It's a quiet dreadful night [G | Saga]

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He must be somewhere. Yato was sure that he had to be somewhere, he was a hero and yet he had not seen him on the television but he would protect him, he would protect Yato where his father could not. And now he was in trouble. The eight year old was crying, little tears dripping on his cheek and he from time to time had to sniff because the little goo was dropping from his nose. He had been crying all the way from Nakano to here, Tokyo. But Tokyo was big and he did not know the hero his name, but he wished he was his father. Yato cried now that it rained and it was so cold out here and he was hiding under a little bridge as he could not find anywhere else to go. The rain drowned out the sound of his crying but surely he wished he had gone home, that he would trust the police to free his father from the Inagwaro Yakuza in Nakano, if that was really what was happening, no one told an eight year old what was going on and he was sick of that. He had to help his family before, he had tried and smuggled the drugs to get more money for his sister and now, now he was again a little boy. He would understand, his hero, would understand what he could do, and how he would find his father. But he wasn't a hero himself, Yato whimpered, it was cold, he was drenched from the rain and he wished he was home. He made his way from under the bridge, trying to find new spots to shelter from the rain but when that didn't work and the eight year old Yato already realized that it would not get any better, he would just keep up with the slump. 

His feet were sore, his hands had little cuts in it from the moments that he had fallen on the cobble stones, his eyes red and watery, his nose still dripping a little bit of goo from time to time and his stomach was growling like it was impersonating a whale that was making a-a, well whatever loud sound it was making and he tried to put his hands in his pocket. No one cared, he thought. No one cared that he ran away to find his hero, his mother probably fussed over his little sister, worried about their father, Yato was going to be the man that would save the family. The little boy nodded to himself, but it wasn't going to work, he still had not find the man with his white hair and black and white clothing. He could be anywhere, Yato had not thought this through he thought that Tokyo would show all advertisement of every day heroes and how to find them. Maybe he should go to the police station but they would surely bring him home. He was cold, hungry and to be honest, quite scared but he did not want to admit that even to himself. He thought he heard footsteps that followed him, the same steady pace that he made himself, but louder, heavier, an adult. He did not dare to look over his shoulder, was he going to be kidnapped, smuggled out of the country like the scary stories his mother had told him when he was still working for the Yakuza, was it the Yakuza?! He had not thought of that, they knew how he looked, they would figure out everything, uh oh, he was afraid and started to walk a little quirker, in the end he went to run, around every corner as fast as his hurt, cold feet could take him. Oh no, what did he do!