A/N: Know that this an AU/contemporary retelling of Noragami, involving both the anime and manga (including Noragami Shuuishuu and Clash, O Ye Gods of Calamity, which are short stories/manga of Noragami that supply some more comic relief and background information on certain characters). So while I WILL change some things in, or even add plotlines to, this retelling—due to some things not being translatable in a strictly contemporary/realistic world, and wanting to make things more interesting—most events will parallel to the original work and may potentially spoil things. Some things will be brought up earlier, because I'm going to augment these certain aspects.

If you have not read the manga, I suggest to not read this fic until you've either started the manga or are all caught up. I have nothing on Adachi Toka, and I certainly wouldn't want to spoil the great story they—"Adachi Toka" is actually an alias for two girl manga-kas—created.

Otherwise, enjoy and tell me what you think. :D

Also know that while I do italicize the Japanese words I use, I also don't when pairing honorifics to names or using them as proper nouns. So while I may italicize "the sensei is mad at us", I won't when writing "Yukimura-sensei is mad at us" or "Sensei is mad at us". It's just a preference I have, and I guess we'll all have to live with.

Once again, enjoy and tell me what you think. :D

FULL SYNOPSIS

YATO just wants to jumpstart his five yen business in order to scrape by the bills and debts coming his way—maybe even pass down his legacy to a kouhai who'd call him "senpai" or, better yet, "sensei".

YUKINE just wants to avoid his dad and school as much as possible, even if it means agreeing to a sketchy third year's proposition of being a kouhai and paying half the rent for an LDK in order to live with his new "senpai".

HIYORI just wants answers on how she got entangled with a pesky, if not clingy, third year high school boy, who keeps sneaking into her school and causing mayhem—also worrying about the boy, and the negative influence he seems to have on an underclassmen.

As these three become more intermingled with each other, secrets of their troubled pasts and presents become more prominent: Each shadowing and sheltering their own demons in a stream of strange and silent nights. Nights that promise more demons and sorrows—and, if possible, new hopes and dreams.

Strange and Silent Nights

Chapter 1-Absent Bodies, Absent Minds

From the wall, he can see just how deserted the school is. Or from what he can make of it, that is. An amorphous cloud, which is a mix of haze and dust swept to the side by a whimsical wind, hides most of it. The wind also nulls any sound made—not a single step, word, or breath heard as he and his kouhai skid down the wall, into the courtyard.

Nevertheless, they stop and still scan the area to make sure no one saw them. Despite both wearing the Whitebird Secondary School uniforms, Yato would prefer not being caught and escorted to the principal's office for being "late". It'd be a waste of time, and it may be discovered neither he nor his kouhai actually attend this school.

When no one comes, Yato walks a few steps forward and extends his hand to the back—signaling to his kouhai to hand over his phone.

Several seconds pass, then a minute.

Yato looks behind him, an eyebrow raised. His kouhai stares right back, with her brows lowered and mouth enfolded into a thin line. His cell phone is tightly clutched in one hand, whereas the other rests on a hip.

Yato sighs and rubs the back of his head. He thought they were over this, but apparently not.

"Yato-san," she starts, and Yato mutters something—voicing it louder when she stops and stares at him. "Senpai," he huffs, knowing they had at least gone over this countless of times. "Yato-senpai, Tomone."

That, Yato belatedly realizes, wasn't his best move. Tomone's brows furrow further and her mouth tightens to the point of slightly smudging lipstick onto her chin.

"Mayu," she whispers, then explodes. "It's Mayu! How many times have I told you that?!"

"When we first met, you said it was Tomone!"

"Met?" If Yato had thought Tomone's eyes couldn't get any narrower, he thought wrong: her eyes easily shift into green slivery slits. "Met'?! You eavesdropping into my conversation and stalking me until I consented to becoming your kouhai is not how you 'meet' someone! Of course I gave you a fake name when you asked me what it was—any sane person would!"

"Huh. But you seemed to prefer the name when we were—"

"Don't say it!"

Tomone's hands shoot up and cover Yato's mouth—a bright blush filling in her features, as she shrilly shouts, "Of all the stupid things I've ever done for the past three months, since 'meeting' you, never bring that one up! Do you understand? Besides, having an alias does have its advantage: it's the best way to avoid being caught or associated with you whenever things go wrong—which they always do, thanks to you!"

"Wweww, ift ya seeei zo," is Yato's muffled reply.

"What?"

Waiting for her to remove her hands, Yato translates: "Well, if you say so." He then puts a hand over her mouth and adds, "Keep it down. I'm surprised no one has come out to check on us, what with all the—"

"What are you two doing out of class?"

"—ruckus we're making. Run!" Yato shouts the last part, while latching his hand around her wrist. He chooses to ignore how she squirms under his touch and wipes at her sucked in mouth with the other hand, whispering, "What disgustingly sweaty hands."

"Ne, Hiyori."

Yamashita Akira slowly sidles up to the girl hiding behind a huge textbook. "Are you actually studying for finals between classes? Yukimura-sensei is going to be here soon." When she receives no reply, Yama removes the textbook… to only reveal a hunched up Hiyori intently "studying" the screen of a smartphone.

A long, lonesome silence ensues—the noise of a martial arts match slightly spluttering out from Hiyori's plugged in ear buds.

"So," Yama drawls, adeptly taking out a bud, "when are you going to tell your folks you're into martial arts?"

Iki Hiyori barely blinks at her best friend's question; her gaze not once straying from the smartphone's screen. "Like legitimately tell them you're interested in participating and even, maybe, pursuing martial arts—not just managing it, because a couple of underclassmen 'asked' you?"

At this, Hiyori makes an unappreciative sound. She then murmurs something, causing Yama to lean forward.

"Come on, Touno-sama," Hiyori whispers—her thumbs trembling, as they press into her phone. "Jungle savate, jungle savate, jungle savate…"

"Hiyori—"

"Give it a rest, Yama. She's been like this ever since her mom almost caught her watching one of these videos," a dark-haired girl, with glasses, says as she shuffles through her bag for her homework. She shrugs. "She's been watching all the matches outside her home, whenever given the chance."

Yama huffs and places her hands on her hips. "So she's choosing to spend her free time watching two sweaty men battle it out, as opposed to spending grand ol' quality time with us—her best friends?"

"You gossiping is hardly well-spent 'quality time', if you ask me. Hiyori's better off with her precious—and sweaty—Touno."

"How mean, Ami-chan! But still"—at this point, Yama lunges and speedily compares Ami's retrieved homework to her own, copying down some answers—"isn't it rare to see Hiyori lie to her parents?"

"Well, you know how Hiyori's mom is like," Ami says before taking back her homework, though not fast enough as Yama had successfully fixed all her wrong—and incomplete—answers.

"Aaaaaanyway," a grinning Yama says, leaning in to whisper, "did you hear about the couple of girls in our class planning to attend a goukon after school, tomorrow? A week before finals—and at our age?! Maybe we should ask to join and see if we can get boyfriends!"

"And this is why I said Hiyori's better off with sweaty Touno…" Yama hears Ami mumble, but barely for she turns her attention back to Hiyori, whose glazed gaze is now directed out the window beside her—a wrinkle forming between her bent brows.

"Is something wrong, Hiyori?"

Yama actually feels Ami shift beside her—no doubt concerned.

"Hiyori?" Yama asks again.

Hiyori jolts up and turns to her two friends. She then blinks, the colorful lights of the unfinished match bouncing off her skin.

"What are you looking at?" Yama asks, peering over Hiyori's shoulder to the window. She can make out an ominous mist of dust and wind: A sensei, with a red face and balled hands, in the midst of it. Nothing of interest. Yet Yama finds Hiyori staring out, again—her eyes intently stuck somewhere Yama can't particularly discern.

Yama looks at Ami for reference, but the glass-eyed girl's attention is turned to the sensei entering the door.

Yukimura-sensei coolly walks in and smiles at the class, making Yama's heart palpitate and patter as he zeroes in on their part of the room. "Iki Hiyori, put away your cell phone," he says, deflating any foolish fantasies or notions Yama had. "Class, you may rise."

"…I do not appreciate this position."

"You don't appreciate a lot of things, Tomo—OUCH! What was that for?!"

"Just go and check to see if he's still looking for us! I can't stand being in your sweaty and smelly arms a minute longer!"

"How rude. Most girls would die to be in my arms."

"Yato-san, I'm warning you..."

"Please. I'm not scared of—ow, ow, OW! Okay, okay! I get it! Yeesh, I'm opening the door!"

"Yato-san, wai—"

Too late. Yato opens the closet door, though a bit too widely at that—causing the both of them to topple out, onto the floor. He ends up on top of her, squishing and pinning her in places she rather he'd neverevereverEVER touch.

She says something through gritted teeth, but Yato apparently misses it and she has to say it again: "Get. Off. Of. ME."

It takes all her willpower not to scream as he finally, finally relaxes his arms and releases her. For a good fifteen minutes they were chased by the sensei, until they had miraculously lost him at the back of the school. They had then entered the school from there—going into an empty classroom upon the approach of echoing footsteps. Unfortunately, they chose a classroom the footsteps were directed at and were thus induced to hide in a supply closet. Due to the cramped proximity, they were forced to… embrace each other, until the footsteps had faded away. They would've gotten out then, if not for the other teachers who had started to rotate and roam the halls at the strike of what Mayu supposed to be either third or fourth period. Because of that, they had spent another five minutes… embracing each other.

Perfect planning, Yato-san—impeccable, Mayu bitterly thinks as she tries to get up, flinching. Recalling the scrape she had gained from scaling the school wall, she looks down to see it oozing with puss and blood—burning with each bend, and made worse by the chase.

Wonderful, just wonderful. Why couldn't we have done this tomorrow?

Noticing her slumped shoulders and inability to stand, Yato offers her his hand to which she shudders at.

"Just check the hall!" she snaps, raising herself up despite the pain.

To hide how much her knee hurts—especially when he raises an unimpressed brow—she makes a show of sniffing her arms and clothes.

"Stupid, stupid sweaty hands." She doesn't even have to pretend: she can really smell the faint odor of sweat on her sleeves. "I'll have to wash this twice to get the smell out!"

"I think you're greatly exaggerating," she hears him mumble, his voice lowering as he adds, "it's not like you're going to need it anytime soon."

"I shouldn't 'need it' at all, no thanks to someone!"

Not denying it, Yato shrugs and walks to the door. Undeterred, Mayu continues.

"Why couldn't we have done this tomorrow? Why? What made this customer so important to the point of dragging me out of homeroom, making us drop by both our homes to get our old uniforms and bags, and then scaling a whole wall we could've avoided scaling if we—oh, I don't know—waited until the next morning, where we could've disguised ourselves as students and walked in with the rest of them before the first bell rings?"

Instead of answering, he shrugs for a second time and opens the door. "The coast is clear," he says, after inspecting the halls. "Let's go, Tomone."

Mayu. "Can you even afford to miss another day of school?" Mayu asks as she limps to him. When he doesn't reply and starts walking, she sighs and slowly trudges behind him—quickly adding, before getting too deep into the hollow hall, "It's bad enough you miss school more days than you attend it, but you're a third year now, Yato-san. Exams—college entrance exams—are coming up, and you can't afford to get red marks or slack off. You may be held back if you don't succeed in both, which you can avoid if you slightly study."

Yato doesn't turn, throw a glance, or reply. Sighing for a second time, Mayu quickens her stride so as to be at Yato's side. "Despite your idiotic ideas and misplaced priorities, you're not academically stupid. You can still get passing—if not average—grades, which can open doors to some colleges."

Yato doesn't answer, and instead picks up his pace.

"And if you manage to do that," Mayu continues, trotting to stay by his side, "you'll still be eligible for scholarships—"

"Mayu."

Almost stumbling upon hearing him use her actual name, Mayu looks up to see that Yato has surpassed her and is turned toward her—his gaze sharpened and slanted, as it always is whenever she brought up the topic.

"But—"

"Mayu."

And just like that, she drops it like she always does. Several seconds pass in severe silence, before blue breaks off from green and flickers to the old cell phone in his hand. Nodding to himself, he dismissively looks up and searches for something. It takes several more seconds before the search ends on a door, which he then walks over to.

"C'mon, Tomone." He gestures to the door, not even bestowing her a second glance. "The customer is in here."

"Mayu," she grunts, her hands tightly clutching the handles of his and her old bags she remembered to take out of the supply closet before leaving. "Mayu."

Yato just shrugs and enters whatever room lies beyond the door. Which turns out to be the girl's bathroom, Mayu discovers and remembers as she steps toward it. Of course, she bitterly smirks. Yato wouldn't have it any other way. I can't believe I—

Instead of finishing the thought, she enters the bathroom.