𝔻𝕚𝕟𝕠'𝕤 𝔼𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕦𝕞

The white sand was hot on Yato's feet as he, Yukine, and the Stray—who now goes by the name of Kiyone—stepped foot onto the Miyako Islands in the Okinawa area—a grand courtesy of Tenjin. The old man's shrine provided easy access across Japan and soon the trio trekked the winding paths to the coastline. Behind them, Daikoku was already tugging Kofuku along by the wrists as gently as he could.

Yato, for all of the glorious melodramatics that he ensues, was simple at heart. Surrounded by his people and within arms reach of an endless source of entertainment, he was ready to kick back and relax under the sun to let his beautiful physique tan under the Okinawan sun.

However, there was one piece missing. It was miniscule, but enough to be the pea under the tower of beds that Yato balanced on to topple his live over and shatter it into smithereens.

Hiyori promised she would join their vacation getaway. Obviously, the medical industry had a different idea of a vacation. The morning of the trip, before the sun ever decided to rise for the day, Hiyori had sent a short yet emotional text to the group chat apologizing for having to rescind her RSVP to Okinawa because the hospital gained a wave of patients a few hours before she was supposed to leave for the island.

So, the group felt noticeably hollow without her Near Shore aura, the right amount of human essence that made them forget about their own lack of mortality. Salty zephyr of the rolling waves could only uplift the heart by so much and Yato did what he did best as the self-proclaimed God of Happiness: he was set on teaching his Shinki how to properly fish.

The trio had diverged from Kofuku and her Shinki once a particularly violent wave swept them away in the undertow where only the Heavens could witness the pair's despair. Kiyone, in all of her newfound curiosity for the world, was sweetly determined to learn the right way to fish despite her affinity for water. Yukine was also determined but was rather quick to aggravate under Yato's guidance—as usual.

Yukine shoved a container of bait back into Yato's hands, his face paler than usual. "I don't wanna hook it on, Yato! That's gross! You're getting its guts everywhere—don't let it freakin' touch me!"

"That's the only way to fish, Yukine! This is the proper technique—here, let me help you." Yato reached for the fishing pole.

Kiyone sat crouched in the sea foam, staring into the abyss of blue as her straw hat fluttered with the wind. "Yato, you're going to hurt Yukine if you keep swinging the pole around," she fretted in her usual tone of softness.

Just as Yato yanked the pole from the hands of his blessed vessel, the hook rounded in the air, aiming for Yukine's right eye. The boy froze and watched as the point of the metal glared into him with the sun peering over its curve.

A hand appeared from Yukine's peripheral and snatched the line, soon enough to safely yank it away from his face.

"Yato," the body scolded, "you could've taken his eye out! You're so irresponsible. Honestly…"

Hiyori Iki stood at the shore with her back towards the ocean. The morning sun wrapped her figure in a halo and clung onto her silhouette like a piece of silk draped across an old sofa. Her hair, which barely pasted her shoulders now, danced in the wind in thick strands under the matching straw hat she purchased on her girls' day out with Kiyone a few weeks back.

"Hiyori!" Grinned Yato. "You're here!"

The mortal put her hands on her hips. "I wanted to surprise you all. Conveniently, the hospital said I didn't have to come in today, so I can be here all day with you guys."

The god peeled the fishing pole from Yukine's hands and shuffled over to Hiyori. "Since Yukine is being a pain in the butt, how about I teach you how to fish instead?"

Yato ignored the sneer that burned his back as he blocked Hiyori's view of the boy.

"Sure," she smiled. "I've always wanted to try. Is it hard?"

"No, not at all! You just have to drop pick up the bail arm—that's this little metal thing right here—and then you use all your strength to throw the line out. Make sure to drop the bail arm after once the hook settles, or else you'll give the fish too much line and it'll be able to get away."

Yato demonstrated by throwing the line out and letting the spool roll for a few moments before he dropped the bail arm. He then placed the pole on a stand and made sure the bell was secure at the tip of the rod.

"That's it?" Hiyori hummed, her head tilting slightly.

"Yeah," Yato stammered. "It's not the most fanciest of activities, but it's fun when you're with other people."

Perhaps the UV setting was reaching unsafe numbers, but Hiyori's cheeks warmed up significantly. Yes, it had to be the UV setting, or the clouds drifting away from the sun. That must be it.

Behind the girl, Yukine had dragged Kiyone off to do something else. He carried a green pail as she waded through the shoreline for shells and other collectables. The words they exchanged would only ever be accounted for by the ocean herself and the embarrassing backtrack from Yukine told Yato that he failed yet again at making a joke land with Kiyone—the girl notorious for letting humor fly over her head.

Some time later, Daikoku heaved Kofuku over his shoulder and out of the water. His face was devoid of any of the stress that weighed him down and held a small smile that went unnoticed by many. Kofuku, as clumsy as ever, simply dangled in his grip and let her leg swing in the air.

Yato had left his life of chaos behind all those years ago, after his unfortunate run-in with the Heavens and with Father who was long gone. He stopped chasing job after job—at least without the usual desperate aura that followed him around like his own Phantom—and he stopped being ignorant to the people in his life. For once, he took the time to smell the flowers, to take in the wind of the ocean and the toasty embrace of the sun; he opened his eyes to the abundance that he already had, the human presence that he worked so hard for after centuries. The shackles of loneliness had long rusted away, freeing Yato to chase his dreams, his desires, without regret or worry.

His fears still pounced when he least expected them to. In the middle of the day, when he's happily taking on jobs with Yukine and Kiyone—and occasionally with Rekki if Bishamon was feeling compliant; progress was never supposed to be linear, that much Yato understood. But now, as his fingers grazed Hiyori's, as they both stood along the shoreline with the sun rising higher and higher as the day progressed, his fears felt manageable and insignificant.

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