that was somehow apologetic and pleading at the same time. Haruka must have not noticed Majima’s presence, somehow, because she cocked her head up and startled when she saw him.

“Hi Majima-ojisan.” She said with a sniffle. Majima tried to offer her a genuine smile, mustering as much sunshine and rainbows he could in that moment and putting it all into a toothy grin, which looked much more frightening than Majima thought it did.

“Hey Haru-Chan.” Haruka wasn’t unfamiliar with Majima loitering around her and Kiryu's apartment, or at least not anymore. At this point he was over here more than he was at his own apartment. He patted a spot of the comforter next to him in a silent invitation. She quickly complied and crawled up onto the bed and plopped down next to him. 

She looked up at him and her eyes were filled with lingering tears that threatened to spill with every fan of her lashes. She was such a sad sight to see, he could almost hear his heart shattering into pieces. 

"Hey squirt, whatever's botherin' ya right now, forget about it." He placed a hand on her head and gently ruffled her hair, "Me and your pops are gonna protect ya from any monsters ya had in your nightmare, promise."

The bedroom light flickered off and soon the bed frame was squeaking in disapproval as Kiryu crawled onto the bed to join them. He shuffled up on the other side of Haruka and nodded into the conversation. 

"We're strong, we can take them." Kiryu added, laying on his side with a gentle smile on his lips. Haruka sniffled a bit, but she didn't seem like she was on the edge of bursting anymore. She rubbed her eyes, now raw from sobbing and a lack of sleep, and yawned.

"Can I sleep here? I don't want to go back to my room." She asked, but she was already curling up at Kiryu's side without an answer.

"Of course." Kiryu muttered, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her head. He then looked up at Majima with a frown on his lips and eyes that read; 'I'm so sorry' over and over again like a news ticker. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"I don't mind." And he didn't. Sure, he was a bit upset about the major cockblocking he just got, but he could deal. Haruka meant a lot to Kiryu, he wasn't just gonna get all pissy because he was being a good parent. 

Plus, it was all worth it, because Kiryu shot him a look that brought troves of butterflies to his stomach. A look that read so many emotions, none of which Majima felt comfortable naming. All he knew was that it felt nice to be looked at like that. Really fucking nice. Kiryu leaned as far forwards as he could with Haruka tucked beneath his chin and Majima met him halfway in a kiss. 

"I'll make it up to you." He insisted, and Majima flicked his cheek.

"Nah, shuddup. I already said I don't mind, now go to sleep." Kiryu gave a huff of his nostrils in protest, but didn't say anything else. He just pressed another peck to Majima's lips and pulled him closer until the three of them were squished together in a warm embrace.

This definitely wasn't the way he thought this night was going to end, but he had no qualms with it. The domesticality of it all was tooth rotting-ly sweet, and he hated to admit it but Kiryu looked cute as hell with Haruka sleeping in his arms, almost like a mama bear snuggling her cub close. Haruka slept sounder than she ever had that night with Majima and Kiryu there to protect her, and Majima fell asleep with a nice feeling of home settled in his chest.

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 72 - Obliviate, Relocate

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 4,653

Summary: Yato, Hiyori and Yukine leave home to begin their quest.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Hiyori took one last look around her room.

Her suitcase was packed with the few possessions she didn’t want to lose. The stuffed bears from her childhood were arranged neatly on her bed, and the posters on her wall were beginning to peel from age. She wondered what would become of them and her childhood bedroom when she was gone.

This is necessary, Hiyori told herself, but it still didn’t stop the tear from slipping down her face.

Hiyori quietly made her way downstairs, her suitcase heavy in her hand as she stopped by the front door. Just around the corner, she could see her parents sat in the dining room. Her father was obscured by a newspaper, and her mother had her back to her.

She wanted to do this the right way: to say goodbye, to say that she loved them and that she would be back one day, but she couldn’t.

This was the right way.

Hiyori raised her wand. In a ghost of a whisper, she spoke. “Obliviate.”

The framed pictures in the hallway and stairs faded, erasing her from the family holidays, school picture days, and her fifth birthday where she wore that silly party hat. Her prom photo, the picture of her brother Masaomi holding her for the first time as a baby, and the Hogwarts uniform that her parents told their friends was a Halloween costume, all faded to blank backgrounds.

Her parents never turned to her or wondered why the front door clicked shut, but Hiyori knew it was because they no longer had reason to believe they had a daughter. Hiyori knew that she was nothing but a phantom.

Hiyori Iki never existed. Not in this house.

Yato was waiting for her in the underpass where they had been attacked by Dementors only a few years ago. The white paint was now covered in a multitude of graffiti and tags, and a few of the neon lights had been busted. He turned his head when he heard footsteps accompanied by the roll of wheels on concrete. Hiyori emerged at the end of the tunnel and Yato turned to face her, face solemn.

“Is it done?” Yato asked softly. He pretended not to notice the redness of her eyes when she avoided his gaze, coming to a stop only a few feet away.

Hiyori nodded and wiped her eyes. “They won’t remember anything about me. I put an enchantment on the door handle so my brother will forget me too once he comes home. Hopefully the idea of moving away will sink in by tonight.”

There was a ripple of silence between them. She had done this to protect her family, to get them as far away from her and the Sorcerer, but Yato still felt at fault. If she never met him, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

“You can always reverse it,” Yato said slowly. “You can go home-.”

Hiyori shook her head vigorously and sniffed again. Yato quietened, giving her the space to think.

She let out a deep, shuddering breath and finally met Yato’s eyes. “We told you, ‘together, or not at…'”

Hiyori’s resolve fell apart and she buried her face in her hands. Yato closed the distance between them in two strides, pulling her into his arms. She choked out apologies, but the tears wouldn’t stop, and the crack in her voice only made him hug her tighter. His body enveloped hers in a supportive embrace, dwarfing her as she shrunk into him and secured her arms around his back. He knew he wouldn’t be the first to let go.

Footsteps came from the tunnel entrance behind Hiyori. Yato dropped a hand to the suitcase and held Hiyori closer. The world disappeared in a blur as they apparated away from the life she had traded for him.

~

Yato took one final look around his bedroom at Yukine’s, which he’d called home for five years now, and sighed. Downstairs he could hear the first arrivals coming and the clatter of a trunk being heaved downstairs. The Order of the Phoenix was here to escort them out of the house, and Yato couldn’t help but feel he was losing the life he built piece by piece.

His eyes fell on his bedside table. The only objects on it now were Sakura’s wand, enclosed in its case for safekeeping, and the two-way mirror. He picked up the mirror and ran his finger along the silver gilded edge. He’d hoped that somehow Sakura still had the other piece and that she would talk to him from the afterlife, but it never happened. He’d spent too long staring into that mirror imagining her face and willing her to tell him how to defeat the Sorcerer. It had become his own personal Mirror of Erised.

Yato wrapped the mirror in a t-shirt and stowed it away in his suitcase along with Sakura’s wand and clicked it shut. He dragged his suitcase down the stairs and walked through to the dining room. Yukine was stood with a trunk half his size, Hiyori’s suitcase, and Madame Kofuku. Madame Kofuku smiled as Yato entered.

“Hello, Yato,” Madame Kofuku said. Her eyes darted from the suitcase and back to his face. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Yato grunted and swung his arm, landing the suitcase within inches of Yukine’s foot.

They stepped back and Madame Kofuku waved her wand with a silent incantation. In a blink the suitcases had vanished, leaving an empty spot on the carpet. Madame Kofuku turned and put her wand back in her pocket.

“They’ll be waiting for you at the Burrow,” Madame Kofuku smiled at them.

Yato had puzzled over what ‘the Burrow’ meant, as he was under the impression that they were going to Madame Kofuku’s and Daikoku’s house a few days early for the wedding. It didn’t seem to faze anyone but himself as Yukine led them across the hall and into the front room.

They hadn’t seen so many people packed inside the house since… since ever.

Hiyori stood with Daikoku, Kazuma, Bishamon, and an assorted mix of the remaining Order which made up their entourage. Madame Kofuku had told them that she had been recruiting new members since  Professor Tenjin’s death, but they didn’t expect so many of them to be their teachers; Professor Tsuyu, Professor Takemikazuchi, even groundskeeper Kuraha, were among the new faces stood in the living room.

Madame Kofuku took her place beside Daikoku, and the squeeze she gave his hand seemed to be his cue. Daikoku cleared his throat and the room quietened, all eyes on him and Madame Kofuku at the head of the room.

“We don’t have much time, so listen carefully. We expect the Sorcerer will be coming to Yato’s known addresses, so we’ll be getting out of here and to the Burrow before that happens.”

Yato shifted at the mention of his name. He knew he was the reason they had come here, but to have all eyes of the Order on him now was uncomfortable when they knew he was the one who could defeat the Sorcerer.

“We will have to use transport like brooms, Thestrals, and the like,” Daikoku continued. “We’ll go in pairs, so if anyone is out there waiting for us, they won’t know which of us is the real Yato.”

The real Yato? Yato thought. His eyes caught on Madame Kofuku as she pulled a large vial of green liquid out of her pocket. He knew instantly it was Polyjuice Potion.

“No,” Yato stated, shaking his head. “I won’t let you risk your lives for me.”

“Never done that before, have we?” Daikoku replied dryly.

Yato struggled, feeling the eyes of the room on him, before giving an exasperated sigh. “This is different.”

“Everyone is of age here. They’ve agreed to this.” Madame Kofuku said shortly.

Daikoku gave a nod and, on cue, Yukine tugged on Yato’s hair. Yato yelped and swore, seeing a few strands in Yukine’s hand as he crossed the room. Madame Kofuku popped the cork and Yukine dropped them into the vial. The potion fizzed gently.

Madame Kofuku took a sip of the potion and grimaced before passing it to Hiyori, who passed it to Kazuma, who passed it to the remaining few who had agreed to this.

It seemed there was no room for arguments now.

Bodies stretched and shrank. Hair grew longer and shorter and changed shades. Voices deepened and a mixture of his own voice ricocheted back at him.

All around him were different versions of himself, dressed in oversized robes – Professors Tsuyu and Takemikazuchi – and feminine clothing – Madame Kofuku and Hiyori. Yato looked on, agape, as a bag of clothes was dropped to the floor and the Yatos began sifting through them and left to get changed. One Yato plucked his glasses off his face and squinted, realising that he could see clearly without them for the first time in his life.

When they came back, he couldn’t tell who was who unless he looked at their body language. The awkward Yato who avoided his gaze and wrapped his arms around himself must have been Hiyori, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty that she agreed to this.

“We’ll be pairing off,” Daikoku said. “Each Yato will have a protector.”

Daikoku paired off the Order members first, unfamiliar faces that left two by two until he reached the teachers. He gestured to a Yato and Kuraha. "Tsuyu and Kuraha, brooms.”

Professor Takemikazuchi and a Yato, who Daikoku hesitated to kiss on the forehead, were next to leave. He directed the next Yato – who was clearly Kazuma as his glasses were tucked in his pocket – to pair with Bishamon. “Thestral.”

“Yukine, Hiyori, brooms,” Daikoku said. His eyes fell on the real Yato. “And you’re with me.”

Yato blinked at Daikoku. He looked over at Hiyori, his mirror image, and began to argue. “No, I’m going with Hiyori -.”

“There’s two of you. You will fly separately.” Daikoku interrupted, silencing Yato’s protest.

Yato looked away, feeling a burn creeping to his cheeks as his friends watched him get scolded. After a moment Daikoku spoke again, in a calmer voice.

“If anyone followed us, they would assume you would be with Hiyori, which is why she agreed to take the potion. Your Father knows you two have an…” He paused, looking for a platonic phrase. “Attachment to one another.”

Yato’s eyes flickered to Hiyori, who looked at him in a somewhat defeated way. He had a point.

Hiyori and Yukine gave him half-smiles as they too filtered out of the living room and outside. Yato made to follow but Daikoku clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him.

“Your job is to get there in one piece. If any of us fall, you cannot stop.”

Yato looked at Daikoku, his normally strict eyes showing a more caring nature, one that understood his worry. If anything, he was acting the way a parent would console their child. Yato gave him a determined nod.

They joined the others outside. Kazuma and Bishamon were already atop a Thestral and the rest of the Order summoned their brooms into their hands. Daikoku’s broom was old but solid and big enough for two people.

Yato swung his leg over and sat behind Daikoku, his hands digging into his shoulders. He hadn’t flown like this before – except for the time he took Hiyori up to the Astronomy – but he was the one in control then. Now he could see how precarious this position was – no stirrups, no handgrip, just a seat and a body to hold onto.

“We’ll meet at the Burrow in about an hour!” Daikoku called, looking around the worried and determined faces around him. He pulled a pair of aviator goggles from his coat and snapped them on his head. He shifted his grip on the broom. “On the count of three. One… two… three!”

They were rising in the air far too quickly than Yato would’ve liked. His eyes watered in the wind and his hair whipped around his face. Beside them he could feel the strong beat of the Thestrals wings soaring higher and higher. Only now did Yato look down on Yukine’s house, watching it disappear in the twinkling lights of the village below, and the next and the next until they were above the clouds.

And then, out of nothing, they were surrounded. Hooded figures, too many to count in the night sky, hung in the air, encircling the Order as they rose through the clouds.

“Avarda Kedavra!”

The sky lit up with a blaze of green. Daikoku dove to the left and Yato found himself clinging for dear life, his feet dangling uselessly as they scrabbled for a footing as the sky rolled and his stomach roiled. Screams came from all sides, all direction lost as they spiralled around and around through a trail of blue and green and red sparks that whizzed past their ears.

The broom uprighted itself and before Yato could breathe, Daikoku had darted out of the mass and soared downwards. Yato whipped his head back to the battle, seeing the sparks of green and distant shapes of brooms and Thestrals diving in the other direction.

“We’ve got to go back!” Yato yelled. His throat dried instantly in the chilled air, but he could just about hear Daikoku above the roaring in his ears.

“My job is to get you away,” Daikoku shouted. “This was the agreement!”

“No!” Yato shouted. “We have to help them!”

Daikoku ignored Yato’s pleas and levelled out the broom, going faster than Yato had ever dared on the Quidditch field until the city lights died beneath them and they were left with the roar of the wind in their ears.

Yato felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and his eyes instinctively darted to the right. Four figures were careening at them, their wands spitting deadly spells.

Daikoku swerved and soared upwards once again. The clouds broke around them and the black figures followed suit, tight on their tail.

Yato clenched his fist in Daikoku’s shirt and wriggled his hand into his pocket, begging that he wouldn’t drop his wand and he pulled it from his pocket and aimed.

“Stupefy!”

Somehow – a miracle or pure luck – the spell hit its mark and left a hole in the Deatheater's offense. Yato aimed again and missed, the red sparks disintegrating into the blackness as the three remaining shadows gained on them.

Sparks flew past Yato’s face and he realised Daikoku was trying to shoot and fly at the same time. Yato doubled his efforts, and a combination of their spells hit a second Deatheater in the chest. He fell from his broom, plummeting to the ground with a shriek. One Deatheaters slowed to save him, but the other was still hot on their trail.

“Expelliarmus!” Yato shouted, his voice snatched by the wind as the sparks shot through his wand.

The spell missed, but a call rose from the Deatheater in response.

“It’s him! it’s the real one!”

Yato felt his heart hammer in his chest, but then the Deatheater peeled away and disappeared from view. Daikoku turned his head, wand still in hand though he had a vice grip on the broom.

“Where’d they go?” Daikoku shouted.

“I don’t know!” Yato shouted back.

His hair whipped around his face as he looked around the blank starless sky. Fear crept into his chest. How could the Deatheater have known he was the real Yato? And why would he suddenly stop giving chase if he knew that?

Maybe they were gathering more Deatheaters, or relaying who he was with – surely there would be more on the way?

“We’re nearly there!” Daikoku shouted over his shoulder.

Yato felt the broom drop a little, each judder making his stomach lurch. Then his head split open in an ear-splitting screech of static.  Yato drooped forward against Daikoku’s back, vision swimming as two Killing Curses narrowly missed them, sent from –.

Yato saw him.

The Sorcerer flew alongside them like a leaf on water with no broom nor Thestral to carry him, his black robes billowing around him. His eyes gleamed like a snake with a mouse, his hair tousled in the wind and a poisonous smile crept onto his face. His hand rose a wand, twisted and malformed oak with a cracked tip.

“Yaboku…”

Daikoku let out a roar and the broom nosedived to the ground. Whatever curse that had been uttered missed them by millimeters, and a shriek came from above them. Daikoku fought to keep the broom from spiralling out of control, sparks of green and red showering them as curses and stunning spells rose up from Deatheater and Order alike. There was a distant scream and a wail that faded into silence as Daikoku fled towards the safety of the dark fields below.

The distant lights of the village grew from the size of fireflies to orbs of light that guided the way home. It was peacefully silent compared to the raging battle above the clouds, eerie and foreboding as they glided across the meadows to the outskirts of civilisation.

Yato’s legs turned to jelly as the broom disappeared from underneath him. he fell to his knees, the static fading from his head but leaving a thumping headache that pounded his temples and sickness in his stomach.

Daikoku took Yato by the elbow, urging him to stand walk. Daikoku kept looking over his shoulder at the sky, wand in hand as if he expected the Sorcerer himself to descend from the night and finish the job.

Yato lifted his gaze from the muddy earth that squelched beneath his feet. Ahead of him was a house, towering in mismatched panels and chimneys that could barely be seen in the nighttime. There were few lights on inside, but as they approached the door of the house flew open.

A Yato stood with their wand raised, but on seeing Daikoku and Yato they lowered it and threw themselves into Daikoku’s arms. In the window Yato could see Professor Takemikazuchi watching, arms crossed across his chest.

By the time his eyes had slid back to Daikoku and the Yato, the Polyjuice Potion had worn off and revealed a distressed Madame Kofuku. Daikoku kept her encircled in his arms, whispering something into the top of her pink curls as his hand stroked her back.

“They got a few of us, but I don’t know who,” Madame Kofuku was saying. “We’re the only ones here.”

Yato looked away, feeling the guilt grow inside his chest. They were the only ones here.

Madame Kofuku finally tore her eyes from Daikoku and found Yato. She unfolded herself from the embrace and took in Yato, looking up at his face cupped in her hands.

“They’ll be here soon, don’t you worry,” Madame Kofuku said.

Yato could tell from her tone that she didn’t believe her own words, and it only made him feel worse as she led him inside.

Yato couldn’t help but be taken aback at the sheer size of the house. Stairs led up to one of the multiple floors of the house, and the inside was just as messy as a Potions classroom. The front room on the right-hand side was a mismatch of armchairs and tables and trinkets that filled every surface. Rugs and pillows had been strewn around in a homely yet cluttered manner, so different from Madame Kofuku’s office at Hogwarts.

The Burrow was not an underground fortress, nor a secret network of tunnels dug by those seeking refuge from the predators that walked overhead. It was a home.

Yato was led into the left room – the kitchen – which looked as if a bomb had exploded recently. A stack of dishes was being washed by a brush that had seen better days and the table was filled with all manner of paperwork and vials and teacups.

“Don’t go outside again,” Madame Kofuku warned. “If they see you when the potions have worn off then there’s no hiding you.”

She turned and made her way to the stove and began to fill the kettle, busying herself with making tea for their guests rather than worry if they had survived the trip. Somewhere in the house he could hear Daikoku moving about, coupled with the kitchen's wooden clock. It loudly ticked every second until Yato could feel the hammering of his heart as the minutes passed, tenser and tenser.

The silence was short-lived as an ethereal screech came outside. Madame Kofuku dropped the teacup she was holding, shattering on the floor.

“HELP ME!”

Yato’s heart flipped, recognising the voice. They sprinted outside, looking through the darkness for the source, wands drawn and spinning to find where the cry had come from. Yato saw a Thestral bolt across the field in a blind panic, riderless as its wings spread and took flight.

From the tall reeds behind the Burrow Bishamon appeared, weighed down by her partner who had taken Yato’s appearance. Although the Polyjuice Potion effects had only begun to fade, Yato knew who it was even without the glasses. Kazuma.

Kazuma’s brown hair was slick with blood, running down his neck and seeping underneath his torn collar. He was barely conscious as Bishamon wrapped her arm around his side and slung his arm over her shoulder, urging him to stay awake.

Yato rushed forwards, catching Kazuma as he stumbled over a rock and nearly took Bishamon to the ground. Something that sounded like a sob escaped Bishamon’s lips as Yato slapped Kazuma’s cheeks, shouting at him to focus on him.

“H-he got h-hit,” Bishamon stammered. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the blood pool around Kazuma’s ears and drip steadily onto her arm and caught in her tangled hair.

“Inside,” Madame Kofuku demanded. “Now!”

Yato put his arm around Kazuma’s back, supporting him as Daikoku arrived and took the weight off Bishamon. Half-carrying, half-dragging, they pulled Kazuma inside the house and set him down on the living room couch. Bishamon clung to his hand and placed a hand on the good side of his face, calling his name over and over.

Madame Kofuku had grabbed a towel from the kitchen and pressed it to Kazuma’s head, trying to staunch the bleeding before rushing to get clean water and bandages. Yato leaned over them worriedly, watching Kazuma fight for consciousness.

A bang and a flash of light came from outside again and Daikoku was already up in arms, storming towards to door to see if friend or foe had tracked them down. A moment later a few nameless Order members emerged into the house, some injured, others not, directed upstairs to tend to their injuries. It seemed, so far, Kazuma was the most serious casualty of the night.

Madame Kofuku ran back into the room with bandages draped over her arm, a punch clenched in her teeth, and a bowl of hot water in her hands. She knelt down and brushed Kazuma’s hair from his eyes and they fluttered lucidly.

“Stay with us there, Kazuma,” Madame Kofuku soothed. “You’re going to be fine.”

Madame Kofuku dropped the pouch into Bishamon’s hands and instructed her to feed him the contents, a remedy to ease his pain whilst they worked. Yato tore his eyes away from the deepening crimson colour the water was taking as they worked on Kazuma, and stood by the window. He could see Daikoku outside, wand by his side as he scanned the moving clouds for life.

Yato felt his nerves jitter. Hiyori and Yukine were not here. They were the last ones, and a coiling knot of worry had already gnawed a hole in his stomach. He tried not to think about the ambush, the curses, and the green sparks that showed that the Deatheater’s intended to kill all of them, decoy or not. He tried not to think about the Sorcerer, appearing to him for the first time since that night in the graveyard, and the familiarity in those eyes…

There was a shout from outside and Yato’s mind snapped back to the present. He could see Daikoku jogging across the field, and in the distance two shapes hobbling towards him. The Polyjuice potion effects had completely worn off now, and he could see Hiyori and Yukine. Daikoku seemed to be helping Yukine hobble back towards the Burrow.

Yato rushed out of the living room and out the front door against his better judgement and the warning he’d been given. He drew his wand as a compromise as he darted across the short distance to the three of them as they made their way back. Daikoku had Yukine by the arm, his foot seemingly injured but not too badly, and Hiyori was trotting beside him with her wand drawn.

“Yato, get back inside -,” Daikoku started, but the instruction fell on deaf ears.

Yato closed the gap and pulled Hiyori and Yukine into a suffocating hug. He held them tight, eyes closed, and thanked Merlin that they were alive. They stood like that for the briefest of moments before Yato found his voice again.

“What happened?” Yato asked.

“Crash landing,” Hiyori said against his shoulder. “Broom split in two and we got thrown off.”

“Well, you had a soft landing at least,” Yukine grumbled, shifting his weight between his feet. Hiyori's laugh was stifled against Yato’s jacket, but she apologised for her landing skills.

Daikoku cleared his throat and Yato let go. Their faces were pinched red but awash with relief, and Yato felt his heart rate begin to slow. They were here. They were alive.

The four of them made their way back to the Burrow, casting looks back at the sky as the clouds darkened in the distance.

~

Yato lay awake staring at the ceiling. He, Hiyori and Yukine had taken a room for themselves, but there was only a bunk bed. Yukine took the top bunk and Hiyori the bottom, leaving Yato to lie on the floor, hands folded over his stomach and thin sheet.

He’d told them everything that had happened: the Deatheater knowing who he was, the Sorcerer attempting to kill him, Kazuma’s injury which, according to Madame Kofuku, would heal with a salve and potion.

The thought of what had happened and how close they had come to death kept Yato awake for hours. He knew sleep wouldn’t come, not tonight.

Yato gently pushed the sheets away and stood, wincing at every creak in the floorboards as he slipped out of the room and walked down the stairs. Some of the Order had left, but they would be back for the wedding in a few days, but Yato could hear gentle snores coming from the living room.

Yato quietly paced to the living room door to check on Kazuma’s condition. He made a mental note to apologise for allowing him to take such a stupid, dangerous risk. One that nearly cost his life. The door cracked open slightly but Yato paused.

Still asleep, Kazuma was lying on the couch with his head turned to the side, showing the bandages covering his injury. His glasses were nowhere in sight, leaving his face looking more boyish rather than the older Prefect look he had always sported. However, the thing that stopped Yato in his tracks was Bishamon asleep beside him.

She was still sitting on the floor, but her body slumped over so her head lay on his lap, her hand brought up to entwine their fingers together. Her hair was mussed up slightly, both from the night’s events and sleep. She had obviously been claimed by exhaustion too as the creak of door hinges didn’t stir her attention, nor did she move from Kazuma’s side.

Yato smiled slightly, and gently closed the door.

[kazimakuwabara]

This Bites part 4

Part three here! 

Kuwabara awakens, confused as to why he was even asleep. Hadn't he been at dinner? And why was each of his limbs strapped to each corner of his bed? 

Kuwabara blinks, his head aching just a little, and looks at each wrist. There is a vine coiled around each one, keeping him tethered to the bed.

He moves just a little, testing the range of his movements, and the plants squeeze him tight, pulling just a little. A warning that they will keep him in place.

“Don’t struggle too much... they could hurt you,” Hiei’s voice cautions.

Kuwabara startles and looks in the corner of the room, and spots Hiei. 

He is sitting in Kuwabara’s office chair, Eikitchi on his lap. He has a hand on top of her, not petting, but she seems content anyway. She starts to slowly puff up as Kuwabara looks at her, which is a bit of a blow if Kuwabara thinks too hard on it. Luckily, there is a lot to distract him right now.

Hiei smells of dark chocolate, earth, fresh rain, and something slightly metallic.

He's on the other side of the room, but Kuwabara can smell it, and it smells so fucking delicious.

Kuwabara’s mouth waters and he suddenly remembers what he did.

Yusuke. He bit...

“Urameshi! Did I-” Kuwabara chokes on the words. The vines squeeze him tight; a warning.

Hiei stands up, placing Ekitchi in his chair. His face is blank, void of all emotion, including the normal one Kuwabara sees, which is irritation. This makes Kuwabara more anxious. Hiei holds up a hand and slowly speaks, “Shizuru hit you on your head with a frying pan. Which effectively stopped you from draining all of Yusuke’s blood.”

Kuwabara might have laughed any other time at the visual of being struck by a frying pan.

"I was... draining his blood?" Kuwabara asks, already knowing the answer.

"You were drinking it," Hiei says slowly, hesitantly. He shouldn't have answered.

Kuwabara feels the plants tighten on him as he tenses. They pull, slightly stretching him, and it should hurt, but it really doesn't.

“I... why did I? I don’t know why I-” Kuwabara’s voice is trembling. He's trying not to get upset, but he is. He's so disgusted with himself. He was hurting his friend... and he's just disappointed that he didn't get more to drink. He's parched.

Hiei takes a step closer, but maintains his distance, “Don’t get upset. Yusuke is alright. He is out with Kurama right now... trying to get something that will... help. You've been out since last night, and Yusuke recovered quick.”

“Help what? Help stop me from chompin' out my best friend’s throat!?” Kuwabara’s voice is getting tight, and he’s embarrassed at the tears prickling his eyes. He doesn’t really want to cry in front of Hiei right now, even if he’s done it before. It’s still embarrassing. 

“Help you overcome what is happening,” Hiei answers quickly, and takes another step closer. Eikitchi is growling in the office chair, her eyes still on Kuwabara. Kuwabara doesn't look at her, feeling ashamed that his baby is afraid of him. He's had her since she was a kitten. What's happening to him, if she feels she must growl at him?

“You need to remain calm... getting upset might trigger your hunger,” Hiei says slowly. There’s... concern in Hiei’s eyes, and it makes Kuwabara’s stomach twist with dread.

“Hiei... what’s happening to me? What... what hunger?” Kuwabara pleads, looking at the demon desperately. Tears leak down Kuwabara’s cheeks, but it’s less from stress and more that his eyes are watering from Hiei’s scent. Hiei smells so... good.

And Kuwabara knows what hunger Hiei is referencing. He can feel that hunger creeping from his belly, to crawl up his throat and burn under his skin. He knows what he needs! He can’t think about that right now. He can’t... he won’t touch that thought. 

Hiei’s hands flex, and his eyes narrow. He’s angry, but it’s not at Kuwabara.

“Kurama thinks the bite you got from that demon... well he thinks it’s an infection. A specific type of infection. He and Yusuke are at the cave confirming it,” Hiei answers.

Kuwabara closes his eyes tight. 

Hiei’s heartbeat has thudded. And Kuwabara can tell it’s faster than normal. Demon heartbeats have long intervals between each beat, Yusuke's heart taught him that. And now Kuwabara is aware of every heartbeat in this room, and in the building, and the building across the street. He can hear them all, and they're all pumping something so delicious, but it's not the other heartbeats Kuwabara wants right now. Hiei's is the one in the room. Hiei’s heart is the one that has picked up... and it’s so.... so...

Kuwabara bites his lips and tastes his own blood.

It’s satisfying in its own way...

But this isn’t the blood he wants.

“Stop that! Don’t hurt yourself!” Hiei snarls, stepping towards Kuwabara.

Unwisely, he is too close. His heart is beating too fast. And he smells too good.

What was holding him back before, is easy to tear apart. Like breaking through cobwebs. Kuwabara lunges for Hiei, and Hiei’s eyes are wide, and as red as blood. They make Kuwabara hungrier.

Snapping like a wild animal, Kuwabara pins Hiei, but Hiei has brought his sword out and uses it to keep Kuwabara away from him. Kuwabara tastes Hiei’s sheath as he tries to snap at Hiei. The sheathed weapon is clutched in Hiei's hand as he holds Kuwabara off. Hiei's face twists into a resistant snarl, but the surprise in his eyes is clear. Kuwabara is much stronger in this moment.

“Kuwabara! Kuwabara! Fucking... come to your senses!” Hiei snaps, angry and desperate, "Don't make me..."

Idly, Kuwabara thinks Hiei should have taken the blade out while he had the chance.

Kuwabara bites hard down on the sheath, and it breaks. Kuwabara can taste his own blood, and steel as it bites into his mouth. Hiei is stunned by the sight, and Kuwabara rips the sword from Hiei’s slackened grasp with a toss of his head.

Eikitchi runs yowling from the room.

Kuwabara grabs Hiei’s hands, Hiei cursing at the strength of his grasp. Kuwabara pins them high over Hiei's head, and growls predatorily down at the figure before him.

The animal, and the man that Kuwabara is currently, is pleased that he can hold Hiei down like this. He wouldn’t have had the strength to pin him before.

Kuwabara licks his wounded lips and feels them rapidly healing as he keeps his eye on his prey.

Pressing his nose to Hiei’s throat, Kuwabara lets out a satisfied groan. Chocolate. Earth. Fresh rain. Blood. Hiei's scent is a treat.

Yusuke tasted pretty good, but Kuwabara has a feeling Hiei’s going to taste a whole lot better.

Hiei’s heart is as close to hammering as Kuwabara supposes a demon heart can get. He likes that. 

“Kuwabara! Kazuma!” Hiei barks, trying to sound threatening. He doesn’t succeed... but there is... desperation and concern. The concern in Hiei's voice makes Kuwabara pause. Makes a quiet soft voice inside Kuwabara’s head ask, ‘What are you doing?’

“Wh-What am I doing?” Kuwabara gurgles, the strength that had been possessing him, leaving him in a big rush.

He collapses atop Hiei, his nose burying into Hiei’s throat.

It is torture.

He is so hungry.

But this is his friend.

He shouldn’t... he shouldn’t...

“Get away from me!” Kuwabara sobs, burying his hands into Hiei’s arms. His nails as sharp as knives, pierce Hiei’s flesh, as easy as tissue paper.

“I’m so... so hungry!” Kuwabara wails piteously and wants to resist. But he smells the blood he’s drawn and he can’t. He can’t resist. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t!

Kuwabara grinds into Hiei’s body, Hiei jerking in alarm at Kuwabara’s actions. Hiei is flushed in the face, and pulling himself away from Kuwabara as, Kuwabara cradles a hand around Hiei’s throat. Sloppily Kuwabara presses his lips and teeth to Hiei’s throat.

Kuwabara kisses the pulse.

“You smell... so good...” Kuwabara purrs.

Hiei shudders in response. His skin is hot. Kuwabara is about to make a lewd suggestion about it when Hiei remembers he has fucking legs and kicks him hard in the gut.

Kuwabara goes flying and crashes into his doorframe, his back howling with protest.

His eyes are watering and he growls with frustration and looks up into his Sister’s grim and determined face.

“Sorry little brother,” She says... then smacks him with a heavy skillet.

He feels himself falling, and catches a glimpse of his front door opening. Kurama and Yusuke are running in, looking alarmed. Kuwabara’s just relieved Yusuke seems to be okay... and then gives in to the dark.

[phoenixspirited]

@curlybara​ said: “ come here, i got you. ” || Words of Comfort

It’s dark and cold and every inch of Yusuke’s body screams in agony.

It’s like he’s being torn apart from the inside out, and he’s helpless to stop it. To do anything at all.

There’s blood when he tries to move. He’s not sure where it’s all coming from. Sometimes he can taste it in his mouth and feel it dripping down his arms or from his forehead like it came from a bullet wound. Its copper scent fills the air, and he can hear it plopping down to the stone floor.

No amount of fighting makes the pain stop. Nothing lessens the blows, he— he—

He’s screaming and screaming, and he can’t stop screaming—

Because nothing he’s been through could compare to this. And still, he has to keep fighting it, keep fighting. He can’t give in after all this training, after everything he’s been through! If he doesn’t resist this, how the hell is he supposed to be strong?! How will he win and save everybody else?!

But he can’t win— he can’t—

He’s lost balance on his feet, and he’s fallen flat on his face to the ground. He’s gasping, dehydrated, and there’s no source of water in sight. He can’t so much as twitch because of the anguish it sends surging through him like electricity. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. It’s too much.

He’s not gonna make it through this stupid trial. He’s too weak. Too damn weak to make any sort of difference!

And even when Puu shows up, he… he can’t move. Not at first. He can only watch tearfully as this dumb stupid reflection of himself fights, then falls pathetically.

He’s broken. They both are.

He’s going to die here—

He’s going to die here—

He’s going to—

Yusuke surges up with a strangled gasp. His breathing is erratic, and there’s an itch at the back of his throat like he needs to scream, even though he can’t feel the pain anymore.

It’s still dark, and it’s— he’s not stuck there, he’s— where the hell is he—?

Something wet is trickling down his face, while his arms and neck are sticky, and dammit, it must be blood, he’s so sure it’s blood! But then he chokes, and— and he knows that’s not it. It’s only his own sweat and tears. W-when had he started crying? Why couldn’t he stop?

Everything’s a confusing, awful blur, until someone enters his field of vision. Someone reaching out gently and directing Yusuke’s gaze to him.

Kazuma.

Kazuma’s here.

They’re home. They’re home and that… that was just…

Kazuma’s speaking to him softly. Careful not to raise his voice or move too suddenly as if it might cause Yusuke to break, and isn’t it pathetic that he might not be wrong?

But he’s inviting him in. He’s asking to help. Taking hold of him and pulling him close.

Come here, I got you.

And it’s Kazuma. It’s Kazuma, so Yusuke can trust him— he can trust him.

He surges forward, falling into his arms, and Kazuma’s hold tightens securely around him. Yusuke’s hands scramble for the back of Kazuma’s shirt and he seizes it into a death grip. A stupid, broken sob escapes him and buries his face against his chest.

And he knows, logically, that this is dumb. He’s safe now. It was all just a dream.

Except… it wasn’t, was it? It doesn’t matter that it was years ago. It was real, it was real, and it felt like he’d been living through it all over again.

[teruuji]

@bloedend​ ASKED, related to this:

' fuck-- shit-- oi, STOP LAUGHING AND HELP ME FIX THIS MESS '

. 遊児 .

               ‘ I am the mechanic here ’

That’s hardly reassuring, he thinks to himself, especially when Bobata was so adamant on going through with his dumb idea. Sure, Terushima had seen these impressive DIY dent fixes on cars on the internet himself. One had been exceptionally funny, when a girl used a suction cup from her dildo on the car and fixed the dent in the sturdy metal plates of the door. 

But that was the thing. Those cars were old school, metal; this car was brand new, and even Terushima knew they were meant to take the blunt of the force, and designed to break apart, when in a collision, so that the damage wouldn’t be inflicted on the people inside the car. 

The wonders of design.

Yuuji opens his mouth to reason with Kazuma.

                ‘ i am PROFESSIONAL. Y’might have been in                      class seven but I finished engineering school.                     I know what I’m doin’ . ’

Terushima narrowed his eyes at him, sighed. “Alright. You’re the pro,” he says, hardly sounding convincing. He lifts his glass of iced coffee at his friend, and hits the record button, taking another drink. 

He watched Kazuma stick the glue onto the dent, and already alarm bells went off in his head. If nothing else, should he not have put them in the center of the dent and not that much on the side of it? “Uh... hon?” he starts, but alas it’s too late. And with a gentle pull, the whole fender came off.

.....I knew it.

Yuuji stared wide eyed, lips parted. 

I knew it...!

The stupid side mirror popped off.

I knew it!

                ‘ Shit. ’ 

Terushima threw his head back in the most loudest and obnoxious laugh ever, even kicked his foot out in front of him and pretty much fell off the stool in the process. The loud laugh turned into a wheeze, he could hardly breathe. Tears streamed down his face and he was hanging off from the workbench next to him, gripping tightly around the drink he also had spilled. His legs felt weak and he was soon on his knees, gasping for air and still wheezing.

               ‘ fuck-- shit-- oi, STOP LAUGHING AND                   HELP ME FIX THIS MESS ’

Yuuji held his stomach, struggling to breathe, but one look at Kazuma, his expression, and the damage he did to the tens of thousands worth of car, had him wheezing again. 

And with a high pitched, breathless voice he mocks, “I am a professional,” and just starts laughing again, nearly peeing himself in the process. 

[youngmistressofchopchop]

I did it. Now I dont write, I draw so this is not gonna be so good. Its been through many revisions and I realized I spelt "Yuseke" as "Yueske the entire time so forgive me ill fix that next chapter. My Kuwabara x oc story:

It was finally cold again. Miyoko was overjoyed, she had never liked summer. Sure there was no school and she had more time with friends, but she couldn't stand the heat. She detested those sweaty nights, or how the bugs always bothered her, actually she didnt care for any part of summer.

Miyoko had dropped so many hints over the years and yet somehow, Kuwabara still had no clue. His air-headed-ness was cute, but it made things difficult for the shy girl Miyoko was. She just couldn't work up the nerve to say something, and when she did, something would always interrupt her. However, today she planned to change that! Miyoko got dressed up as cozy as she could, ready for what her and her friends had planned and with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, she headed out the door. 

 That was apart from going to see her crush, Kazuma Kuwabara's baseball games, he would play every summer. When they were younger, he played in an official team wearing his "Mötor Head" jersey and smoking every opposing team he played against. Miyoko never missed a single game! Every home run, every strike, and every fight that broke out because of a bad call, she was there. When they got older, she would be there to watch him play against his friends, still wearing that jersey. She was always supportive of him, she was madly in love with him, and had been for awhile.

"Urameshi!! Where do you think you're going?? I was talking to you!" Kuwabara's feet hit the sidewalk with force as he sprinted after Yueske, who had walked only a few feet, forcing Kuwabara to stop abruptly frantically trying to steady himself without falling. After regaining balance, Kuwabara grabed a fists full of his friend's jacket to pull him close aggressively. 

"D-Dont tell anyone! Or I'll break your mouth, so you cant tell anyone nothin' ever again!!" Kuwabara's face was as red as the setting sun. Unfazed, Yuseke stared at Kuwabara blankly for a short second before sighing and shrugging the big flustered fool off of him. 

"Listen man, I wont say anything. But this is getting really annoying. Ive told you before that you should just go through with it. Whats your problem with admitting to her anyways?" Yuseke looked to the helpless man and immediately regretted asking. Kuwabara looked off dramatically twords the orange and red sky. His shoulders slouched, slumping over, and fiddling with his hands. 

"I....Shes really pretty, ya know? And...Im well...ya know?" His voice trailed off, as if wanting reassurance he was being foolish. When there was no reply, Kuwabara peeked up with a quivering bottom lip. 

Yueske stood with his hands in his pocket saying nothing, only wearing a furrowed brow and tight lips. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Causing Kuwabara to stand up straight and look at him even more embarrassed, and ready to punch him.

"I never thought I'd hear the great Kuwabara, warrior of love, admit to being ugly!!" Mocked Yueske. He bent over shaking his head and slapping his leg, resting his other elbow on his knee and laughing loudly. He straightened and wiped a fake tear from his eye. Kuwabara gasped in shock. 

"What?? Ugly??" Again Kuwabara grabbed at his friend, this time missing and falling. He quickly got up and held up a threatening fists. 

"Im not ugly!! Im just not a romantic type!!" He rubbed his fists on his chest. 

"I am a warrior of love, so I know how to treat a lady and how to talks to girls, I just....." He paused, his mouth moving like hes trying to remember how talking works. "She's different!!" He finaly blurted out. "She reads them girly romance books that Kurama likes!!" With a frustrated grunt, Kuwabara rubbed his neck nervously and spoke in a much more serious tone.

"Ive known her a real long time, and I cant tell her yet cuz I'm kinda worried she only thinks of me like how Shizuru thinks of me." Yueske picked up on the seriousness of the situation and scoffed trying to lighten things up again. 

"Well you are ugly, but I think she likes you anyway. Besides man, why asks me? You think I read them werid books?" Yueske pat Kuwabara awkwardly on the shoulder. 

"No way. I asked cuz you have a girlfriend!!" Kuwabara turned to look at Yueske who was moving his arm away. 

"So? Doesnt mean I know what im doing, just asks Keiko." The boys laugh, seeming to have calmed down a great deal. Before much more could be said, four familiar and approaching voices could be heard chatting playfully. 

"Oh dear, you didnt actually take me seriously did you, Miyoko?" Botan said in a teasing tone. 

"I did!! I'm gullible, you cant just tell me anything about spirit world.I will believe it!! Everytime!" The two girls laughed. 

"I've noticed," Interjected Kurama. "You have managed to retained alot of attributes from your childhood haven't you? I find that interesting." Kurama continud, wrapping an arm around Botan. 

"Alot of people say that...is that a bad thing? I'm not immature am I?" Miyoko felt nervous now. Maybe that was the why Kuwabara never seemed to return her feelings, perhaps she wasn't mature enough for a relationship.

Keiko quickly spouted, "No no! I don't think he meant it like that, I think it's cute!" Keiko put a reassuring arm around Miyoko and smiled a friendly smile. 

"Ofcourse! Its an admirable trait." Kurama said as Botan giggled. 

Botan wagged her finger and pointed it at Miyoko with a knowing smile "Im on to you! You shouldn't feel so insecure!" Botan pulled her arm back and used it to hug Kurama's arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself, I know you're simply nervous, so you're being extra critical of yourself, but you'll do fine!" Botan hummed encouragingly. "And, we all look fantastic!" Botan added as they all rounded the corner.

Keiko stopped dead in her tracks, and started tapping her foot. "Well, most of us are...Yueske! I thought I told you to dress up!!" Keiko pouted, walking over to her boyfriend's side. 

Yueske was the most casually dressed out of all of them. Just wearing his usual faded blue jeans, black converse shoes, plain yellow shirt and favorite green and yellow windbreaker jacket. He looked even more underdressed standing next to Keiko. She was wearing a lovely pale pink turtleneck, a plum purple suspender skirt reaching to her knees, long white socks, and loafers to match her skirt. Despite their contrasting attire, they somehow matched perfectly. 

Yueske wrapped his arm around Keiko's shoulder and smirked."Kuwabara isnt dressed up." He looked over to Kuwabara and nodded his way while jutting his thumb twords his friend. 

"What!! I am too!! This is the nicest thing I got!! Other than like...a tux or something!!" Kuwabara wore a blue Letterman jacket, a red sweater with dark blue jeans, and brown dress boots laced in black, he was indeed dressed up quite nicely. Miyoko blushed at the sight of his clothing, he cleaned up nicely as always. She couldn't help but smile at him, it was always a slight surprise to see him out of his school uniform. Kuwabara had a simular reaction to Miyoko's choice of clothing. She dawned a wine red A-line dress, knitted black leggins, and shin high beige lace up boots. She wasn't one to dress up like this, but she wanted to tonight, it was a special night after all. 

Trying to redirect the situation and prevent Yueske and Kuwabara from fighting, Botan chimed in. "Well, I never have to worry about Kurama when it comesto presentation! Unless ofcourse, he's overdressed and making me look a fool!" Kurama and Botan giggled to eachother looking the most put together, like they were the parents of the group. Tonight, everyone was going their part to help Miyoko's odds, evident by Botan, who was wearing something much different from her usual choice of clothing.

She modelled a white turtle neck dress, form fitting reaching just above her knees with a small slit on the right side, with sleeves that reached slightly past her palms, she wore her wedding ring, hoop earings, beige velvet tights, and blue slip on flats to top off the look. To match her, Kurama dressed just as nice. Wearing a white button up tucked neatly into his dark brown pants, red suspenders with red suede shoes laced in black, and a matching wool trench coat to top complete it all. Now everyone felt underdressed. 

"So what are we doing anyway?" Yueske asked scratching his cheek. Keiko shook her head "Are you serious? You've been waiting around this long, and you dont even know why??" Yueske simpled shrugged "I guess?" 

Botan sighed looking tired, Yueske was a handful for everyone. "Dont you remember, Yueske? I told you this morning! We're all having dinner!" 

Botan motioned to the brick building everyone was standing next to. "You've been standing right next to the restaurant! Where I told you we would be meeting up, seriously! You didn't connect the dots?" Botan tilted her head with a hopeless look. Yueske gritted his teeth and roughly pulled Keiko by her hip to his, talking through his teeth. "Whatever!!" He sighed and let go of Keiko fixed his hair flustered, he brought his fists down onto his palm talking loudly. "So now that we're all here, can we go?? Im starving and you guys took all damn evening to get here!"

Keiko lightly kicked his shoe pouting up at him. "Hush!! Its not our fault you dont listen, besides you didnt even try to dress nice! So I dont feel sorry for you." Yuseke quickly stepped aside and raised his voice a bit "Hey! Didnt ya hear me?? I didn't know what was going on!!" Keiko roughly poked her boyfriend's chest, "Again, not our problem! Listen and you wouldn't have to worry!!" 

Kurama was the first to put a stop to the bickering. He took a wide step twords the brick building and grabbed the glass doors handle, he opened the door and motioned for everyone fallow him inside.

So theres that. I'll write more soon. I hope its as fun to read as it was fun to write.

[calamitynight]

Yatori week 2018 - Remember Me {Day 6}

@yatori-week-2018

Words: 3660

Notes: It’s funny how I got this idea. My friend and I were having a conversation while we were discussing cosplays... She happened to have had a dream about this a long time ago. So I thought it would be perfect to write it into a story.....Time has passed since Hiyori had forgotten about Yato. He was now busy with Yukine trying to become a god of fortune, spending what seemed to be less time with Hiyori. With great fear she would forget about him again, she slowly starts taking his clothes bit by bit. This was her way of remembering him.

It was a hot summer day, one of those whose heat paralyzed people into staying indoors. The sun was blazing above and the guys were laying on the floor in front of the fans. Their bodies showcased them covered in sweat. They whined, groaned and complained about the hellish heat. No matter what they did nothing seemed to calm down the rays shinning from the sky. Hiyori sat in the corner with a fan hitting her as well. She had draped her body onto the table, her face slammed against the cold surface. She had began to spend every waking moment with the boys, but the weather was killing her. What she would give to be in an air conditioned house. Yet as she turned to look at both Yato and Yukine, she feared leaving their side. Yato had managed to pick himself up and throw his face onto the table. He showed an expression of satisfaction towards the cold surface. She watched and took in every detail of his. How long has it been? Weeks maybe...since she's forgotten about them. She didn't want to be reminded of those times. Yato had gone missing for weeks and she hated that in that small amount of time she had managed to forget about them. She wasn't different at all, she couldn't bare to let them know. They twist and turned in aggravation as if any of that was going to make things better. Then to many surprise Yato's cellphone began to ring. He lifted his arm above his head to read the incoming number. He hesitated but soon put the phone over his ear. He pushed himself up from the table, giving it a little smack as he slammed down his hand. In his palm he held his so called scarf, he could no longer bare it wrapped around his neck. He moved slightly to kick Yukine. The face he received was full of anger, irritation and hate. He seemed to have backed up a little from his response. 

"We have a job to do" He said with all of his might.

"Seriously?" Yukine pushed himself off of the floor. "Let's just hope the place has air conditioning" They both stood up from the floor and stretched. "You know you don't have to be here Hiyori"

"Oh, no it's okay"

"That's right! you have a house with great air conditioning. How about we rest there some time" Yato said happily. That was the first smiled he's let out since she's shown up.

"Don't use her for your comfort, Yato"

"It's not just for me you know!"

         Hiyori watched as they argued while they walked away to their new job. Usually she always went with them on jobs, but she couldn't bring herself to do this heat today. She pushed her face off of the flat table top as something caught her eye. It was that vibrant blue color, so hard to miss. She moved her gaze towards the other side of the table. There it was, his bright blue colored rag. He seemed to have left it behind, and she didn't blame him. She sat there for a moment with a knot in her gut. She didn't understand this urge that was suddenly building up inside of her. For some reason she couldn't take her eyes off it, she couldn't get herself to ignore it. She couldn't fight off the feeling, she had to take it.

The next day had arrived, it was just as hot as the last. It was noon when Yato finally realized that his fluffy fluff scarf was missing. He was ravaging through everything in his line of sight. No matter where he looked he couldn't find it. Finally irritated with him, Yukine began to look too.

"Where could it have gone? I left it on the table" Yato questioned. He scratched the top of his head in means to remembering, it was to no avail.

"If you ask me I think good riddance. The thing was atrocious"

"No! I feel naked without it" He began to tear up.

"Maybe Kofuku took it and put it in the wash or something. She probably smelled how much it stunk when you left it behind"

"That's right! I'll go ask her"

"Her and Diakoku left a couple of minutes ago. They couldn't take it in this heat"

"Ahhh! why why why!? I need my scarf!"

"It's only a rag, it's to hot to have it wrapped around anyway. I'm leaving, this is getting annoying"

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Up to see Kazuma" He began to walk away from his crying god. Leaving him behind as he zapped up to Takamagahara.

         Hiyori walked along side her friends without a care in the world. The school was cool from the heat waves outside as they walked down the hallway. School was almost over and she watched as everyone around dreaded leaving the safety of the a.c. unit. She drifted away from their conversation as she always did. She watched outside the tall windows at the poor people forced to be outside right now. She didn't noticed her friends had stopped until she walked right into them.

"Earth to Hiyori" Yama waved her hand in front of her face.

"Hm? What's up"

"Oh nothing, just that you were spacing out again"

"I was afraid you might have one of your narcoleptic events" Ami admitted.

"You know since you're finally back into the conversation" Hiyori nervously laughed at Yama's comment. "What's with the rag tied onto your bag strap?"

"Oh, ah..." She looked down at Yato's scarf. Honestly she didn't know what to say. She had taken it without thinking and tied up to her school bag this morning. "you see..." She couldn't think of an excuse. "My mom has been complaining lately how I don't really clean, yeah! I don't do much chores, so this is a reminder that I have to start once I get home from school" She wanted to smack herself for telling such an awful lie.

"Could it be, has our Hiyori been slacking at home?"

"Uh, yeah..." She couldn't believe it, did they buy into that?

"That's hard to believe" Ami commented. "Why such a bright color?"

"I don't know, I guess something about this color caught my eye"

"Well we should get going back to class before the bell rings"

        Hiyori has never been so thankful that class was almost starting. She looked down at the rag and flushed in embarrassment. Why did she take this in the first place? As they walked away, she calmly untied it from her strapped and put the rag in her bag. As she grabbed it and folded it neatly, she let out a blush. Just one piece of fabric held onto his smell so strongly. It smelled so good to her, she dreaded putting it into her bag. Still she couldn't wait to see Yato again. She walked into Kofuku's house as she always had. She didn't see Yato downstairs and saw Yukine thrown in front of the fan in the corner. That was the one she was using yesterday, she was certain that it worked better than the others. She smiled as it appeared that Yukine had also figured that out. She took off her shoes and jacket, it was getting way too hot to wear it. She should really change into her spring uniform she thought to herself. Yukine appeared to be in some sort of bliss in front of this fan. It looked like he was asleep, but as she sat down he opened his eyes.

"Hey, Hiyori" he said in a low dried voice. He leaned over to grab the glass of water before him. "You really shouldn't come when it's hot like this"

"I want to hang around you guys, I find it better than being by myself" He had stood up and walked over to the kitchen as she spoke. Seconds later he came back with another cup of water. He set it down in front of her and went back to the fan. "You guys can come over to my place, you know"

"That's true, but with Yato being the way he is right now, well....I think that'll have to wait"

"What do you mean?" 

Steps pounded at the wooden floor as they ran down the stairs. Yato stopped at the entrance and turned to Hiyori. She grabbed a hold of her shoulders and looked at her with worried eyes. Tears soon filled them just as quickly.

"I can't find my fluffy fluff scarf" He cried out. "I looked everywhere, I teared our room apart" snot slowly fell from his nose. She turned back at her bag and then at him. "You don't happen to know what happened to it, do you Hiyori?"

"What? No, not at all" Why did she lie? it just came out before she could think of anything else.

"Kofuku has been really busy with the shop, so we haven't had any time to ask her" Yukine sounded irritated.

"Oh that's right, with it getting warmer more people walk by. Then this heat ended up being good for someone" She laughed nervously.

"Yeah, but with more people out that means more phantoms" Yato responded. "And I can't go out without my fluffy fluff scarf. It's my identity, it's who I am!"

"Oh shut up, you've been stalling all day. We have to go work now Yato. I'm sorry Hiyori, I know you just got here, but he's been slacking off for hours" He pulled on Yato's shirt. "Come on, I don't want Lady Bishamon picking up your slack, don't you know she has better things to do"

As she watched them walk away she took out her planner and wrote down her small note of the day. Both of them are sure starting to keep themselves busy. She was happy to see them, even if it was just for a little while, but was it enough? Something had began to feel off, like everyone was heading forward and she was stuck there. She was afraid if she kept moving she would forget again. Hiyori heard movement towards the kitchen and headed over to check it out. Kofuku seemed to be carrying a box out to the shop. She stopped as she noticed her right away and gave her a smile.

"Hey yori" She greeted happily. "Did Yato and Yukine just leave?"

"Yeah, they left just a second ago"

"Well that sucks. I know it's hot in this house, so I made Daikoku order some extra ice cream. I just put it in the fridge for them"

"That's very considerate, I will let them know" She grabbed a hold of the box in her hand, taking it from her. "Let me help you with that"

"Thanks Hiyori, you're always so nice to me"

"Not at all, it's the least I can do"

As she put the box down at its destination, she felt eyes on her. She turned back to meet with a smiling Kofuku. This smile was different than her usual smile, but it's a smile she's seen before. A smile that show cased that she knew something. Something Hiyori didn't want them knowing about.

"I chose to ignore it, but I heard Yato crying about how his scarf went missing" She commented. "You don't know anything about that?"

"No I don't"

"Then that's really strange, that's the first time anything has gone missing from our house. Well it's not like it belongs to us, but still Yato seemed very upset about it"

"I'll to look for it"

"That's very sweet of you, although you might not have to look very far"

"Oh really?"

"Mhmm, well I have to get to work now before Diakoku scolds me again. Thanks for the help, Hiyori" She pranced away without a care in the world.

        Hiyori stood there in disbelief as she held onto her chest. She knew Kofuku was cunning and she always seemed to know everything, but sometimes she truly could appear scary. Hiyori walked up to the attic where Yato and Yukine slept. As she stood at the door she was surprised how Yato really did destroy the room. The futons were thrown around with their sheets and pillows. Their one table was flipped upside down. Yukine's many outfits were thrown around the room. She let out a sigh as she began to clean up his mess. After picking up the beds and the table she proceeded to fold their clothing. She was preoccupied with Yukine's at first, but it didn't take her long to notice the black track suit on the floor. As she began to fold it, she let her hold on it linger. His smell was stronger coming from the jacket. It crinkled in her hands as she pulled it up to her chest. It took her a minute, but she did notice something off from before. Yato wasn't wearing his jacket when he came downstairs. She refused to let go of the track suit. Shaking her head in disbelief at herself she put the jacket down on the table. It was getting hotter by the day and Yato had began to leave his clothes off more and more. Hiyori had originally come upstairs to put his scarf back. She had failed terribly on that afternoon. 

"YUKINE!" Yato yelled out to his regalia. It was early in the morning, and all he wanted to do was beat the life out of his god. "I can't find my jacket" Yukine was amazed at how Yato continued without a care. "I've looked everywhere"

"What do you need that thing for? It's too hot for that" Yukine finally responded with death glare added to his expression.

"I can't find my scarf and now my jacket, what is happening!?"

"Maybe Kofuku  put that in the wash too. The room was clean when we came back yesterday, she must have picked it up"

"Yeah, that's true, but she's too busy for me to ask" He draped himself in defeat. "Wait! if that's true, wouldn't she had washed them together? And why wouldn't she tell me that she's doing it?"

"Look I really don't care Yato...Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Help me find them Yukine!"

It was a lovely Saturday morning, Hiyori was dressed in her comfortable home attire. She was thinking about giving the guys some space, and spending a day alone to herself. She ate breakfast with her parents, as she did ever morning. She walked them out as they left to head to work. The house was quiet and empty. Something about it made her feel a bit uneasy. Yet she sat down on the couch and watched a morning show. She figured this would distract her for the time being, but it didn't do that at all. She walked up the stairs, it sounded so hollow as her feet walked on their wooden floor. It was nice and cool inside, and she wondered how the guys were doing. Shaking her head she got the thought out of it, she was suppose to give them some space. They were working really hard, and she didn't want to get in the way. For some reason that left an aching feeling in her chest. She was afraid that if she didn't see them everyday she would forget, but that was too much of a burden on them, wasn't it? She headed to her bedroom and jumped on her bed. Her room was filled with a strong smell, her favorite smell. She calmly hummed in satisfaction of it, it was a lovely smell that only she could enjoy. Holding the rag tightly in between her fingers, she thought about the trouble she had caused for Yukine. Thinking back at this, she felt even worst for what she had done. He looked so tired and definitely annoyed with having to deal with Yato. What would say if he found out it was all her fault. She grabbed hold of the fabric beside her, it was thinner than she had imagined, and felt more comfortable than she thought it would. She sat down on her bed and used it as a blanket to put over her knees. She played on her phone for a little while, it was early in the morning, to believe she was already this bored. She hugged at it and wondered if she should just go over to Kofuku's house already. She voted against it, Hiyori stood up to go back downstairs. She draped the thing over her shoulders and as she started to slide her arms in, she heard her door creek. It wasn't long after till the door was fully opened and Yukine was staring right at her. With a panic she dropped everything that was in her hands.

"Hiyori-" He averted his eyes to the floor and back at her. "Those are..." He rubbed his head in disbelief and confusion. "Yato's jacket and his scarf, those are really it?" He said questionably. "But what are you doing with them?"

"I can explain!" she yelled out in a panic, exactly how was she suppose to explain this. "I was going to tell Yato, really"

"But why would you?" he picked the jacket and rag from the floor. 

"I-I don't know" he raised his eyebrow at her. 

"It's not like I don't find this weird or anything, but if there's something bothering you, you can talk to us" Hiyori let out a deep sigh and sat back down on her bed. "You know, I came here to escape from Yato, he was driving me insane looking for these"

"I'm so sorry"

"I didn't expect to find them with you, but maybe now he'll stop waking me up so early in the morning for a stupid track suit and wash cloth" now it was him letting out a sigh. "Why did you take them?"

"You two...you're working so hard and I feel like I barely get to see you"

"Has that been bothering you?"

"No! not at all, I'm happy Yato is working so hard...It's just ever since I forgot about you and Yato that one time, well I've been scared that it'll happen again"

"Why didn't you tell us?" his eyes softened as he looked at her. It gave her comfort, but made her feel worse about forgetting them. "That you forgot about us"

"I thought I as different, I always thought I would never forget. There was just no way I would ever forget you two, but I did. So I visit you everyday, but it hasn't been enough"

"What does this have to do with you taking these?"

"So I won't forget-I took them so I wouldn't forget"

        Yukine was shocked, but pulled her into a hug. It wasn't normal for him to do that, and he still blushed from embarrassment as he did, but he felt like she needed it. Yato sat outside of the window, he had planned to have just hoped in like he always did, but he decided against it. He was just as shocked to have heard where his belonging had ended up. He wanted to go in there, but something told him not to interfere. He didn't want to believe that Hiyori had forgotten about him, but he knew he had put too much pressure on her. He wasn't mad and after a while he wasn't upset either. He had bought a new track suit that day with the same color scarf, and he acted as if none of this ever happened. Hiyori had found comfort in his clothing and who was he to judge her for it. In all honestly a part of that fact made him very happy. 

It was almost Sunday afternoon when Yato decided to drop by her house. He walked in as usual without a care in the world. Hiyori's parents were at the hospital for work as always. So he found Yukine sitting on the couch watching t.v.. 

"Yu-ki-ne" He said in his regalias ear. Yukine jumped as he wasn't expecting it.

"Yato" He called his name angrily. "Don't do that, you idiot"

"Did I scare you?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Hehe, I totally did" Yato snickered out as he bullied him. He heard the sound of footsteps coming down from upstairs. He turned around to watch as Hiyori reached the bottom of the stairs. "Hiyori" He said happily. She looked at him confused as he had the blue rag tied around his neck. She was certain she still had it in her room. He walked up to her and smiled. "I could't find my things, so I just bought myself some new ones"

"O-oh" She obviously looked disturbed. "Actually Yato-" she was taken aback as Yato softly landed his hand on her head.

"Shh" He said softly. Her face flushed red as she blushed at him. "I hope whoever or whatever took my things is happy with them" He commented.

"But..."

"I'll work hard, that way everyone will remember me"

"What?"

"I'll work hard for you" He winked at her like he always did. "Don't you forget that" His teeth shined bright as he smiled at her. 

"Yeah" she responded with a nod of her head and a warm smile. "I won't forget"

She didn't question him as to how he found out. Hiyori didn't mind either, as she kept his scarf on her bed side and his jacket hanging by the door. It seemed strange at first to them all, but what a better way to remember him, than to have a piece of him always with her. Her room had become more peaceful and she had become more confident. She wouldn't forget him, she was certain of that, He was her god of fortune after all.

[libraryscarf]

you and me and the ocean ( ao3 / ff.net )

pairing: kazubisha length: 1.5k words summary: the ocean sang her song of mourning

Bishamon grieved selfishly.

Her shinki had been lost, their cries for mercy echoing in every aching space of her body. They were gone. She was left, the permanence of her children’s names ripped from her. In her hollows, nothing lived but shadow and whisper. She had never been alone before.

She had never been alone like this.

Between her ribs, where her heart had once been, there was only night.

“Kazuma,” she said. She clung to it, this last name. “Kazuma.”

He appeared beside her. His hands fidgeted anxiously inside each other, as though he wanted nothing more than to do something, to fix something, but wasn’t sure where to start.

“Yes, my lady.”

Bishamon stared up at him. She was only a selfish, grieving mother, and her heart was as silent as the ocean.

“Kazuma,” she said. “Stay here. Talk to me.”

He settled himself next to her bed. The noises he produced, simply by living—breath, pulse, the brush of his fingers against each other—softened the edges of the silence within her.

“What do you want me to talk about, Bishamon-sama?” he asked nervously.

The sound of Kazuma pronouncing her formal name sent a wave of grief through her gut.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, sharp as a whip. She sat up from the bed to face him, her eyes boring into his. “Never call me that.”

Kazuma flinched, stung by the ferocity in her voice, which she instantly softened. She might have been tempted to lift a hand up to touch his face, to smooth out the creases between his eyebrows. But she did not.

“Not you,” she murmured. “You don’t call me that.”

She had loved her shinki. They had called her “our lady,” and “our mistress.”

Once, Kazuma had called her his lady, his mistress.

They were past formalities.

“Viina,” Kazuma said quietly. He was still training himself to speak to her so without blushing, and she found his failure to do so endearing.

“What do you want me to talk about?”

Bishamon chewed her lip, then silently lay back on the bed.

“I do not know,” she said.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No.”

“I will make you some food.”

He got up from beside her bed, and Bishamon cried out. She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the sound escaped her. Kazuma froze, and seconds later, a look of terrified guilt contorted his features.

“Viina—I’m so sorry—did I—?”

Quickly she shook her head. He had not stung her. He had only tried to leave.

“Stay,” she murmured, one hand still covering her mouth. Kazuma’s face swam in front of her eyes.

“Stay here,” she pleaded. “I am not hungry. Please…just stay with me.”

He sat down again, and in the dim light she could see his hands pressed together tightly, the knuckles paper-white through his skin. She blinked once, and he disappeared into the waves.

Alone.

“Kazuma, come closer,” she said.

The command had no weight behind it, but he scooted forward a few millimeters. Bishamon felt his reluctance echoed in her bones, and it made her sick.

How he must hate being close to her. How he must hate her weakness, and her grief, and her selfishness. She couldn’t even issue an order without the words falling flat and empty.

Bishamon turned on her side so she could face him. Reaching out with one hand, she pried his fingers apart and slid her hand between both of his.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Kazuma.”

Although he stayed very still, he did not pull away. His hands around hers were warm and dry, his body heat softening the ice of her fingers.

By comparison, the rest of her body was unbearably cold. Tremors began radiating through her limbs, her teeth chattering loudly enough for him to hear.

“You’re not well at all,” Kazuma said in panic. “I should get—I should…”

But there was no one to fetch. No one to heal her. No one to hurt with her. No one with her. No one. No one. No one. No one. The ocean sang her song of mourning.

Bishamon was lifted, and she felt that her body was a seashell, rocked by a great, dark sea. It would be pleasant to drown.

But the ocean was empty and cold, and she rested against something firm and warm. The ocean had no heart, but she heard a pulse beneath her ear.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Viina, don’t go. I’m sorry.

Kazuma was holding her. The salt she smelled was on his skin, in sweat, and on her face, in tears. She dreamed of oceans because he rocked her, cradling her against his chest. He sobbed once, and when he saw her eyes focus on him again, he gave an apologetic hiccup.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m sorry they’re gone, Viina. I’m sorry it’s just me.”

She smiled—a movement so unfamiliar that the muscles of her mouth complained against it.

“It’s just you and me, Kazuma,” she murmured affectionately. “And the ocean.”

The confusion in his eyes was brief, chased away by a blush as she nuzzled her nose into his chest. She had been so long untouched, so long unworthy of physical comfort, of intimacy. She didn’t deserve to be held.

But she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it.

“Will you stay?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied instantly.

Not like that.

“Will you stay with me, here?” Bishamon asked again. She reached up, fastening her arms around his neck and burying her head in his shoulder. He smelled sweet and earthy, like a kitchen garden. He smelled alive.

“Here? In—in your…”

“Yes.”

He hesitated for a long ten seconds. From the coiling snakes in her own stomach, Bishamon could tell his was a battle of nerves, and not disgust. Slowly, he slid down into her bed to lie next to her.

She touched him. His muscles were stiff, his entire body a tense collection of anxieties that, however momentarily, distracted her from the vast, silent ocean inside her.

“It is permissible to breathe, Kazuma,” she said. He choked out a humorless laugh.

Bishamon took shelter in silence for a few minutes. She thought it would be comforting to have him next to her, but he barricaded himself behind a wall of respect.

She did not want respect. She wanted love.

She deserved neither.

After several minutes passed in silence, Kazuma turned his face toward her, but she didn’t see him. She stared past him into the shadows, her eyes unfocused.

The ocean was calling.

“Viina,” Kazuma whispered. She kept looking past him. A diamond hung at the corner of her half-lidded eye, trembling.

“Viina,” Kazuma tried again, louder. Still nothing.

He turned on his side, dragging her fragile body into his. She was cold and dry, nothing but a skeleton of salt in his arms. Kazuma pulled her head into the crook of his neck, feeling the stillness of her long eyelashes against his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I’m not the rest of them. I’m sorry I can’t be better for you. I’m sorry, Viina. I’m sorry, I’m trying so hard.”

He gasped as one of her arms snaked around him, gripping sharply the back of his yukata. Her nails bit him as she clung.

“Viina,” he whispered to her. She gave a small shudder in response. “I’m sorry I’m no good. Please stay here. Please…don’t go somewhere I can’t follow.”

His chin rested on the top of her head, his arms tangled in her long, moonlight hair. She was so insubstantial in his arms that it was difficult to believe in her intense presence, in her warm affection, in her warlike spirit.

She was so small, and so hurt. It wasn’t hard to imagine her slipping into the darkness without him.

“I found you in the sea,” Bishamon whispered after many minutes of her frozen skin growing steadily warmer.

“I remember,” Kazuma said.

Nothing was said for a long time. Suddenly she took a deep breath, then let out a tiny ghost of air. Kazuma recognized this as hesitation.

“What is it, Viina?” He asked, his lips brushing her cool forehead.

“It’s so dark in the ocean,” she said. Her voice was soft and uncertain. “It would be awful to drown.”

In the pit of his chest, Kazuma’s heart caught. The ocean was very dark, especially when you had forgotten the taste of air. It was the embrace of a cold, massive, merciless creature. It was your lungs collapsing, crystallizing. It was the burning in your throat, the salt in your stomach.

It certainly would be awful to drown.

Bishamon could say no more to him. As long as she and Kazuma kept their shared language of in-betweens and unspokens, she could say no more.

Moreover, as long as she knew through his life—through his death—exactly how it felt to drown, she could say no more.

But now, against her forehead, Kazuma’s breath was warm. He held her so close she could hear the blood under his skin. His body spoke life to her. And so even though this boy—this last of her strong, beautiful family—was faulty, and timid, and long, long dead, she held him close.

She would find the edge of the ocean. She would not be alone.

She held him tighter, and he held back.

[libraryscarf]

How to Charm a Witch Who Hates You ( AO3 / FF.net )

the inevitable fourth chapter to a series that was only supposed to be three, thanks to @yatorihell​ who commissioned it. <3 (also ties in pretty strongly with this artwork by @eerna​)

...it so happens that this is by far the longest chapter, and disgusting with fluff.

Chapter 4: The Incident At the Three Broomsticks

Yukine rushes along the abandoned corridor, slinging his Hufflepuff scarf haphazardly around his neck. His designated meeting spot with Yato is beneath one of the gargoyles—affectionately and accurately nicknamed “One-Eyed Carl.”

He turns a corner, sees Yato waiting under One-Eyed Carl, and lets out a yelp.

“Merlin’s beard, did you sleep?”

The older boy’s eyes are sunken pools of exhaustion, but he nods. His mouth promptly stretches in a yawn big enough to swallow the castle and most of the lake along with it. Yukine shakes his head.

“Good thing Hiyori already knows you’re mental,” he observes. Yato groans, turning to fall face-first against the stone wall.

“Why—did—I—think—this—was—smart,” he moans, punctuating each word with a thump of his forehead against the wall. Yukine hauls him away before he can bruise himself.

“Don’t be daft. If we’re this late, she’s going to think we’re not coming.”

As they walk quickly through the corridors and toward the castle’s entrance, Yukine does not find Yato’s dead stare to be the least bit encouraging. He finds himself pondering if a good slap would be efficient.

“I can’t believe I have to pep talk you,” he grumbles, flicking a speck of gargoyle dust from Yato’s shoulder. “After you’ve been going on about this for weeks.”

Yato sighs impressively.

“Yes…but I kind of thought the castle would catch fire before that, and I could rescue her from a flaming death instead.”

Yukine snorts.

“You can save her life, but you can’t go with her on a”—he lifts his fingers to heavily air-quote— “’date’?”

Yato nods again, his expression somehow both contemplative and miserable. Yukine huffs, tugging Yato along behind him as they approach the castle’s front door.

: : :

Hiyori first spots them through the crowd of students making their way past Professor Tsuyu. Yukine seems to have Yato leashed by the front of his robes, and Yato himself has the demeanor of someone being marched into Azkaban for a life sentence. The pits of deep gray under his eyes suggest he hasn’t seen sleep since the weekend.

Hiyori ignores these discouraging observations, elbowing her way forward to greet them.

“Hi, Yukine!”

She gives him a short hug, then turns to his companion. Up close, Yato’s skin has an unfortunate greenish tinge, and he looks like he might be ill all over his clean robes.

“Hello Yato,” Hiyori says dubiously.

She doesn’t approach him for a hug, but offers her hand instead. Yato casts a panicked glance at Yukine, who has found something very important to stare at in the rafters. At last, he gingerly takes Hiyori’s hand, handling it like he would an easily startled reptile.

Tsuyu gives them a meaningful glance. Nearly everyone else has already passed through the front door and had their names cleared for the Hogsmeade visit.

Yukine elbows Yato, and he drops Hiyori’s hand quickly. Swallowing the pang of hurt at the back of her throat, she lines up in front of him to exit the castle.

After they make their way past Tsuyu and her checklist, Hiyori pretends not to notice the vicious and completely silent argument Yato and Yukine are having behind her. After appearing to lose, Yato shrinks deeper into his robes, snuggling the Slythern scarf up over his nose. He lags behind them on the snow-packed road.

Yukine trots ahead to keep up with Hiyori’s longer strides.

“So, where do you usually go first in Hogsmeade?” he asks in a too-bright voice.

“Yama always makes us take her to Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop,” Hiyori says, and bestows a smile upon Yukine for his valiant effort at conversation. At the smile, Yukine promptly turns the rich, luminous orange of a ripe pumpkin. Behind them, Yato gives an obscene snort.

“But,” Hiyori continues, maintaining perfect composure, “I’d like to try the Three Broomsticks this time, if that’s all right with you.”

“You’ve never been to the Three Broomsticks?!” Yukine asks in shock.

Hiyori gives a wry smile and shakes her head, thinking him fortunate for being spared Yama’s obsession with Madame Puddifoot and her overwhelmingly pink tea shop. From behind them, Yato makes a small noise that sounds like a cat being stepped on. Hiyori turns her head.

“Something wrong?”

She catches the flash of panic in his eyes before he returns them to his toes, and the ill, suspicious feeling in the pit of her stomach yawns wider.

Yato is not himself today—and Hiyori suspects it is her fault.

She turns back to Yukine, asking him some mindless questions about his classes. He answers her with enthusiasm, and as a result she is required to do very little talking until they arrive in the town.

Once the lopsided rooftops and smoky chimneys of Hogsmeade emerge among the snowbanks, Yukine immediately drags Yato and Hiyori into an ancient, swaybacked bookshop before either of them can protest. He comes out with seven new texts on Herbology, all of them dirt-cheap and colossally dusty. Yukine staggers under the books’ weight as the three of them walk along the town’s thoroughfare.

“I guess Yama isn’t the only one who prefers Madam Puddifoot’s,” Hiyori observes, watching Kofuku’s pink head bouncing toward the tea shop, a resigned Daikoku in tow.

Neither Yato nor Yukine hear her, as they are too busy bickering about the wisdom of spending all one’s money on extra textbooks.

“Oh, do shut up,” urges Yukine. “You can criticize my choices once you stop begging me for help on all your homework.”

Yato grits his teeth. “We have. A library,” he growls.

“Which has none of these. Look, Yato—The Herbologist’s Grimoire, First Edition. This isn’t even in the restricted section.”

Yato grunts. “Since when do you like magical plants so much, Yukine?”

Yukine stutters on his response, fumbles, and drops three of the books. Hiyori bends down to help pick them up and notices the tip of his nose has gone very pink.

“Shall we go somewhere warm?” she asks kindly, and Yukine gives her a grateful glance as she hands him the last book. He nods once, saying:

“Yeah, I think we should all warm up.”

Hiyori looks up at Yato. He avoids her eyes, rubbing his gloved hands together and breathing into them.

“Sure,” he says morosely. “Whatever you two want.”

Hiyori’s heart sinks into the tips of her boots. When she returns her gaze to the busy snow-covered road, the whole town of Hogsmeade starts to blur in front of her eyes. She blinks ferociously to clear her vision.

“Hey.” Yukine tugs on her elbow.

Hiyori dashes her knuckles across her eyes, still trying to blink tears away as Yukine points toward the door of the Three Broomsticks.

“Kazuma’s going in there—maybe we could catch up with him!”

Hiyori forces a smile. “That sounds good,” she says. “I am looking forward to trying the butterbeer.”

Yukine gives a generous sigh. “It’s amazing.”

Hiyori can feel Yato’s silence, but she doesn’t look back at him. The trio follows Kazuma’s disappearing form into the pub.

: : :

As soon as they’re inside, Yukine seizes the sleeve of Yato’s robe and drags him behind the door.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing?!” he whispers fiercely. There is little need to lower his voice in the loud pub—but Hiyori isn’t too far away.

Yato collapses against the wall in despair, the back of his head colliding with a dull thump against the wood.

“My best,” he groans.

Yukine yanks him back by his collar, showing no remorse as Yato claws at his throat.

“Your ‘best’ is pathetic,” he hisses. “By now Hiyori probably thinks you hate her! If you can’t share an innocent butterbeer with her without falling apart, then I’m giving up on you entirely.”

Yukine watches the last vestiges of hope drain from Yato’s eyes at his cruel words.

“You’re—you’re leaving?” he whispers, his voice quavering in desperation.

“I told Suzuha I’d meet up with him today.”

Yato’s mouth levers open and shut.

“Y-you did what?”

“Yato, I can’t chaperone you constantly!”

“Why not?!”

Yukine frantically shushes Yato’s agonized wail. He peeks around the door at Hiyori, who is turning around and around in the middle of the pub—presumably searching for them.

“Listen,” he says. He ducks behind the door again to take Yato by the shoulders and give him a gentle shake. “Just talk to her. Wasn’t it fun when the two of you took care of Buckbeak?”

Yato gives a single nod, his expression forlorn.

“That was different, though,” he moans.

“How, exactly?” Yukine growls. His patience can only take so much.

“I don’t know,” Yato says, his pitch creeping up into a whine. “Maybe that was back when I thought she was less—less cu—”

“There you are!”

A hand lands heavily on Yukine’s arm, and he lets go of Yato’s shoulders. Whirling around, he finds himself confronted by a pink-cheeked and very aggravated Hiyori.

“Excellent to know you two are such reliable guides,” she says, injecting venom into the last two words.

“I’m so sorry, Hiyori,” Yukine says in all sincerity. “But I need to…er…run somewhere for a moment. Yato will stay here with you though. Right?”

He gives Yato a loaded look, and Yato returns him a stricken one. Without waiting for a response, Yukine ducks between the two of them and escapes outside into the bracing cold.

Suzuha is already there, leaning against the weathered outside wall and holding a package close to his chest. Seeing Yukine come out the door, he turns and smiles.

“Yukine!”

“Hey,” Yukine says. His cheeks begin to turn cherry-red in the cold, and pulls his scarf up over his nose. “Sorry, that took a bit longer than I thought.”

Suzuha shrugs. “I didn’t mind waiting.”

The two of them stand in awkward silence for a few moments before Suzuha clears his throat.

“I, erm, got you something,” he says, holding the package out toward Yukine.

Yukine stares from Suzuha to the package and back again. He says: “Oh.”

A rush of heat floods his face, making it easy to forget he’s standing outside in midwinter.

Yukine slowly takes the package, tucking his new books under his arm in order to open it. Once he removes the lid, he sees inside a hibernating pygmy puff: snug and warmly nestled within several layers of fabric.

“I know you couldn’t bring a cat with you to school,” says Suzuha. “So I thought…maybe…”

“It’s so cute,” Yukine murmurs. He tickles the pygmy puff with one finger. It squeaks, burrowing deeper into its nest.

Yukine looks up, beaming.

“I love it.”

: : :

Meanwhile, Hiyori fast approaches a disappointing realization: the talkative, entertaining Yato of their hippogriff adventure is a completely different person from the morose, tight-lipped Yato who sits across from her. If she weren’t so bloody uncomfortable, she might be tempted to feel sorry for him.

“So,” she begins. “Yukine’s taking quite a while in the bathroom, isn’t he?”

Yato jerks his head up at the sound of her voice. He glances over to the bathroom’s entrance. Floating serenely next to it, a jar shaped like a turnip has been enchanted to shout scathing insults at anyone caught trying to bypass the requisite three-Knut fee.

“Probably ate something weird,” he mutters.

Hiyori nods sagely, then does her utmost to avoid thinking about Yukine’s gastrointestinal tribulations. Fortunately, she finds a distraction in the table nearest them, where three Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff have just sat down with enormous mugs of something foaming and honey-colored. Her mouth waters.

“We don’t have to wait for him,” she points out. Yato does not respond.

Seconds pass. Then minutes. Hiyori’s skin crawls with discomfort. She spares Yato another glance, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Going by the look on his face, he would rather be anywhere else than here, or possibly dead.

Hiyori’s elevated seat on a barstool gives her a good view of the rest of the rest of the pub, so she turns her attention away from her dour companion. For a few moments, she occupies herself by observing the rest of the room. Across the large, loud pub, she spots Professors Tenjin and Tsuyu sharing an amiable gillywater. Next to their table is a group of uncomfortable Slytherin sixth-years who are obviously hiding shots of firewhisky in their laps. Hiyori’s eyes keep traveling across the room, eventually landing on a sight that twists her stomach in knots.

Kazuma and Bishamon share a small table in the very corner of the pub. As Hiyori watches, Bishamon bashfully twirls a lock of her hair around her fingers—rather shocking behavior for the notoriously un-bashful captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Kazuma leans forward to listen, his face rapt, completely captivated more with each word. On top of the scratched wooden tabletop, their hands rest half an inch apart.

Hiyori swallows the enormous lump in her throat, and hops down from the barstool.

“I’m leaving,” she says tersely. She doesn’t look at Yato. “Tell Yukine I hope he feels better.”

As soon as she turns to go, one of the many servers carrying wide trays of drinks walks by, blocking her path.

In the bare moment she’s stuck there against the table, a screeching of chair legs makes her jump. Someone seizes her wrist.

“Hiyori, wait.”

She turns back, shocked. Yato has leapt down from his stool and grabbed her hand in both of his. His eyes are blown wide, desperation written all over his features. In Hiyori’s ears, the noise level in the pub drops drastically.

“Stay a bit longer?” he asks quietly. “Please?”

The tips of his ears start to turn dark red. Hiyori gives her trapped wrist a feeble tug.

“Yato, I’m tired. I want to go back.” She pauses. “I’m not…having a good time.”

Her words have an unprecedented effect on him. His face crumples and he releases her wrist.

“I know,” he says wretchedly. “I’m sorry.”

Hiyori doesn’t move, even though her hand is free once again.

“What’s been going on with you?” she asks. “You’ve been…well, dreadful today, and Yukine was trying so hard to make this a nice day for us all. And now he’s ill—”

Hiyori cuts off, surprised at how quickly her misery has transformed into aggravation. This could have been such a wonderful time. It should have been such a wonderful time.

It’s all Yato’s fault.

“No,” Hiyori insists, though Yato has said nothing. Her voice climbs to an unpleasantly shrill note. “I’m going now. I hope you have a lovely time all by yourself, Yato.”

His look of mute horror drops a boulder of guilt into her gut, but she stands straight, deepening her frown. After a split second of silence, she whirls away from him and in the direction of the bathrooms.

Yato calls after her: “Wh—Hiyori, where are you—”

“To check on Yukine, of course!” she hurls back at him. “Since I’m the only one who seems to care.”

“No—wait a minute—Hiyori, please.”

Yato trips over a stool in his rush to catch up with her, and manages to catch her by the elbow as she is about to enter the bathrooms.

“He’s not inside,” Yato says breathlessly. “He’s not even here anymore.”

He makes an abstract, interpretive gesture toward the rest of the pub, indicating that Yukine is indeed nowhere to be seen.

During her moment of bewildered silence, the turnip jar floats gently up to them. When it becomes obvious that Yato and Hiyori are not about to pay the three-Knut fee, its toothy mouth opens wide, unleashing a volley of unrepeatable obscenities. They quickly scoot off to the side, which appeases the irate little turnip.

“What do you mean?” Hiyori asks, once the turnip’s insults have stopped echoing in her ears. Her brow furrows. “You said he was—”

“I know,” Yato interrupts. “I know. I, erm…lied.” His mouth twists downward in a guilty frown.

Then, he massages his temples, muttering: “He’s probably off talking about Venomous Tentacula, or picking shrivelfigs, or whatever he and that herby little friend of his do for fun.”

Hiyori’s brow furrows still further, adding this interaction to the long, long list of things Yato says that make exactly as much sense as the existence of Wrackspurts.

Yato gives his head a quick shake. Taking her other elbow, he pulls her slightly toward him, out of the path of a group of girls headed for the bathrooms. Yato seems numb to their stares and giggles, but Hiyori feels their eyes on her like needles in the back of her neck.

He holds her close to his chest as the group passes through the doorway, and Hiyori burns bright pink all the way from her collarbones to the top of her scalp. When the coast is clear, she pushes him away from her with enough force that he actually stumbles backward a step.

“Hiyori?” he asks with a stricken face.

To her utter dismay, moisture prickles the corners of her eyes. She scrubs her sleeve over her face and gives a short, harsh laugh.

“Sorry,” she blurts. “I’ll just—I’ll just go. I wouldn’t want you to feel—obligated to spend time with me, or anything.”

A single drop trembles at the corner of her eyelid, sliding down her cheek before she can catch it with her sleeve.

“No!” Yato shouts, covered from head to toe in mortification. “Merlin’s beard—no, Hiyori, that’s not it at all!”

Hiyori tries to keep her nose covered with the sleeve of her robe as she sniffles determinedly, but Yato pulls her arm away from her face.

“I did everything wrong,” he groans. “I’m so sorry. I wanted Yukine here because I was, erm—”

He chokes off, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. Fascinated, Hiyori lets a second tear go unwiped in favor of watching his face grow steadily darker.

“I was scared,” Yato says. His voice is so quiet Hiyori can hardly hear it.

“Scared…” she repeats in disbelief.

“But that was a mistake,” he says quickly. His hand tightens around hers. “I shouldn’t have dragged Yukine into this, especially when—”

Once more, his voice suddenly chokes off. He tries again:

“When—when…”

Beads of sweat are actually forming on his forehead. One of his eyelids has started twitching spastically.

“Yato—” Hiyori begins, but he holds up one finger, determined to either finish his declaration or perish in the attempt. He lets go of her hand.

“When I…sort of…fancy you,” he mumbles, his eyes fixed on the tips of her shoes.

The racket in the pub suddenly melts away, leaving nothing but the sound of Hiyori’s heart thudding arrhythmically at the bottom of her throat.

“Oh,” she says at last, her voice squeaking.

Both her ears and Yato’s burn a matching shade of lobster red. Despite the silence, an unspeakable weight has lifted off Hiyori’s chest. She feels light enough to float right off the ground.

Slowly—very slowly—a smile sneaks onto her lips.

“I’m rather thirsty,” she says suddenly. She twists her fingers together, pressing her hands against each other to stop them trembling.

Yato’s eyes snap from her shoes to her face. When he sees the smile she wears, his shoulders sag in relief.

“Yeah?” he asks hopefully.

“I’ve heard some good things about the butterbeer here,” Hiyori says, feigning a casual tone. In a wave of shyness, her eyes dip away from Yato’s, down to the messy knot of his tie. His Adam’s apple bobs.

“It’s all right,” he says. Hiyori looks up again, only to see that his grin mirrors hers. “Although I’m partial to the tea at Madame Puddifoot’s.”

: : :

Several of the remaining customers at the Three Broomsticks glance upward in pleased surprise when a girl’s sunny laughter chimes above the clamor.

The familiar sound captures Bishamon’s attention, and she looks for its source. As soon as she finds it, her blood curdles in her veins.

Across the room, Hiyori Iki—Bishamon’s friend and protegé (and future Quidditch champion, if she has anything to do with it)—is sharing a table with that insufferable Slytherin seeker.

And they are fraternizing.

Bishamon watches in increasing anxiety as the seeker’s hand begins to creep along the tabletop, closer and closer to where Iki’s rests.

“Kazuma,” she hisses, jerking her head in their direction. Kazuma turns slightly in his seat, enough for him to see what has Bishamon so upset. His eyes widen.

“We have to do something,” she insists, half-rising from her seat. Kazuma swivels his seat back, catching her wrist before she can storm over and snap Yato’s neck.

“Maybe give it a few more minutes before you hex him through a wall?” he suggests mildly. Clenching her teeth, Bishamon sits back down.

Now that she looks a bit closer, Yato isn’t behaving at all like the arrogant boy she knows from the Quidditch pitch. He leans over the table, completely engrossed in whatever Iki is telling him. His eyes never break away from her face.

With a jolt, Bishamon recognizes the intense, almost hungry expression on his face. It’s exactly the same as the one he wears when he’s chasing the Snitch.

Kazuma notices she’s still staring behind him, and once more he turns around—just in time to see Yato close the last crucial distance between his hand and Iki’s. When his hand covers hers, Iki’s face turns an instant and furious shade of pink.

Kazuma returns to his butterbeer with a chuckle. He mutters something under his breath that Bishamon doesn’t catch.

“What was that?” she asks.

His eyes, crinkled with amusement behind thick glasses, flicker up to hers. There is something deep and yearning in them. Flustered, Bishamon drops her gaze to her own empty drink.

“Nothing, Viina,” he says quietly. “Nothing important.”

: : :

Yato keeps a firm hold on Hiyori’s elbow as the two of them trundle through the unpacked snow. Ahead of them, the Shrieking Shack’s sharp angles and jutting beams appear among the snowdrifts. The haunted building is a black gash in the landscape of sprawling white.

“Yato, I’ve seen this place before,” Hiyori points out. “And it’s not exactly, erm—a dynamic view.”

“But you’ve never seen it in the snow!” Yato exclaims, his face alight with childlike glee. Hiyori stumbles along next to him, trying to keep pace with his longer legs.

Suddenly, her foot encounters a particularly stubborn snowdrift, and she cries out, toppling into Yato’s side. He catches her around the waist, holding her upright as she works her leg out of its snowy depths.

“Thanks,” Hiyori says, breathing heavily from the effort of freeing herself. To keep her balance, she had grabbed Yato around the neck, clinging to him as the fresh, powdery snow nearly dragged her to the ground.

Now that she’s free, she should probably let go.

“Are you all right?” Yato asks. Hiyori’s fingers brush against the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands are against her waist and back, still holding her close to him.

“I’m fine,” she breathes.

Between the winter sky and Yato’s eyes, there is almost too much blue for Hiyori to think straight. Her breath turns to mist in the frigid air, crystallizing like microscopic diamonds.

“D-did I ask you if you were all right?” Yato asks after a few seconds, his voice shaking. Hiyori nods once, unable to unlock her gaze from his.

Suddenly, Yato’s head snaps forward, nearly cracking their foreheads together. He swears—a prolonged and creative series of words, most of which Hiyori has never heard before—while shaking a great deal of snow out of his dark hair. The remains of a firmly packed snowball slide down the back of his robes and plop into the snow.

Behind Yato, Hiyori sees two heads—one blond and one dark—disappear behind a tall snowdrift.

“Who the hell would hit me with a snowball?” Yato asks in irritation, stomping around and shaking his robes to get the last of the snow out of them.

“Maybe it was someone else you hit with a Firebolt,” Hiyori innocently suggests.

“H-hey! Not fair!”

“Well then, maybe it’s someone who lives around here.” She grins wickedly, sliding her wand out of her sleeve. “Or maybe…something.”

Yato glares at her, his eyes narrowing to cold slits. “You’re not suggesting…”

While Yato’s attention is diverted by Hiyori, another snowball zooms from behind the snowdrift. Flicking her wand, Hiyori skillfully misdirects it. It still hits him, but this time it comes from the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Yato yelps, dancing around in the snow and patting himself down in search of his wand.

“I am not being snowballed by a ghost!” he shouts, even as his gaze flits nervously toward the abandoned building. Loud laughter erupts from behind the snowdrift, and Hiyori manages to cover it with an authentic-sounding coughing fit.

“I’m sure it was just the wind,” she assures him after both the laughing and coughing have subsided. Yato sidles away from the fence that divides them from the Shrieking Shack, edging closer to Hiyori.

The next time she looks toward the giggling snowdrift, Hiyori’s jaw drops. A small mountain of powdery snow now levitates seven feet off the ground, and as she watches, thunderstruck, it begins meandering through the air toward her and Yato.

“Um, Yato.” She tugs on his robe, but he is still regarding the Shrieking Shack through skeptically narrowed eyes.

“I could beat some ghosts,” he mutters, starting to roll up his sleeves.

Meanwhile, the floating snow-mountain steadily approaches.

“Yato!” Hiyori grabs his chin, jerking his face around to look where she’s pointing.

He takes one look at the floating snow-mountain, then lets out an earsplitting shriek. Seizing Hiyori’s hand, he makes a break for it, and once more she is dragged along behind him.

: : :

Behind the snowdrift, Yukine and Suzuha collapse into hysteria. The pile of snow they had both been struggling to levitate crashes heavily to the ground. In the distance, they both hear Hiyori trying to pacify Yato, who—from the sound of it—seems to be sobbing gently into her shoulder.

“That wasn’t exactly the plan,” Suzuha wheezes, holding his aching ribs with one hand and wiping away tears with the other.

Next to him, Yukine snorts.

“I should have known Yato would run away screaming rather than manage to look cool in front of a girl.”

“Is he gonna be mad?” Suzuha asks.

“Nah,” Yukine says offhandedly, chancing another look around the edge of the snowdrift. “If anything, he should probably thank me.”

With his escape hindered by the deep snow, Yato has indeed resorted to burying his face in Hiyori’s robes. As she pats his back in resignation, Yukine catches her throwing reproachful looks in the direction of their snowdrift.

He scrambles back into hiding and looks over at Suzuha. A sunny grin splits his face.

“Yeah,” Yukine says, bursting into laughter again. “He should definitely be thanking me.”