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It was true what they said— that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. He and Yato had no distinctive residence. Yukine didn’t have a home. And yet, when he’d left for a year to train under Kazuma’s guidance, he’d been too homesick to sleep for a week. It was poetically, tragically ironic that the guy that pissed him off the most was the same parental figure he couldn’t be without. 

Of course, his time in Takamagahara hadn’t been all bad. Kazuma was a gracious host and it was therapeutic to see so many other Shinkis. He’d found confidence; independence; and in turn, a better grip on himself as a regalia. He’d worked damn hard— so needless to say, he was expecting a more lively welcome than the one he got when he’d returned. Yato wasn’t himself. But Yukine had ignored it; wanting to believe (if a little egotistically) that maybe he’d just been missed as well. 

That was months ago, anyway... he was still acting the same and it was getting on Yukine’s nerves. His mood was in the gutter— and the developing thunderstorm overhead and numbing cold wasn’t helping lift it.  

❝ Can you hurry up and pick something?? ❞

The divine deity and the angelic spirit were, you guessed it, dumpster fishing.

Unlike Yukine, who ghosted (quite literally) in the peripheral vision of the living, rarely noticed by those weren’t psychic or exceptionally perceptive, the volleyball player— number 10— could be seen a mile away. Physically, the boy was different (the colour of his hair sure was a spectacle)... but really, it was the way he played that caught his eye and kept it. He watched from the other side of the chainlink fence; fingers tightening around the wires in suspense every now and then. Yukine had never played volleyball and he didn’t know the rules... but he could tell that #10 was doing something exciting. He could tell from the way his team— no— his friends reacted.  Lucky... how lucky he was to have so many people rooting for him. Their hollers filled in his ears; so loudly that he didn’t hear the bounce-bounce of a stray ball heading his way until it’s chaser (the exact redhead he’d been watching) was standing right before him. 

❝ —Oh. ❞ 

❝ ...Um. Sorry. ❞ Yukine wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for, but it was automatic. He always seemed to be doing something wrong. 

He didn’t mean to. It was an accident, he was in a hurry, and it all happened so fast. He’d skidded on a discarded jersey (that stupid sweaty hoarder, it was all his fault!), stumbled, and— he’d stepped on it. The replica shrine. Yato’s shrine.  Yukine’s heart palpitated.

❝ Crap—!!!! ❞ 

❝ Hiiiih... hiih... it’s okay, that— that goes there, and—! ❞

With the most ironic timing known to man, the door pitched on it’s hinges; giving him but a second to smile a mozzarella-cheesy grin as rickety as the pieces of shrine he hid behind his back. 

❝ Aha! Haha! Ha! Yatoooo~. G—good morning!! ❞

❝ Kazuma-saaaan? Kazumaa... ❞

A choir of one, his calls echoed about him in the aristocratic manor; reverberating off the walls to the antiquated but thankfully well lit halls. How he’d gotten so lost from the restroom, he had no idea (so Yato didn’t need to shit, whoop-dee-doo... but Yukine was not a god). It had to have been at least half an hour since he was due to meet Kazuma back in the temple’s training grounds. Pirouetting on his heels, rounding a corner, his eyes fell upon a pinprick of light that filtered in from the end of the corridor (the exit?!) and he hurried toward it like an insect. Only when he realized what— or who— he’d come across, did he see just how far away he really was.   Tropical plants. A pool. So the permanent marker fumes from the moustache above his lip hadn’t caused him to hallucinate the sound.  ...And he sure wasn’t imagining the figure that then rose from an accordion-like ripple on the water. 

Was... was she...?

❝ —Naked...!!!! ❞

But damned if he was going to ask Yato for help as he threw on his converse and shoved his laces into his socks that morning. He was a grown adolescent adult! He could work it out by himself. That, or he’d just cut the laces off altogether. They sure were getting annoying...  Once again, he stumbled— only this time, into someone. 

❝ Oof—! ❞