#ITS ABOUT REIGEN LETTING GO OF SOMETHING THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE HIS BUT IT TEARING AWAY PART OF HIS SOUL TO DO SO DO YOU GET IT

[grimalkinmessor]

Sometimes I think about the MP100 S3 finale and Reigen saying "You don't need me anymore" but never saying anything about him not needing Mob anymore, how it was basically a goodbye and that's why he started to cry, because he wanted it to last forever, because he's going to miss him more than anything, and the fact that afterwards we skip six months into the future where the city is fixed, where Tome works at Spirits & Such alongside Serizawa, but there are no new desks so it implies that Mob no longer works there, that he's moved on with his life and is only visiting a fond memory by attending Reigen's birthday, making up for the last one he missed, throwing cake in Reigen's face because the reverence is gone they're no longer Master and Disciple but they're still old friends even if they've grown rapidly apart, and how Reigen was holding back tears seeing everyone there but in particular facing Mob's direction, and in the spinoff Reigen looks up at the fake Mob who's still in his school uniform and he doesn't even fight back against it even though he has to know it's not real because he misses those days even though he knows he shouldn't—and then I just

[bug-slappy]

What Serizawa lore and dialogue in the manga that got cut from the anime are you talking about specifically I'm curious /gen

THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME A REASON TO GO HAM!!! any adaptation is gonna have its cutbacks due to time restraints, but i feel like so many of serizawas lines/important moments got totally butchered or cut completely just to be replaced with cute moments that never happen in the manga.

!! MP100 SPOILERS HEAD obvi !!

First case: In the manga, when serizawa finally stands up to toichiro, things pan out COMPLETELY differently!

I feel like this is a really important moment for serizawa. whatever false idea of friendship serizawa had left is ripped away from him. its unnerving to see how brutal and ruthless toichiro is, finally showing his true colours to serizawa after manipulating him for 3 years. I feel like its also a really important moment for reigen to bare witness to. serizawa and toichiros relationship serves as an exaggerated parallel to mob and reigens. A powerful and persuasive man using a naïve esper for their powers under the false promise of learning to control their powers, whether it helps them for better or for worse. big difference is that reigen does help mob in the style of important life lessons and guiding him towards being a good person. after the separation arc, reigen realizes how manipulative he's been to mob, he becomes a better person because of it. but i feel like after the TOICHIRO fight specifically is where we see a very clear difference in how reigen treats mob. he becomes a lot more patient and less controlling. it bums me out that this interaction was cut completely from the anime. I think it must have been for time because they also cut ekubos moments.

Serizawa not knowing what getting arrested is:

Calling the Yokai hunter out on his bluff:

they replaced this with the awesome fight scene but still an awesome line i wish they kept it was so bad ass lol:

But the most shocking thing that they cut from the finale was this scene, after mob goes to reigen and serizawa for advice on asking out tsubomi:

not only is it fruity,,... but more importantly its a super important moment!!! seeing reigen open up like this in front of another person is something we havent seen up until this point!! mob and reigen have impacted each other so much, and its a FANTASTIC segway into the final chapter! absolutely crazy to me that they would cut such a deep personal moment especially considering how much BONES loves reigen.. it gets "implied" through a quick silent moment between reigen and serizawa (all they show in the anime is serizawa looking surprised at him)

not only that, but its so interesting how easily reigen opens up around serizawa. he doesn't do that around anyone else (probably because serizawa is the only person near his age playing an active role in his life bro has no friends)

and its incredible how well serizawa can already read reigen after such a short time working at S&S. serizawa tends to be quiet and hang in the background, but in the manga it has a purpose; hes observing the world around him. when he does have something to say it has importance and is carefully thought out.

in the anime so much of that important dialogue is cut and replaced with his moe salaryman moments which sure its cute, but when you know what he was really supposed to be saying its such a major let down. I feel like the writers didnt know about serizawas huge fan following hes had since his premier, so they didn't really care about him. thats my best guess as to why so many good moments got cut

also this:

serizawa mentioned during his fight with mob that hes accidentally sent his mother flying before with his powers,,, exactly like mobs traumatic moment when he sent ritsu flying and injured him when they were kids... as i mentioned earlier, serizawa has always been a very clear parallel to mob (i can talk more about that in another post if someone asks). I was really hoping theyd go deeper into this moment in the anime but it GOT CUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAAUGH!!!!

and this page right after.. MAN:

BROTHER.... to me, i feel like this is the moment that made serizawa certain reigen doesnt have powers. not only does he have a talent for reading people, but he has to know by now. if he thought reigen had powers to protect himself, he wouldn't be saving his ass all the time like he does.

he knows reigen wont be fine on his own. he knows that reigen has something hugely important to tell him, important enough that reigen is willing to die to run out there and tell him

WHICH BY THE WAY THE MOST DISRESPECTFUL BUTCHERING OF A SCENE OF ALL TIME:

from what ive researched it seems like a common occurrence in japanese culture to remove your shoes before attempting suicide. this is such an intense and impactful moment for reigen to be removing his shoes. looking around and seeing the situation hes in, but still throwing himself into harms way so he can protect mob like hes done so many times before, but in this scene hes making the concious decision to go in, knowing the risk involved. INSANE THAT IN THE ANIME they made removing his shoes some sort of way to get better grip to run. obviously, running barefoot in rubble and destruction is not going to give you better foot grip.. I think they did that to make the scene more lighthearted but it just feels like poor taste.

i feel like the style choices combined with the dialogue cuts in S3 seriously take away from the intense impact of the manga. ONE has such a talent for writing characters to be fleshed out human beings as well as interpersonal relationships. season 1 and 2 did such a good job of showing that even when there had to be scene cuts.

if you havent already, I think you should for sure read the manga. its even more life changing to me than the anime already is, and ONE has a beautiful art style and can convey strong emotions better than anything else ive ever seen. I have more good serizawa moments than this that were cut, and a lot of dialoue between mob and ??? was removed too, but i don't want to spoil every funny joke or character building moment.

this is why i think everyone should read the manga and the REIGEN spin off book :) thank you for reading through this!

ps: devastated when this got cut

[yandere-toons]

Ohhh could you write some platonic and romantic headcanons for reigen arataka from mob psycho please??

Yandere Reigen Arataka (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: psychological manipulation, toxic mindset.

Platonic:

Reigen seeks to impress and dazzle his friend through the use of clever words and shows of skill. His execution of this dream leaves much to be desired, for it often boils down to Reigen regurgitating something he read on the internet and boasting about past exorcisms where Mob did all the work.

He can be rather pedantic as he details a false history of exorcisms and introduces himself as the leading superstar in his field. Reigen lies about his qualifications for assisting his friend with any of their problems, telling half-truths about a time when he faced a similar issue and acting like he has everything under control when everything is going wrong.

Reigen tries to convince his friend to quit their job and come work for him in the paranormal trade. The pay is low, and there are few, if any, benefits. However, Reigen claims that the pleasure of his company and the joy of helping others will be more than satisfactory.

If his friend voices doubt about his abilities, Reigen assures them that he operates on such a high level that he only seems powerless to confuse evil spirits. Mob corroborates his story, but Reigen panics and asks Mob to let him borrow some psychic powers if his friend turns out to be an esper.

He fakes an injury to pull his friend away from another person and get them to focus on him. When the other person goes to speak again, they are blamed for the supposed injury and stuck with the medical bills. Reigen whips out his telephone and pretends to be a celebrity in distress to urge the person to leave quietly.

Once they go in despair or shame, Reigen seizes the moment and begins an unprompted discussion of his achievements, many of which are stolen from popular media and other people. He is miraculously healed as soon as the area is devoid of everyone but himself and his friend, and he recommends heading back to his office and sharing a cup of tea for the rest of the day.

Mob watches as Reigen chases after his friend with claims that they need to be in constant contact with him to stay safe from evil spirits and wonders if this is how friendship is meant to look. Reigen does little to help this misconception, as he instructs Mob to be on the lookout for any bad energy around his friend.

Romantic:

Reigen never wastes an opportunity to grandstand in front of clients, and he is forever after the business of his partner. Their private life, their dietary preferences, their stance on social matters—Reigen acts as if he knows all about it from the start when, in reality, he infers bits and pieces of it from each interaction.

When Reigen notices that his partner is spending lots of time with someone else, he is not about to start a fistfight like a banchō or deal out threats like poker cards. Reigen is generally a violence-averse soul, so he opts for interrupting the next conversation and pretending to be an expert on whatever the topic is.

He spouts factoids and trivia that he cobbled together, all in the name of throwing shade at the other person. Reigen denies any knowledge of this goal and claims that he is merely a purveyor of information.

While Dimple is calling his bluff and accusing him of being desperate, Reigen struggles to keep a straight face and resumes talking until the other person is driven away. Should his partner be able to hear Dimple, Reigen dismisses his comments as jokes and swats at Dimple to shut up.

If his partner ever comes to him with paranormal troubles, Reigen drops everything and throws several discounts and special offers at them to ensure that they leave his office with a good opinion of him. He has Mob on speed dial in case an evil spirit decides to show its face, but in the meantime, Reigen proposes a massage.

Reigen will likely lie and say that the alleged spirit is either too powerful for one treatment to exorcise it or too elusive to reveal itself in full yet. Either way, his partner is encouraged to return to the Spirits and Such Consultation Office for follow-up visits.

He thinks he is the epitome of smooth when he suggests that eating ramen together at a restaurant is a smart way to draw the spirit into the open. This evolves into Reigen declaring that he must explore his partner's home in search of cursed items, and if his request is rejected, he makes the counteroffer to escort them throughout their day as a spiritual bodyguard.

[alakazamboni]

Tumeric Trailhead

MP100 Fanfiction, Gen, Serizawa Katsuya, ~700 words

Part of WawaWeek Day 1: Observation/New

Serizawa has the day off and goes on a nature hike.

...

Monday. The S&S office was closed as Reigen-san's landlord fumigated the building. Katsuya, of course, offered to help, but Reigen-san forbade it. Apparently, this was just one of those things that landlords were supposed to take care of. That, and Reigen-san always got something of a wild look in his eyes whenever they talked about bugs. If Katsuya didn't know any better, he'd think that his boss had a phobia.

Either way, he didn't have anything to do until this evening, so he found himself walking around the border of town. The sensation of flying solo was still very new, and he didn't trust himself enough to go traipsing around downtown.

He stepped up to the beginning Tumeric Trailhead and followed its unkept gravelly path. The trail twisted and turned as he climbed up the hill. It traced along the ridge, the trees falling away on the occasion to allow Katsuya to see the Seasoning City's skyline.

Even in the harsh midday sun, the city was beautiful. He never properly appreciated it during his brief stay in the Culture Tower. But now? Something about this being his home made him extra attentive.

He could see the big bridge over the canal. The void where broccoli used to be. And the spots of greenery dotting the concrete cityscape.

Katusya breathed in and appreciated the sense of belonging. His friends all lived there. He worked there. He learned there. Even as foreign as this experience was to him, he knew enough to savor it. Things don't always last forever. Reigen-san had said that. It was best to enjoy things in the present.

Tearing his gaze away, Katsuya followed the trail as it descended back into the thick of the forest. Though he was alone, his footsteps were far from the only sounds that accompanied him. Leaves and sticks rustled as creatures fluttered and scampered about.

At a clearing, he spotted a collection of small prints in the soft dirt. A creek bubbled in the distance. It couldn't hurt, he figured, to follow them.

Stepping along the side the tracks, Katsuya was careful to not destroy the fragile imprints. He had no idea what kind of creature made prints like these, but he hoped he'd soon find out.

After a few minutes of following the wild trail, he did in fact find himself on the edge of a silty creek bed. The water level was low, streaming though narrow ruts in the mud. Several more animal prints crowded around the water source. Many, Katsuya proudly recognized, were birds. Some others might be deer or maybe pigs. Something with hooves, at least.

Plopping himself down on a boulder, Katsuya stripped off his shoes and dipped his feet in the water. It was shockingly cold, and the mud was soft and pleasant to dig through. He sighed happily, content in his little oasis.

Then, he spotted something odd peaking out from under a leaf.

Curious, but not willing to give up his seat, Katsuya used his telekinesis to drag it closer. Strange, gelatinous orbs were glued to the leaf in a tight cluster.

Dropping the leaf in his hands, he brought the curiosity closer to his face.

Each orb appeared to house a tiny dark squiggle. They pulsed and moved in a hypnotic jerky display.

Reaching for his phone, Katsuya let the leaf bob around in the air. After snapping a quick picture, he sent it to the S&S groupchat, and promptly returned the leaf. Tome would probably love seeing something like this, he mused.

On the way back to town, Katsuya's phone chimed.

Tome👽: Gross! Tome👽: Bring that to the office tomorrow. I want to see it. Reigen: 👏👏 Absolutely not. 👎 Shigeo: Those are tree frog eggs. Tome👽: Lame. Shigeo: They look close to hatching.

Katsuya smiled as he read through the messages. If he wanted to see tadpoles, he'd have to make this trip a few more times. He'd never seen baby frogs before, and he wondered if Shigeo would like to come with.

*** Bonus ***

Tome👽: Change of plans. My friend says she wants to eat it. Tome👽: On a scale of 1 to 10. Tome👽: How edible do you think they are? Reigen: ZERO Reigen: Don't you have school? Tome👽: It's called playing hooky old man Tome👽: You wouldn't know cause you're not cool enough

[babydaddyleorio]

Congrats on 1k followers! Here's to 1k more <33 For the event could I get prompt 20 with mob and a male esper!reader (he/him) please? Tysm!!

aww you're so sweet, thank you so much! (':

prompt: shigeo kageyama - the epilogue ❦

warnings: a bit of angst

⤷ Link to my 1k event!

“So this is goodbye, huh?”

Shigeo stood before you, his feet planted on the bottom of your doorstep, eyes avoiding yours as he twisted his shoe in a lone puddle on the ground.

“I don’t like it.” Shigeo confessed quietly, lips sculpted into a deep frown. “But I guess we have no other choice but to accept It.”

You briefly examined Shigeo's downcasted figure before sighing to yourself, shifting your gaze towards the abyss of a sky, a sudden breeze snaking its way into blowing your pajamas to the side.

You had to leave Japan soon, departing because your family had gotten a once in a lifetime job offer to come work in the states. And even though you were happy such an opportunity had fallen into the hands of your family, you still couldn't deny the fact that you were going to miss Mob more than anything.

You had met Mob on a Tuesday. You were standing awkwardly in Reigen’s office, listening to him brag about now having two esper apprentices under his wing.

“Wait, so he’s going to be working with us?” Mob asked curiously once he found out the news, casually raising his finger towards your shifting figure.

“Mob, put your finger down. It’s rude to point.” Reigen scolded, receiving a small oh sorry from Mob as he lowered his arm back to his side.

“And yes, he's the new addition to our team. Why don’t you go show him around or something. You could use some new friends, right?” Reigen disinterestedly shifted his eyes back to his computer while waving his hand dismissively at you both, leaving you abruptly under Mob's care.

Although, friends wasn’t exactly what you would use to describe what you and Mob had together. Mob had quickly managed to swivele his way into your heart the more you worked alongside him, lulling your interest in him through his precious naivety and pristine golden heart. You and Mob were more than simple friends, especially since that night of confessing your feelings at the train station, your eyes growing wide as saucers after hearing each other’s words, the people unloading the cars steadily passing between your still figures.

You convinced yourself that this was the best decision, that leaving Mob wouldn't have that much of an effect on you, but who were you trying to fool? You supposed that a lie was more comforting than the truth, but you would have to face the music at some point as well.

“I’ll come back to visit, okay?”

Your voice was supposed to be reassuring, but It was clear the intent it was suppose to have had faltered the second the words left your mouth. You waited quietly to hear Shigeo's response, but It never came. You quickly raised an eyebrow in question and peered back down to see Mob staring harshly at you with clouded eyes and fists clenched at his sides.

“Shigeo?” You steadily uncrossed your arms from over your chest as your face dropped, cautiously stepping forward to get a better look at him. “Shigeo, what’s wrong-”

Without warning, Mob bolted up the steps dividing the two of you and crashed himself against your body, feverishly wrapping his arms around your neck.

“I lied, I don’t accept It.” Mob breathed desperately, closing his eyes shut. “I can’t let you go, not when I love you this much.”

You were stunned at how fast everything had happened, and your arms remained frozen on either side of Mob. You slowly trailed your eyes to the side, studying his stiff figure.

“Shigeo, you know I can’t stay.”

“Then I’ll come with you!” Mob shot back, voice leaking with overwhelming determination. “It doesn’t matter where you go, because If following you to the end of time means I get to have at least one more second with you, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Your eyes widened at his confession, taking in how erratically his chest rose and fell, as well as the tears that streamed down his rosy cheeks. You had never seen Mob so shaken up like this before. The usual calm and soft-spoken Shigeo you knew had vanished, and before you stood the manifestation of all the emotions he tried his hardest to conceal.

You suddenly noticed that the trees surrounding you commenced to swaying violently in the wind, and the ground beneath your feet begun to tremble and crack into small pieces.

“Don’t you get It?” Mob bellowed furiously, furrowing his eyebrows as his obsidian strands of hair slowly rose all around him. “Can't you see that I'm in love you?”

You found yourself rushing to wrap your arms around Mob, squeezing his back tightly and burying your face into his shoulder. You didn't know Mob felt so strongly about you, and It made your heart pound rapidly against your chest as you replayed how longingly he had gazed at you. Your touch seemed to make Mob relax from his distressed state, the turbulence that had just been ringing through the air gradually came to a halt as you urged him to take deep breaths.

“You’re such an idiot, Shigeo.” You laughed with a strained voice, gripping his jacket so tight, never wanting it to slip from your fingertips.

"I'm okay with that." Mob answered softly, lowering his cheek to nuzzle against your head that still rested on his chest. "I'll be whatever you want me to be, as long as you promise not to let go."

All good things must come to an end, you supposed, but that didn't mean you couldn’t pretend as If you and Mob had an eternity to spend with each other in this moment.

[reigenhusband]

Psychic Wedding Time!

Art by @/cowboyologist

After months of holding back, we finally tied the ole knot! Me and the conman are officially hitched today September 10, 2021!

This silly little blonde anime man means an awful lot to me and its really more than I can say. These months with him have been a great help.

When I went through some of the roughest things I've ever gone through, I had him to think about for comfort. He is a little part in what keeps me going and I wish I could thank him for everything. He sparks a lot of joy so I think I'm gonna keep him!

I've never been happier and I'm so lucky to call him husband! He's had such a positive impact and I love him so, so much.

Special thank you to my friends and of course our son Mob who carried the rings!

Under the cut is a little fic about getting ready for the wedding. Thanks everyone for your support!

Reigen squinted at his reflection, dark eyes hauntingly focused on a strand of hair that didn't take to the product he put in it. A grunt of dismay rumbled low in his throat.

"Um…Reigen?" 

"Just a second, Serizawa. Almost got it."

The taller man's voice wavered but he managed to hold fast and keep his confidence. Reigen could almost hear his hands wringing. 

"Er...Well. Its just...you've been staring at yourself for a little over 20 minutes now and you haven't moved and…"

Reigen sucked his teeth and pressed his palm firmly to the side of his head. Damned strand of hair! Slick like the rest of it! Don't you know know day it is?!

"What I mean is..! Are you alright?" Serizawa finally asked, his voice heavy with concern. "Since it's your wedding and all I figured you'd be nervous but you seem really on edge. Is something bothering you?" 

The blonde twitched.

 "W...what are you talking about? Of course not! I'm calm and-" He stopped abruptly and slammed his hands flat on either side of the mirror, his eyes wide and bloodshot upon inspection of his suit. A fleck of black thread pervaded his white vest and he looked around frantically for the lint roller. "You thought you could hide but you can't best Reigen Arataka." He muttered as he furiously went over his all but pristine wedding attire. 

His best man scratched his own cheek nervously and looked on with clear uncertainty. "If you're sure." 

Once he was satisfied after a thorough inspection and having Serizawa scrutinize the back, he dropped into a chair. Nearby was a table decorated in what was probably a thousand congratulatory flowers from clients. He exhaled and stared a hole into the arrangement of colors. His heart was pounding. His brow, coupled with his hands, were visibly slick with chilled sweat. His stomach was full of stones. 

He met his own gaze in the mirror again. He looked well kept and yet...disheveled at the same time. Come to think of it, his face was flushed the shade of his usual pink tie. The last 3 days without sleep also hollowed out dark circles under his eyes. His shirt collar began to feel more and more constricting as time went on no matter how much he tugged on it. 

Maybe he really was scared. 

He didn't doubt that he loved Mitty. In fact, he wanted to be with him more than anyone. A case of cold feet wouldn't change that. It was himself he was wrestling with here. 

Spirits, monsters, and deadly espers. He'd faced them all and came out on top. But they were nothing compared to these looming expectations to be a person to rely on. This wasn't something he could bullshit his way through. This was marriage. Mitty was going to see the warted underbelly of when he was Reigen the man instead of Reigen the psychic. His fiancé was going to experience sides of him he only revealed when he was alone. Would he still like him even then?

Reigen was good at a lot of things but this had to be the one that counted most. Could he really be a good partner forever? 

Was he really going to cut it as a husband? 

"Hey, Serizawa?" Reigen asked, not looking at him. 

The man's shoulders lurched at his name suddenly being called. He straightened his back. "Oh! Yes sir?"

"Do you think we'll be good together?" 

Silence sat heavily for a moment. Every second felt longer than the last. 

His friend seemed taken aback by the question but nonetheless looked at the ceiling as though collecting the right words to answer. "Well…"

Another moment passed and Reigen waited with his hands clasped and breath baited. 

"I've never been with anyone so I can't say for certain what a good relationship is but," A compassionate smile spread across the esper's face before he continued, visibly more sure of his words. "I think you and Mr. Mitty understand each other. You always seem to know what the other is thinking. You motivate each other to be better and you seem happy when you're together. And...and you trust each other too. And I think that's whats important." 

Reigen looked at the velveted floor. "Then…"  

"You've become more honest by being with him and he talks like you're really important to him. So please...get married if it makes you both happy! I think you can really be something!" His friend was beaming with 

what Reigen could only say was genuine assurance. 

"I really believe you'll take care of each other." 

His co-worker actually really was resourceful. Maybe someday he ought to pay him more. The uncomfortable feelings waned slightly and his shoulders slowly slacked. Mitty was waiting for him so now wasn't the time to lose it. 

After a few seconds of letting his feelings iron themselves out, he stood and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket. "Well alright then. If thats what you think then I guess there's no backing out of this one." 

Serizawa pressed his hands together in delight. "YES! I've got your back, Reigen!" 

The door into the hallway opened and a set of black eyes peered into the room. "Master, It's starting. Are you coming?" 

The jarring announcement had him scrambling to fix the piece of hair he'd been fussing with. 

"OF COURSE." He jabbed his thumb into his own chest to feign total confidence. "Right behind you, Mob!" 

He held his breath. Alright, let's do this. 

Mitty POV

Teal eyes darted around the room carefully. 

"Hey...Dimple? You there?"

The whizzing of the spirit materializing buzzed next to his ear. 

"Yeah whaddya want? You're on soon, aren't you?" 

Mitty jabbed his right hook into the air where the voice was coming from. "AGH WHAT THE HELL?"

A swift flash of green dodged his reach. 

"HEY, why are you hitting me?! You asked for ME, remember?" The ghost clucked his tongue in disapproval and floated a few inches away for safety. 

"WELL MATERIALIZE WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, YOU BIG BOOGER! I'm on edge!" 

"On edge? What for? You're the one who wanted this, right?"

"W..well….yeah, sorry." He looked at his clenched fist and opened it. "...sorry." He said again more thoughtfully this time. 

Dimple raised a spectral eyebrow. "Whats wrong? Having second thoughts? I mean it's Reigen so who can blame ya."

Mitty scowled while straightening his tie in the mirror. "Hey! REIGEN'S…." His voice softened closer to a whisper. "A pretty good guy. Get off my case. Aren't you supposed to be my support? You're being kinda harsh!" 

"Well kid, something is obviously on your mind so let's hear it. Wedding starts soon right? Yeesh. Once you do all this he's your problem forever." 

"I'm not worried about him!! I'm more worried about...me."

"About you? What're you talkin' about?! You're too good for him!"

"Thanks for the flattery. You still can't have my body though."

"Well I didn't want it anyways, ya bastard. You're weak compared to Shigeo. I'm just being honest here!" 

Silence.

"So? Out with it, What did you want anyways? You're talking nonsense here!" 

Mitty wrinkled his nose in discomfort.  "I just needed to ask something. But you can't run your mouth off like you always do, you old gossip. You're like a knitting circle."

"TCH. like I'd blabber your business to someone. It's all so boring."

"Yeah, yeah just listen, alright?!"

Another few seconds passed. "So? Say it. We don't have all day, you know."

He was looking at his hands again like he was somewhere far off. "Well. D...D'you think I'll be good at this?" 

"Good at what, exactly?" 

"Being married." 

Dimple's form rippled with thought. "You're seriously worried about that?"

Mitty was going to make a sharp remark but his head dropped and his face buried into his knuckles. "Yeah."

Dimple deflated slightly in exasperated defeat. Humans could be so ignorant. 

"Listen. That fraud never shuts up about you. You think you're not good enough? You should hear him talk. It's annoying how you both don't realize things."

"Realize things?"

He sighed and shrugged his tiny arms. "I hear everything whether you like it or not. You two idiots never stop talking and moaning about the other is too good for the other. It's getting old, really." 

"HUH? He says that? No way! But he's always beaten me at everything! I always thought he was way out of my league." 

 "Kinda the opposite actually but...sure. What I'm saying is…! You're both seeing the best parts of each other. Keep doing that and it'll be smooth sailing."

"Yeah but...what if he stops seeing the best in me?'

"You planning on making things hard?" 

"Not really. I just know I can be difficult to deal with." 

"So is he. You really think you got this far because Reigen's all roses and sunshine? 'Course not. You've seen all the stuff he does and you still like him, right?" 

He certainly was flawed, that was for sure. Mitty spent most of Reigen's antics with his eyes rolled up in his head but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying the moment either. 

"Right."

"Then it's the same for him. Sure it won't always be fun but that phoney won't give up on you just because you're annoying. He's way too persistent. It kind of ticks me off." 

I'm annoying???  That stung but he shook it off.

Reigen was going to have to deal with him for the rest of his life once they said the right words. But if Dimple was right...would it be so bad to annoy each other for the rest of their lives if the other was willing to put up with it? 

Reigen seemed okay with it so far. Mitty would just have to listen to him make a fuss about his coffee table clutter until he died. But really, he wouldn't have that any other way. His voice was kind of cute when he hit that inhuman octave he had when he was in disbelief. 

The door from the hall swung open and a blond clad in what was perhaps the most blinding and loud suit he had ever seen poked his head in. 

"Oh, You're still in here? It's bad luck to be late on your wedding day! Master Reigen is waiting. " He cocked his head to the side. "Or did you need some help with your suit? Its looking a little plain." 

Hanazawa. This kid would try to accessorize his suit in the worst way possible. He put up his hands to wave him off. 

"N-nah, kiddo that's alright. I'll be right there."

Hanazawa, after a few more attempts to get Mitty to let him help retreated back into the hallway. When it was quiet again he eyed Dimple. He was abrasive and unpleasant. He always had a motive for everything and rarely had something nice to say. 

But he came through when it mattered. 

"Hey Dimple?" 

"Yeah? What is it?" 

"Thanks." 

Dimple wouldn't meet his eyes and levitated towards the hall. He didn't want to acknowledge he was helping, he supposed. It was in character for that tsundere blob.

"You ought to get out of here now if you wanna make it on time." 

He stood and dusted himself off. 

"Welp. Here goes everything."

[m-feys]

mp100 wip | ~ 5000 words | Teru POV | terumob + Reigen & Teru |  set in a fight with unknown espers, Teru struggles with mortaltiy, while Mob struggles to save him

-

"You have to let me go!"

He could see them charging the blast out of the corner of his eye and knew they couldn't last like this.

If Shigeo didn't focus on shielding himself, he would simply be shot out of the sky.

"Let me go or you're gonna die!" he screamed urgently at the boy suspended unnaturally among the clouds. Shigeo only stared, those ever intense eyes trained on him, teeth bared. His refusal unspoken but still palpable, just like the electricity in the air. They were trying to kill him.

It was a miracle on its own that the power blocking move had not worked on Shigeo entirely. But of course, miracles were Mob's average. But there was no way he would survive this, still holding onto Teruki. Miracle or not.

Mob wasn't holding him up with his powers. Teru may not have psychic energy at the moment— the move had it’s intended effect on him— so he couldn't sense Shigeo's energy like he always could. Even from great distances he could always feel him humming with power, it was unsettling to lack that feeling, especially so close. But still, he could tell the boy was only holding him by the iron grip on his wrist.

The tell-tale feeling of your body being held up by tiny cushions of power wasn't there. Instead, the whole of his weight was suspended by his arm. And his shoulder hurt, hurt, hurt. But only in the back of his mind was he aware of that. He could see Mob physically straining, and feel his grip tighten every time his sweat-slicked hand started to slip.

Teru couldn't overpower him in a psychic opposition. Especially not right now. But Mob wasn't holding him up with his powers.

For a moment it was like the world narrowed to only them and in a moment of clarity, knowing exactly what he had to do, Teru reached up with his free arm and grasped onto Mob's hand on his wrist.

Methodically, he started to pry those starch fingers away from his skin. He could feel himself slipping. He couldn't look away from Shigeo, even as the boy above him looked almost furious, eyes brimming with rage. Wait, no, maybe that was fear. Teru wasn't quite sure, even as he fell and Mob started to shrink from his view, oh, so quickly.

Still, falling like this, he felt an odd sense of calm. Either he would regain some of his powers before he hit the ground or he wouldn't. Still, either way, Shigeo would live.

What he didn't expect was to stop after few seconds of falling, coming to a painful halt.

It felt like he'd been dropped on the pavement but he was alive and he didn't think he'd broken anything. Yet he couldn't move, having been grabbed out of the air with someone's psychic powers as an iron fist. He was rising again and when Shigeo came into view he was shaking as he still had his hand reaching down in Teru's direction.

The moment of calm, probably very poor clarity, and maybe extremely bad judgement, was long broken, but it was then that all hell broke loose.

He stops falling suddenly once more. And once more, its not the ground that catches him. This time he can feel that familiar power. The unique aura that Mob has is holding him up. This time, its careful and unpanicked and he knows this is because Mob is at his full power.

A blast cuts through the air like a knife, deafening him as he sees Shigeo flung away like he's nothing more than an errant fly. The other boy goes careening through the clouds until Teru can't see him anymore. And he screams. Screams something. Has no idea what, barely even can hear himself to his muted ears as he screams for Shigeo. They were both falling now.

He's lifted again until he's level with the other boy and blinding star bursts of light explode around the espers attacking them, immense untamable energy hums through the air. And Teru feels his pulse beating staccato through the red handprint on his wrist, along with the thrumming in his ears. The flashes of power are dazzling but he finds his eyes going back to Shigeo and sees the boy suspended limply in the air. Eyes open slightlessly, wide and glowing as energy whipped around him and cast him in shadow. He's unconscious.

Teruki can only stare as their assailants are destroyed and cast back down to earth. He has no doubt, however, that Mob managed to leave them alive as he always did with humans, even while unconscious. Espers were never easy to kill, either.

They drift back to the ground with ease and once Teru is steady on his feet his picks his way past rubble over to Shigeo where he stays hovered just above the ground. His eyes are unsettlingly empty; Teru still doesn't look away, just watches and waits for him to wake up, clutching onto his inflamed shoulder all the while.

It's ironic. Right now when Mob is waking up from his unconscious explosion, he drifts back down to earth instead of getting up. He reaches out to steady him as he settles. He remembers how he lead the floating Kageyama back to his apartment by his hand, like a balloon on a string.

Then Teru is sitting down next to his shoulder, carefully balancing on his good arm and keeping his other still. His shoulder pounds a pulse beat as he feels the wrongness there. It must be dislocated. He reaches his hand back to it instinctively once he's settled and stares out at the destruction from their fight all around them. It's quiet, peaceful.

He glanced down to find Shigeo's eyes open staring mournfully up at the sky.

"Welcome back, Kageyama-kun," he says, trying for a smile.

"What did I do?" He asks blankly, eyes focused on nothing. "I can't remember."

"You saved me," is all Teru says, its simple. It's the truth.

For reasons he can't quite fathom, Kageyama’s eyes are welling up with tears now. There's nothing he can say and Teruki wishes the cinematic parallels to their first fight would just stop.

Shigeo starts to shift away from him, curling up on himself, lying on his side. And Teru knows nothing he can do to help. He hesitates for a moment as the boy sobs into his hands, then he falls forward, sort of half lying on him in his best attempt at a hug as he keeps his useless arm at his side while clutching at Shigeo's T-shirt with the other. He buries his nose in his shoulder and tries to muster a sadness to match Mob's but can only find fury that he can't do anything to fix it. And exhaustion. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against him like he might could bore his head into him and seep the sadness out of him like a sponge. They were alive, that had to count for something.

"We're ok!" He reminds him desperately. He clenches his teeth as Shigeo’s sobs continue on with shuddering breaths shaking his shoulder beneath Teru's head.

Then the boy is shifting and his shirt, still held fast in Teru's fist, is twisting around his abdomen. Arms are wrapping around Teru's head and shoulder as Mob presses his tear soaked face into his hair and cries.

He stays folded on himself and in Shigeo's grasp, hand held tight onto his shirt, needing something solid.

"We're ok," he repeats.

---

In the end it’s Shigeo's master that gets him to the hospital.

Ritsu is the one who finds them, trained in on his brother like a bloodhound. So, they're found not too long after falling from the sky. And Reigen is in tow, sprinting frantically after the esper boy zipping around with telekinesis.

The swelling of his shoulder probably was easy to spot, but the twist of pain on his face likely even easier. They go to Mob first, which Teru understands entirely. Ritsu quickly hugs his brother before staring on about questions of 'who did this' and 'where are they Nii-san'. while Reigen hands him a a handkerchief for his tears, asking if he's hurt. And checking him over for injuries even after the shake of his head. Teru sits with his knees curled up and injured arm held close and careful by his body. He watches as Reigen brushes Mob's hair back to check for head injuries while Ritsu stays tensely by his side and wonders if this burning feeling means he's jealous or grateful that Mob has people who so genuinely care for him. Family. Maybe he feels both.

With no warning, the attention is turned to him. And he's supposed to be used having all eyes on him, has reveled in it, in fact, but right now he's caught off guard. His wound is easy to see so there's no real need to ask, he thinks.

"What happened?" Reigen asks soberly as they look to him. Oh, that must be why they're focused on him now. They need the story.

He starts to explain, brows furrowed as he tries to relay it all as best he can, "They ambushed us, and then they stripped me of my power and I couldn't do anything, Mob had to—" Reigen cuts him off with a wave of his hand as if brushing it all aside.

"No, don't worry about any of that right now." He tells him seriously, looking him in the eye. "You can tell us about that later. What happened to your arm? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He hates the way his face crumples at the concerned words and all he can think is 'why bother crying now?' Don’t cry when they're looking at you. Don't show weakness. But he can't stop the well tears, even as he tries to blink them away. He swipes his good hand across his face quickly, trying to recover his composure and keep his voice steady, "My shoulder is dislocated," he admits miserably.

"Anywhere else hurt?" Reigen asks and all Teru can answer with this time is a shake of his head. He feels small and venerable— not for the first time. But its overwhelming to have someone trying to take care of him, that, he has not experienced in a long while.

Still, Shigeo's master leans over and brushes a hand across his head as he checks for injuries.

"Your nose is bleeding, does that hurt?" Reigen raises a concerned eyebrow at him and Teru reaches up to touch just above his lip and strangely enough finds it to be damp, pulling his fingers away to find deep crimson stained on their tips.

"I didn't even notice."

"Hm," Reigen simply nods with a frown and turns back to Mob, Teru barely hears what he asks him as he marvels how he didn't notice his nose bleeding. Then he's turning back to him, the handkerchief returned from Mob, "Sorry I don't have another, but you can use this and don't tilt your head back, let the blood drain out."

He nods and does as told, the cloth is not even damp, he thinks most of Mob's tears and snot must be in his hair. That's sort of funny.

"You think you can walk?" Reigen asks, still holding his crouch in front of him, hands braced on his knees.

"I can carry you," Ritsu offers quickly.

Teru shakes his head though. "No, I can walk." He answers readily.

Reigen nods and pushes himself to stand up before holding a hand down for Teru.

He looks at the hand, then up at the man offering it. He isn't entirely sure he trusts him. He admires him, just from having seen him in action that night at Claw and knows if he's Mob's master he must be someone good. But he's also an adult. And the way Teru sees it, adults either want to control you, and see you put into your place. Or, they abandon you. And they don't look back. The problem is, he wants so badly for an adult to see worth in him, especially someone good like Shigeo's master. But his brain is warning him he's only going to have his trust broken.

So be he hesitates, but in the end he takes his hand. He could use the help, he just hopes he isn't let down. Reigen holds him steady while he gets his legs under him without the use of his other arm. Then "You can lean on me if you need to ok?" The man offers.

"I can still lift both of you if you need," Ritsu adds, watching his movements sharply.

"Just let us know if you need help," Reigen decides.

He nods to acknowledge the words but Teru doesn't really ask for help. He watches as Ritsu helps Shigeo to his feet now. Their eyes catch as he stands and Teru takes the chance to study his face while Mob watches him in return.

"We just need to walk to the road then I can get us a car," Reigen says, clapping his hands together lightly, "hopefully," he adds under his breath.

Theres a small cut on the other boy's cheek that seems to have stopped bleeding already and one of his eyes is beginning to swell. His eye catches on the smear of blood on the shoulder of Shigeo’s dirty, roughed-up t-shirt where Teru had pressed his face into the fabric.

"I have to go find those guys," Ritsu declares dangerously.

Ritsu looks at his brother, brows furrowed, "Nii-san, I can go find them so they won't just get away," he offers more evenly.

"You need to stay with your brother," Reigen counters easily.

Shigeo shakes his head solemly, "... stay with us. Please, Ritsu."

"... Okay."

"Now," reigen says, stepping behind them to steer them forward gently. "Let's get you two to the hospital. I'll make sure nobody falls behind, Ritsu why don't you take the lead."

Little brother nods seriously as he walks up front, glancing back every now and then, while Reigen walks a few paces behind them.

Teruki glances over to Shigeo beside him. He looks tired, but Teru can't quite tell if he still feels all that despair he'd shown earlier. His gaze falls back to the blood stain on his shoulder. And he thinks of being curled up beside him. He thinks of trying to find some way to assuage all that pain.

Any and all risks Teru takes are calculated. When you see him fight he may not seem it, but he's careful. And he's always taking in information. So even if every move he makes might be a gamble, its one he knows he'll win. All his choices are careful and safe, except for when it comes to Kageyama Shigeo, apparently.

He starts to reach out, their hands are close as they walk side by side. and its easy to brush pinkies. He sees Mob's eyes flit down to their hands and then back ahead of them. And Teru honestly has no idea what he's thinking. What he might do. If he'll pull away, or brush closer. He does neither of those things though, simply keeps his hand where it is and walks. Teru takes another risk. He brushes his fingers past his palm and slots their hands together.

Mob blinks, misses a step and almost trips as he looks down at their hands. Then he's looking back up at him with wide eyes, and Teru waits for the backlash.

It doesn't come. Shigeo simply looks back down at his feet carefully studying their steps. And, he holds Teru's hand.

---

Their palms get sweaty and Shigeo starts to swing their hands stiffly between them like he doesn't know what he's meant to do. And Teruki feels like their hands were made to fit together.

Teru isn't exactly certain what information Reigen wrote on his sign-in form. He remembers answering a few questions for him, but recalls nothing about his parents.

The man is sat in a chair beside him in the hospital room now, idly flipping through a magazine. Teru is on the bed, his arm resting in a sling. They gave him pain medication and plan to release him in a few hours. But for now its just waiting, and stillness. He stares down at the spider web crack running across his phone screen, minimal damage considering what they'd been through.

"How ya feeling?" Reigen asks out of the blue, still looking at the magazine.

"Fine," he answers simply. The man is setting the magazine aside then, open-face on the small bedside table, focused on Teru now.

"That's one hell of a bruise."

He blinks and looks down at the purpling mark in the vague shape of a hand holding onto his wrist.

"Yeah," he agrees blankly.

"Wanna talk about it?" The question takes him off guard and he actually looks over at Reigen now. He looks serious; Teru considers it. He shrugs, feeling a slight twinge in his shoulder as he does.

"Mob did that?" He wonders, seeming concerned.

"Kageyama-kun just had to grab me." Something about Reigen's expression seems to sharpen at that.

"He had to, he saved me from falling."

"But he didn't catch you with his powers?"

"The power blocking, they had—" he starts, feeling impatient at having to explain this again.

"Oh, right, of course," Reigen nods, recalling.

It's silent for a moment again as he looks back down at his phone and traces the crack once more. For some reason he keeps talking, "I tried to save him too, but I couldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"When he had me I knew he couldn't protect himself if he was holding me so I tried to get him to let me go."

The room is dead silent then for a long moment. He looks over at Reigen after it goes on for too long, having expected a response.

He finds the man staring at him intently, eyes wide and horrified, "You did what?" He demands.

"I tried to save him," he clarifies but for some reason he's starting to feel guilty.

"You tried to throw yourself into a river to be someone else’s raft. That stuff doesn't work."

"He could have died trying to protect me!" He bites back feeling sick to his stomach at the thought.

"And you could have died from the fall!" Reigen responds, leaning towards him, looking furious.

"Why does that matter!?" He demands.

Reigen moves to perch on the bed beside his legs. He looks at him seriously, voice gentler now as he speaks, "you matter."

"Because you matter!" Reigen tells him sharply standing quickly, and Teru goes still with shock. "You matter! You're alive and you've got your whole life ahead of you. You don't just throw that away. You've got people who care about you and people who will down the line. Don't. throw. that. away." Teru wants to shrink away from the words. He stares up at the man and tears well up in his eyes.

Teruki had always lived a world that moved as game chips. Useful, well-liked pieces were kept, while unnecessary or threatening pieces were discarded. In the past he told himself he was an important piece because of his powers. One that could move other pieces as he liked. Then Mob came along and he wasn't so important anymore. 

Which was ok, really, if he didn't have to be special. It was ok that he wasn't perfect. Right? But he was just another piece then. Disposable. This Master Reigen seemed to think otherwise. That he had worth simply for being alive. Tears were streaming down his face but he wasn't quite sure when he had started crying.

A hand was on his shoulder, his uninjured one. "If Mob was trying to save you, don't try to take that choice from him." He continued sincerely, then sighed, "You're both alive and well, and that's what matters."

"Where is he?" Teru asks in a broken voice, too overwhelmed to be worried about seeming weak and getting choked up.

"He should be out of treatment soon or already is out." Reigen spoke, patting Teru's shoulder twice before standing from the bed and walking to the bathroom. "Do you want me to try and find him?" He asks, voice drifting out from the open door of the bathroom as he opens some cabinet drawers.

He steps back out with a roll of toilet paper, setting it down on the bed just next to Teru. He grabs it, wordlessly grateful for the immediate chance to wipe his face. He removes a length of it and sets the roll back down next to his phone. Something occurs to him.

"Did you have them call my parents?"

"No." Reigen answers simply moving to lean against the wall.

"But— how did you sign me in then?" He looks at him, bewildered.

"I said that I was your guardian." He responds like it makes the all the sense in the world and Teru balks.

"Why would you do that?" He demands.

Reigen considers him and Teru envies the way he keeps his demeanor his so unaffected even when he's being challenged.

"Mob told me you live alone and I have no idea what your relationship with your parents are like. And this way we don't have to wade thought the bullsh— the muck of trying to explain what happened before you get treatment."

That all... made sense.

"Want me to call them now?

He shakes his head quickly. Something else occurs to him, "You're paying for this?"

The man's mouth quirked in a smile, "Of course, I'm your dad now, aren't I?"

He couldn't help but snort at that. "Yeah... right."

---

Reigen had disappeared to talk to the front desk about payment but in his absence he'd sent Shigeo and Ritsu to keep him company in his room.

"Hey, Hanazawa," Ritsu spoke as he entered the room first, pushing the door open with Shigeo trailing just behind him.

"Hanazawa-kun," his older brother spoke, stepping out from beside him to stand just next to his bed as he looked him over intently. "How is your arm?"

Teru found himself smiling, "Hi, kageyama-kun and little brother. My arm is fine. Or at least it will be."

Mob nodded stiffly, examining the floor in great detail now. Teru was still focused only on him, concern knitting his brows when Ritsu spoke up.

"I'm gonna get get some water, anybody want some?" The door squeaked open as he spoke and both of them looked over to see him halfway out the door already, looking at them expectantly.

"I'm ok," Teru spoke and glanced at Mob's perplexed expression, adding, "We're ok."

Ritsu simply nodded and then he was gone, door slipping shut behind him. That was a little odd.

"Why didn't he get water before we came in here?" Mob wonders softly.

"Maybe he actually had to take a shit and didn't want to admit it?" Teru offered as explanation.

The line between Shigeo's brows deepened as he put a hand to his chin and considered this carefully, then, "maybe," he decided doubtfully.

Teru smiled at his serious expression but it started to fade as the worry on Mob's expression didn't ease.

"There are chairs if you want—"

Shigeo cut him off, which was a rarity in itself, "Can I see?"

"See what?"

"You arm." Teru tensed at the grave demeanor he was carrying, but shifted the arm in the sling towards him with no hesitance, so he could get a better look. Slowly, Shigeo reached a hand towards his, eyes focused on the purple bruise wrapped around his wrist.

Fingers brushed the discolored skin there with a feather light touch. Teru dared not move feeling like anything would startle this fragile moment, as if Mob might startle off like an injured animal. Which was ironic considering Teru was the hurt animal in this situation. Maybe Shigeo was feeling the same way towards him.

"Does it hurt?" The words were soft and Teru let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"No, not right now."

The hand lingered there for a long moment and he could only guess what was in Shigeo's head. But that wasn't enough for him.

"What are you thinking?" He wonders, barely above a whisper.

Dark eyes flit up to him, then back down. His hand moves away incrementally, no longer touching, but fingers still arrayed around his skin. "I... think I might could help heal you. But I don't want to mess it up," he supplied quietly, "And make it worse."

"You can try it," he answered immediately, trusting him entirely. "It’s just a bruise, so its not like you'll be trying to mend bone or something," he reasoned after the fact.

Shigeo hesitated for just a moment longer before a soft white glow started to emit from his hand held around Teru's wrist.

The feeling of it was hard to pin down, the power felt warm, uncomfortably so, almost like his body was running too hot just under the skin. And pinpricks were buzzing where the damaged blood vessels knitted themselves back together. It felt unnatural, but Teru kept himself still and let him work. When Mob did pull his hand away, he could see that the bruise was still visible in a few dark purpled spots and the rest faded to the brown of an old bruise. Like it had healed unevenly. Interesting.

"How does it feel?" Shigeo asked and when Teru glanced at him he could see the nervous tension around the boy's eyes.

He poked one of the brown places experimentally, nothing, "It feels better," he spoke, looking up to turn a smile on the other boy. In response, Shigeo’s shoulders relaxed incrementally as he took a step back to collapse into one of the chairs situated next to the bed. Teru relaxed back into his pillows in turn, still keeping his eyes on the other boy. As he settled into the chair, Mob curled in on himself, looking down at his hands as he twisted them together in his lap.

"Thank you, Kageyama-kun," he spoke sincerely, trying to calm whatever distressing thoughts he might be having.

"Why did you do it?" He asked in response, getting right to the thick of it.

Teru swallowed, "Do what?"

When Mob looked up at him his eyes were shining again and this time it was Teru who was staring down at his hands, unable to look at him.

"Why did you make me let you go?"

"I was trying to save you," he spoke, voice thick and nervous.

"You were hurting me," Shigeo responded simply and at those words Teruki's head snapped back up to look at him. The expression he wore was hard to parse and it was all Teru could do to hold his gaze, like whatever feeling was in his eyes was burning him just from looking at it. "I wasn't going to let you fall. But you just kept falling."

Teru froze at that, he hadn't thought of it from Mob's perspective, he'd watched him fall three times and three times he caught him, but the third he hadn't even been awake to see. His eyes drifted back down to his hands, curled instinctually around his phone and its dark, cracked screen.

"I didn't want you to get hurt protecting me," he said so softly and right now he couldn't bring himself to say 'die' when Mob had been so close to it and had seen him stray too close to it as well.

"I didn't. We're both still here."

"We are," he agrees brokenly, feeling like he's drowning in the smallest puddles.

"I'm always going to save you if I can. Please don't try to stop me." He requests. And Teru stares at his reflection in a cracked phone screen, face screwed up as tears well in his eyes. "Please, don't do that again," Shigeo asks of him once more and Teru can's speak as a drop of water lands on the reflective surface of his screen, another joins it as they run down the side and one seeps into the crack. He nods.

"Okay," he chokes out in agreement, managing to turn and look up at him. Mob has tear streaks running down his cheeks to match Teru's and he can't help but reach out his good hand towards him. Mob obliged him, standing and stepping towards the bed, and with no prompting he leans down to hug him. His arms are gently draped around him, as if he's trying to only barely be there. Teru holds onto him with his one arm as tight as he can.

"We're ok," Mob says, an echo of Teru's words earlier.

"We're ok," he repeats.

---

"He's just out in the hallway," Mob comments looking bewildered.

"Really?" Teru wonders, Shigeo had scooted his chair closer now and was allowing him to hold his hand. Though Mob had asked Teru if he was doing it right at first.

"Yes, he doesn't seem to be doing anything," he glanced up at Teru curiously, "can you sense him?"

"Maybe if I focused on him."

"Do you have your powers back yet?"

"I haven't tried yet," he admitted with a shrug. He could sense Mob's power again though, emanating from him like warmth from a radiator. Though there was really no telling if that spoke to the strength of his own power or the strength of Mob's. And Mob's psychic aura tended to drown out others, or at least Teruki was more tuned in to it than others. Maybe if he worked at it he could sense past the hum of power beside him into the hall where Ritsu was, but he had no real need or desire to. Instead he focused on his phone. It lifted easily and orbited in the air. He turned to look at Shigeo. "They're back."

Mob nodded, then gently tugged his hand away, quickly wiping it on his pants, "Sorry, my hand was sweaty," he spoke, but kept his hand in his lap. Teru quashed down his disappointment and nodded in return.

"Do you know how they did it?"

Mob's dark eyes shine in the cold lights as he looks at him from under his bangs.

"Did what?"

"The power blocking move."

“Not really,” he said, eyes still focused on Teru intently.

“What did it feel like to you? You still had some of your powers,” he points out, always wanting to know more.

Mob hesitates, staring down to study his hands in his lap before he answers, “strange... Like I was muffled.”

“It stopped working on you completely when you passed out,” Teru observed, already hypothesizing. It seemed to have some connection to the conscious mind, and they knew it was temporary.

“Maybe you have to be thinking about it,” Mob wondered.

Teru lit up at that, “you mean like perception block in your mind?”

Shigeo blinked at him, “maybe,” he agreed mildly, clearly not undestanding, but Teru smiled at him anyway, Mob may have figured out more than he knew, he’d have to work on this.

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

The Picture Pinned on the Wall - Mp100 Fanfiction

Also read on Ao3

Beware the read-more. It’s long.

“It started with a picture, and then it got worse from there.

Reigen wasn’t supposed to get so attached.”

Reigen meets the boy when he’s ten years old, and he’s pretty sure he feels nothing. Actually, the first feeling associated towards this kid is hostility, as this juvenile swaggers to his door and bemoans the destruction of his own powers. The prank is not elaborate, nor funny, but it wastes Reigen’s time, which is always the goal for these kids. He almost slams the door in the kid’s face — he never thought of himself as  good  with children, having neither the patience nor tolerance for these sorts of stunts — but then the child continues. His eyes are wide and bloodshot and full of terror, and it makes Reigen pause. Kids aren’t normally such good actors. The boy holds a white knuckled-grip on the straps of his backpack, his small body swallowed up by the expanse of the doorframe, and it takes another minute for Reigen to decide that he’s not lying. Then, there’s this twist in his gut that he knows won’t go away until he hears this bowl-haired kid out. He bites at the flesh inside his cheek and invites the boy inside. 

It wasn’t supposed to go further than a cup of tea and a bid farewell. The kid shares his troubles with such vivid imagination that leaves Reigen impressed. A child conjuring the idea of spirits gnawing at the safety barriers in a neighbor’s home, with the boy able to exorcise all of them with a wave of his hand and, in a horrifying realization, harm the neighbors as well — perhaps there’s some psychological trauma Reigen has no business handling. But when Reigen presses for clues, the boy speaks of his parents fondly, without a hint of distress, and his life seems otherwise normal. It’s not much to go off on, but then Reigen remembers that this kid isn’t his problem, and he’s taking up time that could otherwise be used to be speaking with clients, so he chews on a quick speech to help soothe the child’s nerves enough to send him home, a reformed man. 

“Be a good person.” That was fine enough. He couldn’t go wrong with that. Nothing to twist the child’s worldview into some killer. Whatever his complex — and confidence for this child to kill another human being was something new — if he was taught that his powers were not inherently evil, but rather a tool for him to use, then he would be alright. Especially after he broke out of his fantasy. 

And then the child  stares  at him. It unnerves him, the open expression of awe on the child’s face, like a flower turning towards the sun. He looks as though Reigen’s led him to fresh waters and he’s been dying in the desert, and Reigen takes to flexing his fingers on his tea mug. The child asks if he can come again. This, Reigen did not sign up for. He runs his fingers around the back of his neck, concocting some excuse that the kid couldn’t possibly take as an insult. Then, Reigen burns his tongue on his tea.

The cup falls out of his hand. His stomach shoots up to his throat as he grabs vainly at the cup, but it’s already begun its descent towards the kid. He shouts for the kid to get out of the way, and then the cup, the bubbles of tea — they’re all floating. They bob in the air like they’re suspended in water, five feet over the ground, and Reigen’s mind goes completely, white-hot blank as the tea politely bubbles back into the cup and drops neatly into the kid’s outstretched hand. Reigen stares.

And stares. 

He asks when the kid is available each week to meet.

—

Shigeo Kageyama is his name. Reigen calls him Mob. The boy is simple. It’s evident in his appearance; bowl cut hair that hides the top of his eyes, unexpressive in regards to anything, and he always wears his grade school uniform. Mob fits, and the boy doesn’t seem to mind the nickname. 

Maybe it’s dangerous, Reigen giving him a nickname. He shouldn’t get attached. But on the other hand, the boy  needs to feel attached to Reigen, otherwise this won’t work and he won’t visit clients with him. But it isn’t hard, with Mob returning to Reigen’s office each day, staring expectantly at the self-proclaimed psychic as though he’s going to perform a miracle. Reigen obliges when he can, and the boy is quite easy to trick. With a wag of his finger and a few choice words, he enrages the spirits before looking expectantly to Mob to “clean them up” for him. After their screams dissipate into a puff of smoke, he concocts a speech about self-restraint, and they leave, Mob satisfied with his brilliant master, and Reigen is satisfied with a thicker wallet. They return to the office and share the news with the client, an elderly woman whose judgment relies more on superstition than wisdom. She is his favorite kind. She signs the necessary paperwork, which Reigen slides neatly into a pile and wishes her well. Before the woman goes, she glances briefly at Mob, who is seated at a makeshift desk Reigen had clawed out of his closet to create, made out of two stacks of cardboard and a long wooden slab that’s covered by a tablecloth. Reigen doesn’t even remember where he got a tablecloth. 

Her smile is fond. “Does your son come here often after school?” 

Reigen chokes, which is unfortunate because he wasn’t even eating anything. Reigen disguises it as a cough and pounds a fist into his chest. Mob looks at him in alarm. Reigen is waving his hand in the air to belay any concern.

“No,” he chokes again, and there’s a disgusting amount of phlegm in his throat. “No, he’s not my son. He’s more of a, uh…” He almost says “employee.” He’s definitely not. 

Realization dawns on the woman’s face. “Ah, he’s your apprentice. Excuse me for assuming. He’s just so young.” 

Reigen is about to wave off her apology, but he notes the change of tone at the last sentence, and he closes his mouth. The woman is staring at him intently.

“Is he compensated well?”

Maybe her judgment is not so slanted toward superstition after all. Reigen likes her a lot less. 

“He’s compensated just fine.” His tone is not necessarily snappish, but there’s a warning hidden there, at the back of his throat. The woman smiles, but it’s all thin lips and tight cheeks. 

“That’s always good. A boy should learn early how to make a living for his family.”

Reigen matches her tight smile. “He’s a hard worker. He’ll be ahead of his peers in no time.”

“I’m sure he already is.” The woman shoulders her purse, smooths her blouse, and pats the base of her curls. She turns and winks at Mob. 

“Perhaps I’ll see you boys in the future.”

“Oh,” says Mob, who enlaces his fingers together nervously. “I hope not. That means you’ll have more spirits. That’s... bad.” 

The woman’s smile doesn’t waver, but it softens under Mob’s genuine concern. “Yes,” she says, “that’s bad.” She steers her gaze back to Reigen. “But who knows? After all, 98% reduction rate… well, it’s not 100%.”

Reigen bites his tongue. His smile is plastered on his face. “Well,” he says, voice smooth as silk, “you know who to call if it ever comes to that. Have a good day, ma’am.”

Her smile is more of a sneer, but she bows to them both and ushers herself out the door. The moment it closes, Mob looks to Reigen.

“What does ‘compensated’ mean?”

Reigen really doesn’t like that woman.

———

Weeks later, they arrive back at the office late. It’s nearly dark. Reigen had hoped to get back to the office earlier and close up in time to catch dinner before rush hour, but his call volume has gone up. Word was getting out that self-proclaimed psychic Reigen Arataka could exorcise spirits  legitimately. It’s certainly not a back-to-back call operation, but it is more than he has ever gotten in the past. He has calls to return.

The office is stale and hot when Reigen swings open the door; he had shut off the air conditioner before they had left. It leaves the place feeling sticky, but Reigen merely adjusts his tie and flicks the lights on. The office is bathed in a tired yellow glow.

Mob ambles to his cardboard-wood desk and pulls his backpack from under it. The balanced cardboard sways precariously. “Shishou,” Mob begins, and it makes Reigen’s hand still over his laptop. Mob started calling him that the day after their client thumbed Kageyama as his apprentice. Sure, Reigen considered the term loosely the day Mob left his office for the first time with the assurance that he would be under Reigen’s tutelage, but the use of “shishou” left Reigen’s head spinning. It meant he couldn’t get out of this easily, if he ever wanted to. Pursue his next career goal of becoming a private investigator, for example. That was stuffed further in the wastebin the more Mob used that word. 

Reigen still isn’t willing to throw the wastebin out just yet, though. He blinks and forces himself to take the name in stride. He begins typing idly against the keys of his laptop.

“Hm?”

“Um,” Mob says, playing with the zipper of his backpack. “Um, I’m going home now.”

“Hm.”

“Um,” he says again. The kid is clearly waiting for Reigen to acknowledge him further, so Reigen peels his eyes away from his laptop screen to stare at Mob. 

“Right. Get home safe.”

It isn’t really his responsibility to walk the kid home anyway. If Shigeo’s parents are letting their ten-year-old son walk to and from school, with pockets of no communication between then and now, Reigen isn’t going to butt in. In a way, Reigen is grateful that Mob has such laid-back parents. The wary, clingy types always complicated things.

Mob nods. Reigen waits expectantly for a moment longer, eyebrows raised as the sun dips faster below the cityscape and his laptop begins to cast a blue hue over his face. Mob flushes the more he’s under Reigen’s steady gaze, and finally he stares back at his zippers, nodding again. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Shishou.”

Reigen starts typing at his keys again, but the black text keeps fizzing in and out of his vision as he listens to the rattle of Mob’s zippers as he slips into his backpack straps, the loose pencils in his bag rattling their muffled tune. Reigen is gnawing at the inside of his cheek, a pitted twist forming at the base of his gut, and it grows with each clack of Mob’s shoes against the hardwood flooring. He sighs just before the office door squeals open.

“Oi. Mob.”

Mob turns, his hands still wrapped around the handle of the door. Reigen is getting up from his desk. He fishes out his wallet and begins to count. The twist in his gut loosens a little bit. 

“Here,” Reigen says, holding a fist towards Mob. He waits for the boy to open his palm, and then he lets the coins fall with a faint metal ring, into the center of his palm. 

Mob stares at the coins. “What’s this?”

“That’s compensation.” 

Mob counts. “This is three hundred yen.”

Reigen raises an eyebrow. He almost takes it back. “And you’re ten years old.”

Mob counts the coins again. He rolls them around in his palm, then pinches each one between his fingers, staring at their thickness. “It’s three hundred yen,” Mob remarks again, but it’s not accusatory. He stares at the coins in wide-eyed wonder, as if he’s never seen three hundred yen in his life. 

Reigen is starting to feel uncomfortable. He clears his throat. “ Well  , as I said, you’re being compensated for working under me as my apprentice. Normally, I don’t fork out this sort of money, since you’re my  apprentice, not my employee, but—” Reigen waves his hand upward, gesturing vaguely above him, as if the situation that he threw himself in with this kid is somehow resting in the middle space above him, watching with impish glee, “—I ought to compensate you for your, ah, training during my job.”

Mob looks at him, enraptured. His fingers close around the coins, and they don’t make a sound when Mob bows. 

“Thank you, Master Reigen.” Reigen can only see the top of the boy’s head as he bows.

Reigen’s palm feels sticky when he rests it against his neck. He really needs to turn on the air conditioning. “Right. See you tomorrow.”

When Mob straightens, he’s smiling. It’s faint, and it could be a trick of the light, the way that the shadows curve over the boy’s face. Reigen doesn’t have time to check, because the boy twists the handle of the door and leaves Spirits and Such Consultation office without another sound.  

The conman stares at the empty space, palm still pressed against the back of his neck. The air conditioner is ghostly quiet, dead against the window. When he removes his hand, it takes a moment to unstick from his skin. He sits there, the glow of his laptop beginning to dull his senses.

He’s just covering his ass. He gave him a threadbare amount — pocket change — to keep the elderly clients’ mouths shut. Hell, he doesn’t even have to  pay the kid. He’s ten years old. They signed no documents. He’s doing Mob a favor, letting him come with him to his jobs. Now he’s paying Mob a modest wage that no other ten-year-old is making. Reigen’s neck is starting to feel moist. 

He doesn’t turn on his air conditioning that night. 

—

He’s trying not to care. But it’s hard — it’s so damn hard — when Mob looks at him with such open and baring trust, as though he’s placed his heart in Reigen’s hands and knows that he’ll squeeze it to keep it beating. He does it every day, nestling his backpack between the two cardboard stands of his makeshift desk, and watches Reigen with rapt attention, analyzing every move he makes.

“How do you do it, Shishou?” 

Reigen glances up from his desk, seconds after he had bit into his burger, the paper crinkling noisily in his hand. “Do what?” he says eloquently around his wad of burger.

“How do you keep it inside instead of it going out?”

Reigen’s mouth feels like paste, and he swallows the burger with difficulty. He stares at the corner of his office, searching for something to say. (A small voice tells him that he’s way over his head — another argues that he’s just a kid, really; how bad can it be?) The bun of the burger had formed a thin layer of mush behind his teeth, and he buys time by cleaning it out with his tongue. 

“Well,” Reigen says, and clears his throat when his voice cracks at the end syllable. “I’m doing it just like you are now. I stay calm. Remember the knife.” He forms his hand into a fist, wiggling around an invisible knife. “I’m in control. So are you. It’s not something to fear.” He offers a small smile. “I learn to trust myself, Mob. In time, you will, too.”

And there it is again, that look of raw hope. Reigen doesn’t have the heart to discourage it, so he smiles wider, encouragingly, before retreating to his laptop, burger forgotten beside him. 

An hour later, with no show of new clients, he tells Mob to go home. But even after the door closes, Reigen can’t escape that wide-eyed stare, that desperate gaze, where the ten-year-old boy places his trust in a stranger, fastening a rope between them both and never letting go.

That old pit is forming again at the base of his gut. He disregards it at hunger, and he eats the rest of his burger.

———

It’s been three months since that day they met at the consultation office. Roughly. Reigen hasn’t kept count, with the volume of clients growing and his schedule growing in tandem each week. He’s noticed that the seasons have changed, though, because Reigen doesn’t have to turn his air conditioner on nearly as often, and that cuts back on costs, which Reigen  always remembers. Mob comes in later in the afternoon, bundled in a scarf but otherwise as plain as the day Reigen met him. He says hello. Reigen replies with a wave of his hand, preoccupied with the emails left in his inbox. Regardless of the internet traffic, he’s made no new clients today, and he’s sporting a migraine. He barely notices Mob staring at him expectantly at his desk. 

“Nothing today, Mob,” Reigen grunts. “Feel free to… do your homework or something. Or leave.”  Without pay , Reigen adds. This migraine is making him particularly moody. 

Minutes pass, he thinks, as Reigen is staring blearily at his computer screen, an ache settling at the back of his eyes, scrolling up and down his read and replied files. He might have spaced out, or completely forgotten where he was, because he jumps slightly at the sound of paper sliding across his desk. He looks past his computer screen to see Mob’s eyes peek over the desk, through his mop of black hair, as a tiny hand pushes a sheet filled with scribbles toward him. Reigen picks it up and squints at it.

It’s a drawing. There’s lots of swirls — greens and blues and pinks — and shapes and a form that, after a bit of deliberation, looks like a man in a black-grey shirt with a thin wispy line of pink on his chest, with bright orange hair that’s fringed at every turn and a crooked smile in thick black crayon. Reigen looks to Mob for answers.

Mob looks embarrassed. “For you. We drew it in class.”  

And then there’s a light above his head. It’s an old, dusty light stolen from a hardware store, but it flickers to life over his head as Reigen stares at the page. The squiggly man is him, smiling in front of a crooked building with too many windows but with the sign — his sign — drawn squarely at the center of the building:  Spirts n Such Consoltashun. 

Something gets warm in his chest — something that replaces the black stewing pit — that makes him stare at the page for a moment longer. The warmth is not explosive — just a little ember, sitting at the center of his ribcage — but it’s enough for Reigen to know.

His do-not-care policy is quickly coming to an end.

--

He thanks Mob, of course, and tells him it looks great, even though, objectively, it doesn’t. Most ten-year-olds grow to draw more recognizable images, so if there was an art contest, Mob would most definitively be in last place. But he keeps it. He doesn’t know why, but when Mob leaves, Reigen searches for an empty manilla folder, digging through old cardboard boxes packed in the massage room, discarding less important paperwork — taxes, mostly — to find a somewhat fresh folder. Shaking off layers of dust from himself and his papers, he presses the drawing gently into the folder, repositioning the edges so it fits perfectly inside. It’s bright and colorful and so unlike the papers he’s read for years on end.

He stares at it for a long time.

—

It is not a one-time occurrence.

It happens infrequently, but Reigen knows when he’s about to get them. Mob walks into the office in a rush, both too slow and fast at the same time, shoulders hunched but eyes wide and clear, nibbling the bottom of his lip with nervous energy. He slips his backpack down, almost toppling his desk over, and then he opens it, the sound of paper crinkling as Mob ruins his homework but oh-so-carefully withdraws a new piece of art, this time with different colors, this time with different scenery. But the characters are always the same — him and Mob, sometimes lounging in the office, sometimes exorcising a spirit in a warehouse (he shouldn’t be concerned, but he hopes Mob’s teachers don’t talk amongst themselves about Mob’s new master and his continued encouragement of these macabre fantasies of spirits and demons). 

Each day Reigen thanks him for them and places them in his manilla folder, each pressed carefully over the other. He’s not sure what to do with them, so he keeps them there where they can’t be damaged by stray crumbs or toppled coffee. They stay in a cabinet next to his desk when they’re not lying on display on his desk, nestled between his lease paperwork and old client contacts. Sometimes, Reigen forgets about them completely.

Until, of course, the next drawing comes.

——

It’s sometime in winter when Reigen finally invites Mob to get ramen after work for the first time ever. It’s cold and dark and, even though there is no forecast for snow, the air smells just like the beginning of snowfall in Seasoning City, where the acrid smoke of the city clears into this sort of musky, oak-like smell. Reigen is tired and hungry and, when he looks at the clock on his phone, deliberates how exhausting it would be for him to stick a cup of noodles in the microwave and let it bake until his eyes start watering. He sighs and stares up at the night sky.

“Let’s get ramen.” 

Mob makes a noise beside him, something like cough or sneeze, and his eyebrows stretch skyward underneath his hair. “Really?” he asks. His tone reminds him of the first time Reigen gave him his pay. Reigen bites the inside of his cheek and finds it difficult to stare at Mob for longer than a second. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to cook anything in this weather. S’gonna be a long night, so might as well take a break while I can. Come on.”

He leads the kid to a ramen stall, where they greet the cook and settle in their seats. He orders for them both, with a decidedly smaller bowl for Mob. Mob continues thanking Reigen even when he tells him to stop, and by the fourth time, Reigen is getting annoyed.

“Oi, don’t expect me to make a habit of this. This is a one-time thing.  And this is coming out of your salary.”

Mob sobers after this and eats his ramen silently, but he still radiates this warmth that stays in Reigen’s chest for a long while, so faint and threadbare that he doesn’t even notice it until he opens the door to his apartment and is greeted by grey walls and papers strewn haphazardly over his couches, his year-old lights flickering their last sputters of light, and he realizes how good he felt in that ramen store, and how tired he feels in here.

Getting ramen does not stay a one-time thing.

——

It’s an off-day again. Reigen tells Mob to go home and then closes his office early, tucking old files below his armpit to take home with him. The weather is dark and gloomy that afternoon, which always raises people’s superstitions, which always lead to more clients, but apparently everyone is of clear mind today and hasn’t felt the need to call any psychics. Reigen can weather out the lax in calls, but he may be turning off his water for a while.

When he walks into his apartment, he scrubs the crust out of his eyes with the back of his palm, leaving his vision spotty, and he bumps into his kitchen counter. He stumbles and the files spill out from under his arm like a waterfall, and Reigen’s sigh echoes against the white tile. He bends down to pick up an unusually colorful paper.

He blinks. It’s a kid’s drawing, full of scribbles and squares, with a familiar man with orange hair and a pink tie grinning at him in thick black crayon. He looks to the rest of the spilled paperwork and sees those same familiar swirls of color. He must have accidentally added the manilla folder with his bills. 

He gently extracts each one from the ground, regards his kitchen counter with a frown, and scrubs a corner of it clean to rest the papers on. His bills he’s less gentle with, crinkling in his grip, and these he throws onto his couch to pool over after his shower. 

He doesn’t come up with his idea until after he’s out of the shower, towel over his shoulders, scrubbing at his still-wet hair and a toothbrush dangling in his mouth, and he walks back to the kitchen to stare at the blank surface of his refrigerator. The grey and orange and green is still bright at the corner of his eye. He huffs a breath of air out of his nose, a sort of “huh” noise that’s gargled by toothpaste, and realizes that he probably could have thought of this long ago. 

He tosses his towel to the side and starts rummaging through his kitchen drawers in search of magnets. 

The other papers lying on the couch are long forgotten.

--

“Shishou?”

Mob’s hand is still on the door handle when he stops in his tracks and stares at his master, who looks a little strange. He’s balancing at the top of his rolling chair, legs shakingly supporting the older man’s weight, as he’s pulling things from the wall and letting them fall onto the ground below. His suit jacket is discarded on his desk, and his tie is thrown over his shoulder. He looks especially sweaty up there. He also looks like he’s going to fall. 

Reigen glances over his shoulder, and the chair wobbles below him. “Oh! Mob. Good.” Reigen’s voice is strained, like he’s out of breath, and the mere act of swiveling his head around is using up too much energy. There are beads of sweat on his face. He motions Mob inside with a jerk of his head. “Help me out over here. Grab those posters on the floor and put them in the trash. Then grab my chair for me so I can get down.” 

Mob obediently enters, setting his backpack down next to his new desk — wooden and portable, something Reigen had bought at an online auction for less than a thousand yen, and so much better than the amalgamation of cardboard and wood and scratchy tablecloth — and goes to pick up the scraps of paper lying on the floor. They all look like posters of a younger Reigen, with his smile of too-many-teeth and flashy colors behind him. One looks out of place, of a man with black hair and a vacant gaze, with a name starting with “Mo” behind him. That one is torn. 

“Shishou, don’t you need these--?”

“Bah.” Reigen waves a hand. The chair gets even shakier. “Outdated. Don’t need them. Now hurry up, Mob. I’m gonna fall.” 

Mob rushes to throw the posters in the waste bin, which is too small and the paper scraps pool out around it. Then he rushes over to Reigen, who is huffing and puffing as though he ran several kilos, even though all he did was stand on a chair. Mob holds it steady as Reigen slowly crawls down. He radiates sweat, and when he tries to wipe his face, more sweat from his hand replaces it. 

“Good job,” Reigen pants. Mob stares at the torn posters.

“Why didn’t you just use your powers to take them down, Shishou?”

Reigen coughs and then barks out a laugh. “Oh, Mob,” he tuts. “There’s no need to use my powers for such trivial things. I can’t be reliant solely on the one thing I’m good at. Sometimes it’s good to be dependent on your own physical strength. Plus,” he coughs, “I just took down a major spirit this morning. I have to, ah, save up my remaining energy for later.”

Mob stares at his wise master and nods sagely. “Okay.” They both elect to stare at the wall which, in this case, is still not empty. “What’s that?” 

An empty cork board sits on the wall before them. It must have held the rest of Reigen’s old posters and advertisements, and now it’s completely bare. It makes the room feel a lot bigger. 

Reigen clasps a sweaty hand on Mob’s shoulder. “A client-satisfaction board, my apprentice. Here, we’ll fill it with photos taken with clients after our jobs. It gives future clients a piece of mind. A bit of security, knowing we do our job well.”

“Oh,” says Mob. He looks to his shoes and thinks. “But we don’t have any client-satisfaction pictures.”

“Not yet, Mob.” Reigen rummages under his jacket, which still lies on the desk, and pulls out what even Mob can recognize as a cheap plastic camera. “But we soon will. Here.” He spins the camera around to point at them and leans over to Mob, who stares unblinkingly at the camera lens. The device clicks, and Reigen spins it around to see the finished picture. All they see is a brown blur. 

“Ah,” Reigen grunts. “One more time.” They take another photo. They spin it around. This time, Mob can see both him and Reigen staring at the camera, Reigen with his hair stuck to his forehead and grin crooked, and Mob in midway blink. 

“Perfect,” Reigen says. He sets the camera down. “And one more thing.” 

He produces a folder from under his desk. It’s plain and tan and it looks like all the rest in Reigen’s office, but when he opens it, Mob can see some familiar scribbles. He cranes his head over the desk to see what Reigen’s doing with them, as the man pulls one, two, three from the pile and then rummages in a small box of thumbtacks. Reigen crosses the office and sticks the drawings crookedly on the corkboard, in a pattern that suggests he expects to put more photos around them, with wide space between each. They gleam in the afternoon sun, his drawings from school, that feature him and Reigen eating burgers in the office and exorcising spirits in the park. 

“There,” Reigen says, arms folded over his chest, satisfied. He glances over to Mob. “Look good?” 

The sun strikes the pictures just right, forcing Mob to squint at them as they make the office feel brighter. The little esper looks to his master, then to the corkboard, then to the folder that sits silently at the desk. After a long moment (and Reigen is starting to sweat again), he nods. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling.

“Yeah,” Mob says, soft and quiet in the tiny Spirits and Such Consultation Office. “Looks good.”

--

In Reigen’s apartment, there are still papers strewn across the couch,  the walls are grey, and the air is stale and smells like old ramen. There are dirty dishes in the sink and the counter could use a good wipe, and Reigen forgot to turn off the air conditioner when he left for work. 

And in the kitchen, hanging on the refrigerator by half-faded blue and pink magnets, rustling in the still-running air conditioner, are five of Mob’s drawings, shining proudly in the dying sunlight.

[stights]

outside by stight - serizawa katsuya/reigen arataka, 1,657 words. “he has to squint to catch the white blips of stars twinkling in the sky; this kind of black is comforting and all-encompassing, blanketing the world.” this is a work copied over from my ao3! i hope you enjoy -- and if you do, my ko-fi commissions are currently open!! i would love to write for you!!

i think i smell the rain again It’s nighttime when he steps outside. It’s the first nighttime in weeks; the concept of the sun and moon has blended into one and the wholesome swell of free spins on Gacha games remains all that he really needs, those ticking time-bombs, the vibrant firework displays of beaches and dates on a rooftop, of foreign lands and exploring with friends, of boat rides late in the afternoon and sleepy car rides, illuminated by the steady orange glow of streetlights dipping between cool windows. The people in the games aren’t ever him, though. He keeps the lights in his bedroom off just so he doesn’t see his reflection when the screen turns black, so frail and unlike those smiling cartoon figures. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t exist. There’s a certain kind of dark, disgusting guilt that comes with thinking you’re the only person of your kind in the universe, that you weren’t actually supposed to be here, on this perfect planet. He wishes he could blame his mother for these pathetic shortcomings but he can’t; the counsellors call him gifted and it’s perhaps the one thing he takes away from the sessions, greedily. Gifted. Gifted! He runs it through in his head like a mantra, if only to clutch the last sinews of human contact he’s had in months as tightly as he can. It makes him feel invincible as he lies in bed at night, that deep, comforting dip in his mattress, thinking about what he could do with this magnificent sort of gift, until he checks his phone and sees his old schoolmates’ new houses and wives and cars and he feels like screaming until his throat is hoarse, bitter, sobbing. Gifted. Gifted. fresh air awakens everything His bedroom is dark and musty and it smells like nothing and everything at the same time. Dread curls and spirals in the pit of his stomach when his mother enters the room - food? Laundry? Another therapist? - and stays dutifully quiet. He doesn’t often sprout the courage to look at the disgust thinly guised on her face because the room smells bad, awful, like himself, lines on her face illuminated by the dead blue glow of the television. She never stays long, never talks unless it’s necessary; their relationship isn’t amicable, but as he mulls over this thought long after she’s gone, leaving behind konbini platters and clean sweatpants, can he really say he has a single amity at all? The faces he sees are always smiling but they’re drawn to be that way, those model girls on dirty websites, or the counsellors except they’re ugly and they’re always talking down to him. They hate him, deep down. They want to go home to their families and the people that love them. The thought alone makes him squeeze his controller hard in his hands, feeling the plastic crack and snap. He is society’s cinder block. Out here, it smells good. The sensation shocks his lungs so much so that he doesn’t register the raindrops falling on his head until they splash his nose - it’s the special kind of cold that he can’t find from bottled konbini soda. It’s a reaction to expect his anger, one that he’s formed over fifteen years of isolation; he doesn’t like to be surprised, stopped celebrating his birthday two years in because that pink cake felt condescending. Why cherish the aging of a corpse? i hear the drizzle coming down And yet the raindrops here don’t carry any emotion at all. He closes his eyes to steady himself, but the anger doesn’t arrive, and momentarily it’s just him in the universe in his night air, allowing himself to not just be but become, to put something to this moment. When he opens his eyes again, he takes in more of the nighttime in, slowly. That’s what he’s been told to do. Taking the initiative doesn’t happen in a day but it’s the outcome of work - of others, too - but himself first and foremost. Putting himself first. The raindrops are still falling on his face and shoulders, and as he looks down he notices they’re beginning to accumulate on the street, too, which is narrow (they don’t live in a fantastic area). It’s enough, though. The houses are built taller than they are wide and each is separated from the road by a brick fence with ornate patterns woven in, plants creeping over the top of some, inquisitive and merry, green and pink and white, nodding their leaves in time to the rainfall. Their own house doesn’t have a garden; the two of them are too busy to do much other than water a few houseplants in the kitchen. As he reminisces on the fact, he can finally put an emotion to this weather that so starkly contrasts anything he’s witnessed before. He thinks it’s joy. and then i realise in all of my life His clothes aren’t really appropriate to stand here in, even if it hasn’t been long. He learnt how to iron a shirt yesterday and he’s made good use of the skill tonight, tongue stuck out in concentration as he stood in boxer briefs and shorts earlier, carefully running the iron over the sleeves, one at a time, the collar, then the main body, taking his time. It’s nice to have something to show for his efforts, even if it’s slowly getting dampened. That’s okay. He’s getting used to letting things happen, too. He can always iron it again. It’s dark above. He has to squint to catch the white blips of stars twinkling in the sky; this kind of black is comforting and all-encompassing, blanketing the world. It’s not a warm hug but touch is touch and touch is something incredible with any kind intent. Looking up and being faced with this never-ending sea reminds him of those witching hour marathons - how long had he been playing for? A day? Two? Three? Energy drink cans littered the floor and his legs ached with every sudden movement, the muscles in them tired and settled from being crossed for so long, as if they belonged to something dead - and indeed it was a zombie playing the rhythm game, the cheerful music falling on rotting ears, impenetrable to any sort of living emotion, and when the screen went black the zombie stared back at itself and its haunted eyes and its quivering mouth and those heavy salted tears spilling down its cheeks-- i don’t think i remember it being so vivid Hand on the small of his back. Footsteps in puddles from behind. There’s someone laughing in his ear. “Why’re you standing in the rain, silly?” A creeping love blooms in Serizawa’s chest as a man, shorter than himself but with a heart too tall and too wide to be comprehended by numbers, walks beside him. “I was just thinking.” The rain falls quietly around them. “Mm, that’s dangerous..” The other man’s hand slides from his back, then to the umbrella he’s holding. It’s made for Serizawa rather than himself, and it’s too big; he struggles to pull the catch on it which makes Serizawa laugh, sticking one leg in the air as if it’s going to help, then finally pulls it free. The arc of the umbrella’s clear, so that when he strains to hold it above both of their heads, Serizawa can see the drops hitting it and sliding off. The man’s other hand comes down his arm, then brushes his own, and then they’re linked. “You want to know what I’m thinking?” Serizawa’s smile comes effortlessly. “What?” Reigen smiles back. It’s the kind of thing that he can’t find on videogames, or videos, or social media. It’s the kind of thing that makes his heart cartwheel. It’s the kind of thing that reaches Reigen’s eyes, so warm in their mirth. “I’m thinking that I love you.” Serizawa laughs again, giving his hand a squeeze in his larger one. Reigen squeezes back, then stands up straighter, dutifully, “and that Mob’ll be scratching his head if we don’t get to this reservation on time.” Later that evening, Serizawa excuses himself to the bathroom in the back of the ramen shop they’re at. It’s an old place with pleasant sunset lights, people from every walk of life sitting on wooden benches; tonight it just so happened that himself, Reigen, Mob and one small, green ghost were decorating them. The meal was delicious. Good company always made everything a little sweeter, whether that was food or the scenery. Between the chatter he’d hardly stopped laughing all night, and smiles even as he goes to wash his hands in the small restroom, turning the faucet on and letting the cold water flow. He looks up as he does it. There’s a mirror above the sink and as if the glass had been broke, a stab of something stale and wrong shoots up his spine. He takes in his reflection; a tall man with broad shoulders, tired eyes, short hair, thick eyebrows, a faltering smile. A tie. His reflection. Fifteen years old. Twenty years old. Twenty five. He takes in the small lines on his forehead, the shape of his jaw, his Adam’s apple, the collar of his shirt.. It’s perfectly ironed. His shoulders are still slightly damp from the rain. And he can look at himself without being scared once again. He’s just a man; not some kind of pest squirming on the earth, or something to be revered, something immortal and unworldly. He’s just a man with friends from school, and a boyfriend, and whatever Ekubo is to him. When he exits the bathroom, taking his seat, everyone beams at him. Reigen reaches forward to wrap his arm around his shoulders, then pulls him forward to kiss the side of his cheek, and it’s the best feeling in the world. He’s just a man. He’s loved.

[autistic-mobert]

Took a shortcut and just watched compilations of him. Alright people let’s begin.

Shou Suzuki’s character has been warped by the fandom to be someone completely unrecognizable. While, by and large, there’s no harm done in it and it’s just common practice for fanon to overtake canon, there is a certain amount of suspicion that must be held in this case, when Shou is coded to be ADHD, and his personality has been warped to be ADHD stereotype-incarnate. It’s a problem that’s rooted so deep that even I had forgotten what his canon personality was like. For your viewing pleasure, here’s the dub and sub compilations of his season 1 appearances:

Talk about an introduction! Shou is actually really badass and serious in canon, especially at the start. This post puts basically everything I’m saying and more in better words than I’m using, but being badass and serious is the biggest part of his character. The environment he grew up in hasn’t let him be anything else if he really plans on undoing all of his dad’s evil schemes. Note the part where he completely disregards what Muraki says to him. Doesn’t really line up with how fanon Shou would react, does it?

Shou’s also shown to be extremely talented, clever, and versatile. Look at some of what he says in the above clips:

“A mass of gravity, huh? Interesting. Imagine the gravity going backward.....”

“If it’s conceived from psychic powers, I can always find a way to deal with it.”

Notice how he says “deal with it.” That strikes me as specific word choice. That coupled with his tone of voice when saying it makes for a strikingly serious and disinterested character. As he says later on in the episode, he doesn’t care about the 7th division. His dad, who he complained to and about at the end of the episode, had just sent him there in his place to conduct a last inspection before its closing. That’s another trait solely possessed by canon Shou: he inherited his dad’s disinterest in weaker, less interesting things. “Old man... you’re no longer needed.”/“Sorry, Gramps, but you’re no longer needed.”

I highly encourage you to watch the below clips, too — they’re some good examples of what his real personality looks like. Note how when he takes on his dad, or sets fire to the Kageyama house, it’s not for shits and giggles, and it’s never something to be laughed at — it’s all serious stuff that he’s doing. He’s also not a sporadic, ditzy, clumsy kid — he easily takes down Hatori, and the house fire incident that everyone loves to laugh at is actually a clever way of faking their deaths and keeping the family safe, and when he takes on his dad, it’s because he thinks he can. Shou up until this point is actually built up to be an impressive, powerful character — and he is one, he stocked up on three months of power before confronting his dad — and it’s that exact characterization that’s supposed to make his swift defeat all that scarier, and builds up Toichirou to be even more daunting than his son. In a way, Shou is like the audience’s sneak peak to his dad: we see how powerful he is in the season one finale and hear him talk about the hellscape that is living at HQ, and then he gets his ass whooped in season two.

Last but not least, check out his theme! It kicks serious ass.

This is also not to say that Shou is completely serious 100% of the time(no pun intended). He likes drawing and hamsters and his relationship with Ritsu is a good one. Part of the reason he acts so serious is because he has to — he’s dealing with a serious thing. But I think fandom gets carried away with that and turns him into something not even closely resembling canon.

All in all, Shou in canon is way different of a character than Shou in fanon. I’m not saying you can’t continue having fun with fanon, even I’m going to probably continue doing that after today’s canon deep-dive, but I do ask that you be mindful of any negative stereotypes you may be perpetuating, and make sure you don’t cross any lines when making jokes — the “Shou Suzuki is out of the cage” post comes to mind. I can’t make you all change fanon portrayals, but hopefully this is a good enough reminder to what actual canon looks like.

EDIT: I initially forgot this when writing, but it's something really important: Shou considers Mob a coward. Shou never had a Reigen to tell him not to point his psychic powers at others, or that it's okay to run away. In fact, he had the opposite, Toichirou. Shou is okay with hurting people, and I think that's an important thing about his character.

[arshoun]

a one time thing

[read on AO3]

Shou gets a dog.

It wasn’t something he’d planned, and he’d always wanted a cat, but he catches Reigen browsing a pet adoption site one night when Shou is supposed to be asleep. It wouldn’t have meant anything on its own, but he’s shaken awake along with Teru a few mornings later and Reigen announcing that they’re gonna swing by the local shelter, “just to check it out”. Reigen kept his money tightly in his pockets, for good reason, so Shou still didn’t expect much to come of it. Still, seeing animals always lifted his spirits, so he wasn’t going to say anything against it. 

It’s a short jaunt to the shelter. The air’s chilly but not biting, Shou watches his own breath billow in front of him and thinks of dragons the whole way there. 

“We’re just looking,” Reigen reminds them for the hundredth time. At this point, it’s pretty obvious he’s trying to keep himself in line, muttering on about living space and having to take care of two (sometimes three, whenever Tome decided to crash at the house for no real reason) kids. Teru says something in reply, but Shou’s barely paying attention. He just nods along because he gets to see dogs and cats and whatever else was being housed here. 

It takes a whole five minutes before his heart’s stolen. 

There’s an all black German shepherd, maybe three years old, and she looks so sad. The worker with them explains she was left behind when the whole situation in January went down, when the city was evacuated, and her family apparently never claimed her back. Shou’s heart wrenches into a tighter knot at this. He understands, to a degree, that when something crazy like what happened happens not everyone can afford to bring their pets with them, but to not come back for her? The feeling that wells up in him when he meets the dogs eyes again - it’s a little close to home.

Her name’s Michiko. He plays with her while Reigen and Teru continue their exploration of the place. She’s a sweet thing, well trained, knows a handful of tricks. She has a dopey smile. He rolls her a ball, she nudges it back. He loves her. 

When Reigen comes back to check on them and finds Shou with Michiko curled on his lap, he just sighs. “Alright.” 

“Alright?” 

“This is a one time thing, okay?” he continues as he fishes out his wallet. “Don’t expect me to let you bring home every animal you find.” 

Shou wants to hug him, would if he could, but Michiko is snoring peacefully so instead he just breaks out into an enormous grin. He stays with her as Reigen goes through the process of adoption, is handed a leash so they can walk her back to the house. Teru is almost as enamored with her as he is, and it takes a bit of lighthearted bickering to settle that Shou’s the one who gets to take it. 

Reigen prattles on and on about all the supplies he and Serizawa are gonna have to get today. He says the boys are welcome to come and help pick out things for her, kennel and dog bed and toys, and Shou really wants to go, but he wants to stay with Michiko and show her around more, so he has Teru go in his place. Granted, it might be a mistake with Teru’s decision making, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. 

They get through the front door and Serizawa nearly jumps out of his skin. He shoots Reigen a look, but the latter just laughs it off and says something about her being meant for Shou. There’s a big smile stretching across Serizawa’s face anyway. 

“This is my room,” Shou explains. Michiko doesn’t answer, he didn’t expect her to, but he grins as she curiously sniffs at the beanbag in the corner, then the assortment of plushes piled on one end of Shou’s bed. He loves her so much. “We’re probably gonna put your kennel downstairs for now, but who knows, maybe you can be up here soon.” 

She just wags her tail and continues on her sniff adventure around the room. She’s very careful, Shou notes, politely stepping around the pile of clothes Shou needs to bring down to the laundry room and the sketchbook he had left on the floor. He only has to step in once when Michiko gets too close to the hamster cage, and though he doesn’t think she would do anything, better safe than sorry. 

He follows her out of the room when she’s seen it all and then to Teru’s room, then Serizawa and Reigen’s, then they head back downstairs to he can show her where her food and water’s going to be once the rest of them are back from shopping. 

“We’ll take good care of you,” Shou says. Her tail wags, and it’s hard not to think she understands. “Reigen’s a huge dog-lover, Serizawa loves animals in general, I don’t think Teru has ever had a pet in his life but you saw how happy he was bringing you home, yeah?” He crouches down to her level, holding out his hands palms up. Michiko makes a noise and rests her head in them so he’s effectively holding her. “I will never, ever, ever, ever let anything bad happen to you again, ‘kay?” 

She licks his nose. He laughs. 

“Gross!” Shou wipes the slobber off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He pulls out his phone and snaps a quick pic of her and send it off to Ritsu. 

To Ritsu: 

[image]

say hello to my new roomie! shes a sweetheart

He grins as his screen is immediately crowded by excited texts from the other boy, and he makes a mental reminder to take Michiko over to the Kageyama’s sometime. 

When the rest of the family gets home hours later carrying a ridiculous number of toys and other doggy-materials, Shou puts his heart into helping getting everything set up. Like he’d guessed, Michiko would be staying in the living room for the time being, kennel out of the way but not hidden with a big, fluffy dog bed inside. He presents each and every toy to her as they’re unwrapped and untagged. Her favorite is one that has Teru’s name written all over it: a bright pink squeaky ball with yellow zig-zags across its surface. Her second favorite is the tug-of-war rope. Both Shou and Teru break from unpacking to go against her in a game of it, purposely letting her win and yank the two of them across the floor. It’s not hard to fake losing though, she’s strong. 

“Hey, Reigen?” Shou says when he steps back into the kitchen. Reigen’s crouched with water bowl in hand, trying not to spill any of it. 

“What’s up, kid?” he asks once it’s safely on the ground. He stands and brushes his pants off. 

Shou doesn’t have any reason not to hug him now. He rushes forward before Reigen can get another word out, squeezing his dad so tight that he briefly lifts off the ground. Reigen wheezes. Shou loosens his grip, just a little. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles into his chest. Reigen, still trying to catch his breath back, pats him on the back. 

“Don’t... even... mention it,” he manages to get out. Shou places him back on the ground so he can compose himself. It only takes seconds. “You’re not the only one who likes animals, y’know.”

Shou laughs again.

[vampirearataka]

Poor, Lonely Whitey

Reigen’s lasting affect on Mob can be seen throughout the series, one of the more famous, the analogy of not pointing knives at someone ie psychic powers. However he points a knife at Mob emotionally— and is thus left behind.

This is an analysis of Reigen’s actions and behaviors, specifically in Season II, Episode 6, and why he would lash out on Mob the way he does.

TLDR: reigen projects onto mob the feelings he has about not being enough and lonely and depressed and manipulated, and when that fails he bottles it up and pretends to move on

First off, I’m so proud of Mob for sticking up for himself. He had a great time this episode with his friends!!! But when Reigen says “Grow up for crying out loud!... I’m one of the biggest reasons you’re able to control your powers!”

Reigen invalidates all the progress we’ve seen Mob making. We open after the title sequence seeing Mob do the most push ups he has— that’s his progress! Yet, Reigen pulls him away from the friends he holds dear and tries to make him think that the Reigen Savior Trope is a reality.

But it’s not. And thus, Reigen is alone again.

Throughout this episode, I believe one thing is made clear: how hard his depression hits him. Depression isn’t always crying at night, constantly crying “woe is me!” It can also be apathy. Exciting new events can just feel.. mundane.

You would think leaving a crappy job and starting a business would be exciting. He appears rather bored and to have rented the place without a plan. This makes it clear he wanted a change from the repetitivity white collar work has.

But we’re seeing that this cool, fun, psychic job... isn’t that. It’s repetitive. We’ve seen these scenes— it nearly plays frame by frame the same.*

*note: the manga shows us during this arc how he’s about to close spirits and such down-- and that its bc of mob that he doesnt. its bc of mob he doesnt hate his job *

This shows us how Reigen feels— that each day plays out the same, no matter what adventures await. This is a common feeling of depression.

And now he has no one. He knows this, but he projects his negative feelings onto Mob. This is shown earlier, when he tells him that his friends are just using him. It’s also shown when he says:

“He shouldn’t have anyone he can talk to about his problems other than me. If he cuts ties with me, he’s going to end up alone again. There’s nothing to worry about. He’ll be back here. I know it. But I’m not sad about this at all.

Obviously we see that Mob is, in fact, not lonely. He’s hanging out with his family and friends, using this opportunity to be with them. “If he cuts ties with me, he’s going to end up alone again.” Reigen seems to be referencing Mob. Yet, we know he was never REALLY alone. The story has been ABOUT his bonds with the people around him.

“He’s going to end up alone again” refers not to Mob, but to Reigen. The scene cuts to the night sky as Reigen says “you’re probably feeling pretty lonely right about now,” is another example of him projecting his own loneliness onto Mob.

This is the more direct show of his projection. Mob must be feeling awkward, he thinks, and instantly hides when he sees him.

He obnoxiously tells Dimple that “I hope you have fun following around a normal middle schooler!”

He knows that Mob really is just a normal kid, this is something he normally emphasizes with his rhetoric of no one being special and everyone having their own abilities. He wants to be around Mob again, but he lets his pride get in the way.

Why does he project onto Mob this way?

He doesn’t want to admit it. He is lonely and depressed. But he’s a business owner, he’s getting more popular among clientele, he’s 28! It’s the prime of his life! He should be feeling great.

His identity of a business man affects his whole life.

The first thing he does when he gets home after work is... work. He has nothing else to do, and no one to see.

But he’s supposed to be in his prime.

This idealism is quickly shattered on his birthday.

It starts with him logging onto FaceBook (FriendBook) and realizing that it’s his birthday. No one has wished him a happy day.

But then his mom does! Yay! Except... she’s telling him to hurry up and get married, and her so-called present to him is a link. A link to a flyer about a job, a “real” job, the very white collar job Reigen hates.

As he reads it, we don’t see his face, at all.

This is a very clever tactic by the narrative. His previously forced optimism and the mask he puts up, is shattered here. But we don’t get to see that. We can’t see his reaction— just him scrolling.

All we are allowed to see is his hand tremble as he reads.

After this, he decides it’s time to go to a bar. He’s not particularly excited it, as he describes the people there as the type to fall for pyramid schemes and cults.

He says it’s perfect for him. In the context of that, it’s because he’s a smooth talker, and they’re attracted to him because he helps them with all their problems.

Strange thing to say about the place you and your friends go.

He tells his supposed friends that it’s his birthday. He gets (somewhat awkward) well wishes. A woman there almost immediately begins to try and sell him a pillow, since it’s his birthday!

He realizes...

He aims to change himself after this. What’s changed? The narrative is sneaky in showing him getting even more popular and doing well with clients.

But when you think about it, nothing has changed. The feelings he previously projected are just now bottled. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, and after a horrible birthday where he DID, he shoves it away.

He’s still doing the same jobs. He’s still alone, only helping and offering advice to people as contact. He says he wants to “become somebody”, even though he already WAS. But he can’t say that. And now he’s forced away the company that made him happier.

And episode 7 will only make him feel worse.

[turning-the-kaleidoscope]

“Thaw” (Chapter 3/3)

It was supposed to be a fun afternoon.

Neither of them could’ve expected it to end up like this.

Written for @mookybear12404‘s MP100 Sims!AU, which is wholesome in all kinds of ways but almost turned into a complete disaster with the latest installment. Stay away from precarious railings near the ocean, kids! 

[Part 1] [Part 2] 

He’s warm.

Shigeo cracks open his eyes slowly, and the room comes into view. Everything’s fuzzy, and his head feels like someone’d driven a nail into it with a hammer and left it there, but he’s awake, lying back on a couch, bundled in at least five blankets, with the warm crackle of a fireplace by his head behind him.

It doesn’t sink in at first. He doesn’t remember where he is or what led to him being here, but the splitting headache, coupled with the gentle crackle of the fire and the blankets wrapped around him, almost sends him right back into sleep.

Only, that’s precisely when everything sinks in.

He shoots upright, heart in his throat, trying to detangle himself from the blankets. Reigen, Reigen’s in here somewhere, he has to find him—

“Hey, hey! Hold it, son, hold it—”

Hands land on his shoulders and try shoving him back, but he fights against it, too scared to go unanswered.

“R—M-My dad, where…”

“Your dad’s fine, I promise,” the woman answers, eyes carrying a mixture of concern and annoyance. She runs a hand over her face and pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “Jeez, he did the same damn thing a second ago—nearly split his head open on the dresser, I swear—”

“W-Wait, h—” Shigeo feels lightheaded again, but for a different reason. “You mean he’s—he’s really okay? He’s okay?”

She smiles this time, releasing his shoulders and sitting by him on the couch. “Of course he is. He came to real quick once I dumped him in the bathwater. You’re lucky you found us when you did—”

“C-Can I see him?” he blurts, without thinking, and realizes a second later just how sharp his tone had been. “I—I’m sorry, I-I didn’t—”

“It’s alright, don’t worry, I ain’t mad,” she assures him with a soft smile. “Can’t imagine how scared you were. You’re a pretty tough kid, y’know It was really brave of you to stick it out like that. Wellp. Anyways.”

She pats him on the shoulder, then hops to her feet and waves a hand at him.

“C’mon, if you think you’re alright to walk, I can take you to him.” At this, she chuckles and shakes her head. “Or else he’ll probably tear apart the place looking for ya.”

Shigeo tosses the remaining blankets off of him and gets his feet underneath him. The dizzy spell doesn’t last very long this time, and even if it had, it’s not like it would stop him. The woman tilts her head in the direction of a hall across the room, and when she turns and starts that way, Shigeo makes to follow.

Then he notices Reigen’s jacket—the one he’d let Shigeo borrow—draped over the back of a chair in front of the fireplace.

After a slight hesitation, Shigeo retraces his steps and snatches it up. It’s completely dry now, dry and warm, and as soon as he has it tucked close to his chest, he spins on his heel and jogs after the woman again.

“Y’know, I never did get your name,” she says just as he catches up. “Your dad called you ‘Shige’, s’that right?”

“I-It’s Shigeo, actually,” he says shakily. He can’t tell if the use of the nickname was intentional or just a mishear on her part, but either way, the anticipation is making his head spin again. “What’s your name?”

“Name’s Akito.”

“Th-Thank you for saving us, Akito-san.”

“Don’t sweat it, son, don’t sweat it.” They come to a closed door, and she sets her hand on the knob and pauses, turning back to him. “Kaito went to get some tea started, I’ll have him bring some back to you two. Sound good?”

Shigeo nods, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, resisting the urge to bounce. Akito opens the door, and after a small, shy look to her and seeing her affirming nod, Shigeo shuffles inwards. The door clicks shut behind him.

It’s some kind of study, by the looks of it, with lots of bookshelves and even a grand piano in the corner. The windows have curtains over them, and there’s a furnace in here, which gives off not only heat, but a warm, orange-yellow light, too. It’s a nice looking room, but that isn’t really what Shigeo is concerned with right now.

There’s a couch by one of the bookshelves, about twice as big as the couch back at their apartment, and Reigen is asleep on it, covered in several blankets, wearing a long-sleeved shirt that Shigeo has never seen before.

Shigeo swallows hard, suddenly very aware of everything that’d happened, everything that led up to this point, everything he’d said and done that brought them here. He feels small. Scared, even. He clutches the jacket closer to his chest, but it does nothing to comfort him. If anything, it just makes him feel worse.

He shuffles over to the couch, hesitates longer than he should’ve, and pokes Reigen’s shoulder.

The touch was light, too light, but the response is immediate. Reigen’s eyes snap open, land on Shigeo, widen. Shigeo gulps and, before he knows what he’s doing;

“I-I’m sorry, th-this is my fault, I-I shouldn’t’ve asked about the sunset or the lighthouse or the—h-here, here’s your jacket back, I-I’m—”

Reigen yanks him into his arms. Shigeo yelps, not expecting it, and the jacket slips from his grip and lies in a heap on the floor, but Reigen doesn’t seem to care.

“Oh, god—” Reigen sounds breathless, like he’d just run a long time. Or is close to crying. “I’m glad you’re okay, Shigeo, I’m just so glad you’re okay—”

Shigeo takes a moment, contemplates this. “Y-You… you aren’t upset?”

“Of course I’m not, I couldn’t be, oh god, Shige, I’m so sorry, oh my god I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

He’s… warm.

This probably should’ve been the first thing Shigeo noticed, but now, as Reigen goes on babbling, he has the chance to breathe. To feel Reigen’s arms around him, his heartbeat close to his ear.

He’s… really okay.

He really is okay.

The tears that have been steadily gathering ever since the moment Reigen fell finally reach a breaking point, and this confirmation is the defining crack in the bottle. Before Shigeo realizes what’s happening, he’s suffocating on his tears and wrapping his arms around Reigen as tightly as he can.

“I-I th-thought you—” he chokes out, voice a broken mess. “I-I—I d-didn’t know if you—I-I thought—”

Reigen drags in a long, shaky breath and holds him closer, tighter. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—you must’ve been so scared, I—I’m sorry, Shige—I’m okay now, you’re okay, it’s okay—”

Reigen holds him tighter, and Shigeo cries until he can’t cry anymore.

Akito and Kaito are relieved to see the two of them back on their feet. Shigeo is unsteady and Arataka is even unsteadier, but now that the weight of impending doom and death has been raised from their shoulders, they find their steps light. And that’s not just because of how lightheaded they are.

“You’re free to stay another night or two if you want,” Akito offers the following afternoon, after they slept the night in the study at hers and Kaito’s home. “It might do you some good to recuperate s’more before hitting the road again.”

“I think we’re alright,” Arataka says, “but thank you. It isn’t a long drive from here, we should be alright. I really can’t thank you enough for everything.”

Akito waves her hand and shakes her head along with it. “Nah, you two are fine. I’m glad we were able to help, you’re both very lucky.”

Arataka thanks her again, though, and so does Shigeo, and neither one of them stop until they give their final farewells and head up the shore back towards the car. They make a quick stop by the lighthouse, just so Arataka can retrieve his phone (which they’d both completely forgotten about, when it’d skidded out of Arataka’s hold), but then they’re in the car and homeward bound.

The ride is quiet. Shigeo keeps his eyes glued to the road, but Arataka still catches him glancing his way every so often. Shigeo always looks away before he has the chance to ask what’s wrong, but he knows better than to push it after all that’d happened. It’s been a long past couple of days; he’ll definitely be calling into Shigeo’s school for a sick day tomorrow because god knows he isn’t going to be ready for that.

“Do you wanna stop by and get ramen or something on the way home?” Arataka asks once the silence has stretched beyond its welcome. “It doesn’t have to be ramen, just whatever you feel like eating.”

Shigeo is quiet for a while. He fiddles with the strap of his seatbelt.

“C… Can we just go home, m-maybe?”

That’s unusual, but Arataka gets it. He doesn’t feel much like a restaurant, either.

“Alright, sounds good to me,” he says. “Would you mind me stopping by somewhere and getting some takeout, though? I really don’t feel like cooking right now.”

(That, and cooking has never been his forte, and it just so happened that whenever he concocted something actually worth being happy with, the accursed cat either knocked it off the table or ate it himself.)

Shigeo pauses a moment before nodding, and Arataka takes a side-street down to the nearest restaurant—which just so happens to be a small ramen shop, though not one they’ve frequented often. Or, ever.

Arataka cuts the engine, stuffs the keys into the pocket of his jacket. Shigeo unbuckles himself, and once they’re both out of the car, they head inside. Shigeo’s hand slips into his and Arataka squeezes his fingers.

The shop isn’t exactly busy; there’s no line when they step through the door; but the tables are filled and there’s a waiting bench already. Arataka watches Shigeo’s posture, and when he sees no change, they head to the counter and Arataka orders for the both of them.

“Is the wait long?” he asks once he’s placed and payed, stuffing his wallet into his pocket.

The man behind the counter shakes his head. “No, no, we should have it ready for you two in maybeeee… ten minutes, tops, if you’re alright to wait a bit.”

“Alright, thank you. C’mon, Shige.”

There aren’t any benches, so Arataka leans against a wall out of the way, and Shigeo leans in close to his side. Shigeo has never been particularly against physical contact, but he’s never the one to initiate it, and the fact that he is now leaves a pang in Arataka’s heart that has no right being there. He brings an arm around Shigeo and tugs him closer, and Shigeo responds by wrapping his arms around his waist and holding tightly.

Arataka’s name is called for the order shortly thereafter, and they’re set for home, for real this time.

“A-Are you sure you’re okay with me eating on the couch?”

“Yep!” Arataka says, popping the cap off his cup of ramen and dumping it into a bowl. Their jackets, scarves and gloves are in a sorry heap by the door, and the two of them are in the kitchen, dishing up their takeout. Arataka snags a pair of chopsticks, takes his bowl, and starts into the living room. “C’mon, Shige.”

Shigeo sets aside his own empty takeout cup, and Arataka hears his careful footsteps behind him. “W-What happens if it gets spilled?”

“Then we’ll clean it up!”

“A-Are you s—”

“Absolutely positive, kiddo.”

Arataka is already out the couch, and he sets his bowl and chopsticks down on the coffee table while he gets situated. Shigeo appears through the doorway moments later, settling his own bowl down beside Arataka’s and taking a seat with him on the couch. Arataka reaches behind them, grabs the quilt draped over the back, and swings it around the two of them in one fluid motion.

“There,” Arataka says, offering him a smile. “Nice and warm, yeah?”

Shigeo blinks at him, and he nods, but he doesn’t smile. He does, however, tuck himself closer against Arataka’s side, and Arataka’s smile grows softer, more genuine, as he pulls the blanket further around his shoulders.

“You doing okay?”

He feels Shigeo nod against his side.

“It’s alright if you aren’t, kiddo.”

“No, I’m okay,” Shigeo says, very quietly. “I’m—I’m okay.”

Arataka isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t push it.

Dimple appears just as they start eating, which, of course he does, but it still scares the crap out of Arataka and he almost flails himself right into his bowl of ramen. Shigeo, unfazed, offers Dimple a noodle (that he does not deserve, and Arataka makes this very clear, though Shigeo’s response is to give him another noodle and he gives up immediately).

“R-Reigen?”

He’s poked.

“Reigen?”

He’s poked again. He feels it a little more this time.

“Reigen are you awake?”

He’s poked one more time.

“R… Reigen?”

He’s shaken this time, just barely enough to pull him from his slumber. Moonlight creeps through the blinds, creating stripes across his bed and his face. He blinks and rubs at his eyes for a moment or two, propping himself up on his elbow. Shigeo’s face, only half-illuminated by moonlight, swims into view.

“Sorry, I’m up, I’m up,” Arataka says, shaking his head to chase away the remaining drowsiness. “What’s the matter, buddy?”

“T-The…” Shigeo fiddles with the hem of his shirt, eyes on the floor. “Th-The ghosts are trying to steal my slippers again.”

“Are they, now?”

Shigeo nods, still fiddling, still rocking from his heels to his toes. Arataka is much more awake than before, and it isn’t long before he’s smiling gently and scooting over.

“C’mon, kiddo.”

Shigeo doesn’t wait a second longer. He practically leaps into the bed, diving under the covers like a kid afraid of the dark, curling close to Arataka’s side.

“Oh my god, you're freezing,” he gasps, resisting the instinct to pull away. “What, were you standing out in the hall this whole time?”

Shigeo’s voice is small. “M-Maybe.”

That wasn't the answer he was expecting. He'd meant it as a joke. With a sigh, he pats the blankets around them both, then brings his arms around Shigeo and pulls him closer. Shigeo doesn’t object.

“... Hey, Shigeo…”

“Mm…?”

“You don’t have to make up stories to justify staying with me, you know. You can come to me for anything at all, no matter how silly or stupid you may think it is.”

Shigeo turns his face against his chest and keeps it buried there. “B-But it is silly.”

“It isn’t silly to me, I promise.”

Shigeo doesn’t say anything for a while, and Arataka draws a long breath and lets it out slowly.

“I’m not gonna make you tell me, Shige. It’s okay. And it’s also okay to wanna stay with me. You don’t need to find some kind of explanation. I don’t need one.”

“Are… r-really?”

“Yeah, I promise. You can tell me anything you wanna tell me, no matter how silly or serious it is, but more than anything else, I wanna be here for you whenever you need me. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Admittedly, he already knows why Shigeo wanted to stay with him tonight. And he gets the feeling that Shigeo knows he knows. But regardless, it doesn’t change the weight of his words, and it doesn’t change Shigeo’s nod.

“Th-Thank you.”

Arataka smiles and rests his chin atop Shigeo’s head, shutting his eyes. “You’re welcome. Don’t be afraid to wake me up if you need something.”

Shigeo nods again, and Arataka closes his eyes. A silence befalls them, broken only by their breathing, and Arataka is this close to falling asleep when there’s this horrible, grating sound by the foot of the bed.

It really is the worst thing he’s ever heard.

And he’s heard it before.

“Aww,” Shigeo says, like it’s actually cute, “Dimple feels left out.”

“Good.”

“Reigen that’s mean.”

“He literally pees in the bed, that’s mean, too.”

“He’s trying his best.”

“Okay, but—”

There’s that godforsaken meow again. This time, Arataka heaves a long, heavy sigh and runs a hand over his face.

“Okay, okay fine, fine, he can sleep with us, but just this on—”

Shigeo squeezes him around the waist, which both cuts off his words and his airway for a moment, but then he lets go and pats the bed instead. “C’mon, Dimple, you can come up here!” A weight dips the bed and Arataka sighs again, heavier this time.

It doesn’t take long for Dimple to get settled down at the foot of the bed, and once a calm has befallen the room once more, Arataka lets himself relax. If it makes Shigeo happy, well. He really can’t mind too much.

“... Hey, um… Reigen?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you, um… would you mind if I called you dad?”

Ah.

Ah.

… ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh gOD—

He pushes back the almost irresistible urge to crush Shigeo in a bearhug and instead settles for just, pulling him closer. His heart is soaring. “Of course you can, Shige, of course you can,” Arataka says, unable to keep the giddiness from his tone. “Just… whatever you want to call me.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Shigeo would seem nonchalant, if Arataka hadn’t known him better. If Arataka hadn’t known him well enough to catch every slight subtlety in his tone, the small but very real joy behind it. “Th… Thank you. Goodnight.”

“‘Night, Shige.”

“I… love you, Reig—Dad.”

Oh his heart is skyborne he may as well be in the stratosphere—

He can’t help the giddy laugh, the goofy smile, the kiss he presses against Shigeo’s forehead, and he murmurs, “I love you too, kiddo.”

Shigeo hugs him even tighter and Arataka returns the gesture wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t sleep until he’s heard Shigeo’s breathing even out and felt his shoulders relax. Only then, when he’s sure Shigeo is okay, does he allow sleep to overcome him, too.

[serenlyss]

Mob Psycho Fic Recs Part 3

Here we go again! I’ve racked up another 10 bookmarks to share. As always, if you are the author of any of these wonderful fics and want to have your tumblr tagged just let me know!

Parental Supervision Author: piperita Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: dad reigen, good parent reigen, protective reigen, found family Summary: Reigen finds out that Teruki lives alone. No parents, foster parents, or even a hired caretaker. He doesn't know exactly what he's going to do with this information, but it's certainly not 'nothing'. Or: Reigen's awkward, messy, and backwards guide to adopting psychic children. My Notes: Just a nice cute fic about Reigen looking out for and helping take care of Teru after finding out that he lives on his own. It’s cute and very sweet how Reigen takes a kind of backwards approach to helping out Teru, since Teru is way too stubborn to allow himself to be completely cared for by someone else. I really love Reigen and Teru’s dynamic in this fic so far and I’m excited to see more!

aquarium Author: amaranthinecanicular Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, mermaid au, background terumob Summary: It was just a fairytale. One of those bedtime stories parents tell their kids to make them wary of the surface. Merfolk didn’t fall in love with humans, they didn’t fall for the sweet words of seawitches and they didn’t fall out of the ocean with legs only to fall back as seafoam. It was just a fairytale. It was supposed to be a fairytale. My Notes: One of my all-time favorite ritshou fics, I go back and reread it all the time! I’m such a sucker for mermaid fics and this one is super beautifully written. It’s poetic and flows so so well, it wraps you in from the very beginning with its gorgeous prose and mysterious story. It’s definitely been an inspiration to me in pursuing a more descriptive and flowery writing style for certain fics. The budding friendship between Shou and Ritsu is endearing and believable and very in character, and the little mermaid inspiration brings a familiarity to the story as well that makes it easy to follow and understand what’s going on behind the scenes. I absolutely adore how the author writes Ritsu’s point of view, it’s just a really really solid and fun fic that I’ll continue to go back to after this.

Out of Body Author: bobmoss Rating: M Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: serirei, slow burn, mental health issues, recovery, case fic, hurt/comfort Summary: Serizawa's recovery seems to be going so well, but then he suddenly develops a habit of accidental out of body experiences during panic attacks. My Notes: A very sweet, emotional exploration of Serizawa and Reigen’s budding relationship post-world domination arc. I absolutely love the way the author writes these two as friends who know and understand each other, and how that leads into an eventual romance. It has some really heart-stoppingly scary dramatic moments, too, for being such a character-centered story, which took me pleasantly by surprise. I really look forward to what the author has planned for the future of this fic!

Night Terrors Author: futuresoon Rating: T Archive Warnings: Unspecified (there’s some blood/injury and horror elements, but nothing too extreme) Completion Status: Complete Tags: Yomawari: Midnight Shadows fusion (no knowledge needed to read), horror, angst, alternate universe Summary: Ritsu wants psychic powers more than he wants almost anything. But he didn’t expect them to only be good for seeing spirits, and he didn’t expect them to only appear after his brother walks into the forest and doesn’t come back. Now the town is full of monsters, and all Ritsu can do is search for his brother--but even powerful children are still children, and the night is not always kind. My Notes: This fic really took me by surprise, since I had never played Yomawari and knew nothing about it before reading this. It’s dark and relatively scary as far as my usual taste in fics go, but it’s written really well. The author is really good at displaying the hopeless aura of the situation without making it seem like all is lost, and the atmosphere and constantly moving story make it really easy to get lost in this dark alternate reality. It’s not really a happy fic, though, and the ending is rather bittersweet, so be aware if you decide to read this one.

The Accelerated Velocity of Terminological Inexactitude Author: LogicalBookThief Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: terumob, fake dating au, slow build/slow burn, crushes, pining, holding hands, slight angst, mentions of mogami arc Summary: Teru offers to fake date Mob in order to gain Tsubomi's attention. His own crush on Mob makes this plan somewhat problematic. My Notes: Teru has a big ol crush on Mob and takes advantage of his crush on Tsubomi to become his fake boyfriend for a time, except it really does more harm to himself than to anyone else. The fake dating AU we all know and love, now with added mogami arc angst (just a little) and the slow realization that their fake relationship might have more truth behind it than either of them are intending. It’s a super sweet fic and a relatively quick read if you’re looking for something with meat that isn’t 100k words long. It brought quite a few smiles to my face and a couple of excited squeals as well.

Grow as we Go Author: lesboba Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: terumob, fluff, character study, hurt/comfort, dad reigen, established relationship, good person teru, post-canon, kissing, panic attacks Summary: Teru's still working on himself, but he has time and the right people with him now. My Notes: This fic is so so good and sweet, it focuses on Teru coming into his own and figuring out how to be a good person post-canon. It’s so endearing seeing him interacting with the whole Kageyama family, especially Shigeo, who he’s dating in secret, and his parents, who treat him like their own son and it’s great. It’s so nice to see Teru’s struggle to remind himself that he can change and become better from inside his own head, since in canon we only get brief mentions of what that must be like. It’s also super soft, just very very soft, and it makes me feel nice every time I go back to refresh myself on it.

Blind Eye Author: NewWorldFool Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, pining, fluff, mutual pining, john mulaney references Summary: “Yo, Ritsu!” Shou says with a nonchalant wave as he walks through the doorway, entering the threshold of the student council room. The boy in question sighs, but not unkindly. “Shou,” he says in lieu of a greeting. Shou showing up to the student council meetings has become a somewhat common occurrence even though he doesn’t even attend the school. He won’t admit the exact reason why, but Ritsu deduced it was probably to mess with him. Normally he’d be annoyed, but today? Ritsu is grateful for the interruption. (Basically a ritshou fic where they're dating but not really dating and Ritsu gets an epiphany) My Notes: This is a super sweet, super cute one-shot about how Ritsu and Shou act like they’re a couple long before they actually start dating and I love it. Shou showing up at Ritsu’s school and house out of the blue is one of my favorite fanon interpretations of him and it’s played out really well in this fic. I also love the idea of the two of them just being unabashedly affectionate when it’s just the two of them, they have such a cute relationship in this interpretation!

Cinderella-Esque Author: beanpots and Floral Fancies (lovelycoris) Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, terumob, cinderella au, curses Summary: Once upon a time in a faraway land, there was a tiny kingdom that was peaceful, prosperous, and rich in romance and tradition. Tucked away in the corner of town lies a charming little stone house that's absolutely smothered by flowers of impeccable beauty. But the life around the Kageyama house belies the bane plaguing them - Ritsu Kageyama will do anything to lift the curse from his older brother. Even if it costs him a glass shoe. My Notes: This might be my favorite mob psycho fic like.. ever. I remember staying up into the early hours of the morning to read it all in one sitting because I just had to know what happened next. It’s beautifully written and leaves you on the edge of your seat wondering what might happen next, and the fantasy/cinderella vibes are so so fun to read. This art also comes with the amazing added bonus of having beautiful chapter cover art and even some mini comics slotted into the fic itself, which is such a treat to come across every single time. I highly recommend this fic to anyone who likes ritshou and terumob even a little, it’s so well-written and the characterization, specifically for Ritsu and Shigeo, is really solid.

first day Author: shcherbatskayas Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, school nonsense, hugs, undiagnosed dyslexia, lunch sharing, mutual pining, trauma Summary: Ritsu can't stop himself from being excited about it: Shou's first day in his class. He can't stop himself from being nervous, either. My Notes: post-canon, Shou starts attending Salt middle school and ends up in Ritsu’s class. Shou’s not really cut out for school, unsurprisingly, but Ritsu’s there to keep him company and reassure him that he’ll end up alright. Ritsu makes a pro vs con list of what it’s like to have Shou as a classmate (and to have a friend in his class who he actually likes). It’s a really sweet, nice, fluffy fic and I love the way the author writes Ritsu and Shou’s friendship and how they support each other, I just really love all of the author’s ritshou fics actually. This one was particularly nice to read though, their interpretation of Ritsu and Shou’s relationship is really nice to read and comes across very natural and close.

It’s Hard to Read When You’re Fast Asleep Author: Squishy360 Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: good brother ritsu, family fluff, ???% as a character Summary: Mob passes out. ???% wakes up. Ritsu helps his brother take care of himself in the meantime. My Notes: This fic caught me by surprise in the best way. It’s short and tame and is such a fun and interesting take on ???%’s relationship with Ritsu, how he still recognizes Ritsu as his brother and has that sort of instinctual caring attitude toward him. It’s surprisingly wholesome and comes across almost like a crack fic but it just leaves you feeling warm and happy in the end. Ritsu’s initial fear of ???% and his slow realization that he’s not going to get hurt this time is so nice to read and very cathartic overall. I really love this idea and the author executes on it really really well!

[gurguliare]

Dumb ageswap preview since today is a no self-restraint day

There was a stray cat who frequented the convenience store. Actually there were several, but this one came very regularly at or around dawn, because the cashier who worked nights put out milk near the end of his shift. The first time Keiji saw it happen, he was fascinated, not by the cashier with his oversized T-shirt and apron but by the cat, who was dead. He wanted to know more.

Regular breakfasts of milk and attention soon gave the stray a bit of solidity. Not enough grow back flesh and bone, but enough that—on the darkest winter days, when the sun stayed down and simmered through the morning—the cat just looked like a cat, though a cat with holes for eyes. It got to the point where even an ordinary person would be able to tell that it was there, if only they knew what to look for. Keiji lost interest, not wanting to be caught squinting at a ghost when he should have been on his way to campus. But he thought about it. Somehow it always came before the living strays arrived, and drank without lowering the level of the milk… but the milk grew duller, more blue-white, and lost its smell. The other strays, when they came, were getting the dregs.

Most food, spirits couldn’t enjoy. In their dead mouths it turned to ashes. Offerings were an exception, but could a bowl of milk be an offering? If set out with the correct intent, perhaps. Or prayed over beforehand. It was hard to imagine the night manager praying.

Who was the night manager? He looked boring. He had a sloping bowl-cut, so long it covered his eyebrows and the tips of his ears. The grooves under his eyes shrank his eyes until his face was mostly frown and nostril. Not really a frown—a nonexpression gravity had sagged. He knelt like someone with bad knees, but he couldn’t be old, with that unwashed baby face. If Keiji closed his eyes and concentrated briefly, the cashier appeared as a person-shaped gap in a thick field of color. Most things, viewed in this way, bulged with pockets of spiritual energy, like food that looked delicious but could be halved to show the spotty mold. Even a powerless person had their life, that grew through their body in veins. The cashier was alive, but his life-force gave off neither energy nor colored light—Keiji had to hold open his mind’s senses to detect it, a dark river of “something” concealed in nothing, a life-river spilling downward so slowly it was easy to suppose that he had made some mistake: that the nothing flowed upward, instead.

It would have been too conspicuous to stand in front of the convenient store with his eyes shut, especially after the cashier went back inside. So he pretended to pace. After a couple of passes he walked into a stop sign.

“Oi, Mogami,” said a voice right behind him. “Are you sick?”

He turned slowly, in part because turning made his head swim. At the last minute he also remembered to open his eyes. Vice President Reigen Arataka, terror of blowoff clubs, stood with arms folded and so close behind that Keiji almost clotheslined him. Or would have done, if Keiji had been more like Reigen—waving his hands around at the start of every speech.

Arataka took a prim step back and didn’t relax his hold on his own elbows. “You look sick,” he accused.

“I’m not,” said Keiji pleasantly. “I’m just late. I’m afraid I’m letting down you and the president.”

“Not much to let down. You’re always late.”

“I’m sorry,” said Keiji, staring at his smeary storefront reflection with what he hoped was a sincerely mournful air. Behind the glass, the cashier was putting out new stock. “I didn’t think my student council duties would interfere this much with my preferred sleep habits.”

“That’s a real shame.” No one ever sounded less threatening than Arataka imitating a gangster, or perhaps the rough-cut hero of the movie who drove off the gangsters at the end. He was the sort of person who did it to put people at ease, raising his eyebrows and sneering to shake a laugh out of his victims. “Let’s walk together. I’ll make your excuses, if you like. ‘Mr. President, a thousand apologies. I got lost between the convenience store and the convenience store—’”

“That’s right”—Keiji mimed surprise—“you’re late too, aren’t you?”

Arataka gave him the uneven smile that Keiji often saw in friendly upperclassmen. Something about his sense of humor soured them after a while, though they liked his sarcastic deference. After all, it was still deference.

The president didn’t show up. Keiji enjoyed listening to Arataka fudge the agenda, though.

In homeroom, Ms. Kurata showed an unusual appetite for combat, striding jerkily to and fro and barking questions at the dozers in the front. The bands of dim light from the blinds made their way floating up her jacket, higher but less sharp every time she passed the windows, like she was being batted between a pair of ghostly claws. It was hard to say what had her so worked up. Kurata was an inconsistent teacher; funny and harsh when the subject didn’t interest her, but barely comprehensible when it did. Keiji didn’t mind either way. He took diligent notes and made copies in the time left over, which could sometimes be sold, and he watched the clock for sudden movements. Sometimes he lost time, but when that happened his hand usually had the decency to go on writing without him.

At lunch, he happened to see her outside, talking on the phone. “Eh, Mob, you’ll never guess… I woke you up? Sorry, sorry, forgot you’re back on the graveyard shift. Well, but you’re up now, right?”

“I saw ‘that’ spirit again. Oh, come on, you know what I’m talking about. That spirit! The one I can see! With the blushy face?”

“What do you mean, I should call your brother? You’re the esper, aren’t you? OK, OK, but I don’t even know the name of his agency—”

She dropped her phone in her bag and shook out her fingers as if it had burned her. “‘Spirits and Such’?” she said to herself, and gave a low chuckle. “Straight-laced as ever, Ricchan.”

“Hello,” said Keiji politely.

Kurata jumped and dipped forward like a drawbridge, arms akimbo. He had been standing in front of her for almost a minute; it wasn’t his fault she didn’t pay attention. “Mogami?” She straightened again and tightened her scarf self-importantly. “You weren’t eavesdropping, were you?”

“No, but I couldn’t help but overhear you discussing something that might impact the safety of the school. As a student council member…”

“Hey, that’s too bold, isn’t it? Could it be you’re going to blackmail me? We’ve got another two years together, sonny. I heard what your president did to Mr. Koga.” But she was smiling, cheek twitching a little, like she couldn’t select between amusement and real happiness that someone had heard her. Clearly she had seen something. She sat on a low ceramic wall and patted for him to join her. “Do you believe in the existence of the paranormal?” She had a deep voice which deepened especially for heartfelt performances—in the classroom, almost always heartfelt disappointment.

“Maybe,” said Keiji. “It depends. I can’t rule it out, since I’m not old enough to have really experienced such things. Does teacher believe?”

“You suckup.” She propped her chin on her interlaced fingers and sighed so hard it made her hair flip up. “I used to. I really used to, it was practically all I thought about at your age. I thought I was going to find aliens.”

“….UFO?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. Extraterrestrials are still a statistical near-certainty, you know. Fermi’s paradox, the Drake equation… Humanity’s brightest minds see beyond this low horizon!”

“I might have to finish eating lunch now, Ms. Kurata.”

“No, wait. I’m aware that you’re not interested in aliens. You heard me mention a spirit, right? Well, it’s true. Aliens might still give our species the cold shoulder, but evil spirits certainly don’t. This one—” She lowered her voice. “I first saw him over fifteen years ago. He’s green and he glistens, like snot. I don’t remember his name, but… Mogami, is it true you sold curses to other students in elementary school? Are you a spiritualist?”

“Not true at all,” Keiji said. “I sold charms. They weren’t effective, though. If I have any spiritual powers, I’m below average.”

“I didn��t see the spirit on campus,” she mused, leaning her face to one side in its cradle of fingers, which was slightly disturbing. “So it’s no concern of the student council.” Suddenly her hands sprang apart to wriggle in mid-air. “I tell you what. I give you details, and you make me a protection charm.”

“No, but you can have it for ¥1000.”

Tome whistled and put her hands away. “Cheap!”

[jubilantwriter]

Yuurei ni Natta Boku wa

Summary:  A new obstacle stands in the way of Tome's chance to experience new, exciting days under the tutelage of Reigen. Will Tome be able to prove herself as a worthy student of his, or will Reigen's business finally croak under the hands of this new self-proclaimed psychic?

Next time on: RG8geW91IGJlbGlldmUgZXZlcnl0aGluZyB5b3Ugc2VlPw==

Reading until the very end? Truly a wise choice indeed!

(AO3)

(FF.net)

A/N:  Takes place after the REIGEN manga, AND includes a spiffy little OC.  This won’t be a ship-centric fic, but there will be hints to ships (such as Reigen/Serizawa) anyways.  Please enjoy!

"Ahhh! What am I going to do?!" A young girl dashes past Tome, the familiar uniform and hairstyle making Tome watch her with interest.

"Huh... There she goes again." She's never really stopped Shoujo-chan to ask what was going on in her life - because that'd be weird - but it is always fun to imagine what sort of scenarios Shoujo-chan was getting into today. Maybe she was supposed to stop her billionaire love interest from leaving the country before she can confess? Or perhaps she has to deal with a hoard of jealous fangirls that were threatening to ruin her reputation if she didn't comply to their demands and make the high school heartthrob fall in love with someone else?

… Maybe she too is an esper and is now racing off to save some city somewhere from the brink of destruction?

Hm.

Nah, Mob already has that covered. And that happened like, what, a couple months ago? Maybe more? She's lost track, and Shoujo-chan is long gone now, so she continues on her way to her part-time job.

She doesn't really do much, besides the minimal paperwork that Reigen hands her and serving the clients tea. But sometimes, he lets her watch over his shoulder as he personally "exorcises" spirits from clients, and other times he lets her practice her speeches and advice on him for future clients. If he'd actually let her do more than just watch and learn.

But then again, she's not really in a rush to learn how to con people into believing placebo effects just yet.

Really, she's just into watching whatever interesting things the day brings, be it listening to clients' personal stories of how they believe they got cursed or legitimate hauntings that are plaguing a client to no end. Sure, maybe this isn't the sort of supernatural stuff she is usually into, but being around Mob for so long has given her a deeper appreciation for anything occult and supernatural.

That being said though, a sprinkle of alien encounters wouldn't hurt at all.

She's been trying to convince Reigen to expand his business into outer space somehow. It's really easy, she argues! All they need to do is drag Takenaka and Mob out into a field, and try to reconnect with the aliens. Maybe even aliens get hauntings every once in a while.

Or maybe they just need massages too.

Or a therapy session.

Hm. Maybe she should ask Reigen to actually teach her his ways after all. It'd be so exciting to be a specialist in alien therapy, after all.

Tome hums as she walks, barely noticing a woman standing in her way as she daydreams about the next possible supernatural stint. Maybe alien currency translates nicely into yen, or maybe she and the aliens will engage in another bout of intergalactic exchange, but instead it'll be an exchange of goods and services. Oh, the possibilities! All she needs to do is work on her proposal (wow, so grown up, she thinks, nodding to herself with self-approval) to Reigen, and maybe this time he won't shoot her down on the spot with claims of "how are we going to communicate with them" and "Mob and his friends probably won't be so ready to help this time because it's not about making memories" and "seriously Mob will get upset with me, Tome-chan, he's trying to focus on high school entrance exams".

Really, it's not that big of an issue; she'll just take Mob out on a date on the weekends, and they can go hunting for willing telepaths who'll gladly offer their services (as long as they're willing to accept low pay) and suddenly they'll have new clients to-

"OOF." Tome crashes into the woman who had failed to move in front of her, rubbing her nose as she steps back from the lady. "Sorry about that, I wasn't, uh, looking..."

The woman doesn't respond. Instead, she remains stock still in front of her.

Freaky.

"... Hello?" Tome frowns as the woman continues to ignore her. Seriously, what is her deal? She leans to the side to try and catch a glimpse of the lady's face, and only finds that the lady's eyes are focused on the Spirits and Such sign above them. With how focused the lady looks, Tome can't help but wonder if she too, is lost in her thoughts like Tome was earlier.

But that doesn't explain why the lady didn't budge or notice Tome crashing into her. It's… kind of weird, but by now, Tome is used to weird things happening all the time.

… Probably.

Well, judging by how intense the woman is eyeing the sign, it'd only be proper to ask the woman what her problem is. Tome clears her throat, watching as the woman snaps her attention over to Tome abruptly, surprising her with the sudden head jerk in her direction.

"Uh... can I help you?" Tome approaches the woman, noticing her rather... formal attire.

Well, Reigen-ish formal. The kind of formal that reminds Tome of incessant doorbell rings and incessant people trying to shove products in her hands.

The woman has light brown hair done up in a gravity defying style. Sure, people can pin up their small ponytails against their head, but Tome is sure that hair, pinned up against a skull or not, should still be spilling over slightly, like a withering flower that someone has neglected to care for. The woman's hair, however, spikes straight up from where it's pinned up. Tome wants to believe that it's the work of gel at play, but there's not a single stiff strand of hair to hint towards that.

From there, Tome notices the tucked in dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the woman's elbows. Around her collar is a grey tie, but from the looks of it, it looks more as though the original color had faded away, leaving behind a murky grey-ish tone that hints at its former glory. Completing the attire is a pair of black slacks that look... like they don't deserve to be called slacks. But Tome doesn't really have another name for what the clothing could be, so fake slacks will have to do.

The more Tome looks at this woman, the more she can't help but feel like every piece of this woman just feels a little… off. Before she can dwell on it any longer, however, her feet start to make their soreness known, and it's only then that she realizes that the woman has yet to respond to her initial question. Instead, all she's done is stare dead-eyed at Tome with eyes of the lightest shade of brown. Tome clears her throat to hide whatever nervousness the woman has invoked within her and speaks again. "Lady, did you want to come inside?"

The woman blinks before looking around and pointing at herself. Jesus, did this woman really think that Tome would be talking to anyone else but her? In THIS empty street? Well, it IS quite possible that Tome could be talking to herself in the middle of an empty street, but creeping feeling of unease starts to lurk under Tome's skin, so she pushes that aside quickly and forces her mind to think about something else. Like how she's pretty sure she's late to her shift, not that Reigen counts every minute she works.

But still. She needs to practice punctuality for when she gets a real job with real pay.

Maybe Reigen will up her pay once she presents him with this lady who is hopefully a client, probably client, definitely a client, yes, no doubt about it, she's refusing to think of her as anyone else but a client now.

God, why won't this lady just respond already? This isn't the kind of one-sided conversation she's used to. Tome sucks in a breath and continues to speak.

"Yes, you. I saw you staring up at that sign, and I work here so, if you'd like, I can take you inside? If you're wondering if you needed to schedule an appointment to meet with Reigen-san, you don't need to worry about that. We also accept walk-ins!"

Practicing that spiel was worth it.

The woman's eyes widen in surprise before she shakes her head, and the look of surprise is replaced with a charming smile.

Huh.

It almost reminds Tome of-

"Ah, yes! Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts for a moment." The woman straightens her tie for some reason before flipping her hand out with flair. "Could you please lead me to your workplace? I would like to meet this... Reigen-san I've heard so much about."

"You've heard of Reigen-san?" Tome crosses her arms and stares at the woman who suddenly transformed from stony and mute to confident and lively. Maybe the lady really WAS lost in her thoughts, and this is just how she normally is. Yes, this is the kind of self-reassurance that Tome needs. "I know he claims to be a well-known psychic, but I didn't think people actually KNEW him outside of the people who pop in after seeing the flyers."

"I have my sources." The woman places her hands on her hips as she tilts her head to the side. "Surely you remember that broadcast starring Reigen-san a while back?"

Ah.

Yes.

She completely forgot about that.

Somehow, Reigen's televised shame was shoved to the back of her head after...

Hm.

How many times has the city been destroyed by now? Twice? That's already too many times already, but what can you do, she supposes.

She shakes her head.

"Uh, right. Forgot about that." The woman merely straightens her posture and looks pointedly at Tome. "Oh yeah. Right this way." Tome gestures for the woman to follow her, and leads her up the staircase to Reigen's office. The woman hums behind her before speaking up without Tome's prompting.

"So... About this Reigen-san."

"Yes?"

"What can you say about him?"

Suspicious question. But then again, Reigen himself is a rather suspicious person, and since this lady knows about Reigen's televised shame, it could be that she's trying to see if Reigen is worth a grain of salt (haha, god she should tell Serizawa that joke- no, wait, he'll just be disappointed that she belittled Reigen's worth like that, so maybe not), or if he's actually the real deal.

Tome knows he's about as genuine as a sugar pill.

But she can't tell that to a potential client. She's got to manage an amazing business spiel of her boss if she wants this client to stay and pay.

Not only that, but she's starting to run out of stairs to climb before she can convince this woman that he is truly, the shit.

"Well! Reigen-san is a very kind man," who likes to use espers for his business, "who charges remarkably less for what other psychics usually pay for." Tome thinks this is why her pay is so low. She doesn't even want to ask Serizawa how much he actually makes.

"He definitely does his best to solve whatever problem you have, be it small or big!" This, she can confidently say, is true. Despite his shady nature, he really does actually make good on his word. Sure, he'll advertise his lies as actual psychic remedies, but all their clients always leave looking happier than when they arrived. "He genuinely cares about his employees and makes sure that they're taken care of."

She can speak from her own personal experience, but she also knows that Reigen wasn't always... the best person. She remembers all the times when he'd call Mob out from a hangout just to exorcise a ghost. Mob was never happy about those moments, and she's sure that even though Reigen has a better understanding of his boundaries with Mob, Mob STILL kind of hates being called last minute to help with something.

Hm.

Well, half-lies are okay, right? Plus, Reigen seems like he's genuinely made an effort to respect Mob more and only ever really calls him for emergencies.

Like that one time he was about to literally die.

After saving her life.

Ah, she's run out of stairs.

Tome turns to the woman behind her, whose face has turned into something inscrutable, probably to digest all those "facts" Tome just told her.

That, or she's already judging the truthfulness of what Tome just told her.

Only one way to find out, really.

Tome opens the door to the office, holding the door open for the woman to step through. "Welcome to Spirits and Such Consultation-"

"Tome-chan! I was wondering where you were." Reigen is already walking towards her when he notices the woman standing behind her. He looks to her, then to Tome, concern already worming its way onto his face.

Right.

The last time she brought someone over, it nearly resulted in her AND her senpai's death, so it's not too surprising that Reigen is giving the woman a wary glance over as he tries to figure out what trouble Tome got into this time.

"Client." Just that one word is enough to reassure Reigen that no, this time she's just doing her job and not starting a whole new unnecessary adventure. Reigen takes barely half a second to compose himself, already gesticulating wildly as he greets the woman.

"Ah, yes! Welcome to Spirits and Such - are you here for a consultation?" Reigen flashes her his award-winning smile, and the woman smiles with amusement.

"Something like that."

"Right this way!" Reigen leads the woman to his desk, where Serizawa is sitting nearby, working diligently on his homework. As Tome walks over to her own desk, Serizawa suddenly jolts upright and looks wildly at the woman. The woman gives Serizawa a friendly wave before turning to face Reigen. Serizawa looks towards Tome, his eyes wide as he uses his pupils to point at the woman sitting in front of Reigen.

Tome just shrugs helplessly, watching as Serizawa's shoulders tense up the longer he studies the client.

Serizawa opens his mouth to say something, but Reigen speaks up before the taller man can get a word in.

"So! What could be troubling you today? Is it perhaps a spirit haunting your shoulders? A curse from a jealous rival? Maybe you've been hearing strange noises in your apartment or house?" The woman merely smiles a charming smile before answering Reigen.

"Nothing of the sort, really. Although you could say that I have a spirit problem."

Serizawa makes a strained noise in his throat.

Reigen raises an eyebrow at Serizawa before turning back to the woman. "Oh? Then what is it that you need help with? If you need an exorcism to deal with your little spirit problem-"

"Oh no, there's no need to worry about that." The woman folds her hands to rest on Reigen's desk. "I was joking, really. I would be well aware if I had any little spirits lingering around me." She chuckles to herself, leaving Reigen to study her before smiling again.

"Of course! So then, what services are you looking for today?"

"Reigen-san..." Serizawa raises a hand, looking as though to reach towards the woman. "She's-"

"A client." Reigen takes Serizawa's hand and puts it back gently on his desk. Tome leans forward from her seat, watching the interaction with nervous en- no, INTEREST. She watches the three adults with interest as something dark brews between the three of them. Serizawa is sweating bullets as Reigen takes back the woman's attention.

"Please don't mind my employee. Sometimes he gets a bit jumpy when he senses spirits lingering around our clients. Are you sure," Reigen gives the woman a pointed stare, "that you have no illnesses of any sort? No aches or pains for no discernible reason? No ailments at all?"

She shakes her head. "Not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Reigen turns to Serizawa, his lips drawn into a fine line. "What-"

"Actually." The woman interrupts Reigen before he can continue his question to Serizawa. "I'm actually here for an evaluation."

"Oh!" Reigen claps his hands a bit too loudly. "Of course! An evaluation!" He grins as he steeples his fingers together. "So, what is it that you would like evaluated?"

The woman smirks as she leans forward.

Something doesn't feel right.

The room fills up with a tense, heavy atmosphere, causing to Serizawa jump up with his hand outstretched.

"You-!"

"Serizawa, calm down!" Reigen grabs Serizawa's hand and shoves it back down. "I don't know WHAT'S getting you riled up, but you shouldn't try to exorcise anything without a proper evaluation!" Now it's Reigen's turn to start sweating bullets as Serizawa starts sputtering.

"But, Reigen-san-!"

"Trust me, Serizawa." The twitches in Reigen's smile let Tome know that he too realizes that something unnatural is happening. "If something bad happens, I'll let you do whatever it is you want. But for now," he gestures weakly to the woman sitting unfazed in front of him, "... client."

Serizawa remains standing, his hands clenched and trembling by his sides.

"Are you alright?" The woman looks Serizawa up and down, giving him a calming smile. "I promise, whatever it is you think you're sensing, it's not dangerous." Reigen sits back, looking over his client seriously.

"... so about your evaluation."

"Yes!" The woman turns back to Reigen, her arm resting on his desk as she rests her chin in her hand. "My evaluation."

Reigen narrows his eyes. "... you're up to something, aren't you?"

The woman's calming smile morphs into a smirk.

"Allow me to introduce myself."

With a slick movement, her hand moves from her chin to in front of Reigen, reaching for a handshake.

Reigen takes it slowly, gripping it firmly and giving her a quick shake.

Serizawa sucks in a breath, and Tome can only watch as Serizawa's anxious face morphs into utter confusion.

And then fear.

The woman squeezes Reigen's hand before tilting her head to the side. "I'm sure you've heard of the Sun Psychic Union?"

"I-" She releases her grip to gently backhand his face into silence. "Gak!"

"I've been hired by a certain psychic to evaluate the legitimacy of one Reigen Arataka's business."

"What-"

"To put it simply." She removes her hand from his face and straightens her tie, smirking as several papers begin to float from Reigen's desk. Reigen pales as he watches the spectacle, his eyes moving from the papers to the woman. She releases her tie, letting the papers drop back onto his desk and enjoying his floundering. "I will be the one evaluating you, Reigen-san." She glances from Serizawa to Tome, taking in the sight of both their faces, before leaning back and meeting Reigen's heavily sweating face with her bemused one.

"I am Chigami Haru, the Number One Psychic Inspector of the 21st Century." She gets up, walking away from the three gawking faces to move towards the door, opening it before turning to wave farewell. "I'll be back tomorrow for your evaluation!"

Before anyone can stop her, she shuts the door behind, her promise lingering in the air.

...

Well-

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Tome covers her ears from Reigen's loud shriek. She doesn't get what just happened, but from just the feel of the room itself, she knows that it's something beyond what her occult books and prior experiences have prepared her for.

With a quick dig through her bag, she pulls out her phone and turns it on.

Maybe Mob can help Reigen out.

A/N:   Ii4uLmhleSEiICBIZSBjYWxscyBvdXQgdG8gaGVyLCBoaXMgZmVldCB3YW50aW5nIHRvIGZvbGxvdyBhZnRlciBoZXIsIGJ1dCBmYWlsaW5nIHRvIG1vdmUuICIuLi5XZSBjYW4gZ28gc2VlIHRoZSBmaXJld29ya3Mgd2hlbiB5b3UgZ2V0IGJhY2ssIG9rYXk/Ig==