Beside the sports field of the previous school, a shabby god in a tracksuit held a can of spray paint, spraying his name and contact details in bright red behind an iron storage shed, advertising his out-of-town running errands service.
Completely ignoring the contents on the sign not far behind him —
"No graffiti allowed."
Of course, it's hard to say whether he violated the rules or not, since this situation is like Schrödinger's cat, with an unknown outcome of life or death. No matter how you put it, Yato might be down-and-out, but he is still one of the immense group of "eight million gods."
——Although being at the bottom, dragging the group down, he still doesn't belong to a form of existence that mortals can easily understand.
Not everyone can see him, and not everyone can see his messages. Whether it's posting small ads everywhere, distributing low-quality flyers or business cards, or now spray-painting graffiti promotions while ignoring prohibitions, it's all the same.
