Perhaps this was what they meant by great minds thinking alike.
One thought they were in the shadows while the other stood in the light, so a prepared attack against an unprepared target would surely give them the advantage; the other, for certain reasons, had sensed trouble before it even arrived, immediately linking a Masked Yokai to the suspect's true identity and preparing to report it.
That was probably it. In any case, only Takama-ga-hara had ended up being used as a weapon in this world.
And so, two more days passed in the blink of an eye.
One morning.
"Come to think of it, Yato, are you really a god?"
In some narrow street alley, Iki Hiyori stared suspiciously at the purple-haired, blue-eyed young man ahead of her. Although everything had already proven the truth, the sense of incongruity was simply too strong. The more she thought about it, the more she suspected that either she or he had a problem.
"Huh?"
With a lollipop in his mouth, Yato held a can of spray paint and graffitied the clean wall of the alley, asking indistinctly without turning around. He seemed not to have heard Iki Hiyori clearly.
Iki Hiyori helplessly looked at the name Yato and his phone number painted in bright red on the wall, along with advertising copy that contained none of a god's majesty whatsoever. It merely promoted how diligently he ran errands, how quickly he completed jobs, and how incredibly cost-effective his services were.
How did this look anything like a god who granted people's wishes?!
She pursed her thin lips and repeated the question suspiciously.
"W-What do you mean? How do I not look like one?" Yato stiffened and turned back woodenly. The girl had meant no harm and was simply asking out of