Perhaps this is how heroes think alike.
One thinks they are in the dark while the other is in the light, believing that with a calculated mind they hold the advantage; while the other, for some reason, senses the autumn wind before it moves, and upon seeing a Masked Demon, immediately associates it with the suspect's true identity and prepares to report it.
That's probably it, anyway, it was only in a world where High Celestial Plain was seen as a knife that this was completed.
Thus, time swiftly passed by two more days.
On a morning this day.
"Speaking of which, Yato, are you really a god?"
In a street alley, Ichijima Hiyori stared suspiciously at the purple-haired, blue-eyed young man ahead, even though everything had already proved the facts. She really felt too strongly out of place, to the point where she increasingly doubted that something was wrong either with herself or with him.
"Huh?"
