Hayato raced to Natalie’s side. She lay crumpled on the floor, eyelids fluttering, the doll clinging tightly to her. He knelt, dropping the sword, holding his hands out over her helplessly.

Jin completed his circuit of the room. A set of sharp syllables cut through the howling of the wind, and a curtain of eerie blue light sprang up from the floor following the path Jin had taken. The wind died and silence fell as drawers and cabinets stopped their slamming. Papers drifted slowly down like leaves. With a few more gestures, Jin tied off his work, and he joined Hayato at Natalie’s side.

“How does she look?” asked Jin.

“How do you think?” snapped Hayato, “She’s psychically locked with a crazy doll.”

Jin reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, round mirror made of beaten silver and glass. He held it up over Natalie’s prone form and looked into it.

“She doesn’t look as bad as she might,” he said, passing the mirror over the length of her. “As Lightning said, there are more dark threads here than there might be, but not so many that it’s an immediate issue.” He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. “The doll isn’t attempting to take her over.”

“Yet,” growled Hayato. He started to pull his necklace off over his head. Jin stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going in after her.”

“You can’t do that!” Jin kept a frim grip on Hayato’s arm, keeping him from moving it.

“Watch me.”

“You don’t even know what’s going on in her mind. You could damage her.”

“I can’t just sit here!” Hayato shouted.

“I cannot allow you to expose yourself.”

“Why not?” Hayato’s voice rose. “Why not? She’s different. Maybe she’d understand!”

Jin laughed bitterly. “You think so?”

Hayato’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing.

“I do,” he said.

“Remember what happened the last time you told someone?”

Hayato stopped. He blinked, suddenly uncertain. Jin sighed.

“It’s not as if I don’t understand how you feel. Natalie is something special.” He looked down at her, his eyes gentle. “But that doesn’t mean she’d be able to accept the truth about us.”

Hayato’s body tensed as his thoughts and instincts battled. He cried out in frustration, threw off Jin’s hand, and sprang to his feet. Jin watched him warily. Hayato paced the space within the barrier Jin had created. He looked like a caged tiger. Jin shook his left arm, making sure the bracelet on his wrist was loose and ready. Hayato’s eyes focused in on the movement. He stopped pacing and flopped down in a chair.

“There’s no need for that,” he said.

“For what?” asked Jin warily.

“Testing my shackles.” Hayato held up his left wrist where one of the two bracelets he wore was an exact match to the one Jin had on his wrist. Jin watched him a moment longer. When Hayato showed no signs of doing anything reckless, he relaxed a little, slipped the mirror back in his pocket, and looked down at Natalie.

Hayato’s gaze followed Jin’s, his expression bleak.

“I hate this,” he said. “Being bound. Keeping myself hidden.”

“You know why we have to,” said Jin, turning to look at him. “If you could keep your temper in check, things never would have turned out this way.”

“Right. It’s all my fault.”

“Yes,” said Jin simply. “It is.”

Hayato glared at him. Jin shrugged it off.

“You have impulsivity problems. You always have.”

Hayato gritted his teeth and looked away. His gaze lighted on Natalie and grew sad.

“What good is it being gods if we can’t do anything?” he asked.

Jin followed his gaze and shook his head.

“It’s not our place. They don’t need us anymore. Not like this, anyway,” he looked down at himself, then at Hayato. “As long as we do our jobs, keep everything working, balanced, they don’t care.”

“At least you have one,” growled Hayato. “Two, if you count being my keeper. I don’t have a job.”

“You could,” offered Jin quietly.

Hayato smirked. “Yeah. Sure. No thanks. The price is too high.”

Jin sighed again, letting his head drop forward. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hayato’s gaze slipped back to Natalie’s still form. His demeanor softened. He stood, slowly, and walked over to kneel at her side opposite Jin.

“We really can’t help her?” he asked quietly.

“Not without revealing ourselves,” said Jin.

“We can’t do anything?”

Jin looked down at her. Her brows were drawn together and her eyelids still fluttered, but her breathing seemed steady and her color was good.

“We can wait,” said Jin. “We can be here when she wakes up.”