Season's greetings! This was a Secret Santa present for the lovely meirisuu-beruzeniart over on Tumblr, who loves the characters of Kazuma, Yukine, and Bishamon. With this, I came up with this fic illustrating the friendship that I miss from Yukine and Kazuma in the manga along with some Bishamon moments. I did do some research on this and I'm putting it on a note on my own Tumblr.

I also dedicate this to my mother who I would never have this idea in the first place if it wasn't for her.. When you fell down in the snow, you didn't have to stay. However, I'm glad you did.

Oh yeah, I still don't own Noragami. It's owned by Adachitoka and a bunch of other places.

There is a town, and there is a tradition. But within the town was a promise unfulfilled; similarly, within the tradition was a fervent pining for its revolution.

For a post town, Ouchi-juku should consider itself fortunate to survive. Indeed, when authority switches hands, they discard the past's remnants if to achieve the desired future. While others of its generation crumbled the moment Edo became Meiji, humankind decided that a new road deserved a new location. With that, the post town of Ouchi-juku was no longer the ordinary trading commute people traveled through. Over a century passed, and the village isolated away from society was discovered at last, the thatched roofs of dried straw restored for locals and foreigners alike to walk upon its streets once more.

Likewise, humanity was more than generous to the custom of Yukimi. After all, if someone commemorates that tradition through their own creative talents, it most certainly signifies more than a great deal of importance. Maybe it's remembered because humans have no choice but to tolerate the environment they are placed in, but they can always choose to forget, right? Somehow, the feudal lords and peasantry of Edo passed down Yukimi to the common man and the unprivileged of the present, the same habit of appreciating each and every snowflake settling to the ground or scanning over a landscape of sliver-white. Whether it's a glass of sweet sake in their hands or immersing themselves in hot baths, this activity is frequently in the comfort of their homes and rarely for too long in the outdoor scene.

However, the town paid no heed to how many occupied their inns, much like how the tradition didn't pride itself on its prosperity. It couldn't retreat to its past, but Ouchi-juku would have instead disappeared from the rest of the world, only returning when the laughter of two young boys chimed in the air, their ancient contract finally realized. And every season, Yukimi would attempt to beckon all to the frozen earth, providing more and more snow only to be disheartened when no one would venture out to seize the cold out of their own fears. Perhaps, the town and the tradition should cease their dissatisfaction. Nevertheless, Ouchi-juku still kept waiting, and Yukimi would gather all the necessary elements for a storm in the middle of mild and irate.

Meanwhile, as everyone clustered inside, they never developed a curiosity that was past their comfort zone. With a mist that shrouded them, they couldn't even see the outlines of anyone trapped out there. Yet, bundled up in winter layers as they exhaled the chill from their breaths, three were. Palms reheated by friction, Bishamon searched over the terrain for Kazuma and Yukine. It hadn't been more than thirty minutes since she signaled for what Yukine called a snowball fight, a game taught by none other than that bothersome god named Yato. They had separated from her sight in their chase, which gave her ever more the reason for finding them if to bring them into safer quarters. On the other hand, as the fog concealed them, Yukine readied himself before the snowball could disintegrate. Blinking away the frost forming on his eyelashes, he pitched a perfect arc when the senior shinki turned his back, revenge for all the times he overturned them with borderlines.

To Yukine's misfortune, it was that moment when Kazuma faced him, about to suggest retracing their steps, that the sphere collided with his glasses. His stance shifting to a covered patch of ice, he lost his footing as it glided him forward to meet the powdered blanket below. With a thud that burrowed him under, Bishamon dashed over to the source, witnessing a regretful Yukine in his efforts to revive the stagnant body as he beseeched her to not mention this to Yato tomorrow. He was getting better, but the wall of his coddling emerged when Kazuma knocked on their door with the invitation. The amount of convincing alone was enough for the young hafuri to agree that what happened in Ouchi-juku would stay in Ouchi-juku.

This trip was a dream that they shared, and to say that they all had different expectations for it was true as well, but the one distinct commonality between all three of them was that they thought they failed each other. Neither one of them recognized that this vacation would impact a town to be relieved of its pact between two, or that a tradition would host those who experienced its beauty by complete accident in the way that it was always meant to be: up close and personal.

And considering that only one of the original agreement managed to complete the journey, this was enough.

兆

The sensation plagued him by snaking around his throat, yet, Kazuma never endured it as much as the nights after the Ma clan's genocide. He didn't want to be a burden to Bishamon, but he dreaded the moonbeams sweeping over the shrine when he had no lucidness to the nightmares that haunted him. Touma was every bit of help to him when she was alive, and she was still by his side even then, her ghost whispering to play dead to the shadow forcing him into a void. That advice alone was what caused him to clench to the ribbon of sanity left, what guided him to steer through the darkness. It was exhausting to push every negative feeling away from him, and he only prayed that all that suffering would be worth it in his master's recovery.

That is until it didn't. That was the night where they probed into his Adam's apple, where he encountered a strain unlike any other that he had no choice but to struggle against it. It worked too, seeing as their grip slackened enough for him to wail out, "What, what did I ever do to you to deserve this torture?!"

They halted, but not for very long until they resumed the strangulation, the words unfamiliar to Kazuma in all but bitterness, "It was when you preferred a calling over my happiness, K-"

In self-defense, he struck a weak fist into the silhouette's side, bewildered as he awoke to someone hovering above him. Thrashing all over, he was afraid of the possibility of the nightmare's tangibility, fighting tooth and nail for the person to release his wrist. It wasn't until they embraced him that he realized that it was his master in the end. He bit back his tongue so the tears wouldn't desert him, but they were perpetual as he buried them on the silk of her evening garments, only stopping when he became aware of the racing of her heart and the heaving of her breaths. She wouldn't let go of him, himself being the one to push her off as gently as he could as the sunlight poured into the room.

Eventually, they went on without as much as discussing the subject. Even if the god exercised all her efforts, Kazuma would have never permitted it in her state. Luck as he would have it, the dreams dissolved after that, so there was no need for further pity. Over time as her confidence was restored with her contempt of Yato, he was none the wiser when she summoned him for a meeting. After acquiring a decent quantity of shinki, he assumed it was to register the clan's names, never believing that she would hold him as close in her arms like that night. No, what caught him off guard was how unsteady her command was before she dismissed him.

"If there is a promise you cannot keep, please, don't accept it."

The navigator would not be the omen the aged guide predicted that he would be. It had been so easy to obey that simple direction without a doubt, and that past was one where he never expanded his heart to anyone other than her. When Yukine requested his training, it startled him at first, but he only viewed him as a child at that point instead of proceeding with caution. The techniques and methods were no more complicated than the ones he repeated to shinki before him, and for now, teacher and pupil was the only relationship they ever had between each other.

Until the boy requested a break from routine, Kazuma always had the sensibility to follow orders. As the clock counted the minutes to Ooharai, his devotion did not extend only to Veena, but to Yukine as well. He vowed that the boy would have another year of sunshine rather than the snow he so adored himself.

雪

At the twenty-fourth lap, Yukine was on his last nerve when it came to his teacher. Don't get him wrong, there was no better person for the job other than Kazuma. That is, there was no one better when he wasn't so tense. And when Kazuma was tense, Yukine was anxious, losing not only his focus but his motivation to do anything. More similarities to a drill sergeant, the hafuri only knew that it was worse when he choose more severe and cruel punishments over unusual ones. Hence, when he missed one of his borderlines, the shinki sentenced him to fifty laps around the estate. Still, he couldn't complain as it was a change of pace from marking his face with ink.

That being said, whatever Kazuma's problem was, it became his once he passed him for the twenty-fifth time. He glared at him with fatigued irritation, a look that begged him to free him from the prison of his responsibilities, which was strange considering that he wasn't the one running in circles. Usually, when this happened, Yukine would press on until he was finished to gain the upper hand. However, with his stomach grumbling the way it was, there was about to be two cranky hafuris instead of one, and the boy was not about to be a pain in the neck for Yato when he was supposed to be a bulwark for him.

Jogging in place, Yukine decided it wouldn't hurt to ask given the circumstances, "Hey, I know I only gone halfway, but I thought since I'm going to be here all day anyway, and it's lunchtime, we can rest, perhaps?"

"What do you mean? Don't tell me that you had enough of me, right?!" Kazuma chuckled, faking the energy he most certainly did not have.

No wonder he and Yato were friends. They were both just as stubborn, and Yukine really needed him in his good graces today for a specific conversation.

"Yeah right, I can take on anything you can throw at me. However, I'm pretty sure Yato AND Bishamon would be pretty disappointed if she ever discovered that all her exemplar did to his pupil was exhaust him to death with training."

Smirking at him as the hook, Kazuma flushed a bright vermilion for Yukine to cast a line, and it wasn't too long for the sinker once the shinki quit stuttering out a comeback. "Well, this definitely will not occur again. However, since you are graciously offering, who am I to refuse? I only agreed because there is no use for a vessel if they are not in peak conditions, I always say!"

Yukine would not guess he would be this victorious if this was any other day of instruction. Still, at the corner of his eye, he could observe Kazuma as he hoisted his hands in salutation to the sun, and the hafuri knew that he should count his blessings when they came across his way.

But one hour turned into two, and Yukine fidgeted as they sat in silence. Under the shade of a tree on the estate lawn, they indulged in a picnic of sandwiches and lemonade, homemade delicacies from none other than Hiyori herself. Kazuma was much more relaxed now, but Yukine was anything but. If he didn't talk to him about this, there was no hope he would have a future opportunity. He wiped a bead of sweat away from him, setting his thermos down on the grass before Kazuma could pipe in to restart their drills.

"Kazuma?"

"What it is, Yukine?"

"You're my teacher, right?"

The shinki readjusted his glasses so they wouldn't fall off his nose, "I assume I am, seeing as you are the one who requested my services."

"Well, as my teacher, you aren't fair."

"Oh, is that so? Maybe I should increase the number of laps if you wanted a challenge so badly." Kazuma stood up with a grin that demonstrated he would avoid this topic at all costs, offering a hand to Yukine so they could continue on with their lessons.

Yukine batted the hand away, set on making sure that he would not leave today without his answer. "Don't be like that! I wasn't talking about how you teach me, but what you aren't teaching me. You have every knowledge of my strengths, my weaknesses, but yet, every time we meet, I have nothing but questions about you. Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but if I am to get stronger, I at least want to know something about you not as a teacher but as a friend. It doesn't have to be some secret; just some hobbies and interests you have is all."

The shinki sighed, removing a small notebook under his lapel to toss it to the boy. "In that, you can find my entire schedule and every activity that I partake in if I can squeeze it in. You can look over it as soon as we-"

"But this is just what you usually do! Isn't there something that isn't written in here, like a memory you would never forget, or a dream you never accomplished?"

Kazuma paused before he swore his defeat under his breath. Seeing that Yukine was a spectator to his embarrassment, he strolled over to the other side of the tree, slumping against the bark. "Would it be worth it for you to know something about me in exchange for a few minutes of wasted time?"

Yukine laid a hand on his shoulder, "Trust me, Kazuma. On the one hand, I wouldn't have been half as persistent as this, and on the other hand, this piece of information, though insignificant to you, would be something that I would always retain if I have no other common sense to cling to in a fight."

"All right then." Kazuma twiddled his thumbs sheepishly, "It's a really dumb dream, but out of the places I have traveled to, I have never truly explored one: the town of Ouchi-juku. When we received an assignment to go there two Decembers ago, Bishamon recommended that we move it up until spring, but it wasn't the same."

"Isn't that a good thing, though? At least you won't have to deal with the cold, especially when you have all the space to see it through your window."

"Maybe, but there's always been something about the winter that's nostalgic for me. Sight, taste, smell, sound: those are senses that one can feel equally from the spring, summer, autumn, and winter. However, none have as much power in the sense of touch than the snow from winter itself. Sure, it can be troublesome for those on the roads, it's a headache to have to clean off, and it can be unmerciful to those who aren't careful around it.

"Yet, even with all that, I still wonder why the snow still comes if it knows that people would stay inside to view it, and I've realized that maybe it's because it was never meant for appreciating through the glass, but through touch instead. Plus, I heard that the winter is breath-taking in Ouchi-juku. I've just been so booked up that I...Yukine, you're not crying, are you?"

As he cleaned a streak off his cheek, Yukine, though he sniffled, understood more than ever that he had so much more to learn from Kazuma if he was to beat him. "Please take me then!"

"Oh, Yukine, it wouldn't be right -"

"No! I may not like the cold that much, but I also don't like seeing you sad about it. Please, Kazuma, you have to promise me that we would go to Ouchi-juku when there is nothing but snow covering the lands! If I don't nudge you toward that dream, who's to say that it would happen at all?"

Kazuma didn't hesitate when he pledged that they would, and Yukine thought that was the only time he was a fool. Yet, before common sense could be consumed, an oath wedged into the deepest reaches of his heart proclaimed that once this was over, his teacher and friend would never go another winter without Ouchi-juku. Unfortunately, even that couldn't stall him, and all the boy could comprehend from it was that that traitor would be shoved under an avalanche of snow once his net of righteous justice conquered the land of the rising sun.

戦

To expect Kazuma instead of Kuraha was selfish of Bishamon, considering that it was of no right for her to discourage any compassion her shinki bestowed upon her. However, she was so convinced that her exemplar would be in the room. There was no question that this cultivation of sores and aches was from him, and if she didn't ponder it any further, she would guess it was comparable to how any other shinki would blight a master, especially with how many deaths she felt from the negligence she didn't yearn to cross paths with.

Of course, none of those shinki were Kazuma, nor could he invent the past he had gone through and why the god wearied herself each and every night for his protection.

Kazuma was more than just Kiyotsugu Hirano of a wealthy salt merchant, but also a boy who worshipped a shadow of a person. As much as the patriarch of the Hiranos loved his family, he saw no reason why the business should be detached from it. When he wasn't governing imports and exports, he was supervising his eldest, the pride and joy of the Hiranos. However, like many other fathers during the period, he thought it was necessary for all his sons to master the trade, especially since they would one day move out of the house and into their own independent pursuits. Tutors would arrive in the morning to discipline the young lads of the world they never strayed from.

The Hirano father, however, had a reputation that was difficult to maintain. Even though the barriers between the social classes were breaking, there was still strict laws that the merchants had to abide by as long as the samurai were in power. It was a risk for him to have these lessons for his children to begin with, but he didn't want to leave them with no expertise with his age approaching closer in years. It was also why he never allowed them to wander anywhere he wasn't, for the worry that someone could exhort every hansatsu he earned with one mistake or incident.

There was barely any leisure for Kiyotsugu with his father, his schedule, and society's rules. It would have been even more so if it wasn't for his older brother of many talents, Eiichirou. He had a memory that his brother envied, and he was generous to instruct him on the areas he lacked training in. With his stature, no one dared to lay a hand on his brother when they roamed the streets, and he was generally well-respected by the community. Most of all, it was he who bequeathed his brother the love of the seasons and the town of Ouchi-juku. Knowing that their father would never permit them the journey, they made a promise between themselves that when the time was right, they would forget all their obligations in exchange for a winter in Ouchi-juku, before it was too late to do so.

But as the years went by and they blossomed into their youth, Eiichirou confirmed his father's worst fears by dressing in silk instead of cotton in the town square. Luckily, only a family friend noticed this rather than anyone else, a prominent samurai in the village. He was no alien to how this would affect the Hirano family business and granted the mercy of his silence if Eiichirou was renounced as the heir. Because of that, Eiichirou and Kiyotsugu's fates were switched, and their relationship was never the same after that decision.

When Bishamon saw that vision of Kazuma's death, he wasn't crying because he was losing the deed to his father's estate or the control of the salt business. He was crying because he never could have foreseen that the brother he cherished in childhood would betray him over unadulterated jealousy. And while the god lay on the makeshift bed, she regretted that she kept him locked away from the place that would trigger his memory. She wasn't sure what she would do once he returned, but if that night was any indication of his true feelings for her, then she would cross all borders of the regulations between a god and her shinki if it would ease him.

This time, however, she would never let go of him.

兆-雪-戦

"Kazuma? KAZUMA!"

The last promise Kazuma would ever make was between him, his master, and his pupil. After all they have been through in the previous year, they recognized that this trip was one where they could afford peace. But while he requested him to stay near the hearth, the boy ventured into the storm with him. While Bishamon tried to keep her exemplar by her, he deviated from the route on their itinerary. And while it seemed that Yukine succeeded in his mission, there was never someone as afflicted as him in his attempts to revitalize not just a teacher or friend, but a newfound brother motionless in the snow.

"I promise that I'll go back to the inn! Just please wake up so that-"

A healthy helping of crumbled frozen water sprinkled over Yukine's hat that he jerked away to brush it off. There, erupting in laughter as he rolled in the climate he loved, was Kazuma. Thankfully, with how prepared he was for every situation, he popped out the lens off his glasses earlier on so that they wouldn't be broken, the better to relish every bit of snow on the ground. As he defended himself against the boy, Bishamon conducted from afar, closing her eyes in tenderness only for them to renew as a snowball hit the back of her neck.

The guilty party named Kazuma trembled as she unwound the long, lavender scarf he gifted her for Christmas. With his arms spread-eagle, Yukine guarded him, though he was just as frightened on what her plan was exactly. Regaining all their memories was the worst experience ever, but it was nothing compared to her intimidating smile and the way she swung the scarf around like a mace. They huddled together, backing away the closer she approached them, lassoing the cattle of the shinki who wandered off only to come back home.

"There," she asserted as she united a secure knot around them, "Dinner is far ahead, so if we are to savor this weather to its fullest, we might as well be in the same spot."

In the post town of Ouchi-juku, it was just another storm for the locals and visitors to survey in honor of Yukimi. It never occurred to them that somewhere, if someone sensitive to the supernatural were to trudge through the unforgiving wind, they might discover the ends of a scarf fluttering as it encompassed three personages. And, if they discerned the other, ephemeral connection between them, they would genuflect in gratitude.

After all, in the town that shed themselves of a phantom of a promise, during the tradition broken due to accidental unconventionality, wouldn't one thank them?

I'll probably edit this a little more closely, but that's for another day. Hopefully, if this is about ten minutes to read at most, it would make you smile.

I was so nervous since I started writing it because it was my first time writing Kazuma and Bishamon. If they're out of character, I'm so sorry! Also, even with the way the manga is going and how the year has been in general, I hope that by next year, the future would be brighter for everyone and we can at least end on a strong note this year.