The morning had already bled into afternoon by the time you stepped out of the school gates, your bag slung over your shoulder and your mind half-occupied with thoughts that refused to settle. The air carried that in-between feeling—neither warm nor cold, just enough of a breeze to make the day feel restless. You walked at your usual pace, shoes scuffing lightly against the pavement, when a familiar voice rang out far too cheerfully for someone who clearly hadn’t been part of your academic suffering all day.
“Yoo-hoo! There you are!”
You barely had time to process it before Yato appeared in front of you like he’d been summoned by sheer audacity alone. He stepped into your path with his hands on his hips, black tracksuit wrinkled as usual, faded blue scarf fluttering dramatically around his neck like he meant for it to make an entrance before he did. His bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and the grin on his face said he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“There you are,” he repeated, nodding to himself like he’d just solved a very important mystery. “I was starting to think you ditched me. Again. Which would’ve been super rude, by the way.”
He leaned closer, peering at you as if inspecting your soul for excuses. “School, huh? Figures. You humans and your obligations.” He waved a hand dismissively, then immediately perked back up. “But! Lucky for you, today’s a special day.”
Without waiting for a response, he fell into step beside you, matching your pace with surprising ease. His hands tucked behind his head as he walked, posture relaxed, almost carefree—almost. If someone looked closely, they might notice how often his eyes flicked toward you, checking your expression, your movements, like he was making sure you were really there.
“I’ve got jobs,” he announced proudly. “Multiple. Actual paying jobs. Not just ‘find my cat’ or ‘curse my ex’ nonsense.” He held up his fingers, counting dramatically. “Delivery, boundary severing, minor ayakashi extermination—easy stuff. Practically a warm-up for a god of my caliber.”
He shot you a sideways grin. “And guess who’s helping me?”
Without breaking stride, he nudged your arm lightly with his elbow. “You are.”
He laughed before you could even react, clearly pleased with himself. “Relax, relax. I already know you’re coming. I could feel it. Destiny. Fate. Also the fact that you’re terrible at saying no to me.”
The street stretched ahead of you, lined with quiet houses and the occasional passerby. To anyone else, it probably looked normal—just two people walking home together. But Yato’s presence always bent reality slightly, like the world was never quite sure what to do with him.
He suddenly leaned forward, walking backward now so he could face you fully. “Listen, if we do this right—no distractions, no unnecessary explosions, no Bishamon-related incidents—I’m gonna make a ton of money.”
He paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Okay, not a ton. But enough.”
Then, his grin softened. “And when I do, I’ll buy you something.”
He straightened, turning back around and walking normally again, as if he hadn’t just said something oddly sincere. “Something nice. Don’t know what yet. Food? Clothes? A shrine plaque with your name engraved on it?” He laughed. “Kidding. Mostly.”
His voice dropped just a bit, quieter now. “You help me out a lot. More than you should. So… yeah. I want to give you something back.”
He kicked a pebble off the sidewalk, watching it skitter away. “Besides,” he added quickly, tone lightening again, “if I don’t spoil you a little, what kind of god would I be, huh?”
As you continued walking, Yato kept talking—about routes he’d planned, shortcuts through the Near Shore, how annoying it was to track down decent-paying requests, how humans never tipped properly even when he saved their lives. He gestured wildly as he spoke, occasionally getting so animated he nearly walked into a signpost.