V-Day Request Post!

[schadenfreudere]

I threw this on my plurk, but feel free to leave prompts for me to write or doodle about.

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Noragami | Yato, Hiyori | On Valentine's Day

[schadenfreudere]

Prompt: yato and hiyori arguing about what valentine's day means because yato knows the real cupid or smth

Yato's scent is intoxicating, addictive. Somehow rich and dark but also blade-sharp and fresh, like the sun-kissed earth after a rainstorm, mixed with the hot and heady sweetness of altar incense and the cool salt breeze of the ocean: things that shouldn't work together but meld into this harmonious chaos that is distinctly him. Hiyori practically tastes it on her tongue when she finds him slithering through the blocks-long queue outside O-Ise-san in Tokyo**, sneaking his business card into the purse and pocket of everyone in line.

She groans. Perhaps she should have expected this; Yato was already notorious for sleeping like a hobo in Tenjin's shrines and taking money from Kofuku. This feels like a new low, but since gods don't have the same moral restrictions as humans, maybe they don't have non-competition or non-solicitation agreements either. Good thing too, since Yato would be in direct violation of them.

"Hiyoriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" He trills, jumping out of the sea of people to press a fat stack of business cards into her ghostly hand, "You're just in time! Pass these out for me, won't you? That little punk Yukine refused to come with me, so I was all by myself--"

"FIX MY PROBLEM BEFORE ASKING FAVORS OF ME!"

With a silent prayer to her mighty, beloved Tono-sama, she leaps into the air and whips her leg into the side of Yato's skull. His body skips across the street, skidding to a graceless heap in an alleyway. Cards flutter around her like confetti, adding to her sense of victory. It's a taste of what Tono-sama must experience after a hard-won match, even if her battle is ongoing and for who knows how long. Yato didn't have a clue about how to fix it and hadn't had much time to figure it out, either. It wasn't an excuse, of course, and meanwhile she's able to spend time with him. She's happy for it. Grateful, even.

Some days, anyway.

"Where is your body?" he asks, wincing as he assesses the damage she'd done. She almost feels guilty watching him stiffen and hiss when his fingertips graze a bruise.
"With Ami-chan and Yama-chan at school. We were talking about our plans for Valentine's Day. Not everyone has gotten a jumpstart on the holiday like you."

"I'm not just thinking about the holiday, y'know," he declares, a greedy leer warping his face, "I've got bigger plans in mind..."

She doesn't need to ask, just like a villain from a spy movie, he'll spill everything. Still in shambles, he beckons her closer. She follows, bracing for the inevitably unimpressive impact of his reveal.

He springs up, revitalized, towering over the legion of ardent followers hanging on his every word that only exist in his mind.

"From the beginning to the break up, I'll cash in on it all!"

...How like him.

"Ah, that's a relief. For a second, I thought you were planning on becoming a god of love."
"Hiyori, which god benefits most from Valentine's Day?"

Her eyes span the line of couples and lonely singles, waiting for hours for a few minutes of time at the shrine within.

"...Amaterasu?"
"Nope."
"Izanami and Izanagi? They have the next most popular shrine this time of year..."
“BZZZT! Wrong again. It’s Ebisu.”
"...huh?”
“Ebisu! That stonefaced, pampered--”
"The real one, you mean."

Not that she’d know, if she’d heard that description on its own.

"Yeah. People go to shrines to find love or stay in love with whoever they’re together with at the time. To that end, they’ll buy fortunes and charms from the shrine. They buy obligation chocolate for people they don't have feelings for, then they buy the good stuff for their lovers! The DIY crowd buys ingredients for their homemade goodies! Lonely people can buy situation CDs and video games that simulate a relationship, or go to cafes and clubs where staff treat their patrons like royalty! A guy can pay a girl by the half hour for pillow talk and cuddling and if he wanted a little more, there are girls he could pay for that too. Hell, you can even find vending machines stocked with used panties--"

Before he can finish, another kick from Hiyori slams him into the side of the building.

"Tch. My point is, businesses are what drive the holiday. Every day of the year, you can pay for any aspect of a relationship you want, without having to be in one."

She has to concur, much as she hates to admit it. She vaguely remembers something about this holiday originally honoring some Christian saint, which doesn't matter in Japan. She isn't quite sure it matters anywhere else either. Yes, it was commercial, but as a girl raised to be a "proper young lady," she's discouraged from brazenly showing her emotions. She's told it's "embarrassing," "shameful," "better suited to a private setting, if one absolutely must show how they feel." In a way, Valentine's Day manages to normalize what's often frowned upon. It gives women everywhere courage, and that's something not even Ebisu could attach a price tag to.

She counters with renewed confidence: "If it's just about business, then why are shrines so busy?"
"You could say Izanagi and Izanami are a "power couple," and the Great Shrine and its branch here are for more than just Amaterasu, but the shrines of actual gods of love aren't nearly as busy. Can you even name any?"
"Any? --There's more than one?"

He doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised at her question. There's a flicker of sadness, musing about gods long-forgotten by humans, maybe traces of his own fear of being forgotten like them.

"Umm... Benzaiten..."
"One of the Seven Gods of Good Fortune is always easy to remember, like that female pervert," he raises his voice delivering the insult, hoping that Bishamon herself will hear it. "Keep going."
"...I can't think of any others."
"See? You probably wouldn't even recognize Musubi no Kami, even with that obvious name."
"…who?"
"The closest thing we've got to 'Cupid.’" He's the herald of future marital bliss, but with marriage on the decline, he's fallen out of favor with society. He has better luck eternally binding sweaty, anti-social fanboys to their figurine collections and porn game heroines, but a god's gotta take what he can get."

It's either that, or disappearing forever, Hiyori reminds herself. More than adulation, wealth and a grand shrine that tops O-Ise-san, Yato wants to keep existing. While she finds his behavior deplorable, he's doing what he can to be remembered.

To survive.

She doesn't agree with how he's going about it, but she sympathizes. As annoying as he is, she'd hate to lose him; forgetting about him once was painful enough. Her hands ache to touch him, to reassure him that she’s there, to reassure herself that he isn’t fading away. One moment, her fingers brush the tips of his hair and the next, she wakes up in her school's infirmary with only traces of Yato's scent to remind her of where she'd been.

Her body had the worst timing.

After a hard day of missionary work, Yato decides to unwind with a couple of beers in Mimasaka. He needed it-- Hiyori refused to help him and kicked his ass in the process before disappearing.

The roof of the shrine is deteriorating, its tiles are already falling through the beams. The walls are punctured, better as fodder for bugs than support for a building. The smell of moldy, water-damaged books hangs in the air, threatening to seep into his skin. It’s not the best atmosphere for drinking, but it’s the company that interests him more.

He sets a can on the large stump of what used to be a cherry blossom tree.

“Hey. I figured you’d be lonely this time of year.”

His phone chimes with a text message:

Thanks. You didn’t have to trouble yourself. Bye. ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴

He kicks the stump with the kind of force that would make Hiyori forget all about her stupid Tono-sama, yelling, “Oi, this is a long way from Tokyo, y’know! Get your ass out here and say that to my face, you fucking hikikomori!”

A rail-thin youth in rumpled clothing appears, his face obscured by long, greasy bangs and large glasses that reflect the glow of his smartphone as he types. He holds it up for Yato to read:

Thank you for coming? ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ

“Ugh, even YOU have a smartphone? No fair!”

:)

Yato grumbles, pocketing his phone and taking a seat on the stump. As he cracks open his beer and takes a sip, he studies the other god.

“You really let yourself go Musubi, even for you.”

I don’t want to intimidate my followers.╮(─▽─)╭

“...is that all?”

His fingers hover over the smartphone, then he types with deliberate strokes:

...I don’t want a repeat of what happened with her, either.

“Hmm? Oh, that girl.”

A girl who had fallen in love with the divine harbinger of marriage instead of the suitor her father favored. If Yato remembered correctly, she lived out her days as a nun in penance, but all of that was ages ago. Feeling guilty is natural, but at some point a god has to move on. He rubs at his forehead; beer o’clock isn’t the best time for doling out advice.

“Look, it’s not all your fault: Your prettyboy looks might not have helped, but she was never into the guy. She was already looking for a way out. Times have changed, your followers have changed. You don’t have to take it to this extreme when you’re already holed up here with your shiny smartphone-- By the way, is that phone new?”

Yato, did you really come all the way out here to cheer me up? (•ิ_•ิ)?

“...No.”

He closes the gap between them, pulling up his bangs and removing his glasses, gazing at a face more beautiful than any man had a right to have: pale skin that gave off a pearl-like luminescence in the moonlight, large eyes framed by thick lashes and a dainty mouth that would be even lovelier if he made the effort to smile. He’d make a killing at comiket if he drew a yaoi doujinshi using this guy as a reference.

“Damn. You are good looking.”

Yato pulls back and reaches for his phone, opening a selfie with his arm slung around Hiyori’s shoulder.

“See the girl in this picture? I’m the one in charge of making her the happiest human on Earth. Got it?”

Musubi studies her face and nods. Yato’s phone snaps shut.

“As long as we’re clear.”

Absolutely.☆～（ゝ。∂）

“Alright then, I’ll be off.”

Musubi fades back into his tree stump and Yato stalks through the darkness to the train station. After the beer and that discussion, he felt satisfied and ready to spend the rest of the night bumming around Kofuku’s place.

Just as he reaches the turnstile, his phone chimes with a text message:

I can think of at least one way you could make her happy~ ♥ ( ॢᵕ꒶̮ᵕ(꒡ᵋ ꒡ღ)

An unfamiliar, awkward warmth floods Yato’s face. He’s sure he hadn’t had that much to drink. More importantly, what the hell was that cheeky hikikomori implying?! He couldn’t let this slide; he’d get him back for this. His revenge would be a dish best served at Summer Comiket: An expertly drawn doujinshi with Musubi in a maid outfit, ravished by an army of faceless fanboys and maybe even a tentacle monster. He’d be sure to make a fortune off of it and then they'd see who had the last laugh.

---------


**O-Ise-san in Tokyo - a nickname for Tokyo Daijinguu, the Tokyo branch of the Grand Shrine that primarily honors Amaterasu. The main shrine for Amaterasu is in Ise, hence the name.

For the interested this piece on the Japanese Love Industry is what inspired the fic. The girl at the cuddle cafe wishing couples she sees at Christmastime would die is my favorite thing ever.