Some Kind Of Proof
@the-delivery-god wanted some self-indulgent fluff based off lyrics from Paramore’s The Only Exception, and I hope this hits the spot! Many thanks to @sojustifiable for the eyes and fluff-couragement.
Raindrops lazily slide down the glass pane of Hiyori’s bedroom window, their soft staccato rhythm hypnotic in the late afternoon gloom. Yato stares at her ceiling while he waits for her to come home, eyes half lidded as he lets the rain count out the seconds until she’s back. But should he even see her? Sure, she’d said he’d always been her god of fortune, but what if she was wrong? What if she was just she was just being her kind, resilient, compassionate self, and he was actually hurting her in his selfish unwillingness to cut their ties? Closing his eyes completely, he rolls onto his side in the fetal position and tries not to think about the times he’s almost gotten her killed. Or worse.
Of course, that’s all he can think about now. He sees her face, twisted in worry and concern, when she and Kazuma ran to his side during his battle with Bishamon. Sees her leaping after an ayakashi, intending to land a side kick but leaving her cord wide open to attack; doesn’t she understand how vulnerable it makes her? It would only take one clean hit, one sluggish reaction for his world to shatter all over again. Memories of the hospital haunt him next, the way Hiyori shoved him away, half-ayakashi claws blighting him for the first time since they met. He’ll never forget her tear-stained face as she hovered over him, fighting desperately to regain sense of herself while he resigned himself to either dying by her hand or reaching her with words. Thank goodness the words were enough.
Sighing, he flops onto his back again and rubs his face. She’s done so much for him and he’s done so comparatively little for her; there’s gotta be some way he can make it up to her. She’s saved him so many times: brought Kazuma to Yukine’s ablution, stopped him from killing Bishamon, summoned his soul from the Underworld before he was lost to it for good, built him the shrine that granted him access to Takamagahara and got him one step closer to his dream. The shrine she built with those strong hands, hands that are always so warm when they grab his shoulder or brush his cheek.
An idea blooms in his mind, a small way for him to show his gratitude for the girl who has stridden with such purpose into his heart. His face aches with the force of his smile as he jumps off her bed to gather the necessary materials. She’s definitely gonna like this!