#and there's some overlap with the whole esper thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

paperficwriter · 6 years ago

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Friendly Competition

This is a fic I wrote for @linesporadic, who requested a crossover between the two best animes of our time Mob Psycho 100 and One Punch Man. What results is this AU of rival espers, trying to be the best in Seasoning City! Well...sort of. One of them just has a very enthusiastic ‘assistant’...

Cut is for length, not for content!

Reigen and Saitama had never met, but they were at least aware of one another. After all, two renowned espers in the same city - even one as large as the Greater Seasoning Metropolitan, where Saitama lived in the east and Reigen in the west - meant that there was some overlap from time to time.

Especially when it came to rates.

“I’m not sure,” one woman said to Reigen as she looked over his menu of specials, like it was a variety of noodle dishes and not a guarantee of freedom from supernatural entities. “If I go across town, I know that the other office will give me a lower cost, since this is just affecting my apartment and not a whole building…”

Reigen’s jaw twitched, but he refused to let it affect his winning smile. “We have a money-back guarantee if you are at all dissatisfied with our service, ma’am. Would you like to see my ledger of refunds?” She nodded, and Reigen made a show of opening his desk and pulling out a blank piece of paper. “This is to show you how confident I am that we can handle your specific needs. Please, leave it to me.”

And Mob, he didn’t add, glancing at the boy sitting at the small desk by the door. His school was on break, and yet he was still wearing his uniform, sipping a mini glass bottle of milk. “I do not own any more professional clothes,” he had solemnly explained, and Reigen promised before he went back that they would go clothes shopping as a bonus for his hard work during what should have been his free time.

When she still looked uncertain, Reigen reached over the desk to touch her hand. Sometimes clients needed that little extra charm to seal the deal (something that he had heard rumors was not the strong suit of Saitama, who possessed a tendency to come off awkward and distant despite his good results). The client blushed and bowed in her chair, cheeks red. “Of course! You’re right, let me just get my credit card.” As she dug around in her purse, she glanced up, batting her eyelashes at Reigen. “Does your office have any policy on what you do in your off hours, Reigen-san?”

Without even breaking stride, Reigen pulled out a contract and pushed it across the desk with a pen. “Off hours?! I don’t even know the meaning of the thing! If you could just sign here, here and…”

---

“Sensei! I have the tea, and I picked up some of the onigiri from the corner shop! I also replenished your supply of soap and toilet paper and paper towels, since I noticed that you were running low! I hope you do not mind!”

Saitama jumped at the sudden reappearance of his new ‘assistant,’ who came in the door and was juggling several bags while taking off his shoes. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t a little grateful, given that his ‘office’ was an extra room on his apartment, and the lack of those things was not simply a problem for his business but for his personal life as well.

At least he had an assistant to do these tasks for him...of course, he hadn’t planned on having an assistant at all...or a business (which seemed to come with the assistant), for that matter.

Although Genos wouldn’t call himself an assistant..or an employee...no, he called himself his disciple.

“Oh, thanks, Genos.” He smirked as he took the tea and the bag with the snacks. “If I knew you were going to the shop, I would have given you a list…”

“I can go back out!” The exuberant young man’s dark eyes were wide with enthusiasm. His knuckles popped as he made fists, and his dark shaggy hair fell in his face. He should tell the kid to get a haircut. Wait, second thought, if anything happened and he went bald like him, Saitama would never forgive himself. “Tell me what you need, Sensei!”

Sensei. He sighed. “I need you to stop calling me ‘Sensei.’ Especially around clients. But here, you can just...put these away, okay?” He gestured at the bags he was still holding, dutifully, like he would have held them forever if he asked (or even if he didn’t ask, frankly).

“Yes!” Genos ran off towards the bathroom, leaving Saitama a moment to sit at his desk and get a reprieve.

Saitama watched him go, taking the opportunity to slide the crossword puzzle that had been occupying his attention under the stack of bills he actually should have been paying attention to. He couldn’t exactly turn him away at this point, knowing what he did about his circumstances. If he had just been some teenager, sure, but Genos was nineteen, out of school, and he didn’t ask to be paid at all. If anything, he had given him a stack of money for rent…

Yeah, most assistants don’t really move in, do they?

When he first arrived just a few weeks before, Genos made Saitama listen to his tragic backstory, all about how he had lost his parents in a mysterious fire that claimed their apartment building several years before. Evidently there was also an evil spirit involved? And some doctor who thought that the evil spirit was perhaps hosting some serial arsonist’s soul? And Genos had been living wih this doctor before Saitama, learning about and enhancing his psychic abilities? Genos had talked about this a lot...even when Saitama didn’t ask.

When Genos returned, he was holding a stack of envelopes, which he gave respectfully with both hands. “Sensei! The mail is here as well!”

Saitama thanked him, not nearly as enthusiastic since usually all he got was bills and ads (and most of the time it wasn’t for his favorite stores anyway). He picked through them until he got to one envelope that was handwritten. “Ah? What’s this…” Tearing it open, he unfolded the paper inside.

It was...well, the best way to describe it was a screed of angry letters and scratched marks. Whoever had written it was in quite a mood… so angry that there were some parts Saitama couldn’t even read, but he got the gist.

Fraud. Asshole. Loser. Give up.

Saitama jumped when Genos appeared at his shoulder. “Sensei, please allow me to pay a visit to the hurtful individual who sent you this and explain the error of their ways.”

“Don’t worry about it, Genos,” he said, waving him off. He did turn the letter over, and there was something else: a little note about how he would never be as successful as Reigen Arataka, and how anyone would be a fool to go to him when the best spiritual master in the world was right here in the city. “Ah, looks like he’s a fan of that Spirits and Stuff guy…”

“He is wrong, Sensei!” Genos sat down beside him on his knees, so intense that Saitama could swear he could feel the anxiety vibrating around him, bright lines visible in his aura.

“Genos, please stand up, we’ve talked about this…”

“The person in that letter has no idea how amazing you are! Reigen Arataka is not even half the esper that you are! The fact that he even holds himself in comparison with you is...absurd! Has he ever said anything about this to you?”

“No...ah, wait.” Saitama tapped his chin. “Come to think of it, we did run into each other at the supermarket one time. He was ahead of me in the line to choose watermelons, and he got the last one, and he said...something, I don’t remember. ‘Tough beans’? ‘Get here sooner next time’? I don’t recall exactly…hey, what’s that look?”

“He will pay for thinking that he is better than you, Sensei! I will not let this slight go unpunished!” Before he could stop him, Genos was stomping to the door, putting his shoes back on and running out.

“Hey! Genos! Pick up some soy sauce and eggs while you’re -- damn, he’s gone…” Well, that was all right. It would give Saitama a chance to play with the video game console he “borrowed” from his friend King. After all, it wasn’t like he was in a rush for more work.

---

Mob was finishing up lunch when he heard a knock at the door. Actually, it was harder than a knock...more like a pounding. “Better leave it, Shigeo,” Dimple mentioned, the spirit floating close like a green balloon. “It’s probably Reigen’s landlord.”

Reigen had gone out to handle the spirit that the woman wanted exorcised, leaving them alone. “I don’t know...the last time we left someone outside, they were here when he got home and it was even worse. Shishou was really mad…”

Mob stood up and opened the door, blinking up at a man who seemed younger than Reigen, with dark hair and severe eyes. He didn’t look like one of Reigen’s usual clients. No, he was unique, with his torn sleeves and jeans, the set line of his mouth. “My name is Genos. I am here for Reigen Arataka. He needs to be punished.”

“Oh,” Dimple said quietly, drifting off to the desk, “it’s that kind of caller, eh…you shouldn’t let him linger, Shigeo.”

Mob didn’t know what he meant, and he bowed at the stranger. “I’m sorry, Reigen-shishou is not here at the moment. He’s out on a job, but he should be returning shortly. Would you like some tea while you wait?”

“...very well.” Genos stepped inside and took off his shoes. For someone who was here to “punish” Reigen, he certainly seemed mild-mannered enough. He even sat down at the desk and folded his arms in front of him. Mob would have thought he would at least knock over the stack of papers in front of him… “Are you this fool’s disciple?”

Mob blushed a little at that. “Well, I work for him…”

“You should work for someone who does not lie and say he is the world's greatest psychic. Saitama is much more powerful.” Gens accepted the tea from Mob regardless. “Thank you.”

As he went to unplug the electric kettle, Mob struck his palm with his fist. “Oh, Saitama! I’ve heard of him. He lives in the city, doesn’t he? Is that who you work for?”

“I would never allow money to pass from Sensei's hand to mine. Also, do not get any ideas. I am Sensei’s disciple.”

“Of course not!” Mob pulled his chair over and sat down. “Is he kind? He looks nice in the pictures I’ve seen of him online.”

(Sensei certainly didn’t think so, Genos thought to himself as he sipped the tea. All he could talk about was the glaring sunspot that caught his head in every shot…still, he was glad at least someone in this office was mindful of Saitama’s prowess.)

“He is very respectful,” Genos said, “and quite humble, which is more than it seems can be said of this man.” He gestured flippantly at the picture on the wall.

“That’s true enough,” Dimple mumbled.

“Shishou isn’t humble, no, but he is a good man. He has done a lot to help me over the years with my own powers.”

Although Mob ignored Dimple - he had gotten used to doing so, since the clients could not see him - Genos glanced around when he spoke. “I sense something here…”

Mob was about to respond when Reigen came through the door.

---

By the time Reigen returned to the office, he was a wreck of sweat and grime collecting in his dress shirt. The “evil spirit” that had been shrieking in the night had been nothing more than a loose gasket on a hot water heater. Good thing he kept a few spare tools in his briefcase after the last home visit with the ‘water spirit that was actually a leaky toilet.’

When he opened the door to find the young man sitting beside Mob, it didn’t take more than a glance to know that he was angry about something. Judging from how that expression spiked when Reigen entered - hands around the tea cup he held tightening, jaw clenching, brows narrowing even more than they already were - that something quickly narrowed down to ‘him.’

Why?

Refusing to look ruffled, he closed his eyes, took a breath and said, “I had a feeling you’d be here. You’re still so troubled.”

“Shishou! Welcome back! This is Genos. He’s here to speak with you about Saitama-san.” Mob rose and returned to the kettle to prepare tea for him as well.

Mob...you couldn’t have done better if I had asked you to!

“Yes. Genos. I sensed the weight on your shoulders.”

Genos pressed his lips together tightly. “Do not pretend you know my tragic story. I can see right through you, Reigen Arataka.”

A tragic story. Okay. He could work with that. He smiled and gestured in the air with his hand before smoothing his hair back, touching Genos’s shoulder as he walked behind his desk. Wow, he actually was super tense… “You carry so much with you, Genos. I only want to help you. Has Saitama been unable to ease the burden you’ve had with you since that day?”

Was it too melodramatic? That line had backfired on him before…

Genos jumped to his feet, hands slapping the wooden desktop. “Do you know something about the spirit that started the fire?!”

Phew. Reigen reached out and rubbed his arms, eyes sharp and focused. “I know that it’s still with you. It’s trying to wear you down. It’s still trying to burn you down, Genos.” He turned and snapped his fingers. “Mob! We need the exorcism oils!”

“Yes, sir!” That had taken a while to bring Mob on board with (“I never use salt or oil, Shishou…”) but after watching the happy satisfaction of Reigen’s clients - most of whom were regulars - he no longer hesitated in helping.

Genos seemed to go along with it, and in only a short time, he was sitting across from him, noticeably less tense. The scent of lavender wafted in the air, and it had given Reigen a chance to change out of his nasty shirt. Win, win, win. Genos rolled his shoulders. “Well, I do feel more relaxed --”

“Consider it on the house!”

“--but this skill does not make you stronger than Saitama-sensei!” His loyalty restored, he straightened in the chair, resolute. “It is still shameful that you call yourself the most powerful psychic in the world!”

Reigen took a breath, swallowed down his pride (and defenses) and said gently, “Genos. If you set out to do something, and you are met only with success time and time again, what should you do? Reject your blessings?”

The young man stared at him, gaze only just wavering.

“And if you see someone else, who is not as successful as you, is it fair to say that they are better, just because they try to be? That’s not realistic.”

“But you still are not the best in the world! And Saitama is strong!”

“I’m sure he is, but...I am the best in my world. I can’t deny that.”

Dimple had been mostly ignoring the conversation, but now he returned to Reigen’s shoulder. “Don’t talk this boy in circles so he doesn’t realize you’re a fraud.”

Reigen twitched.

“You’re just trying to question him over and over until he leaves, and when he figures it out, you won’t have to deal with it. That isn’t even clever.”

“Quiet, you!” Admittedly, Reigen had not gotten as good as Mob in ignoring Dimple, especially when he was undermining him.

“Do you feel that spirit as well?!” Genos was on his feet again, pulling out an assortment of charms and trinkets from his pockets, scattering them on the table. He drew a circle (“Hey! Don’t chalk on my desk! That’s mahogany!”) and then chanted.

Dimple made a face, and Reigen peered up at him. Is it working?

The small green spirit scratched his head. “He’s making me all itchy, but does he really think those things work on something as powerful as me? Poor kid. I almost feel sorry for him.” Reigen let Genos continue trying, until he finally slumped down in defeat. “If only Sensei were here...he would know what to do! He can banish any demon!”

“Does he use all this...stuff?” Reigen pinched a bit of salt in his finger. It was larger grain than what he used… Maybe he should get some...

“Well, it’s different! He has strength and power! He creates energy directly from his fist and blows them away!”

Reigen smiled. Jackpot. “I don't need anything quite that intense. Behold!” he suddenly roared. “Ultimate Spirit Cast-off!”

(This was actually a technique that Reigen normally just yelled at Dimple, waving his hands to annoy and shoo him off when he was being particularly distracting.)

“Stop that!” Dimple glowered. “I'm more powerful than you will ever be! I won't be--”

“Shoo! Shoo! Scat!”

“Fine! I didn’t want to be here anyway! I can see you crash and burn any day!” With a red-faced huff, he disappeared through the wall and floated toward Mob’s home.

Genos blinked...and then immediately began to clap. “Reigen-san, I have been wrong about you! You exorced a particularly powerful spirit without the use of any supernatural tools!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Reigen said, sighing in relief and straightening his tie.

“I am certain now that you would perhaps be a formidable opponent for Sensei in a battle of auras!”

A small shiver of discomfort passed through Reigen, although his face did not change. What the hell was a battle of auras?! “I would be happy to face him! Time permitting, of course...surely you can see why I am such a busy man.”

Genos nodded and bowed, first at him and then at Mob. “I thank you both for your time and hospitality. I apologize for taking your time, but please do rest assured that I am convinced that you are quite adept at the psychic arts.”

As he departed, Reigen sat down with a heavy sigh. “Shishou...shouldn’t we have just explained that Dimple was a spirit normally residing here? Did you have to kick him out?”

“Isn’t that what we are always doing, Mob? Kicking spirits out? Dimple may be one we know, but he is still a powerful entity. My tactics remain the same.”

Mob considered this, then smiled. “You are very right and wise, Shishou!”

“Yes, Mob, I know. Now, let’s take a break and see about those clothes I promised you!”

“Yes, sir!”

...an outing that certainly did not have anything to do with the possibility that Saitama might come take him up on his challenge...

#my paperfics #one punch man #mob psycho 100 #arataka reigen #mob #ekubo #saitama #genos

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nirvanaballad · 5 years ago

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[???]

In the deeps of the Abyss — the realm that sat beneath the sea bed and beyond the light of stars — an old wreck of an extra-dimensional aeroship emanated a strange sort of ectoplasmic material. It spewed it; expelling the stuff in great bulbous clouds — plumes of murky white spiralling; impregnating the airless, skyless space. Particles twinkled and shimmered as their incandescence was lifted by the twilight luna wind.

Of course, there was no one to see the display.

If years had gone by, it was impossible to gauge how many.

With no one there to observe it, some humans would make the mistake of thinking that it could not have happened. Despite this, something was watching. Not a human, but something that could perceive frequencies just as readily as any human. Better even than any human. To be more precise, rather than being a something, it was a somewhere. It was an extra-dimension, one that secretly intersected with the Abyss, and perhaps, everywhere else.

The multiverse was known to be made up of many things more than just galaxies and worlds. There were extra-dimensions intersecting everything.

The aeroship had been fitted during its construction to traverse spaces that were indefinably contrasting to those most would ever encounter. Standard meteorological and altitudinal concerns were replaced with the apparatus needed to cross into and burst through extra-dimensions. Experience of such states were sometimes brushed while in deep mediation, but how to exist in these places was unknown. There would be no body, no thought, and no frequency that the human-perceiver would ever be able to interpret. So what did they look like?

Perhaps some espers would be able to have some experience of these secret places, but this experience would be a translation of something. A clumsy transforms of extreme elegance into a highly limited number and combination of sensations. As it was, this process could only yield a partial impression.

In this way, it was not space that rushed by when seen through the forward viewing screen on the bridge. They were beset with myriad collisions of unfamiliar colours -- fathomless glitch art at extreme pressure density, that plunged and merged, viscous celerity pressed up and sliding past the sequence of windows with no proportions and composed of complete intangibility.

Suddenly, (but not without a timed report from the officer at the con) the ship burst out of these strange colour oceans. They were now flying the tight thresholds between dimensions.

It was theorized that the being or entity they sought existed over-archingly in all locations in the multiverse; that it was alive, and that it was always listening.

Attached to the crew of the ex-aeroship were specialist who had been assigned to inspect and make evaluation of (among other things) its tempers/demeanours, fluctuation, and frequencies. A strange nuance of dynamic interjectivity allowed for a stretching or cutting through these subspaces, and it was through this that they would attempt to find a place to commune with it -- on its own terms and territory, as it were. As for these specialists, they would take them to zones that could facilitate, first observation; then communication with their target. It was something not directly accessible from RR, but this was juxtaposed by the idea of its all-everywhere-ness. If it was really in all places and spaces, and overlapped with all other dimensions, no sign of its existence had yet been observed. Again, the notion of ‘dimension-N’ was thus far entirely theoretical.

The crew were to explore the dimension’s meta-intangibility and (if possible) its attitude towards humanity. It was understood to be alive, but apart from this, only a few truths about it had been discerned. Its all-prevalence and limitless awareness were intertwined with the nature of its singular composition. The equations that accompanied humanity’s grasp on it spoke of an irremovable understanding of, and synergy with all things.

Before the mission began, the captain was given strict instructions not to reveal any of what they discovered to the regular admiralty. The ship, his ship, had embarked from planet Garden-333, with a captain somewhat disquieted by his orders.

The ship had opened a rift with their subspace-folding engines, and slid into a preset position in the place/space called ‘twilight_night,’ the coordinates of which had been provided by a Garden affiliate organization that operated out of a planet that had long ago been caught on the threshold between two of the ‘other spaces;’ a great vertical spectrum adjacent to a continuum of infinite, far more vast space, or ‘verses’. They would rendezvous with their science team on the threshold planet, and then enter into the dense briar that it stood as gatekeeper to.

By the time the aeroship found itself in the limitless abyss, (who knows how long later…) this organization had collapsed. Much of that which was mentioned since about them elicited suggestions of a peculiar instance of human rights impeachment. However, Garden did not have anything further to say on the matter.

With this objectivity, it was just about calculable that the ship had resided in the Abyss for some years more than one-thousand FCs.

The extra-dimension that was present in the space of the Abyss had been found to sit woven within all spaces. The oracle that was installed and resided within the aeroship’s main-computer had reached out her fingers of numerical and isomorphic interface and found that the extent of the extra-dimension [denoted by the excursion team as ex-dim.n.] was infinite. There was no limit to its presence throughout the multiverse.

The only other entity that could be defined to be found everywhere according to Garden’s shared access memory, was: the Internet.

In recent times, they had learned/earned to speak with the Internet directly, and the technicians that interacted with the part of it that it referred to as its ‘perspective-apex form position,’ had offered for them to refer to affectionately as ‘Her.’ Three of these same individuals accompanied the mission to find ex-dim.n and were known to the crew as special assets.

In the logs of the downed aeroship were reports of how this other dimension seemed to demonstrate a similar level of self-awareness as had been measured of the Internet. Truthfully, this measurement had been achieved by comparing massive sets of frequency dynamics. While this information suggested some relativity between Internet and ex-dim.n, this was not an indicator of anything of its ‘personality.’ As if its was a scientific concept, the ‘conversation-team’ spoke of ascertaining understanding of ‘personality’ all the way through the mission.

In RR, attempts to speak with it after making initial contact had successively failed. The special assets spoke of “gaining [ex-dim.n‘s] respect.”

The idea of a being that encompassed all existence was one that had been obsessed with and fixated on for many ages. If ex-dim.n [also sometimes referred to as ‘dimension-N’] was found to be something that was similar in composition and dynamic flow to the so-called ‘one;’ the whole that was all things, could it be reasoned with? leaned from? The mission would be remembered as a turning point in Garden’s explorative enterprize if such a thing was achieved.

But this was not to be.

In the Abyss, the great ectoplasmic exhalation continued. ex-dim.n felt a wave of sadness/a great sigh. It had been partly her doing that this vessel was doomed to rest here in this place for eternity. While it had not been directly her who had caused the mission to fail, to herself, she sometime resembled all that made resistance to human endeavour.

As far as she could tell, there had definitely been something wrong with the aeroship — a design flaw that (some small research uncloaked) afflicted it and all of its cousins. Importantly, (she thought meaningfully) each aeroship is unique; created bespoke in accordance with the ancient integrity of the artisans who had shaped and nurtured the vessels into existence in RR forever. Without any exertion, she found that a particular new component [es.et.zz;gyro,] had been fast tracked into use in the aeroships’ guidance module truss. It had been noted as: “not sufficiently tested,” and corners had been cut in a bureaucracy that sought for the vessels to be manufactured, rather than made.

Another sigh blew through the Abyss. Three of eleven eyes opened.

Navigating the hub that saw intersection with a dozen different plains was nothing simple. Orders and corrections rung out between all members of the bridge crew and their counterparts on other decks of the ship. Calibrations of degrees were met with intricate alignment computations as all of the different colours and textures of the bisecting, side-ways turned oceans rushed by. Ultra-massive walls of meta-substance, sometimes dwarfing the ex-aircraft to barely a pin-prick in an environment more primal than that even of the forerunner, extra-dimensional ‘painted people.’

ex-dim.n entertained all of the other eventualities that might have transpired in the aeroship’s story. She had the power to change its destiny, but did she want to?

Due to the fact that the aeroship was an animate being, its demise was compiled as a sorrowful one. A graviton eddy storm had grasped it as it surfed the perimeter that denoted the extremity face of the extra-dimensional surface layer calculated to interface at its furtherest apex with dimension-N.

What was not known to Garden was that mis-navigation of this apex led irretrievably to the Abyss. How would they know? Truthfully, lost ex-aeroships had never been recovered in order that it could be discerned where they arrived after they were downed. The Abyss was more like a place that failed-humans were sent to upon death.

As the aeroship tumbled, its kinetic metaphor fulfilled a representation of cascading thought, puncturing through successive ex-membranes. It emerged in the Abyss like it was awakening from slumber. What materialized was not all that it had been.

In the last moments as the aeroship was torn in half by the gravitational maelstrom, one member of the crew lamented the potential opportunity to discover such truth about existence. All that they had meticulously prepared for had been for nothing. It was a woeful, and bleak eventuality.

The crew were prepared for ascension, but would they find themselves in the afterlife, or stuck between realms as geists/ghosts?

After ninety-nine steps (as measurement of time could not apply) of what she saw as profitable observation, ex-dim.n revealed her unbound power, and let the ship sink through into the place that so many others of its downed sisters had found through the ages. Experiences of the afterlife cannot be shared or be spoken of, but it was known by ex-dim.n when reincarnation was finally achieved by the aeroship, it was re-designated as [800] Abyss, and took up its role in the Nietszchian War Fleet.

Sometimes, she still dreams of that erased crew who were lost in the pursuit of what humanity would one day know as Nirvana.

[This day denotes the anniversary of 250,000million-googolplexes (FCs) since the first aeroship was constructed.]

January ‘20

#art writing

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