Kazuma stumbled into the room, weighed down by a barely conscious Yato. He murmured something incoherent as Kazuma lowered him onto a futon and turned him onto his side. Yato didn't seem to notice, muttering and giggling deliriously. Kazuma arranged his limbs in what he hoped was a comfortable position then tucked the blankets around him. He turned his back on Yato to accept water from the innkeeper and groaned when he heard Yato retching on the tatami.

"Oh, Yato," Kazuma sighed, wiping his face clean with a towel. "Opium? What were you thinking?"

"Didn't wanna think," Yato whimpered. "Didn't wanna feel." Kazuma blinked in surprise, he'd thought Yato was too out of his mind to respond.

"Why, Yato? What are you running from?"

"Everything. It hurts to feel."

"I know," Kazuma said honestly. "I know it does, but it'll get better." He caressed Yato's forehead as he'd done for Viina a thousand times; taking care of people was turning out to be his specialty.

"No, it won't. It never does. No one will ever love a god of calamity." What does that even mean, 'god of calamity?'

The elder of the Ma clan had spoken of gods of calamity like they were boogeymen, something to be feared and hated, without remorse or pity. She had not, however, referred to them as gods who throw up all over themselves and have to be taken care of. It seemed to him that gods of calamity shouldn't try to pass themselves off as street artists, or fortune tellers, or mail delivery boys. That title had never fit Yato as Kazuma knew him.

"I don't think you're a god of calamity," he said softly, brushing Yato's hair out of his face.

"Really?" Yato asked, the desire in his voice painful to hear.

"Really! One day you'll be worshipped and loved just like you want to be! There's hope for you yet!" All the light drained out of Yato's face as he fixed Kazuma with a look that sent chills down his back, and even through the haze of drugs, Yato's voice was cold as stone.

"There is no hope for me."

Baleful blue eyes glared at Kazuma through a haze of pain, though he was glad Yato was alert enough to be angry. The sheen of sweat on his forehead betrayed what his tough guy act was trying to conceal, that he was in a lot of pain.

"I know it doesn't feel like it now, but I'm trying to do what's best for you."

"Why does you trying to do what's best for someone usually end up with them worse off than before?" Yato snapped, somehow managing to inject a level of sarcasm into his strained voice. Kazuma ignored the jab, eye's scanning Yato's pale face.

"Are you thirsty? Do you think you can sit up on your own?" The genuine rage that flared in Yato's eyes startled him, and if Yato had been able to stand Kazuma might have been afraid. Based on that look Kazuma guessed that any attempt he made to help would result in a broken wrist or worse, so Kazuma knelt patiently as Yato hissed and struggled to lift himself up enough to drink.

Kazuma passed Yato the water gingerly, noting how his hands shook. He worried Yato wouldn't be able to lift it on his own, but didn't dare help, knowing that the gesture would be received poorly. Much to his relief Yato lifted the cup to his lips and drained it. Kazuma took it and refilled it then passed it back. Yato drained the cup again, then collapsed onto the futon, evidently having used up all his strength. His eyes drifted shut and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Kazuma took the opportunity to do the things Yato wouldn't have allowed while awake; he wiped the sweat off his forehead and chest and tucked the blankets more snuggly around him. He also checked Yato's temperature, and was relieved when he didn't have a fever, then he sat back and watched Yato sleep for a while. The uneasy crease between his eyebrows told him Yato wasn't sleeping peacefully, so he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and murmured comforting phrases until the tension eased and Yato sighed in his sleep. Kazuma smiled.

He got to his feet and walked to the exterior door and slid it open, deciding that a little fresh air would do them both good. He was pleasantly surprised by the garden that greeted his eyes when he opened the door and thought that the exorbitant price of this room made a little more sense now. Originally, he'd assumed that the innkeeper had named a higher price to deter him from staying when Kazuma stumbled through the door with a half unconscious man hanging from his shoulder, but now he realized the two of them must have somehow stumbled into a nicer part of town.

How fortunate, once Yato had recovered more and was able to stand Kazuma could take him outside to sit in the sun and breeze, and he thought Yato would quite like feeding the koi fish in the small pond next to the willow tree. He carried such a childlike innocence about him that it was easy for Kazuma to forget what he was, what he used to be. What he could still be again. Kazuma recalled Yato's earlier words; 'no one will ever love a god of calamity'. Maybe not, Kazuma thought, but I'm willing to bet that one day you'll find someone who will love you.

The garden was very peaceful, with music floating in from the dining hall, and Kazuma thought this was the perfect place for Yato to recover. How they'd made it to such a nice part of town from that seedy opium den was beyond him. He sat quietly in the doorway, enjoying the breeze for a long time before the sound of rustling and disoriented mumbling caught his attention. He turned and made eye contact with Yato, who was blinking blearily.

"Kazuma…?" Kazuma got to his feet and returned to Yato's bedside, closing the door on his way. He knelt and pressed a hand to Yato's forehead without thinking and wasn't sure which was more alarming: his hand not being thrown off, or the raging fever Yato had developed.

"You're burning up!" He exclaimed, getting to his feet and hurrying out of their room to the front desk to ask for ice.

When he returned he found Yato laying spread eagle with his blankets thrown to the side, trying to claw open his kimono in an attempt to relieve some of the heat. Kazuma straightened his clothes and replaced the blanket despite Yato's mumbled protests and waited impatiently for the ice to arrive as Yato's condition deteriorated.

When the inn-keeper finally delivered it Kazuma prepared an ice pack and placed it on Yato's forehead before wrapping a few more ice cubes in a rag and pressing it against the back of Yato's neck and against his cheeks. Yato sighed in relief and relaxed slightly as Kazuma's soft voice filled the cabin.

"Don't worry," he said. "This will all pass. Your fever will break, and you'll feel better, you just need to sweat that poison out of your system. Just hold on, it'll all be over soon." He started in surprise when Yato's hand bumped into his knee and tangled in his kimono. Kazuma covered Yato's hand with his own and noticed for the first time how small Yato seemed.

He had always taken up so much space in Kazuma's mind, filling up every room he stepped in, even as he barely managed to support himself. He'd never seen Yato look so helpless, and his mind wandered back to how vulnerable and sad he'd seemed before the effects of the drug had worn off. Now, as whimpered and writhed he was so small and innocent. It was difficult to imagine the hand grasping at his clothes stained with blood, and the eyes hazed in pain as sharp as a knife. Kazuma leaned forward and pressed the rag to Yato's cheek again, murmuring softly and hoping he was doing the right thing.

It was several hours before Yato's fever broke and he fell back into an uneasy sleep. Kazuma set the ice bucket to the side and wrung out his washcloth, sighing in relief as Yato's face smoothed into an expression resembling peace. He felt exhaustion weighing down on him like an anvil, and he decided to take the opportunity to sleep while he could, in case Yato woke up in a bad state again. He stretched out next to the futon and closed his eyes, drifting to sleep with the setting sun.

Kazuma was woken by a string of muttered curses, a clattering noise, and something wet and cold soaking his hair. He cracked open an eye and was somehow unsurprised by the sight that met his eyes. Yato, his rear in the air, hair sticking up in every direction, wrapped completely in his blanket except his head and arm, which was stretching out as far as it could to reach the cup of water, which he had knocked over and soaked Kazuma with. He looked like a snail.

"You look like an idiot," were the first words Kazuma managed to form.

"Oh, here I was, trying to be nice and not wake you up just to get me water, and this is the thanks I get." Kazuma sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve, noting the energy in Yato's voice.

"But you did wake me up, and now I'm all wet. Who ever heard of a God of Calamity being nice anyway?"

"I'm a God of War," Yato replied pointedly, then gathered all the blankets and wrapped himself up like a pastry, sitting up.

"I thought you were a god of being a pain in the ass," Kazuma replied, retrieving the fallen cup and filling it. Yato's skinny arm extended from the blanket nest and took the cup. He took what he obviously thought was a dignified sip, although it was hard to appear dignified when you looked like an overgrown insect ready to scuttle away at any second.

"You'll regret saying that when I'm famous!" Yato said haughtily, taking another sip.

"I'm sure I'll be groveling at your feet," he replied flatly.

"You will once my fortune telling business takes off! You'll see."

"You're not still doing that are you?" Kazuma groaned.

"Yes! Don't say it like that!"

"But your fortunes were terrible!"

"They were not!"

"You told that one lady she was going to turn green!"

"She had lettuce in her teeth, what else was I supposed to say?" Kazuma looked at him incredulously.

"Are you sure you're a god?"

"RUDE!" Yato replied.

"Maybe you should turn your attention to something else," Kazuma suggested in an attempt at diplomacy.

"You can't prove she was never going to turn green in her lifetime, Kazuma!"

"You're hopeless," he sighed, exasperated.

There is no hope for me. The memory came to him so suddenly that he was startled, and he looked back at the god in front of him, hardly believing it was the same man.

"Am not!" Yato whined. "One day I'm going to be a super famous god of fortune and everyone will love me!"

"You're setting your sights to high, Yato," Kazuma said. "All you really need is one, one person who is completely unique."

"That's easy for you to say mister 'guidepost to one of the seven gods of fortune!' Your master has more shinki than she knows what to do with!"

"It was just me and her after the Ma clan though. She restarted with just one and you'll have to do the same."

"But starting out is so hard! No one worships me, and I have to steal food!"

"Speaking of," Kazuma started, "do you think you could stomach something? You need to keep your strength up."

"Beef stew!" Yato requested, looking excited.

"Don't push your luck," Kazuma replied. "Stay here, I'm going to get you some food." He returned ten minutes later to find Yato sitting at the open door still wrapped in his blanket, and Kazuma rolled his eyes at the mental image of Yato scuttling all the way across the room like that. He turned when Kazuma opened the door, hair still sticking up in every direction.

"Hey, Kazuma, this place is nice! Did you see the garden?" Kazuma nodded, carrying the tray across the room and setting it in front of Yato. He picked up his own bowl before speaking.

"There's a koi pond, you might be able to feed them when you're feeling a little better." Predictably, Yato's face lit up.

"I love koi fish! They're really lucky!" Kazuma smiled as Yato opened his soup bowl and exclaimed in delight. In the end he had relented and gotten the beef stew.

"Be careful not to eat it too quickly," Kazuma warned. "I'm not cleaning up your vomit again."

"I don't remember puking," Yato said through a mouthful of food.

"That's because you took enough opium to kill an elephant." There was a beat of silence before Yato deflected the jab.

"I've never seen an elephant. I heard some people on the mainland use them like we use horses in battle. Imagine just being a dude being chased down by an elephant."

"It certainly wouldn't be fun," Kazuma replied. He wanted to ask Yato why he'd been taking opium, and what he was running from, but he knew he wouldn't get a reply, and that it would probably ruin the peace that had descended between them. "Save the rest of your soup for tomorrow, I'm not buying you anymore."

"I bet it was super overpriced, places like this do that," Yato commented.

"It's worth it though, Viina would never think to look for you in a place this nice."

"Hey!" Yato said defensively, "I can stay in nice places on my own!"

"Mhm," Kazuma agreed idly, not wanting to point out that more often than not he found Yato sleeping under bridges. "How are you feeling now?"

"Stronger, but still like I got trampled by a bunch of horses."

"You certainly look better," Kazuma said, taking in Yato's newly regained color and the clarity in his eyes. His movements were still slow and pained, but he'd managed to get to the door on his own, which Kazuma took as a good sign.

"Why are you doing this?" Yato asked suddenly, turning to Kazuma.

"I told you I'm just trying to help-" he started defensively, but then he noticed the look in Yato's eyes wasn't the angry accusation that had been there before; just curiosity and slight wariness. "Because we're friends," he replied. Because I owe you just didn't seem like the right reply. Yato scoffed.

"I don't have friends."

"Sure, you do, why else would I be putting up with you?" Yato narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want from me?"

"For you to stop doing opium."

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Because you're my friend, and I don't like seeing you so miserable and helpless." He met Yato's eyes for a long moment, hoping Yato would see the truth in him. "I wish you'd let me help you," he added eventually. There was another long moment of silence where Yato stared at him, seeming like he was trying to gaze all the way into Kazuma's soul.

"...Alright."

"What?"

"Alright, I'll let you help me," Yato repeated, sounding like he was as surprised as Kazuma.

"I-well, um... thank you, Yato."

"Why are you thanking me?"

"Oh, um, I guess I was just surprised." They sat that way for several minutes, silently enjoying the view in the garden before Yato broke the silence.

"Can you help me get back to the futon? I'm tired, and it's getting worse."

"Of course," Kazuma said, moving the tray with their bowls out of the way and helping Yato to his feet. Kazuma pulled one of Yato's arms over his shoulder and wrapped his own around Yato's waist and walked him back to the futon, taking most of his weight. He eased Yato back down. "This is much easier when you're conscious," he joked. "Do you need anything else?" Yato shook his head.

"You're a pretty good nursemaid." Kazuma huffed a laugh.

"Thank you, I've had a lot of practice."

"I'll bet you have." The memory behind those words hung heavily between them, stretching the air taut like a bowstring. Yato closed his eyes and tilted his head back, hissing in pain.

"What is it?"

"Muscle cramps, mostly. I feel like I'm dying."

"What do you need?"

"A hit."

"Yato…" Kazuma said dismally. Yato shot him an annoyed look from behind curtains of pain.

"I was kidding. Water."

"That I can do." This time Yato did not resist as Kazuma helped him sit up and drink the water, and Kazuma was mildly surprised Yato was sticking to his word about allowing himself to be helped. He pressed a hand to Yato's forehead once he was laying down again. "You don't have a fever." Yato's breathing was ragged, rattling in his chest and wheezing past his lips. At least he wasn't trying to act like a tough guy anymore.

"Kazuma, can you talk to me?" Yato asked. "About anything… just, distract me."

"Of course. Viina recently named a new shinki, his name is Kuraha, he turns into a lion. The younger ones all think it's super cool, they love him. Kugaha, our apothecary, has been teaching me a few things, like how to administer certain medications. It's really good having him around, although I wish I could bring him to see you, I bet he'd have something that could make you feel better.

"Viina is getting better every day. Kugaha makes her these medicinal baths that really seem to help as well. Everyone is doing well. I do wish she'd stop naming every corrupted spirit she comes across, I think it's guilt from what happened to the Ma clan. She insists it's a god's job to protect the weak. I'm afraid what happened to the Ma clan will happen again, I'm-"

"Could you maybe cheer up?" Yato asked, looking irked.

"Right, sorry." Kazuma cast about for something more cheerful to talk about. "Oh, I know, why don't you start accepting art commissions again? You're a really good artist, I bet you could make some real money doing scenery or even portraits. Speaking of, isn't drawing a weird skill for a god of war to have? How did you learn to draw? Do you have any other weird skills? Are you secretly a master chef? Do you sew? I think it's really cool you know how to draw, not many people can do that." He glanced down at Yato and smiled when he saw he'd fallen asleep while Kazuma was talking. "Sorry to have bored you," he said quietly. Yato slept the rest of the day, waking up only once to ask for more food.

The next morning Yato woke up in good spirits, and restless, so Kazuma decided it was time for them to take a stroll in the garden. He ordered their breakfast with extra bread for Yato to feed the koi with and helped him out into the early morning air for the first time in days. Yato stopped when his feet hit the ground, tilting his head back and inhaling deeply, enjoying the feeling of the summer breeze on his skin.

"It's nice outside," he said.

"I'm glad you're well enough to enjoy it."

"Me too," Yato replied, sounding relieved. "I've certainly had better days." His voice was light, and though he still leaned on Kazuma for support his eyes were the clearest they'd been. "Can I feed the fish?" He asked, turning his bright and hopeful gaze on Kazuma. Even if he had been planning to say no, he wouldn't have been able turn down that face.

"Sure." They made their way across the garden slowly but steadily, admiring the bright pink and yellow flowers. "I'm glad we stumbled into this hotel, even if it was pretty expensive."

"I'm glad you're paying," Yato said. Kazuma chuckled.

"I thought as much."

They made it to the willow tree and Kazuma eased Yato down in the shade next to the pond so he could sit and rest while he fed the fish. Kazuma handed Yato the bread and reminded him gently to tear the bread into little pieces so the fish wouldn't choke. He wandered around for a little while, taking in the sun and fresh air, but always staying close enough to see Yato. Kazuma didn't think he would try to escape and go back to the opium den, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Don't you guys ever get bored in such a small pond?" Yato asked the fish, dropping a few more pieces of bread into the water. "But you've got lots of friends, so I bet you don't get lonely."

Kazuma felt a pang of pity at the melancholy in Yato's voice, remembering his words from earlier. I don't have any friends. He must be lonely, even if he never complained. It was probably why he was always talking about being famous, he really just wanted people in his life to care about him. Kazuma returned to Yato's side and sat down, taking a small piece of bread and tossing it to the fish.

"You know, Yato, hanging around in opium dens isn't a proper way for a god to behave," he said gently. Yato froze, his bread filled hand hovering halfway to the water. The fish bucked and gaped in anticipation.

"What if I don't care about being proper?"

"You've got a lot of talents, you shouldn't let them go to waste." Yato's fist clenched, smashing the bread between his fingers.

"I'm only good at killing," he replied, his face betraying darkness and pain.

"I don't think that's true. You're good at art."

"That's one thing."

"One thing that isn't killing." Yato scoffed, but his death grip on the bread was loosened.

"...you have a point," he said begrudgingly.

"And you're really good at pulling jobs out of nowhere. You've always got some angle you're working," Kazuma said, more confident now that Yato had resumed feeding the fish and his face was brighter. "And I've heard really good things about your cleaning abilities, and that you're good with kids." Another weird skill for a god of war.

"You have?" Yato asked, looking up in surprise. Kazuma nodded.

"Thankfully the people talking about you didn't remember your name, because I was with Viina at the time, but I heard them talking about a man with blue eyes they'd met at a well and I knew it was you."

"It was cool they remembered my eyes though!" Yato said, and Kazuma nodded.

"So, you do have skills other than killing, and even if you didn't, you could always help people by killing ayakashi."

"Help people by killing," he repeated, voice thick. His face was far away.

"Ayakashi," Kazuma reminded him. "Killing ayakashi." Yato opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, gulping.

"Right," he said quietly, then reached out mechanically and dropped the last of the bread into the water. He reclined onto the grass and stared up through the thick branches of the willow tree. There was a long heavy silence. "It's peaceful here."

"You're right," Kazuma replied, leaning back on his hands. He followed Yato's gaze up to the sky and sighed, enjoying the calm atmosphere. After a few minutes he spoke again, "Yato, how are you feeling?" When Yato didn't reply he looked over and saw that Yato had dozed off, and was snoozing peacefully with his arms crossed behind his head.

Yato had one more episode of pain where he was confined to the futon, holding Kazuma's hand for comfort, but even while it was happening it came with a sense of closure. Both of them could tell the symptoms were abating, and that the two of them wouldn't be there for much longer. They shared one more meal together, once the episode had ended, and Yato was able to sit up on his own and feed himself, to Kazuma's immense relief. They went to sleep that night in good spirits, drifting off easily.

Kazuma wasn't surprised to wake up to an empty room, he'd halfway expected it. Yato was never one for goodbyes. What did surprise him, however, was the drawing left near his head with a note that read, "thanks for the help, Kazuma." He picked up the drawing and smiled when he realized what it was: two men reclining under a willow tree in a beautiful garden, next to a pond filled with koi.