Bishamon had never been able to turn a blind eye to suffering. She took satisfaction in meting out justice, even when it was sharp and cold and bloody, but she bore a gentle heart beneath her warrior's armor and it beat for the lost and broken. She collected wandering spirits whether they were useful to her or not, gave them names, took them home. She built a big house to shelter them and took their pain as her own and did her best to care for them, even if it became harder after her first family was snatched cruelly away. She built a family, not a weapons hoard. She opened her hospitality to everyone, welcomed in anyone looking for a home, and provided everything they could ever want. They loved her for it, were entirely devoted to her. Her generosity taught them how to build friendships and families with each other, how to extend their charity to the less fortunate and make the best of things. And if things weren't always perfect, at least they were figuring them out together.
Ebisu had an affinity for lost and broken things as well, although he kept a more practical eye towards usefulness before handing out names. A shinki ought to be of some value to a god, after all. But he was not too haughty to turn up his nose at the leftovers of other gods' pickings. He liked a valuable shinki, but their worth wasn't tied to their master. A valuable shinki was the same whether it was a pure spirit or already bore another god's name. He would take in any shinki of worth that asked to be named, nora or not, and treated them all the same. He worked them hard, but he put a roof over their heads and provided for every need money could soothe and welcomed them to a house free of judgment. It might not be the warmest of homes, but it was a fair one and provided the second chance most gods wouldn't extend a shinki deemed unclean.
Kofuku might have had a big household under different circumstances, or maybe she wouldn't. She was quite satisfied with the intimacy of only having one shinki, and Daikoku would be jealous of others anyway. She was lucky to even get one, considering what a fuss the heavens kicked up about her bad luck. Daikoku was all she needed, really. Still, it was nice to have the cheer and chatter and liveliness of company, and she was more than happy to welcome in stray gods and troubled shinki and wandering human girls. They brought a warmth to her shrine that she hadn't quite seen since her failure with poor Daigo. She was more than happy to provide them with food and shelter and money and anything else they might need. Her household was not made up of only the shinki she named. They were free to come and go as they pleased, circle in and out of her orbit. They kept their freedom, their separate adventures, their different lives, and she was content to watch from the sidelines and welcome them back home at the end of the day, her hand clasped firmly in Daikoku's.
Yato was not known for his generosity or charity. He could not afford to provide his shinki with luxuries or creature comforts or even sometimes basic necessities, and did not even have a shrine to house them. His father had provided him with those things, him and Hiiro, for all the good it had done. They'd always had plenty to eat and a place to sleep, and perhaps even what might pass as warmth in the right light. But beneath those things, beneath the smug smiles and honeyed manipulations and conditional love, the house was cold and barren. A prison, even. Yato had no intention of building a home like that, and in his darkest moments, family sounded like a dirty word. Why bother building a home when he had just escaped his? So he did not get too close to his shinki—not after Sakura, who had broken his heart, and Hiiro, who crushed it beneath her sandal a little more each day—and did not worry too much about kindness and generosity. He did not mind when they left after a few days, weeks, months, aside from the inconvenience. Let them go. Lost spirits and unemployed shinki were a dime a dozen. He offered his own small kindnesses—a bit of advice to a wayward shinki, a touch of trickery to help Kofuku and Daikoku find themselves after Daigo, a favor to Kazuma to cleanse his ungrateful goddess, his share of the food when the nights were long and he had grown a bit fond of a shinki—but he preferred to make his own way and let the others fall where they may. And then he met Hiyori, named Yukine, moved in with Kofuku and Daikoku, settled the score with Bishamon and Kazuma, learned a new appreciation of the world from Ebisu.
It started small, falling in love, and slow, and there were bumps along the way when Hiyori practiced her wrestling moves on him and Yukine stung him worth more than a hornets' nest and Daikoku yelled at him for being a freeloader and Bishamon nearly took his head off and Ebisu led him on a wild goose chase through the underworld, but then he lost his footing and crashed down all at once. Hiyori built him a shrine with her own two hands, Yukine risked his life to become a hafuri, Kofuku and Daikoku accepted him into their home, Bishamon became a grumpy old drinking buddy, Kazuma helped with ablutions and teaching Yukine about his role, Ebisu showed him a more beautiful vision of the world than he had seen in a long time. So Yato doled out his kindnesses in turn, helping the gods that came his way and granting Hiyori's wishes and taking Yukine under his wing. They became the friends he'd never been allowed to have, the support system he had always needed. And as for Yukine and Hiyori, they showed him that family could be a beautiful thing after all. He couldn't provide them with material comforts, perhaps, but once they opened up his heart again, he gave them the warmth he'd never had.
And each of those gods built different households in different ways, but in the end, they all built homes.