"…italic…" = recalled speech.

"…plain…" = normal speech.

'…plain…' = thoughts.

Disclaimer: Noragami belongs to Adachitoka, not me.

"Reincarnation doesn't really change much, even though it seems like it should..."

"She's a foreigner who already defied Takamagahara several times, going as far as to publicly strike their forces down during Ebisu's purging."

"Even if she's been one of us for centuries, she's a late comer. The heavens can get really xenophobic, especially when one's overly rebellious."

"Moreover, she'd had bad history with shinki- the Ma clan's massacre, then the Ha clan's slaughter and, last but not least, being tarnished by a God's greatest secret. If this continues…" Pressing his index finger to his temple, Tenjin grunted, displeased by how absurdly out of their control the situation had gotten.

All the sorcerer had to do was stay under the radar for a while.

Obviously, he didn't.

It was a brand new day, too beautiful to suit Tenjin's mood. The party was over. He, Okuninushi, Kofuku, Ebisu, Yato, Hiyori in her spirit form and Tsuyu, his plum spirit guidepost and the only shinki he didn't have to worry about overhearing the words: 'A God's greatest secret', were holding an emergency meeting at his shrine after Yukine narrated his and Bishamon's surprise encounter with the sorcerer.

The hafuri vessel had asked many questions, questions that should not be asked, pretty much submitting his master to an endless interrogation which the latter could barely escape. Hiding behind faked unawareness, genuine daddy issues, and with their female friend's knowing assistance, Yato was able to zig-zag his way out of Kofuku's to Tenjin's, where they could discuss pressing matters without risking their shinki stumbling upon dangerous information.

"I don't get it. After everything he's done, what more does that man wants from Bisha?" Kofuku wondered. A rather rhetorical inquiry since none in their small group had an idea as to its answer.

The pinkette bit her lower lip, spite bubbling up to darken her typically cheerful personality. Bluffing Daikoku, leaving him home with no explanation, seeing the anxious look on his handsome face, even if it was for his best interest, weighted heavily on her chest. This wasn't like the times she'd sneaked out to pull pranks or crash the national economy. No, this was a matter beyond life and death; Bishamon, her now cute Baby Bisha, was still being tormented by that wicked sorcerer.

By her absence when their enemy showed its fangs yet again, she'd once more fail her old friend.

She found the reality of their situation hard to grasp. Falling out of grace, Bishamonten'd lost all that was dear to her, her life, her family, herself. Why would the sorcerer want to mess with her reincarnation?

"He was the one who told the stray to warn us that Bisha passed away when she and Kazuma were locked up in her manor. If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have made it to her reincarnation before Heavens' guards did. She's unofficially exiled and too young to be a threat to him anymore. So why is he doing this? "

"Beats me!" Okuninushi exclaimed, enraged with both Takamagahara's and the sorcerer's masquerade. Stuffing his gruff hands in his leather jacket's pockets, he thought that, since heaven was all-knowing and seemed to view his pals as easily replaceable, they must be more implicated than he initially suspected.

"We know shit about what that scumbag has in store for us. Heaven's corrupted, too. They could be teamin' up with 'im for all I know!"

"Didn't they believe my former incarnation was the sorcerer?" Ebisu joined in the conversation, dwarfed by his fully-grown peers and the temple's picturesque architecture.

Kunimi was waiting for him in the limousine outside the shrine's tori gates. Iwami, with whom he wished to spend more time, had already been escorted to where Okuninushi and the former Bishamonten trusted he'd be far and safe from heaven's web. He was glad to have him near, if only for a while. But, when Bishamon confided in him about what happened under the cherry tree, he instantly gave up the sweet carelessness a child of his physical-age normally harbored. "The real sorcerer is playing them for fools. I don't think their guess would be any better than ours."

"We don't even know how the sorcerer knew Bishamon died before her majesty or any of us did," Tenjin pointed out. "Everything is possible. As it is, we can't afford to dismiss any remote probability."

The commerce and fishing kami nodded, young but serious. "Yato-san, what do you think?"

Mr. Yato, bangs low and sweater knotted around his slim waist, was standing close beside Hiyori, as if quietly begging for emotional support from the human girl. It was ironic how, not that long ago, he wanted the world in his hands, a big shrine, luxurious garments, pretty girls and many believers to immortalize his name (since it's all about the damn names); while, now, holding hers was enough to steady his heartbeat, restore a bit of his self-esteem, and keep him from flinching at his father's mere mention.

"I don't know," he said, unusually quiet.

Blinking behind his aviator sunglasses, the tanned middle-aged man clearly wasn't buying it. "Isn't he your father?"

Yato shot him a glare, too irritated to mind status or the fact that Okuninushi was a ferocious beast himself. "Yeah, so? That doesn't mean I know what the hell he's planning!"

"Yatty, calm down. Nobody's accusing you." Kofuku assured gently, throwing him a soft smile integrally different from her trademark mischievous grin. "We're really worried. Whatever you can tell us about the sorcerer, no matter how insignificant it is, could play in our favor."

He got that. The problem was that he sincerely had no clue what his father could be plotting. Back in his bloodshed days, he complied, culling the herd, no questions asked. The whole ordeal was a subject of cowardice he hated to bring up.

"Yato," Tenjin called for his attention. "We're in this together. It's important for you to trust us."

Yato glanced at Hiyori, then at Ebisu who smiled innocently up at him.

'I do trust you, all of you,' he though guiltily, 'but I think none of you should trust me.'

He might not have any clue as to what the sorcerer prepared, but he had his suspicions.

He couldn't tell them his father had threatened to make Yukine his own. Anxiety and turmoil still weighted on his mind whenever he remembered the feeling that submerged him while he and Hiyori were searching for the teen. Yukine had been so scared…

Plus, he refused to think of what might've happened in Bishamon's mansion before their arrival.

His father wasn't yet done with Bishamon, and Yato's first instinct was to question whether her blessed regalia could somehow be related to this. It wasn't his father's style to give up such a useful tool this easily. Nonetheless, he wouldn't consider that Kazuma might be… 'No! No! No!', he berated himself. 'Shut it! That's just some stupid theory you made up a thousand years ago. It's just as useless as you are.'

Besides, the late Bishamon must've killed Kazuma when he transformed into that hideous Karma-shape; just like he'd finished Sakura off.

'Psycho or not, she wouldn't have let Kazuma suffer,' he reasoned. 'She wasn't weak like that.'

"I'm sorry," he breathed with a straight face. "I don't know any more than you guys do."

"Well," Kofuku sighed, hands on her hips and trying to put on a merrier front. "That was useless~"

Hiyori, having been silent throughout the exceptional assembly, bobbed her head to agree. The breeze caressed her skin and beat at her uniform's skirt. Tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, she looked over at her blue-eyed friend.

Though they had better things to worry about, Yato idly complained about how Ebisu had been paying more attention to little Bishamon than him lately, claiming he didn't want anything to do with their childish ways. "He could've spent some time with me, too, "he whined."I'm being left out!"

"Yato, you're being more childish than either of them could ever be," The human girl said with that honest concern he felt he didn't deserve. "Ebisu couldn't stay because everyone's going off to work on the sorcerer's case. You were there a moment ago and saw how tense everybody was. Why are you being like this, Yato?"

Crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, he didn't respond.

She could see from his body language, how his muscles were tense and his brow sweatier than usual, that he was truly anxious. Everything was linked. Bishamon, Kazuma, his father, Nora and Yukine, these were his worries' main cast. When she met him, he had dreams which he'd held on to for centuries and a good-natured spirit he'd kept through the massacres and pain he must've experienced. He wasn't supposed to drawn himself in denial; they needed him to get over himself, accept Kazuma's death and Bishamon's reincarnation, and move on for their common sake.

"Yato, "she faced him, voice and gaze soft and encouraging. "I need you to do me a favor."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, sure she'd ask something he wouldn't like. "What?"

"I want you to give the new Bishamon a chance."

"No," he deadpanned almost instantly, turning so his back was to her.

Kofuku pouted near the two, "C'mon Yatty! My baby Bisha is too cute, you can't possibly dislike her!"

He didn't dislike her, still… "No."

Hiyori heaved a sigh, moving to confront him. She fished in her pocket for five yen, took his hand into hers and placed the small coin in his open palm. She gently squeezed his hand, almost grinning at his confused expression. "Alright, then I'm not asking, I'm wishing you to give your second chance with Bishamon-san a try. It's an official wish so you have to do it."

Looking into anything but her eyes, Yato mumbled something unintelligible. It wasn't like he wasn't giving this "second chance" his best already. Ebisu reincarnating was shitty as hell, but Bishamon topped it. He'd been trying hard not to see the crazy chick's silhouette every single time he caught a glimpse of her new self. Alas, since old habits die hard, he kept sketching her out of pure routine. Sometimes, when he was drowsy or particularly drunk, the lines seemed to come to life, gain more dimensions than canvas could provide, start to breath and, shoving the hands he'd drawn through paper walls, the sketched psycho would actually try to strangle him!

He lost count of how many sketches he'd ripped, if not burned, lately.

This was one wish he didn't feel up to granting.

He couldn't accept that she was replaced, not yet. Though, he should've. That brat, the new Bishamon, well… she wasn't really a brat. She laughed a tad louder than the Bishamon he used to biker with did - not that he heard that psycho laugh often. Instead of insulting or sending jabs his way, she acted polite, nice and sweat toward him. It was unnatural.

Needless to say, he had his fill of her damn decorum.

She was too different. She was a good kid. His father had a gift for straightening those who stood against him into "good kids".

He knew her for centuries and never imagined she'd disappear like she'd never been there, like she, personally, never meant much. Being a minor, who took his existence and sense of self for anything but granted, he assumed elites weren't this disposable.

He didn't miss her, he told himself. He missed their hijinks, their rivalry, insisting Yukine could beat Kazuma with a blindfold on and watching her fume like someone set fire to her brain whenever she saw how deep his and her regalia's bromance ran.

It was his old wingman he missed, not her.

Nonetheless, he was starting to accept the fact that she'd never come back.

Hiyori, arms folded over her chest in an I-am-not-taking-no-for-an-answer manner, looked at him expectantly. With a sigh and less enthusiasm than ever, he obliged.

"Fine," he caved in. "Your wish has been heard loud and clear. Happy?"

She was, more or less, waving bye at them and returning to the sleeping body she left empty in her classroom just as Yato and Kofuku got ready to teleport home.

"That jersey-wearing piece of shit! Why so damn secretive all of a sudden?!" Yukine paced to and fro in the garden, kicking up stones and wondering why the heck his master's weird behavior kept getting weirder lately. Sure, Bishamon-sama reincarnated and Kazuma, again last of her regalia, was gone because Father somehow had the upper hand against them. But, as tragic as that was, it didn't explain why Yato fretted away from anything and everything that had hashtag Yato-Papa on it. On the contrary, after he'd done so much damage, Yato should've understood that filling in his allies on their current circumstances was nothing less than a necessity at this point.

"Not a peep about Bishamon's past," he was told. Sure. In exchange, he'd expected that his sneaky master wouldn't keep him, of all people, in the dark.

'What if Tenjin-sama, Okuninushi-sama, and the rest of The Seven decided to hunt the sorcerer down after he targeted them twice on a row? Yato would lose his lifeline and die without anybody even knowing about it.'

Yukine shook these negative thoughts off his mind. As his exemplar, he would absolutely not let that happen. Yato was not allowed, under any circumstances, to die.

"Yo, Yukine," Daikoku spoke, bringing the dead boy down to earth, "could you fetch me a magnolia from the garden?"

"On it," the teen replied.

Daikoku read somewhere that putting flowers in a girl's hair was said to bring her family good luck, and decided Bisha would look adorable with a lavender one to match the color of her eyes. He'd lovingly styled her silver tresses and was just about to put the cherry on top.

Bishamon, who'd been happily chasing butterflies a weekend ago, sat, with her chin cupped in her hands, toy soldiers scattered at her feet, watching the clouds move by above. She wore a sleeveless knee-length white floral dress with an over-sized pastel green cotton sweater. She had sweaterpaws and a cute red ribbon tying her hair up in bun. Daikoku finished brushing the loose locks framing her heart-shaped face and added the elegant flower to her crown with a satisfied nod at his handiwork's final result. "It's all done, my little lady."

Checking herself in the mirror he proudly held in front of her, she expressed her thanks with a somewhat forced smile then continued turning and twisting her fingers, languidly observing morning steadily nooning into evening.

The improvised hair-stylist patted her head gladly before making his way to the kitchen. To cook something delicious as usual, she guessed.

'Today,' she complained wordlessly, 'was boring.' And, from the look of it, she had many equally uneventful days, clogged in melancholy and absent-mindedness, ahead of her. Forever was a concept humans couldn't live to concretize. Knowing she had forever at her fingertips did nothing but drain her energy. What did she expect from existence? She had no idea. Apparently, this wasn't it.

Looking at the sky, she closed her eyes, trying to picture paradise. Although she felt damned, holy light flickered stubbornly in her amethyst eyes. She could knock from here on to infinity, she feared, Heavens' doors were locked. She was a fallen, dancing and twirling with cherry blossoms under blue skies that'd keep raining crimson blood until the end of her.

The end, huh? How did her predecessor meet her end? And how will she?

'Why is everyone keeping secrets from me?'

Catching up with her train of thought, she glared at empty space. Really, she was such an ungrateful brat. Ebisu, Okuninushi, Tenjin, Yukine and Hiyori, even Yatogami, were doing their best to make her comfortable among them. Kofuku and Daikoku treated her like a miracle, a blessing in disguise, their own child. They loved her, cared for her, doted on her. Yet, she, re-birthed of cruelty and violence, couldn't offer them proper affection. Not the affection a child was to give their parent, anyway.

'I can't help but feel something's missing.' Thinking about the end when her story was barely beginning was dumb, she was aware. She couldn't help it, though. Something important was coming ahead and she needed to be prepared to meet the future, her guts told her so.

Yesterday's encounter only confirmed it.

Burying her head in the sand like an ostrich, unwilling to face the truth unraveling before her, wasn't in her plans.

She'd made up her mind.

Thus, as soon as Yatogami and Kofuku teleported back in the garden, she ran to the cyan-eyed god and blurted out before anyone could react: "Yato-san, please teach me how to fight!"

Kofuku blinked.

Yukine blinked.

Daikoku, craning his neck from the kitchen's window, also blinked.

They didn't know how she figured Yato could fight. She hadn't seen Yukine in his weapon-form and his master's 'nature' wasn't a subject they got to in her presence. A warrior's instinct perhaps?

Yato walked past her as if he'd been deaf to her request. "Hell no," he spat, " and I already told you to stop calling me -san. It's Yato, brat."

She held the hem of his pants, halting him on the spot. "Please, Yato-san. I need to train for a real fight."

He narrowed his eyes at her, feeling challenged. 'This punk actually emphasized the -san after I told her not to use it.'

She smiled at his irritability. "Wait here a moment, please."

And, like a fool, he waited.

Bishamon ran back indoors, making a bee line to Kofuku's chamber and ignoring Daikoku's perplexed gaze as it followed her, then hurriedly regained her stand before Yato, arm outstretched and a five yen coin resting on her open palm. One would suspect she had it prepared all along. "It's a request," she confidently declared.

His eyebrows furrowed as a scowl twisted his mouth. 'What's up with everyone requesting crap from me today?'

He took the coin, flipped it in the air with a smirk on his lips. "A real fight, you say?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes. With shinki and all! I want to help take out Ayakashi, too."

'With shinki…' He looked down at her, that freezing cold air, for a nanosecond, finding its way back into his eyes. "You don't need shinki for that."

Skeptical, Bishamon was utterly confused. She had to prevent herself from gaping up at him. 'You don't need shinki for that?!' Of course she needed shinki! Fighting ayakashi without a divine instrument was akin to openly expressing a death wish to a shinigami. It was suicide.

'I might be young but I know that much.'

"Just sit and watch, brat." He stretched, ready to step onto an invisible stage. "The great and wise Yato-sensai will show you."

And he did show her. Pummeling the air, kicking and punching imaginary foes, he grinned, saying: "see? It's super easy!"

Yato-san was either insane or he wanted to kill her, no doubt about it.

"Hey, brat, don't look at me like I'm crazy! I'm trying to help ya' out here!"

Head high, fists on his hips, he started lecturing her, stating he'd been out on bloody battlefields centuries before she even took up Bishamon's name. Though, taking into account his ridiculous manners, all she heard was Blah bla blah and yadda yadda.

"You ought to listen to me, okay?"

A part of her wanted to, because having her pay studious attention to every combat advice he gave seemed to somewhat boost his confidence. But, unlike him, she was dead serious about her lessons. She wasn't kidding around. To fight, like she should, was the only thing that could hush the past tempting her back into its embrace.

Ebisu told her the previous night to live her life, not to blindly take the deep dive back into her predecessor's. To live her life, from her perspective, meant to fight.

"Thank you for your effort, Yato-san." Disappointment, unbearable to him, replaced determination in her eyes. She pouted in defeat. Watching him blankly, her voice was monosyllable. "I'll ask somebody else to train me."

"W-wait a minute," Yato stuttered, suddenly dejected.

Crouching to her level, he rested sweaty hands on her shoulders, halting her before she could turn and sulk back, like a house cat, to the sun-kissed spot where she'd been sitting aimlessly since early dawn. Face to face with her, he exhaled an uneasy breath. "So you're serious about this, huh?"

Again, she nodded.

Glancing at the lot who watched them from the veranda, he wordlessly beckoned someone, anyone, to come dissuade the midget-shogun from ever engaging into combat.

'Who am I kidding? Combat is who she is.'

"Okay, then, I'll train you," he promised. "It's not like there's a better coach than me in this part of the universe."

'I'm only doing this because Hiyori wished for me to be nice with her.'

At his words, her expression brightened instantly. Her eyes hadn't seen as much as his have. They sparkled, full of faith in her abilities and thrust in him.

"Yaaay, I won!" she cheered, happy Yato-san was to be her new punching-bag and running to Kofuku and Daikoku, who'd turned away from them and an amused Yukine in order to argue in private, to brag about it.

Yato smiled awkwardly at the scene. 'I don't know why, but I think I'm gonna regret this.'

Daikoku enthusiastically high-fived the child who'd hopped into his sturdy arms. "That's great! You go kick his ass, and tell me if he's ever mean to you, K?"

"Okay," Bishamon giggled.

'Scratch that,' the Yatogami internally noted. 'I do know why.'

'This brat will kill me.'

Yeah, an update at last! (And it's not even edited XD) This story ain't over! (So much for ending this by the end of 2017's summer... sorry, life got the best of me ^^') Thank you for reading and supporting this fanfic. Seriously, it means so much to me. This plot is one I've been dying to work on and share with whoever's willing to read it XD.

Exams are due soon, but I'll try not to take forever to post the next chapter.