A/N: I finally had the courage to break out of my lack of motivation to write these past few months. This YatoBisha ficlet is a little piece I have sitting in my phone for goodness knows how long already. It was supposed to be a long one-shot, but I found it easier for my state of mind to make it into a two-parter. I hope you enjoy! (And by the gods, we need more YatoBisha fics. My soul is begging.)

For the first time since he froze his appearance to that of a young man, Yato was nervous. There seemed to be a hurricane stirring his insides at the moment, that his hands struggled to fasten the ties of his kimono due to the tremors.

Yato took a deep breath and fought to placate the revolt of his insides. As he was so concentrated in his task (which should have been done minutes ago if he weren't fumbling too much), the god of calamity jumped when a knock sounded against the bathroom door.

"Are you all right in there?" the voice asked.

"Y-Yeah...I am," he replied, hoping that it would satisfy the entity that was opposite the grand wood.

Unfortunately, it seemed to have not satisfied her, as Bishamon let out a concerned groan before she let herself inside the bathroom. "I don't think you're okay..."

"I am," the blue-eyed deity insisted. "Just let me-ah, dammit, do they make kimono complicated nowadays?!"

The goddess of fortune pried her husband's unsteady hands away from the tie silently before she took on the task with a flourish. Bishamon managed to fasten his kimono in a few seconds with a few maneuvers, something that he had been trying to do for the last 10 minutes.

"There...all done," she said, her voice calm. "It isn't too tight, is it?"

Blinking, Yato shook his head. "No, it's just right. It's perfect. Thank you. Sorry."

Her perfectly shaped brows crinkled in confusion. "Why are you apologising?"

"Because I am acting like a wuss," he mumbled, almost inaudible, but Bishamon was able to make out the garbled sound.

Silence reigned over the pair for a few minutes. Yato forgot about his little debacle with his kimono ties as he drank in the sight of Bishamon before him. Barring his own personal bias, his wife was extremely beautiful and a lovely treat for the eyes.

She was wearing a golden kimono accented by bright blue sakura-shaped prints all over. The formal attire certainly complimented her aesthetics as the marriage of colours brought her vibrant violet eyes to life.

And now they were looking up at him with a seeking expression, making them rounder and wider than normal. Such vista was too much for him to handle since Bishamon staring at him like that makes it very easy to lose his composure and just swim in the gaze of her captivating orbs, oblivious to the world around him.

"Ya-kun?"

Her voice pulled him out of his trance and Yato didn't need to turn towards the mirror to see that he had been gaping at her astonishing beauty, once again. Yato shut his mouth and he let his own cerulean orbs take in the sight of her once more. Only then did he notice the slight blush that had begun forming on her cheeks since he had her under intense observation.

The heat on his face broke out and now he knows his own cheeks were starting to colour. Eight million gods before him help him, Bishamon could stuff her face with mochi and his stomach would be doing flip flops. She was beautiful; there was no other way around it. And he was a slave of her beauty.

(Sometimes, he thinks she should replace Kisshouten, though that is his opinion and his alone.)

"Ya-kun?" Bishamon tried again. Though this time, her voice sounded a little mousy, reflecting her shyness at his sudden silence and scrutiny of her face.

The second time she called out to him did the trick and he was finally pulled back to Earth, back to the grand bathroom in their bedroom in Bishamon's shrine. Suddenly, the abashed look on his face melted into that of his former expression, one of uncertainty and nervousness.

In a careless twirl, he faced the mirror and looked down to the sink, opening the tap idly to wash his sweating hands. Yato reached for the liquid soap and fumbled with the squeeze a few times before the lemon-scented goop fell on his awaiting palm.

The nameless deity furiously cleaned his hands to the point where they almost were pink due to the harshness of his scrubbing. Bishamon could only watch in silence as he purified his hands raw. The goddess of war procured a hand towel and wrapped it around Yato's hands, drying them. Her clutch was firm, as if silently telling him to not move from where he stood.

"You're freaking out," she remarked bluntly, tightening her hold on his hands when he made a small movement to the opposite direction. "Why are you freaking out?"

He wanted to laugh out loud, wanted to ridicule his own situation, and wanted the ground to swallow him whole all at the same time. Eventually, the silence between them dragged for so long that the male deity let out a humourless snigger, adding to the confusion that his wife already has.

"What—?"

Her question was cut off by Yato's self-pitying laugh and Bishamon was ultimately weirded out by the situation that she just opted to remain silent and wait till her husband fixes himself in the brain.

"Centuries," the god of calamity snorted. "Centuries I have been attending the Kamuhakari as a shit god with different regalia each time because no one would stick by me. And that's fine since I mostly just leave them be during the festival and I would frequent the buffet lines to stuff myself silly with all the exquisite cuisine Takamagahara has lovingly prepared. This time...this time I get to be welcomed as a god who's associated with one of the seven gods of fortune. It's more troublesome than I imagined, Bishamon!"

Her lids blinked rapidly as she listened to his whole tirade. At first, she was worried that he didn't wish to attend the gathering together or that he was ashamed to be seen fraternising with her. However, there was something in his acidic tone of voice that made Bishamon realise that there was an underlying issue that neither of them thought to bring up days prior to the event.

With lips pressed hard together, the goddess of fortune swallowed her biting curiosity and almost-painful-to-ignore impulse to ask whatever the heck Yato meant in what he had said. Bishamon merely waited, not wanting to disrupt the flow of his raw thoughts.

Eventually, Yato managed to snatch his hands away from his wife. He sank to the floor in a squat, arms resting atop each other on his knees. He tucked his face into them and sighed deeply. "What are you doing, Bishamon? Why are you wasting your time with me?"

His questions should have confused her, but they didn't. When she thought of the forthcoming event, his sudden aloofness, and the queries he had just laid on the table, it wasn't difficult to determine what was happening in Yato's head. Before she could speak, however, he started once more.

"I'm not a god worthy of your attention. I'm nameless, on top of the fact that my sovereignty is calamity. I've committed heinous acts that spanned the whole of my existence—"

"So?"

"So?!" He exclaimed, looking up at her with a look of pure disbelief in his eyes. "So you shouldn't be—you should... I'll just bring you calamity again. You should know."

The pinch on her chest soon turned into a vice-like grip the longer he sunk himself down. Bishamon struggled to stay stable on her feet so she mirrored his position, scooting closer to him but not too close that she invaded his personal space.

"I'm not worthy of your time, Bishamon," he reiterated sullenly. "I think it's better if we attend the gathering separately."

The female deity frowned deeply at his suggestion. "No, that will not do. We're not going to do that."

"It's wiser if we aren't seen together."

"And why is that?" Bishamon dared ask, wanting to see clarity with regards to his reasoning. All of a sudden, the nagging idea that he didn't wish to be seen with her was back but she paid it no mind for now.

Yato huffed and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes to relieve the pressure that was suddenly building there. "Remember when we did the union ritual? Hamura asked and questioned time and time again if you were sure about the decision. You took it like he was insulting you for your choices, but in reality, he was just looking out for you.

"Besides, a major deity associating with a nameless one? It's an absurdity that the heavens are unable to comprehend. The rest of the gods will feel the same. They'll all think that for some kind of shit reason, Vaisravana is consorting with a nobody.

"They'll all think that I have you hostage for something in exchange like a shrine or heavenly favour. They will think that I'm some deity that you let ride on your coattails, or that I'm using you to climb up the ranks more swiftly. Even if none of them are true, there will be talk and they will all be negative talk about you.

"I'm just a speck of dust that will destroy your reputation, Bishamon. I don't—the last thing I want is to create inconveniences for you. Again." Yato finished, a little out of breath after his emotionally-fueled speech.

Bishamon frowned deeply, hurt filling her system as she heard her husband speak that way about himself. Unable to stop her actions, her arms wrapped around his form and tugged him towards her. The goddess of fortune buried her face into his hair and breathed in his refreshing scent.

"I love you," she said softly. "That's all that matters. What they think or say is their problem to resolve, not ours."

"But—"

"Don't you think I'm not worried too?" The goddess of war retorted. "I'm going in circles in my head about what is to come in the gathering.

"I'm worried if I'll be able to keep my composure should the others shower dirty looks on us; worried that I wouldn't be able to stay silent if they hurl insults about you or our marriage; slightly scared that I may throw a punch or two if they think they can just give opinions regarding you or us or our life.

"Shit, Yato. I'm going insane here just thinking about all that we said, but it gets overshadowed by the fact that I'm far too excited to show the heavens how much I value you," she whispered.

At first, his ears disbelieved what they had heard. After all, there was a big discrepancy between his being and Bishamon's. A glance at them and their status, and one was sure to arrive at a conclusion that there was a big disconnect. It was one of the most questionable things to happen in the history of Shinto: an exalted goddess and a nameless god together.

Then again, it wasn't the most absurd thing to happen. Besides, if there were one thing he could always count on Bishamon to do, it was to tell him the truth without sugarcoating whatsoever.

Yato took a few more gulps of air to steady his breathing, but his lungs didn't seem to respond to the act. Eventually, he raised his head and fought to quell his growing self-doubt. His eyes met hers briefly before he averted his gaze. "I'm not—"

"Good enough for me?" Bishamon finished for him, having an inkling on where his thoughts were at the moment. "I don't care. We've imprinted upon each other; and if there's anything that our long existences taught me, it's that strong feelings don't change easily. At least mine didn't and wouldn't. I hope yours wouldn't, too."

"They would not," he insisted, eyes hardening with determination.

Bishamon cocked her head to the side and laid her chin upon his stacked arms. "Then why are we having this conversation, love?"

He released a small huff of breath as his head bowed down. "Like I said, I don't want to cause inconveniences for you. I don't want you to be seen in a negative light because of me, especially not if I can avoid it."

"Tough luck; I still don't care. Our public appearance amongst the rest of the gods might create a spectacle or two, but they certainly won't be inconveniences. And lots of gods consider us seven gods of fortune to be quite obnoxious already, anyways.

"If we make a splash, they will just be ripples compared to what the others did," Bishamon reasoned.

"If you say so..." he mumbled tentatively. Yato hid his disappointment when Bishamon pulled away from him, but he couldn't help but gasp in surprise when she pulled him up to a stand. However, he welcomed her tight embrace when she practically threw herself at him. For being a god of calamity, he was damn sure lucky.

The female deity reveled in the warmth of her husband. Her head found its home on his broad chest and settled there for a few minutes. Bishamon hummed in contentment at their closeness. "Can I ask you to please not talk about yourself that way ever again?"

"What do you mean?" Yato asked, confused.

The goddess of war looked up at him with imploring eyes. "Earlier, you were doubting yourself and saying things that aren't definitive of you. It hurts to hear such things come out of your mouth. You've been nothing but wonderful to me, despite the circumstances that happened for us to get to this point."

"I was just telling the truth, though," he said feebly.

"But not the whole truth."

"The whole truth?"

She smirked playfully before giving him a small peck on the side of his lips. Bishamon didn't even bother wiping away the lipstick stain on the corner of his mouth.

"That's for me to know," the goddess crooned, smoothening out their respective kimono. "Anyways, we'll be late if we don't apparate in a few minutes."

The god of calamity let his wife fuss over him, knowing it was a coping mechanism of Bishamon to have control (or at least the illusion of it) over situations even as small as the presentation of their clothes. He was relieved that she was just as nerve-wracked as he was, but all the same reassured that she was more logical about the whole circumstance than he was.

If there was one thing he had learned from almost a year of marriage, it was learning how to depend on your partner when you cannot stand on your own feet. Yato took in a breath and firmly gripped Bishamon's hand as they disappeared from her shrine and into the entrance of Takamagahara where their respective shinki await them.

He has never attended the Kamuhakari with this level of eagerness and anxiety, but there was something tickling his mind that this meeting of the gods would be different from all the other events in the last millennium or so. Yato couldn't exactly pinpoint how or why; he just knew.

Knowing he didn't have the luxury to dwell on it, Yato steeled his face and readied himself for the month-long festivity. He took a glance on Bihsamon, selfishly drinking the sight of her before his eyes set forward. The storm that clouded them in the past hour gone without a trace, although the same couldn't be said about his insides. Then again, he didn't survive the last centuries of his life if he didn't know how to grin and bear it, so he will do just that.

For a moment, Yato wished there were a higher being for gods to pray to.