Note: I know the title is kind of goofy, but I thought it was terribly clever at the time and I still kinda like it X)

Bishamon had drifted away from Kazuma to find a drink before the colloquy started when she spotted Yato hiding behind the table set with refreshments. She almost missed seeing him entirely, both because she wasn't expecting to see anyone there and because he had centuries of experience staying unnoticed and was very good at it when he wanted to be. There was a narrow strip of floor between the table and back wall, and Yato had crammed himself there in the shadows of the corner. His dark hair and clothing were dull in the shadows, and he had made himself as small as possible by curling up with his knees held tightly to his chest.

Bishamon blinked at him in consternation, drink forgotten. "What are you doing?"

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, bright blue eyes burning through the shadows and unmasking the disguise. "Bishamon? What…?" His eyes widened and he pressed a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. "Shhh. Go away."

She braced her hand on her hip. "Why are you lurking back there? If you're planning another one of your ridiculous pranks or spying missions, you'd best abandon that notion. The colloquy isn't the proper place for–"

"I'm not," he hissed in a whisper. His eyes darted about anxiously as if he was afraid of someone else noticing him. "Just go away."

It was a curious thing. He really didn't seem like he was planning one of his obnoxious schemes. He usually seemed goofy and excitable and full of energy with those. Right now he just seemed tense and jittery. If he was full of energy, it was nervous energy.

Bishamon should just grab her drink and walk away. It wasn't any of her business what the idiot was up to, and she certainly didn't care. But he was acting strangely, and she was curious.

Anyway, if he was planning some stupid prank, she'd best stick around and put a stop to it.

She walked the length of the long table in the other direction since this end was pressed almost up to the wall. Slipping around the end, she walked back up the other side and, ignoring Yato's panicked eyes and flapping hands, glanced around to make sure no one was watching before dropping to the ground beside him. The ground was hard beneath her and it was impossible to find a comfortable position, but the long table skirt brushed the floor to protect them from prying eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" Yato hissed. "Go away."

"A better question would be what you're doing back here."

"None of your business."

"Where's Yukine?"

Yato's nervous twitching stilled. Then he reached out and tweaked the corner of the table skirt to sneak a peek around the edge of the table. Bishamon leaned across him to peer out as well. Through the small gap between the wall and the bunched fabric twisted in Yato's fist, she let her gaze rove over the gathered gods and shinki until she spotted Yukine standing with a couple other shinki.

"Looks like he's making friends, maybe," Yato grunted. "Get off me."

"Actually, I think he's looking for you," Bishamon observed.

Yukine was chatting with the others in a friendly fashion, but there was a crease between his brows and he kept glancing around the room as if searching for something. Or someone.

"Sure you aren't thinking of Kazuma looking for you?" Yato asked dryly, tipping his head as Kazuma came up behind Yukine and leaned over to whisper something in his ear.

Bishamon winced and righted herself as Yato released the tablecloth and let it fall back into place. Kazuma didn't seem worried yet, but there was a faint frown on his face and he was definitely searching for her after she hadn't returned from her detour.

"He'll be alright for a few minutes," she said.

She was still dying to know why Yato was lurking back here, so far on the outskirts of the gathering that he practically wasn't there at all. There was something about the tense hunch of his shoulders and the way his hands fidgeted nervously with his clothing that made her think something was bothering him. She really shouldn't care if the stupid bastard was anxious about something, so she chalked it up to curiosity.

"Really?" Yato asked. "I could've sworn you two were joined at the hip."

Bishamon glared. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Then go away."

"Not until you tell me why–"

"Shhh!"

"Don't you shush–"

"Shhh!"

Yato slapped a hand over Bishamon's mouth, and her eyes widened in indignation. She knocked his hand away and drew in a breath to castigate him, but paused as she heard the murmur of voices coming closer. Someone was approaching the table.

Yato had been staring up toward the top of the table apprehensively, but now he turned panicked eyes on Bishamon. "You're too conspicuous," he whispered through gritted teeth. He cursed softly. "You're going to give us away."

He whipped his head back and forth, searching for a way out of their predicament, and then grabbed Bishamon's arm and scrambled beneath the table, pushing aside the skirt and dragging his hapless companion along with him. Bishamon made to express her protests, but Yato shot her a glare and put his finger over his lips.

The light was grayish and dimmed as it filtered through the thick white tablecloth, but Bishamon caught the hint of shadowy legs stepping up as their owners chatted and laid claim to the refreshments spread over the table. She hoped that didn't mean anyone who looked could see the shadows of her and Yato through the cloth, but the fabric was thick enough to blot out most of it and she doubted anyone would notice unless they were really looking.

Despite this, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger nervously and she and Yato held their breath as they waited for the interlopers to retreat. The gold of her hair caught her eye as she twisted and turned it, and she suddenly realized why Yato had been so anxious to shove her out of sight. Her hair and clothes were bright and, even more importantly, she was used to being seen. She could never hide in the shadows the same way Yato did. He was better camouflaged and had a knack for disappearing after centuries of neglect and deliberately kept distance.

Yato didn't relax until the voices retreated again. He let out a breath and settled himself more comfortably as he turned to glare at Bishamon again.

"You are a real pain," he said in a low voice, through gritted teeth.

"Likewise," she snarled back, keeping her voice equally low. "You're acting strangely. Why are you hiding over here instead of making a nuisance of yourself out with Yukine?"

"I wanted a break from annoying gods like you," Yato grumbled pointedly. "I don't really want to be here."

"You don't?" Bishamon tilted her head and frowned, searching his face in the shadowy light. "I thought you'd be excited to finally be attending a colloquy after all this time. You've seemed stupidly excited about all the other perks of your new shrine."

"It seemed like a better idea before I got here," he muttered. "I don't belong here."

"Whyever not?"

He shot her another halfhearted glare as he pulled his knees back up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Are you stupid? Is that a real question? I'm just some lowly, no-name god of calamity, shrine or not. None of you big-shot gods want me here. I'm tired of listening to their whispering."

"I thought you were becoming a god of fortune or something like that?"

His glare turned baleful. "Don't patronize me. You think it's as ridiculous as everyone else."

Bishamon had nothing to say to that since she did find it to be a bit of a pipe dream and more than a little absurd, so abandoned that tack. "Since when do you care what everyone says about you?"

He received plenty of negative attention from anyone—and, it seemed, just about everyone—who took notice of him, but it had never seemed to bother him much before. Insults and criticism slid off him like water, deflected by goofy smiles and sunny laughter and sometimes a bit of whining. Even when he complained about how people treated him, it was usually done in an exaggerated way to show that he didn't particularly care.

He shrugged, and his fingers began fiddling with the fabric of his clothing again as he watched the table skirt warily, keeping a lookout for anyone else who might wander past.

"You get used to it after enough centuries, but that doesn't mean I always want to hear it," he muttered.

It was news to Bishamon that the nasty comments and insults got under his skin more than he let on, but maybe it shouldn't be. He would have plenty of experience cloaking his thoughts and emotions, and it was only natural to be hurt by too much negativity. Actually, it made him a bit more relatable. Bishamon had a hard time understanding him half the time and he seemed like a walking psychological conundrum, but this she understood. This made sense.

Despite her best intentions, she couldn't help but sympathize a little.

"Well, who cares what they think? Are you really going to let them chase you out to hide under tables?"

"If I stay here long enough, maybe I can grab Yukine and sneak out after all the gods go into the colloquy," Yato murmured to himself thoughtfully.

Bishamon stared, unable to believe this was the same insufferable idiot always harassing her. He wasn't one to show weakness or back down from a challenge or let her get away with poking at his pride. Something about this whole situation didn't sit right with her, didn't make sense.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "That's letting them win. Anyway, this is your opportunity to start getting to know everyone and winning them over."

Yato sighed and rested his cheek on his knee, his arms tightening about his legs. "That's not how it works."

"What? Of course it–"

"I don't really 'win people over'. I mostly just annoy them until they hate me more."

Bishamon privately agreed with that in a great many cases, but there were exceptions. When people really got to know him, when they took the time to painstakingly peel back his layers and he gradually let them in, he seemed to win them over somehow.

"That's not entirely true," she said reasonably. "You won over Yukine to the point of him becoming a hafuri for you, and I heard that was no easy feat. And you seem to have won a great deal of loyalty from Hiyori and Kofuku and Daikoku. Kazuma adores you for whatever inexplicable reason, and even I tolerate you now. Just be yourself, and I'm sure you can make some new friends and allies if you work at it."

Yato did not seem sufficiently cheered or motivated. "Yeah, those are all friendships of circumstance. Mostly they needed something from me and we started getting along after."

"And?"

"That's not exactly the same as dealing with a bunch of gods I have no connection with."

Bishamon couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You could always try making friendships in more normal–"

She broke off as Yato flapped his hand in an unsubtle 'shut up' motion. She stayed quiet as another pair of shadowy legs skimmed alongside the table skirt. Although she had no need to avoid the other gods, she would die of embarrassment if she was caught hiding underneath a table with the social pariah.

"There are so many people," Yato muttered when the legs walked away. His features were pinched and drawn in tight lines, and his gaze skittered restlessly up and down the outside length of the table to keep lookout. "I don't really do well with people."

Bishamon raised an eyebrow and shifted about to fold her legs beneath her. "You seem to thrive with people. You're always chatting and having a good time."

"Yeah, not so much," he said absently, still focused on watching for anyone who got too close. "Not always. It was easier to do that because people start thinking I'm going to kill them when I stay too serious. Dealing with this many people at once is overwhelming."

Bishamon studied him with new eyes. It was true that Yato's new goofy default was strongly at odds with the cold, merciless god of calamity she had hunted for centuries. Sometimes his dangerous side peeked through when he was pushed too far, but that wasn't all she saw when his cheerful veneer began cracking and flaking away like old paint. He seemed neither cheerful nor frightening now, just nervous and uncomfortable and a bit unhappy.

There was certainly more to him than met the eye, even though his goofy and rather exasperating front made it difficult to realize that there was still something lurking underneath. She wondered if he cultivated that on purpose, like a table skirt he could hide his softer, more vulnerable parts under to protect them from the rest of the world.

There were many things Bishamon could say, but all she asked was, "Why?"

Yato scrounged up a halfhearted scowl. "I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone for centuries. I don't have social skills."

Kazuma had once speculated that some of Yato's more socially inappropriate quirks could be explained by a significant lack of meaningful social contact over the years, and Bishamon was inclined to agree. Still…

"What do you mean, not allowed?"

"Father doesn't like it when I talk to other people."

Bishamon stared at him blankly. "Why?"

"Really?" Yato's glower deepened, and the gray light filtering through the table cloth cast strange shadows over his face. "You aren't doing very well with your information-gathering on the sorcerer, are you? Or on finding some common sense, for that matter. It's How to Manipulate Someone 101. Make sure they're isolated and have no outside support to rely on so that they're completely dependent on you. If something goes wrong and they start forming attachments, eradicate the threat or use it as leverage to control them. Honestly."

Bishamon could feel her face contracting into a frown. She knew very little about the sorcerer, all things considered, and next to nothing about Yato's relationship with him beyond the pseudo-familial tie and the fact that Yato was likely to die if he did. Yato himself refused to divulge anything at all, and this was the most she had ever heard him say about his past before. It did not paint a reassuring picture.

And being someone who had always had shinki and friends to support her, the thought of having to face everything so utterly alone sent shivers down her spine. Even at her lowest point, she'd at least had Kazuma.

"That sounds really horrible," she said, feeling a stab of sympathy despite herself. "Why did you–?"

"I don't want to talk about him," Yato snapped. His eyes narrowed to gleaming sapphire slits, and he hugged his knees tighter to his chest and hunched his shoulders. "If you want to keep digging up information on him, do it somewhere else."

"I will, thanks," she said hotly.

He just shook his head. "You'd do better to drop it. You have no idea what you're getting into."

"I would if you'd tell me," she retorted.

It galled her something terrible to have the perfect well of information and experience right in front of her but be unable to get him to tell her anything at all. She supposed she couldn't entirely blame Yato if it was true that his life was bound with the sorcerer's, but it was still an unfortunate state of affairs.

There was a long pause before Yato's sigh fluttered delicately in the air and his eyes dimmed to a dull, tired blue. "He's more dangerous than you realize, Bishamon. He's an accomplished puppet master, and the plans he sets are complex and deadly and almost always work. It's better not to start a war with him. He'll make your life a living hell."

Bishamon thought the sorcerer had started the war himself and opened her mouth to say so, but quickly changed her approach when she saw Yato's eyes narrow with annoyance and realized she was about to lose him. There was no point pushing him when he didn't want to talk. He was possibly the most stubborn person in existence.

Although, to be honest, this was probably the perfect time to push him if she wanted answers. He had already said more than he normally would have, undoubtedly a product of his nerves and distraction, and the best time to try getting him to crack would be while he was in a more vulnerable state of mind.

But as much as she wanted that information, Bishamon swallowed her barrage of questions. It didn't feel right taking advantage of Yato while he was like this. There was no need to go digging up old wounds and cutting new ones.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said instead. "Now, don't you think it's about time to stop lurking under tables?"

As if on cue, Yato's fingers twitched violently and began fiddling with his clothing again. "I don't know…"

Bishamon had to shake her head. "Come on, can't you come up with a reason to face everyone and attend the colloquy?"

Another pair of shadowy feet drifted past, but they weren't the reason for Yato's silence. His brows drew together in deep furrows and a misty, faraway sheen dulled his eyes. Bishamon waited quietly as he considered the question.

"It annoys Father," he mused eventually. "He thinks things like colloquies and shrines are ridiculous."

Bishamon shifted uncomfortably, easily interpreting the unspoken nod to 'How to Manipulate Someone 101'. No wonder the sorcerer was Yato's only lifeline, she realized suddenly. If he'd cut Yato off from the other gods and humans without even a shrine to his name, there was no source of outside help or a following to buffer against disappearing.

There was something fundamentally disturbing about that line of thought, so Bishamon shoved it aside for later inspection. Yato wouldn't want to delve into it too deeply, especially not with her, and right now it was best to just run with what he said without pushing too much.

"Uh, okay," she said. "Let's start with that, then. You–"

"Seems like everything I do is calculated to be the opposite of what he wants," Yato muttered bitterly, still lost in thought. "Maybe that's not a good thing. When I push him too far, that's when bad things start to happen."

Bishamon opened her mouth, closed it again. This did not seem like a productive approach, and she failed to see how it would coax Yato out from underneath the table. The colloquy would be starting in just a few minutes, and it was up to her to get them there.

"Okay, let's find a more positive reason, then," she said with an awkward cough. "You want to be a god of fortune, right? Don't you think it would be helpful to get to know some other gods and get used to attending colloquies? That's part of the package."

Yato's gaze sharpened and he glared again. "I already told you–"

"I'm not patronizing you. It seems like a bit of a farfetched scheme, but…if anyone can do it, it's you." She looked away with a scowl. Yato was an annoying brat, but he had done more to change himself than just about anyone else and was just stubborn enough to manage to rewrite his entire purpose in life. "Anyway, isn't that what Yukine is trying to help you do? You should cooperate with your exemplar. I'm sure he's wondering where you are, and it's not very nice to hide and leave him to fend off the wolves by himself. You know that you can rely on him."

Another pause. "…I guess."

"You guess?" Bishamon huffed, beginning to lose her patience.

"I mean, you're right, just…" Yato shrugged his shoulders up around his ears and buried his nose in his knees to hide his troubled frown.

"Aren't you tired of being manipulated? By the sorcerer and all these other gods and everyone else?"

Yato met her gaze and at first she thought she had pushed too far and he was genuinely angry now, but his eyes were tired and hollow and old. Eyes that had seen too much.

"You don't know anything." There was a hint of bite to his voice, but it was nearly smothered beneath the heavy exhaustion and hopeless defeat.

Maybe he was right. Bishamon had faced her own challenges over the centuries, and they had all shaped and changed her in different ways. It would be difficult for Yato, as an outsider, to truly understand some of them and the consequences they'd had. And she had little understanding of what his life had been like up until now or what he had endured, so perhaps it was unfair to pass judgment or build an argument on the quicksand of assumptions. But she also believed in this.

"Maybe not, but…" She sighed. "Look, you're better than that. Don't let them walk all over you or chase you off. You don't need to hide. Who cares what they say? You've got plenty of friends to stand by you and support you now, even if you didn't before. The rest of them aren't that important. Have a little more confidence."

Yato tilted his head and watched her with luminous, unblinking eyes. The silence stretched out to the point of discomfort, and Bishamon shifted restlessly under his gaze. She wished she could read the thoughts swimming behind his eyes like unshed tears, darting back and forth at lightning speed like minnows moving beneath the water's surface too fast for the eye to follow. All the answers she wanted were right there, she could just almost make them out, but in the end it was still a mystery and he wasn't going to solve that puzzle for her.

Then, finally, Yato huffed out a soft laugh and his eyes cleared just a little. "Okay."

Bishamon was taken aback by the sudden acquiescence, but quickly shook herself into action before he changed his mind. "Great, let's go."

"Make sure no one is looking first."

"Of course." She had no desire to be seen crawling out from underneath a table.

She inched around Yato to lift the corner of the cloth and peek out. There were so many people that it was difficult to determine how to go about this unseen, but she was going to do her best.

"You can go first," Yato said.

Bishamon glanced back with a frown. "What?"

"So that we aren't seen together."

She snorted and went back to searching for the opportune moment. "Who cares about that?"

"It's not exactly going to be great for your reputation if you're seen messing around with me."

"I have to deal with you hanging around all the time now already. I don't see how this is any different."

"Uh, yeah. It's a bit different to be doing it in front of a gathering of all the gods…"

"Well, I don't care." Bishamon dismissed his concern with a flip of her hand. She had been on the receiving end of heaven's scorn before, and would be again. If it was for this, then so be it. "I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you. The gossipmongers can shove a sock in it."

Yato coughed out a laugh that sounded like he was choking on something. "You're a strange one."

"Shut up, I'm helping you. Look, here's our chance!"

"Wait, but–"

Bishamon didn't wait to hear any more of his excuses. Seizing her chance, she grabbed his arm and yanked him along behind her as she crawled out from beneath the table skirt and stood up quickly. Yato cursed softly, stumbled, and righted himself beside her.

Bishamon released his arm and cast a furtive glance around the room, only to see a couple gods giving them strange looks. So much for the perfect window of opportunity. And then her gaze caught on Yukine and Kazuma, who were standing together and staring at Bishamon and Yato with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Oops," she said with a sigh. "I swear they have a sixth sense for spotting us."

Their exemplars picked their jaws up off the ground and started weaving their way through the clumps of chatting gods and shinki, and Bishamon shrugged and started towards them as well with Yato trailing behind.

"Actually," Yato said, "what I was going to say was that we should crawl out on the other side of the table. We'd be less conspicuous just standing up on the other side than crawling out where everyone could see us."

"Oh." Bishamon had not considered that, but it did seem like it would have been the easier option. Well, too late now.

"Heeey, Yukine!" Yato called loudly, waving with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. Bishamon cast him a sidelong glance. He was grinning brightly and practically bouncing with excitement now. Or so it seemed. It was uncanny how he could flip a switch like that, instantly back to his cheerful and carefree façade with only a slight tension in his shoulders and clouded look in his eyes to give away his nerves. "Been making lots of friends?"

Yukine stalked over with a scowl and didn't even bother to address such an irrelevant question. "You know what," he said flatly, "I don't even want to know. Your stupidity knows no bounds."

Yato pouted. "Yukineee, that's mean."

"Well, I want to know." Kazuma looked between the two gods and then his eyes settled on Bishamon, pleading for an explanation. "What were you doing under a table?"

Yato grinned and threw an arm around Bishamon's shoulders and leaned in with a hint of smug mischief glittering in his eyes. "We just needed a private place to have some fun, if you know what I mean."

Kazuma opened his mouth, found no words, and left it hanging there.

Bishamon rolled her eyes and shoved Yato away. "We were just talking."

"Yeah, don't worry so much, Kazuma!" Yato said with a laugh. "I didn't defile your lady."

Kazuma turned an interesting shade of red and began sputtering incoherently. Bishamon took pity on him.

"Stop teasing Kazuma," she said, jabbing an elbow into Yato's ribs and eliciting a pleasing yelp. Her eyes softened as she smiled at her guidepost. "It's alright, nothing happened. We were just chatting."

"Under a table," Yukine said, unimpressed. His dry tone clearly conveyed his skepticism.

"Tables are the best places to talk!" Yato said with a grin. "Lots of privacy, and you can eavesdrop on everyone walking past and make fun of their shoes."

Bishamon shook her head. For a while there she had thought she was beginning to understand Yato a little, but he was still mystifying. Anyone looking at him now would have no idea that he had been a nervous wreck hiding under a table mere minutes before.

"You're being weird," Yukine said bluntly.

"Am not!"

"Yeah, you are. You're all nervous and weird."

Yato went still, smile wavering, and stared at his exemplar. "How do you know?"

Yukine rolled his eyes. "I spend like ninety percent of my time with you. Of course I've learned how to read your moods."

"Some of that time is sleeping, so it doesn't count," Yato grumbled.

Yukine just shook his head. "You've got Hiyori and all them behind you. And I already tell you what an idiot you are, so there's no reason to be listening to what all these guys say. I've got it covered. Calm down and stop being so pathetic."

Yato blinked at him for a moment longer and then laughed. "Right as always," he said fondly, eyes brightening as he ruffled Yukine's hair despite the shinki's loud complaints.

Bishamon watched their interaction curiously, marveling at how relaxed and informal they were in each other's company. Despite Yato being so obnoxious and Yukine being so abrasive, they somehow seemed closer to each other in their short partnership than many gods and shinki became in centuries. It was a curious thing.

Bishamon's shinki tended to be more formal with her—even Kazuma, to an extent, despite how unwaveringly close they were. Part of it probably came from managing a larger group of shinki, but it was interesting to see this different family dynamic and wonder what it would be like to have such an utterly unrestrained relationship.

"Tough love, I suppose," Kazuma remarked, stepping up beside her. He was watching Yato and Yukine bicker with a strange little half-smile.

Then again, she suspected it would quickly become irritating to have a shinki talk back to her that much once the novelty wore off.

"Seems strange to me," she muttered.

"That too." Kazuma chuckled, but smiled and inclined his head to Yato when the other god turned back with raised eyebrows. "Colloquies can be a bit overwhelming the first couple times," he said evenly. "Don't worry, you'll get used to the excitement quickly enough."

Yato and Kazuma held each other's gazes for several long seconds as if holding a silent conversation that no one else was privy to.

Bishamon watched, she and Yukine being on the outside looking in for once. She knew Kazuma like the back of her hand, but his history with Yato was one of the few things she had little understanding of at all. Her curiosity burned deep, and she wanted to pull Kazuma aside and ask him to tell her everything he had learned over the years when it came to their most puzzling companion. She had wondered about it before, what Kazuma had seen and how he had befriended Yato and why there was such deep loyalty and quiet respect there. She wanted to know, but she respected Kazuma too much to put him in a position where he was forced to breach that friendship out of loyalty to her.

Yato inclined his head slightly. "I don't doubt it."

Kazuma nodded back, another silent exchange, but Bishamon found herself distracted as gods began filing out of the room and into the meeting chamber.

"Time to go," she said, waving a quick goodbye to the hafuri. Yato tensed, just enough to be noticeable, and she could practically see the second thoughts flickering in his eyes. She didn't think he would back out now, but there was no point taking chances. She hooked her arm through his. "Come on, it's not so bad. I'll even introduce you to some people."

Yato took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders and let her drag him away from the outskirts to face his fears. And Bishamon stuck close to his side even when he got particularly obnoxious, so that he didn't have to do it alone.

Note: For some reason I was really enamored of the idea of Yato and Bishamon hiding under a table to chat. They're super cute we're-totally-not-friends when they aren't trying to stab each other to death XD