A/N: Just a little theory I have about Noragami. I wondered why Yato wore a neck scarf, and for some reason, this is what I thought. Plus, his relationship with Tenjin was awesome and needed a proper explanation. Therefore, this.

Enjoy! I feel that there really aren't enough Noragami fanfics in this universe. Here is one more. My contribution to the amazingness that is this series. This started off as a one shot about Yuki and the neck scarf, but has extended itself into a three shot, two of which have been currently written, so I shall write the middle one tomorrow and post those two then.

Yato grimaced, and stared at the blade in front of him. It shone with a dull silver glow; nothing like the ethereal light of his shinki but more than good enough for him now.

He didn't deserve to hold another's life in his power, had no right to that responsibility, not after the way he had failed the last one.

It was with this mindset that Yato stood in front of Tenjin's shrine, doing something that he never normally did- praying.

He assumed that it was a different feeling when one prayed to a god that they didn't know existed, but Yato was aware that Tenjin was a real person with real powers and therefore perfectly capable of helping him with knowledge of how to change, because Yato was tired.

He was tired of living this life of bloodshed, of desperation and danger, but it was the only way he knew how to survive and the only way he had ever lived. In fact, he wasn't sure that it was even possible for him to change but if there was the slightest possibility that life could take a turn for the better, he wanted it with nearly all of his being.

The part of him that protested was the part that had been born on the battlefield, which lived for the gore and glory that only battlefields wrought, but it was a minority to the more humane parts of him that had had enough suffering to last a lifetime.

He swallowed his pride and bowed his head, whispering one last prayer to the god and then, in one swooping motion, cutting off half of the length of his dark hair and allowing it to fall to the ground along the remains of his life as a calamity god.

Yato was a god of fortune now. He had to do his best to remember that.

For the next decade or so, Yato thrived as a god of fortune (there were lots of jobs that he could do as a god who didn't turn down anything as long as no killing was involved) and he started to carry around a money bag, swapping his five yen coins for notes so that they would be lighter and making good progress with his reformed self.

He didn't really think of Tenjin much during that time, having never met the man, and only briefly recollected the visit to the shrine and his prayers- he tried his very best to stay away from memories of a time before now- but every time he did see something relating to Tenjin, he sent a small thank you in his mind for granting him the knowledge of a different way to live, a better way to live and a prayer to help him continue like this.

Every so often, he would cross paths with Nora, who whispered sweet words into his ears and tried to coil promises around his eyes, but Yato stood strong throughout that decade and refused to return to his previous life. He was a new person, a new god, and he was going to keep it that way, right up until the turn of the decade.

Being a god, Yato didn't pay much attention to the keeping of time (he had the rest of eternity if he played his cards right) and so he didn't even notice that a decade had passed since his reformation; all he noticed was the fact that he was getting less and less jobs.

Lesser gods weren't so important nowadays, and like it or not, that's what Yato was.

The major gods still thrived with business, but Yato's life was getting tougher and tougher until finally, he was forced to leave his rented flat and live on the streets (he couldn't afford it, not with his meagre income). He tried valiantly to keep up the jobs, but when his last five yen coin disappeared so that he could eat something, he gave in.

When Nora came by, the next day, she was more than willing to return to their old work and he received more money over those next few weeks than he had all year as a god of fortune.

It was a fact; war paid better than peace.

However, after he had the money to continue supporting himself for a little while longer, Yato threw Nora out again and returned to his streets, finding new ways to collect jobs and keep himself afloat on the sea of blood that he had created.

Once, he had managed to repent for the deeds that he had done, but now he was no better than the criminals and murderers he killed indiscriminately with Nora, and his nights became haunted with those faces (he woke up screaming and people merely told him to be quiet, if they noticed him at all).

During the days, he felt as though his hands were dripping with blood and he scrubbed them sore in any available water source, but they refused to become clean and the ghosts of the dead refused to stop haunting him, and no one saw him (he was invisible) and no one cared (what was the point?) and suddenly it all came to a head in that shrine.

He'd chosen it for sentimental value, and for the irony of the fact that the place that had saved him could now become the one that watched him die.

It was dark inside, musty too, but the plaques sparkled in the moonlight and Yato truly thought that he had found a beautiful spot to die. He wasn't going to simply fade away- he would much rather end this suffering now rather than be forced to wither away slowly over the course of a year or two.

After all, what was a year when you had had eternity?

Yato raised the dull sword that he had kept hidden for all these years, watched how the moonlight sparkled off that too (and at least he would die at the hands of a beauty) and closed his eyes in acceptance.

He pushed the sword swiftly down, and it cut into his throat just as it was supposed to and the pain felt good and right (it was about time he caused suffering to himself rather than another) and-

The sword stopped abruptly, and Yato cried out in despair.

He opened his bright blue eyes and stared at the man who held the sword that was only partially in his neck, the old man who was clutching it tight and beseeched the other with his eyes to just let it go and let him finish this.

"I'm sorry, Yato, you know I can't," Tenjin said and of course it was Tenjin, of course it was the man who he had prayed to for all these years and who had responded now, when he least wanted help.

Why couldn't you just let me die, Yato thought and he blacked out in Tenjin's arms.

When he awoke, it was to a friendly smile and a cup of hot tea pressed into his ungrateful hands, and he glowered at Tenjin who was waiting by his bedside.

"What-" do you want, he tried to grumble, but his voice wasn't quite working as it should and he brought a hand up to find large white bandages wrapped around his neck and he scowled even harder.

"You'll be able to speak in a few weeks," Tenjin commented, but it didn't make Yato feel better. "If I hadn't been there, you'd have been dead right now, with a cut like that," he added and brought down Yato's mood even further.

"But of course, that's what you wanted, isn't it. You wanted to die, Yato," Tenjin said bluntly, and Yato flinched before he could help himself as he heard his intentions uttered out loud.

"After all these years of life, things got hard and you tried to take the easy way out, is that right?" he went on and the younger god felt shame at having his feelings interpreted in that way.

"Is that right, Yato," Tenjin pressed and Yato curled up into a ball, trying not to let the other man see the tears that had welled up in his eyes at his words.

"Oh Yato. What am I going to do with you?" he asked the teen, reaching out to stroke his hair gently, but Yato flinched away from the soft touch and sat up. He grabbed a pad of paper from the side of the bed and scribbled down 'Thanks, but no thank you' and handed the paper over to Tenjin as he carefully stood up out of the bed on the other side, sad to see that he wasn't wearing his previous set of clothes but deeming it irrelevant before he held his breath and jumped out of the window.

"Yato!" Tenjin shouted at the young god, but it was too late. He was gone.

Unfortunately for Yato, the window wasn't high enough off the ground to kill him and so he was only slightly winded as he hit the floor and rolled.

The dark haired god was bare foot and barely clothed, but he took off like a bird as he sprinted away from the shrine and the kindly old man who knew his secrets, forcing the tears back behind blue eyes as he returned to his life of misery on the streets.

He understood now though, so it was okay.

Suicide was not an option. It was only weaklings who tried suicide, and so Yato had to continue on and live life, no matter his true feelings.

Death was not an option.