Wanted to write a Noragami fanfic and this kinda randomly popped up. (Am I the only one who ships Yato and Bishamon? T-T Well, it's not romance anyway so…)

Hopefully, this won't suck… too much.

To avoid confusion:

" …italic…" = recalled speech.

"…plain…" = normal speech.

'…plain…' = thoughts.

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE MANGA.

Disclaimer: Noragami belongs to Adachitoka, not me.

"I'm me, there's only one of me! And I'd be damned if anyone dares to try to take my place!"

Liar, is what she was. A laying old hag with overly big boobs, a crazy headstrong stalker who did things her way even when it would eventually lead to catastrophic results, a smug basket case who'd deliberately jump into the underworld, thinking she –strongest god of combat- could take on hell, heroically saving the nobody who had already rescued her not once but twice. What a shame; he bothered to save her twice and, on both unlucky occasions, he got to walk out beaten up, limbs sore, only gaining a throbbing headache and a few battle scars in the process.

Yet, despite it all, she still managed to screw everything up. The everlasting fights, the long decades-no, centuries!- he'd spent running through Japan with her and her numerous shinki in hot pursuit, the years he wasted fleeing her vendetta-thirsty glares whilst she dedicated her 'immortal' existence to erasing his 'wicked spirit' off the face of both heaven and earth, so eager to see him six feet underground. He had to humor her mad charade, take the blame –since it outwardly suited him to be the one at fault- look over his shoulder like some kind of fugitive in case she jumped down a random skyscraper, purposely aiming to dig her boot's razor-sharp heels into his skull. He kept his mouth shut, never denying the accusations her voice boomed at him, since as far as he could remember- just to preserve her unbreakable bond with Kazuma. Because Kazuma was all she had left, the only one she could blindly trust. That kind of lifeline was something he didn't feel like cutting to shreds.

Beside, the blood staining his hands was far more permanent than any blight that might've infected her body. He wasn't innocent, so her evil-stray-shall-repent blabbering didn't bother him that much –though it did get awfully frustrating- After all, he was a god, not a saint.

And like any proper deity, he complied with a human soul's wish to save her not-that-precious life. That's the drill: humans, whether dead or alive, sought divine assistance and them -deities- were born to provide it. It was literally his reason to be, the job he was created to fulfill. Darn it. He didn't even get paid for wiping out that corrupted Ma-clan. It was a genuine act of generosity from a genuine generous god.

"My precious children… they're all good kids…please! Please, please don't kill them!"

'Huh! As if…'

So what if she begged? Her pleas had no significance. She was an existence meant to bear believers desires. As a goddess, she didn't get to make her own wishes.

She should've known better. She was supposed to get it; wasn't it her job as well?- To ease people's craving hearts?

Stupid…

Dumb…

Stubborn self-destructive woman…

Not even worth the time to mourn over.

Kofuku, Daikoku, Tenjin, even Hiyori, every single friend or acquaintance his lowly self had managed to acquire eyed him expecting some sort of reaction- an anger fit, a few tears, a trivial breakdown like when he woke up to see Ebisu's latest incarnation, anything but the complete indifference he showcased.

They didn't understand. His actions had wronged Ebisu. He had been too damn foolish to grasp the sorcerer's plans and that lead to an admirable person's scapegoating. Whilst, in the current case, the blame was entirely on her; that dimwitted parody of a worrier.

It wasn't his fault she was such a stupid, stupid crazy bitch who just had to stuff her nose where it didn't belong. She and Kazuma are-were a couple of brainless idiots. It wasn't his fault! He told them not to mess with his father… he warned them, both of them. It wasn't his fault her shinki one by one perished at his father's hands. It wasn't his fault Kazuma killed them all. It wasn't him who forced her into locking herself with her lead regalia knowing full well he had been touched by a god's greatest secret. It wasn't his fault the man who had once implored him to save her life ended up dragging her along to their final doom. It was all because of her, not him.

'Dumb nympho…'

Grieving an ex-enemy was pointless, illogical. Plus, Yukine crying himself to sleep each night ever since he realized he'd never get the chance to bid his tutor farewell was enough to turn Yato into a wreck. That too, he bitterly thought, was her doing.

Tomorrow, they'll have to meet her reincarnation: Chigo 2.0. He didn't want to.

No, he wouldn't go, the decision was made. He'd stick here, on this comfy rooftop, towering the city with a nice big bottle of sake to keep him company. The night was young and he felt good, liberated.

Being alive was just perfect.

Holding the auburn glass carafe up, his left arm stretched toward the moon. He hiccupped, childish even when drunk. "Told you there wouldn't be a third time, you dumbass! ~~"

Gulping the liquor down, his blue irises radiated softly in the dark. The near shore underneath his feet had changed greatly. The stars had found some competition in the neon lamps illuminating the busy nocturne streets; the locomotives, architecture, culture, gastronomy, sociology, everything down to murder schemes and public mentalities evolved with modern-day's technological breakthrough.

He wanted to change conjointly to this spinning world, become someone better- an existence that could make Hiyori happy. Just for that one girl who'd promised to keep him alive within her memory and heart. Because he was selfish, a coward. He couldn't compare to Ebisu and he sure as hell wasn't at any rate similar to that stupid, stupid bitch.

She never changed, repeating the same mistakes over and over again, relentlessly trying to repent war crimes, shelter those she failed to protect during their lifetimes.

'Like that would make a difference?! Stupid woman, she'll forever be so stuuuupid.'

His chest area ached, twisting his insides as if rusted knifes repeatedly stabbed his flesh apart.

'Yukine must be weeping again.' He sighed, that boy sure did cry a whole lot. Thankfully, it was nothing a fresh beer couldn't patch up.

Returning the bottle to his saliva-moistened lips, he whispered a brief toast to Kazuma's soul, thinking back how the blessed regalia used to lend him a helping hand, working against his master's will to pay off his debth toward him.

He'd sure miss him.

"She's been born barely a couple of days ago yet she's so energetic we couldn't even keep up with her. I swear, I've never dealt with a more obstinate kid."

Ookuninushi-sama exhaled loudly, a small smile tugging at his lips. It was quite disquieting to call another one of his oldest companions a 'kid'. He was accustomed to using the term on his dearest friend due to the latter's many, many reincarnations. Conversely, he hadn't thought he'd ever use it to refer to the greatest god of war.

"That's Bisha for you." Fingers intertwined about a glass on her lap, Kufuku half-heartedly smiled at the man seated in front of her. Kuro, Hiyori, Yukine, Yato and herself were in Daikoku's –the real Daikoku's for that matter- mansion to meet Bishamon's reincarnation. The rest of the seven gods of fortune had already welcomed their alley into existence whilst they were a tad late for, unfortunately, Yato's thickheaded behavior caused the four of them some dely.

"Yeah, she and Ebisu-san became quick friends. She keeps repeating that she'll protect him against any enemy and teach him how to tie his laces –wish her good luck on that one. I'm a bit jealous to tell'ya the truth, childhood seems oddly appealing as of late." He ran a hand trough his hair, staring from behind his black-tinted glasses at the five individuals who shared some of his hidden anxiety.

Clearing his throat, he became very serious all of a sudden.

"Bishamon's reputation has been seriously damaged. Her death's circumstances remain shady and given that those involved can't be interrogated you won't be surprised to know that her majesty's extremely suspicious. Bishamon has no experience when it comes to reincarnation. The person you're about to meet is -in every aspect- the good old vaisravana we all know. In this state she's fragile, completely amnesic, she's forgotten her history and those who were a part of it, but it's still her and she remains a likely target to the heavens' wrath. At that, I was wondering if you could have her stay at your home for a while. Takamagahara's not the safest place for her to be at currently."

"Of course!" the pink-haired schoolgirl jumped with renewed peps. "I'd love to have Bisha-chan with me! We could be roommates and have a girls-night-only to celebrate, right Hiyori-chan?!"

"Huh? I-I suppose that would be…fun?" the brunette sweat-dropped, her statement ended up sounding like a question. When Kofuku celebrated it usually involved a brim of booze. A girls-night-only with her wasn't really kids-friendly. Heck, she –a sixteen years old teenager- still had nightmares from the belated sweet-sixteen birthday party the pinkette and Yato threw her.

"Fine by me." Daikoku didn't appreciate the young goddess who'd stolen his name and gave it to her lover/shinki. Though, he was willing to cooperate with her for Bishamon's sake.

The silence was shortly-lived when the large doors to the main waiting-room creaked open, attracting the small group's attention. An average-looking shinki dressed in traditional Japanese attire came out, bowing courteously to his master's guests before announcing that the two child-kami would need a minute to join them.

He said a minute, but it felt like hours.

Kufuku anxiously gulped down the on the rocks alcoholic beverage she'd been previously offered, biting on her fingernails despite –the fake- Daikuko's constant scolding for her to stop. She was exhilarated, yet her weary anticipation refused to settle. Hiyori shifted her weight from one foot to another, stealing shy glances toward her two companions in hopes to descript their body language and maybe figure out what the couple of them were thinking at the moment.

To her dismay, her attempts were a failure. Yukine's head was tilted downward, his messy amber bangs preventing her brown eyes from meeting his. He must've felt lost, frustrated. Kazuma, as opposite to his master, wasn't about to reappear in any form whatsoever. No matter what, his mentor wasn't going to walk through the door with whatever new version of Bishamonten awaited them. She felt sorry for him. The boy was dead. Nevertheless, death could still snatch away those he cared about most.

At least Yato was safe and sound. She couldn't ever begin to imagine living on if he was to one day disappear... forever.

Cautiously her gaze scanned the luxurious traditionally-decorated room, landing on said blue-eyed jersey-clad holy figure. Eyebrows furrowing at his dethatched expression while he lamely leaned against a wide window's frame, enjoying a cherry-flavored Popsicle, flicking his tongue inside his mouth to get the best of its sweet tang without a care in the world.

His features' coldness was so out-of-place, it worried her. 'Maybe I should talk to him.'

Nodding to herself, the teenager inched toward the laid-back silhouette when echoes of footsteps running through the long corridor stopped her in her tracks, soon halting nearby the closed door. Everyone went calm hearing two distinctive voices whispering outside.

"I don't want you to go with them. I apologize; it's selfish of me…but I_"

"We'll meet again. It's a promise."

"Okay, Chigo-chan."

Slipping off his slightly parted lips, Yato's sugary treat hit the marble flooring with a small bounce, slowly spinning seventy degrees before meeting his boot's toe.

'Chigo-What?!'

"Come on Ebisu-kun, keep your head high and don't_"

Stumbling forward the black-haired dark-eyed little boy thumped, laying flat on the polished floor. His outstretched arms hadn't made his fall any gentler, but they did effectively slap the door open for Ookuninushi-san's guests to glue wide-eyes upon the two children.

"_fall…"

Hasting a slightly embarrassed apology, Ebisu smiled, unusually happy to have the kind girl at his right help him undust then straighten to regain what she called "a dignifying stand".

"We definitely need to buy you a pair of strap shoes," the sunglasses-wearing man muttered joining the two toddlers.

"That won't be necessary. I'll teach Ebisu-kun how to tie his shoe laces on his own."

"I'm sure you will, but shouldn't you greet your visitors first?" With a warm smile, the landlord kami pointed behind his shoulder, moving left for the girl he found so cutely endearing to face the wide-eyed assembly.

The small child shone bright with determination. Her pale-colored milky skin was as pure as white lotus petals, the kind of everlasting pure which would successfully overpower any adulteration dominating the environment surrounding its delicate flowers. Her light overflowing tresses were a beautiful platinum-blond meddled with subtle shads of gold and silver highlights, successfully creating an illusion where it seemed as if early morning sunrays cascaded down her frail shoulders, caressing her ankles merely a few inches above her bared feet. Her glimmering purple eyes were rather sharp-shaped, preserving her predecessor's characteristic fieriness. She looked like an opiate gem, a miraculous brand-new slave to greedy mortals' whims.

The sight of her made her once archenemy sick to his stomach. He wanted to yell but couldn't. His fists itched, balling to punch that faint beam off her baby-features but he wouldn't.

'Run,' what was left of his consciousness screamed. 'Run as far as you can. Run like you've always did before."

Running would've been tempting, but to where? His legs wouldn't budge.

"I'm done running away."

He could only watch, secretly horrified, as the relatively petite lass bowed to the lot of familiar strangers ahead of her, fingers protectively wrapped around Ebiso's wrist. The voice emitting from her throat was all too recognizable. Her introduction awkwardly uttered yet equally firm; unwavering in its own way.

"As you already know, my name is Bishamonten and I shall try to honor it along with my predecessor's memory."

Yato's eyes squinted close, he didn't want to hear or see to any further extent.

Emotions such as love, hatred and gratitude shaped people's memories. Far shore residents were excluded. Their names fluttered in and out the livings' reminiscences. For a minor stray god like himself, that was lethally accurate.

Throughout several lonesome earthly eras, Vaisravana's blind grudge branded his name into her brain like hot burning iron. She despised his guts, dreamed him dead. She –with a rare few- remembered him, made him feel alive when the tiniest fiber of his being was struggling in order not to fade into plain nothingness.

Except, now…

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Now, she forgot.

He was forgotten, again.

Stupid, stupid bitch…

The Bishamon he knew was dead.