#of COURSE Shigeo is going to resent that man

[justphilia]

Ghost!Mob AU

Hello, hello, hello! ‘Tis I again with another long AU post. I literally cracked my knuckles, took a sip from my tea, and started writing so buckle up because this will be a ride!

As the AU name suggests, Mob is, indeed, dead. So...TW Major Character Death but not really.

I debated between having his death be the time he first exploded and the time Teru attacked him, but went with the latter because the first one doesn’t work out the way I want it to (if Shige dies before meeting Reigen, then a lot of stuff that needs to happen can’t happen)

It happens when Teru’s choking Shigeo, and in canon, Shigeo’s suppose to explode right? But he doesn’t in this case. In this case, Shigeo’s so dead set on not using his powers that Teru accidentally chokes the air out of him. (I kicked the table from how much I hate myself for hurting Teru)

So Shigeo’s dead yeah? (I really don’t want to go into detail man holy shit I have the shivers) And, almost like canon, Teru’s reaction is to flee the scene. But the thing about Shigeo is that he has, like, two consciousness(?) inside him. Him and ???% (I like to call him Bom. Hehe, like, boom, explosion--), so when he died, the two gets separated.

Guess who gets who!

Teru gets Shigeo and Reigen gets Bom (contemplated having Ritsu instead but it’d make more sense if Reigen does.)

Teru wakes up the next day with that god awful fever because “Oh my god, I think...I think I killed a guy.” and it only worsens when Shigeo’s expressionless face suddenly hovered over him.

Teru’s too weak to do anything, so the most he does is flail around while Shigeo stares. The thing about Shigeo without Bom is that he’s almost devoid of emotions, so he’s not particularly upset that he’s dead (yet), and after Teru finally calms down, he speaks in a really dead tone.

“You look sick.”

“Are you real?”

Shigeo looks around, then sort of nods like, “Mhm.”

Then Teru passes out from fever and shock.

Meanwhile, Reigen wakes up to crying in his house. If that didn’t scare his bloody pants off, then I don’t know what could truly scare this man. He carefully gets out of bed, phone in hand in case he has to call Shigeo (oof), but when he sees who’s crying, he stops.

“Mob?” He saw the news, he knows, he knows, that it can’t be his student. They found his body and--

Bom, poor child, looks up, and he looks like that black murky form from the anime. “Shishou.” Look, he really as no one else to go to, and the feelings of resentment hasn’t fully manifested yet, so Bom still lowkey trusts the man. 

“Um, are you...okay?” Mind you, Reigen has never seen a Mob explosion before, so although he does recognize that Bom is Shigeo, he’s not super sure what he is. Then the whole story comes spilling out and Reigen panics. 

Because, one, he needs to find Teru before the authorities get to him first, or that kid’s in big trouble, and two, how would Shigeo’s family react to Shigeo being a ghost?

Both Shigeo and Bom aren’t aware that they’re separated, so Reigen doesn’t know that Bom isn’t complete, and he only gets a feeling that something’s wrong when Bom’s being more expressive than Shigeo regularly is.

Anyway, cut to Ritsu, who’s in mourning, but decides to hide it through going to school. He slips out of the house without his parents noticing, and he knows he doesn’t look good at all, but he doesn’t care because he just doesn’t want to think about Shigeo being gone. He doesn’t. 

He’s in school, and the first person who pulls him aside is Tsubomi, who looks pretty as always, but Ritsu’s observant enough to see the god amount of makeup hiding her puffy eyes. 

“Is it true?”

“I--”

“Is it?”

“Why do you care?” Ritsu hisses and Tsubomi looks mildly hurt.

“He’s my friend!”

“Was!”

“So it really is true then.” Tsubomi says softly, and she looks like she’s about to cry again. 

No one talks to Ritsu at all the whole day, and he can’t tell if it’s because they want to give him some space or if they’re afraid of his pissed off face. 

And uuhhh, I guess he briefly passes by an argument between Musashi and Onigawara, and Ritsu learns it’s kinda Oni’s fault that Shigeo’s...

So Big Cleanup Arc happens, but Ritsu’s super super pissed!

A lot of plot holes after this, because Awakening Lab doesn’t really recruit Ritsu? Or it just doesn’t happen at all? The deliquents don’t attack, and I guess DImple meeting Ritsu still happens? I’ll probably fix it someday.

It gets a bit blurry after this, but I do know Shigeo and Bom don’t reunite until end of Seventh Division Arc, and Shigeo ends up sticking around Ritsu the most. Like a guardian angel of sort? And of course, Shigeo’s resting form is his canon spirit form. It’s so cute, how could I not?

[uncannycookie]

If you ever do more side oneshots from Teru's perspective for your fics I promise to read and love them to death. (Yes, the friendly water providing drunks can also be included.)

Yay I finished one prompt! Out of, like, ten. Bear with me, I’m working through something here.

Also I promise this is the last time I write about Teru’s shopping adventures, this is way too repetitive, it’s just the first thing that popped into my head and, just, this is how this boy copes in my mind

AO3 link in case the Read More isn’t working again for some reason.

Holding On (With Broken Grip)

“Of course I’m busy,” Teru drawls into the phone awkwardly held between his ear and shoulder. “It’s a Saturday, I have like - three party invitations for today.”

It’s only one actually, and he’s definitely not going, but of course that’s not something he needs to advertise right now. Juro is a friend from school and a total ass, he’ll ridicule him in front of everyone for staying in on a weekend even once.

“Anyway, why, what do you have planned?” The phone is slipping away slowly and his neck is starting to cramp a bit from the position.

How do people in movies make that look so easy? Should have put it on speaker phone. He supposes he could still do that, but he already got too much blood on the white casing just picking it up, he doesn’t want to fumble around with it more than necessary.

Where does he keep his fucking bandages? He knows he has some, somewhere.

“Mizuki nicked some beer from her parents and Eiji is bringing something too,” Juro is telling him over the phone while Teru tries his best to open the bathroom cabinets using only the heels of his hands. “We’re meeting at Eiji’s place and going wherever later, I guess.”

“Oh, wherever? Sounds riveting,” Teru yawns. Which is not even a big act to be honest. It’s a real yawn and he just has to adjust it a tiny bit to make it sound appropriately condescending.

The phone barely survives the act, dislodged from its place by his jaw, and he distorts his shoulders and neck even more to catch it in time.

“What the hell are you doing over there?” Juro asks predictably, finally reacting to the loud shuffling sounds he must be picking up on his end, as well as the banging of the cabinet doors that repeatedly slip out of Teru’s grasp.

“Getting ready of course, what do you think.”

For a second, Teru considers using his hands to open the rebellious doors after all, but he quickly drops that thought again. The cuts on his left hand are superficial, barely even bleeding anymore by this point, but a lot of glass splinters are stuck near the fingertips and he doesnt want to risk pushing them in even further. Meanwhile his right hand already feels too swollen to even move and is turning blue around the scraped knuckles.

He hopes the fridge survived that punch more unscathed than he himself did. Teru didn’t like the sound it made.

“You can’t call me on a Saturday evening and expect me not to be on the go, idiot,” he continues. “Whatever, thanks for the invite but I’ll be elsewhere. Take pictures though.”

“Dude, you’re always elsewhere lately,” Juro protests, more annoyed than disappointed. “What, found cooler friends?”

That stings for a second, and Teru can’t really tell why.

Except, maybe, the word friend made him think of Shigeo and that’s by far the worst thought for him to have today. His fridge can attest to that.

“You say that as if it would be hard,” he snaps. “At least elsewhere no one is whining at me like a ten year old. Was there anything else or are you going to stop pestering me now?”

“Nice party mood,” Juro drawls. “I don’t care man, do what you want.” He turns away from the phone and just before he hangs up, Teru can hear him addressing someone in the background with a “Nah, told you, nerd is staying in again.”

The phone finally slips out from underneath his ear and tumbles to the ground. It takes all of Teru’s willpower not to kick it away over the tiled floor.

At least now he can use his elbows to open the cabinet and keep it open long enough to actually look at the contents. The success is short lived, because apparently that’s not where he keeps his bandages after all. Teru somehow manages to slam the cabinet shut again and judging from the clattering sounds from inside, it only knocked over about half of his things.

If he really tries, he can actually bend the fingers of his right hand. It hurts like hell, but technically he can use that hand.

He’d declare that more than enough, if it wasn’t for the splinters in his left. There had simply been no time at work to look for a dustpan and brush. It had been the end of his shift already and he’d had a train to catch and he’d been tired and hadn’t been thinking and quickly picking up a whole tray of broken glass with his fingers had seemed like a good idea at the time.

From the kitchen, there is a tired mechanical whir and a small spluttering sound.

It’s probably safe to say that the fridge is not going to be in top form again anytime soon.

Might as well head to the store now to get some band-aids and a few groceries that’ll keep at room temperature.

Instant coffee is disgusting. Teru despises the stuff, but it’s the only coffee they have here and he’s at the point where looking at the prices for the actual coffee beans in an actual supermarket makes him scoff out loud.

He gets two large boxes of instant coffee. Some toast and instant ramen. Lots of instant stuff in general. Not too long ago the contents of his basket would have made him cry. Now it’s mostly just the pain in his hands that’s making his eyes water a bit with every movement, but he’s clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth and bravely ignoring it.

“Do you have tweezers?” He asks the cashier, because his own that he uses for his eyebrows aren’t fine enough to pick tiny glass splinters out of his fingers. Past the two customer he’s ringing up right now, the cashier points towards a small shelf near the front.

“I’m not talking about the movie,” one of the customers currently paying for a six-pack of beer is saying while Teru picks out the finest tweezers he can find and steps up to the counter. “I’m talking about the book! Because yes, there is a book. And guess what, there’s not a single robot uprising happening in there.”

Teru can’t see the young adult’s face past his enormous mop of curly hair, but he seems livid when he slams a hand on the counter and points at the clerk with the other. “The robots are completely and utterly trustworthy! It’s right there in the first law of robotics: Don’t harm human beings. Meaning they are actually literally unable to! And the ‘loophole’ the movie used to get around it - 'humans always hurt themselves so we have to overthrow them to protect them’ ‒ blah blah, bullshit! That’s not a loophole, it’s just a paradox. To protect humans they have to harm humans but they can’t harm humans because they have to protect humans. The supercomputer couldn’t have gotten to any decision there, it simply would’ve shut itself down!”

The clerk really doesn’t look as if he ever asked for any of this. He just stands quietly, holding out a handful of change that continues to be ignored, and watches the guy ramble with an empty expression.

He is freed when the small woman with the sidecut next to the chatty guy grabs both the change and the guy’s collar, says “I apologize for his opinions,” and pulls him with her towards the exit, just at the same moment that Teru shoves his basket on the counter. “Get the Hello Kitty band-aids,” she says over her shoulder, and it takes Teru an embarrassingly long second to realize she’s talking to him. “They hold better and look rad.”

Even through his confusion, Teru manages to quickly recover, grab said band-aids from inside his basket and wave them in her direction. “Way ahead of you,” he says, just barely making it sound sufficiently bored to cover up his surprise at being spoken to in this moment.

“Neato,” she nods at him, right before the doors slide shut behind her.

When Teru steps back outside, two plastic bags dangling from the crook of his arm, she and her opinionated friend are long gone.

His right hand is starting to look very dark around the knuckles. He bends the fingers as far as he can, at this point just to prove to himself that he can, and sucks in air through his teeth at the pain.

It feels as though he wants to be angry. As angry as he was when he stopped thinking entirely and punched that stupid fridge. He can’t even remember what set him off. There has just been that feeling at the back of his throat all day, something that tints every thought a deep, painful color and makes it hard to swallow. Every tiny thing has been pissing him off today and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He walks home and thinks of how he can’t go out tonight, he has to work tomorrow and he’s way too tired anyways and it’s not even as if he wants to go out.

None of that changes how he’s nonsensically resenting Juro and the others for having fun without him.

Or resenting the empty apartment he’s returning to right now, the one that he hasn’t had the time to clean up properly in days and that is housing a broken fridge now, which is entirely his own fault but he still wants to punch someone else for it.

(Resenting, maybe, the lost thought in his mind that he would like to invite someone over. Not for a party, but just for something calm and easy, something that doesn’t feel quite as ‒ cold ‒ as spending the evening alone in silence and going to sleep early out of exhaustion.)

The keys hurt his fingers when he takes them out of his pocket.

And the first thing that greets him after pushing open the door to the stairwell, in the form of just a small blur rushing down the stairs to the courtyard, is a cat.

Teru stops. Tilts his head back and slowly cracks his neck with a long sigh.

This is not fair. Those cats don’t even belong to anyone in the house. They shouldn’t be here. They don’t have the right to make him feel worried all of a sudden because Shigeo will be upset and Teru is grinding his teeth again because why should he even care, it’s not like Shigeo will be coming over anytime soon!

The door is slowly falling shut behind him and he’s still standing frozen, glaring down the staircase towards the basement and the courtyard entry.

He is, only now, beginning to think that he might need someone else here to help him with removing the splinters. Since his other hand isn’t working perfectly either. So. He should probably actually invite someone.

Maybe he can say that they weren’t fighting in the first place. That it was all just a misunderstanding, that he’s just been busy and that’s why they haven’t been in contact at all since Teru declined meeting for a study session. Shigeo would probably buy that. Nobody would even have to awkwardly apologize that way. They could just. Go back to normal.

Only Teru isn’t sure he could. He tries to imagine having to smile and laugh right now and it actually hurts his face.

Well. Shigeo would probably even come over and help him with his hand if Teru didn’t lie to him about having a fight. If Teru just let him fix his hand and then asked him to leave ‒ Shigeo would. Wouldn’t he.

This train of thought actually doesn’t change anything about the pain in his face. Only it also makes him feel like throwing up. He hasn’t even eaten enough today to actually do that.

It’s not like he’s actually going to call him, who is he kidding, he can’t just call and ask for help when he’s perfectly capable of taking care of everything himself, he’s just ‒

‒ just overreacting.

The phone stays in his pocket.

That he still goes down the stairs to see how many cats there are, maybe figure out where they’re coming from and how to get rid of them, has absolutely nothing to do with Shigeo. Teru scatters instant coffee around the courtyard because he’s heard that coffee grounds are a cat repellent and maybe the instant stuff works too. He bought two boxes, he doesn’t need that much anyway.

The cats are loud at night and he needs to sleep. That’s the only reason he cares.

(It takes way too long to remove the splinters from his hand. His phone buzzes all evening as Juro keeps sending him pictures from their outing. Teru pours rubbing alcohol over his hands, wraps them up in Hello Kitty band-aids and goes to sleep at around two in the morning.

The moment he finally turns off the lights, the first wailing cat scream of the night makes itself heard from the courtyard.)

[iasfuturekings]

Clans of Hoshido: Chiura (知浦)

Once when the east lands were divided into warring states, the lord of the dominant then dominant Kamiya Clan enjoyed the support of several minor clans, including the then lesser Chiura clan. After the Kamiya Clan was soundly defeated by the rising Yamato Clan, led by descendants of the Dawn Dragon Dion, the Chiura were among the first of the Kamiya-aligned clans to acknowledge surrender, and they rebuilt themselves under the service of their new king to unify the nation that would eventually become Hoshido.

The Chiura had the fortune of winning the favor of the Yamato queen, the only survivor of Dion’s once prosperous kingdom on the isles. Although her children gave her a new life and beginning, Queen Youko missed her home dearly and found company in the wife of the Chiura Lord, Kasuga. They exchanged letters of affection regularly, and through this Lady Kasuga brought her husband to high administrative office, allowing her to live closer to her queen. With careful planning, Lady Kasuga and her husband installed their family members in various positions in military and government and made a name for themselves as one of the powerful clans backing the Yamato. Yet Lady Kasuga would never forget her dear queen. Both women grew to old age and died in the same year, separated by three days.

Today, the Chiura are most notably still a powerful clan today, and held a great majority of central administrative positions. They proclaim themselves to be the greatest patron of the arts, second to, of course, the royal Yamato clan. In fact, they boast the largest archive of records and poetry collections in the land, one that is still expanding to this day. However, the Chiura are not lacking in combat ability. Like the Amachi, this clan holds tournaments of their own but focus more on skill than general combat, bringing forth a long history of master archers and Mechanists. The most prestigious of these games, The Kyudo Games, is attended by all high clans of the east lands, including the royal family.

Crest Designs

The crest of the Chiura Clan is a trio of pear flowers. According to what I read, it’s a Chinese symbol of longevity (lots of imagery and symbols got imported from China to Japan), and is associated with wise governance. The pear was a favorite subject in the early days of verse. The Chiura are the more artsy kind of people, so they’d enjoy this kind of image and something to go with their collective love for poetry.

Notable Members

Kasuga Chiura - A companion and possibly lover of the Yamato queen Phoebe (renamed Youko). A key figure in the Chiura’s ascent to power.

Hisao Chiura - Former head of house and master poet and calligrapher, currently retired to focus on gentlemanly accomplishments

Hisao’s wife, a skilled practitioner in tea ceremonies on the royal family’s commendation

Katsura Chiura - Current head of house, Reina’s younger sister, resents her older sister for abandoning her filial duties

Reina Chiura - An accomplished Kinshi Knight of the Sky Knight Corps, royal retainer of Queen Mikoto, older sister of Katsura

Setsuna Chiura - Winner of the Kyudo Games, royal retainer of Princess Hinoka, has a bad habit of falling into traps

Shigeo Chiura - Setsuna’s father, second cousin to Katsura and Reina Chiura. He, too, is a master archer and poet, and he is best known for his overprotective nature, especially for his only daughter.

More Notes and Facts

People like Katsura and Hisao are masterfully passive aggressive

In a positive light, they’re rather non confrontational, but in a negative light, they are the most pompous nobles you’ll ever meet

They aren’t a big fan of the Hiromi’s warmongering or the Amachi’s aggressiveness, or the competitive Inazumas

They seem to be much friendlier with the Ishiyama clan and Yamato clan

Of course, Reina breaks that mold entirely, much to their dissappointment

Hisashi Amachi often jokes that the Chiura are skilled but useless in battle because no one’s going to wait for them to aim a arrow for hours on end

Katsura resents her sister Reina for shirking her duties as the eldest daughter to become a Sky Knight (for Hisashi of all people)

Reina knows this, but doesn’t do much to resolve the rift between them, much to their father’s worries

She is often very disgusted with Reina’s bloodthirsty tendencies, and often voices how glad she is that Reina isn’t officially part of the family anymore

As the sole woman on the Council of Five (currently now that Mikoto has passed), Katsura feels the need to hold a higher standard of decorum

She hates it when Hisashi picks a fight with anyone (most especially Ichiro) because that can go on for days, and if not for the respect she had for the Amachis in general, she would have booted him out

Uzuki Ishiyama is too “simple” of a man for her to get along with, according to her

She tends to side with Mikoto and Ryoma because they tend to be the most reasonable out of everyone

Even Sumeragi, although just as bad of a troublemaker as Hisashi, gets her approval because at least he knows when to set aside trivial matters

Souji Inazuma was also another council member she approved of, but unfortunately he has been succeeded by his son Isamu, whom she thinks is too weak

Katsura has penchant for owning exotic things, like parrots and exquisite furniture. Was her clan responsible for the Kitsune and Garou population drop?

Shigeo had to take a long break after Setsuna decided to leave the comfort of their home and serve Hinoka in war.

They weren’t really on good terms when she left (much like Reina), but they get along far better than the main family (they bond over archery techniques, and avoiding traps)

Mitama admires Shigeo’s poetry, regardless of whether or not she is his granddaughter

Although if she was, Shigeo would be ecstatic to find another poet enthusiast (although I’m not sure how he would handle Azama)

Music Accompaniment: 封印 from Saki Zenkoku

[minusram]

3/? bonny and blithe, good and gay

[ch 1 / ch 2] [do make tomorrow a sunny day series here]

Ritsu does not talk to Nii-san every evening. Some nights he is tired, some nights he is busy, and some nights he can’t bear to imagine what his brother might think of him, if only he were here. Shigeo is a ghost hanging over him, an intangible but metaphorical phantom that remains so despite Ritsu’s newfound supernatural abilities.

Ritsu wondered, when they first manifested, if maybe someone had been watching over him after all, but a thorough check of the house, and even of the room that’s been slowly filled with the debris of a life lived looking forward—once it was done being a shrine to the past—revealed nothing. No ghosts, not even a wisp. Not a trace of emotion; no time capsule messages preserved for him to find.

Ritsu isn’t disappointed. Even if there was something lingering in the halls it would be the remains of a child, not someone older than him, not someone he could rely on. He’s lived his whole life, practically, without a brother—over three quarters, almost four fifths; gaining a facsimile of companionship at this late date would hardly be a fulfilling prize for his psychic achievement.

The setback with the wall was an outlier; despite the impression it left on him as he failed to do the same in reverse, Ritsu really has been making progress in his esper training, a fact that makes his inadequacy today sting all the more. An increase in cases recently, spurred by the growing popularity of his employer’s website, has meant a proportional increase in cases worth his time, higher level spirits that it actually means something to deal with.

Things that only he can do.

---

Days pass, then a week, then more, and it’s all entirely routine except for the scrapes he sometimes gets into with Reigen. Those are strange, different, scary; sometimes even dangerous, but maybe it’s karma presenting him with trials, with tasks he can undertake to mitigate his damage on the world. He makes it away unscathed each time, so the universe can’t be too mad at him. But then again, Reigen does too.

Ritsu keeps going to school, doing homework, going to work, talking to Nii-san, spending time with his parents, and it’s awhile before he sees Suzuki again.

This morning, he left early, and lied to his parents about why he needed to be here at Salt Middle before everyone else. Maybe he didn’t have to—they know he’s capable, they trust him, and it’s not like they micromanage his schedule—but he needed to vent the pressure a little and a harmless lie is better than the alternatives. He has power here, at school if not at home, to do terrible things.

But he’s an inquisitor, not a tyrant.

He watches Mezato, who appears to have made herself into something of a cult leader, from where he sits with his legs dangling off the wide lip of the roof. He’s on the wrong side of the fence, but it seems people never look up, so he doesn’t spare a thought to being spotted as he observes the trail of people she drags behind her while she chortles. They’re all laughing boisterously, at varying levels of volume.

First comes the Official Church of (LOL) First Salt Mid Branch, though according to the Student Council they aren’t officially anything except a nuisance. Kurata leads her little gang with a piercing laugh, her hands clutching her sides as she projects her voice to the edges of the schoolyard. Her three minions follow her in a ragged clump, hanging off each other and stumbling in a paroxysm of giggles.

Caught up behind them, not quite integrated into their herd, is Suzuki. He’s curled in on himself as he walks, bent over the bars of his arms against his stomach, shuffling forward with his hair shadowing his eyes. It’s creepy looking, the way he laughs; an impression unhelped by the sick leering smirk on his face, just visible when his shudders grow particularly acute.

And behind him, in a long snaking line, are the followers, people Ritsu has picked over and found to be non-critical, with very little influence in the running of the cult. Suzuki would be one of them if Ritsu didn’t know what he is. He escapes anonymity simply because Ritsu is unable to ignore him, though from what Ritsu’s heard he thus far hasn’t done anything particularly enthralling besides follow Mezato around and exist while being foreignly interesting.

Of greater note is that there’s a student council member there, blending in and chuckling, wiping tears from his eyes. Ritsu marks him, a bright red post-it flag on the file in his mind; he’ll bring it up with Kamuro this afternoon at the meeting. The only question is whether to do it in front of everyone or in private. Both have their appeal.

By some signal invisible to him, the prayer period is concluded; the ragged procession breaking up and reforming in new patterns as students fall into their ordinary social configurations again. Friends find friends and walk into school together. They seem refreshed. Ritsu felt something, watching them, some tug urging him to join in, but it was an impulse easily resisted, and now it’s gone. Strange.

And worth further consideration, but not now. The bell’s about to ring and he needs to get to class. As he boosts himself up over the fence he keeps a wary eye on Suzuki, still off step, like a satellite just out of orbit as he follows the other cultists inside.

---

That afternoon, when he’s walking to student council, he sees them again. Suzuki is being helplessly carried along under Kurata’s arm; she chatters non-stop while Mezato waves at them from the door of the news room. The other three—Inugawa, Saruta, and Kijibayashi—range ahead of them, taking up more space in the hallway then they should as the group makes its way to the entrance of the school.

Ritsu doesn't engage, though he's spotted at least five rules they're breaking. Even inquisitors take breaks sometimes, and he's still mulling over what he saw this morning. He’s not ready. The boys get quieter as he passes, except for Suzuki who was already silent, then the noise cautiously picks back up again when they think he’s out of range.

Ritsu dismisses them, for now, so he can turn his thoughts to the meeting, where he will undoubtedly be called upon to speak as Kamuro’s second hand in the Cleanup operation. Ritsu has better ears than a lot of people think; he’s heard the other members refer to him as the president’s attack dog. It’s not inaccurate—he knows what he’s become, what his powers have allowed him to be.

But it’s too late now to go back, and he wouldn’t deserve to even if he could; he’s been changed by this, enduringly, turned by dirty work to something darker than he was.

The meeting is as it ever is—Ritsu decides against the instigation of a fellow member’s lynching in a public forum—and then it’s over. He can’t remember what he said, or why, or who about, but surely it was satisfactory; an eloquent offering with salient points supporting whatever Kamuro was going to do anyway.

And of course, whatever Kamuro is going to do is whatever Ritsu told him to do the last time they met like this, privately, after even Tokugawa’s gone home. They’re two peas in a rotting pod, Kamuro and him, and the power slides between them like jello on a see-saw; constantly in flux and just as absurd, leaving sticky tracks of culpability all over both of their hands.

Kamuro seems shadowed, wraithed by negative energy as they discuss how to deal with their cuckoo, the cultist in their midst. Deep, dark shadows sag under his eyes and his hair is wavy and unwashed, heavy with grease. They’re nothing like mirrors of each other, but Ritsu feels a grimy kinship with him like a mushroom growing in the dark.

As they walk out, Kamuro slips on a piece of paper left on the floor in the hallway. It’s easily avoidable, but caught by surprise Kamuro’s foot skids out from under him and he slams into the door.

Ritsu sees his face and knows the shape of the next hill he’ll die on. Kamuro is smart, cunning and devious about it, but petty, sadistic, obsessed with power. He’s distracted from the bigger picture, which is why he values Ritsu, still, even after Ritsu’s learned so much about him.

The student body resents their duly elected president, begrudges the power they gave him, but Kamuro’s terrible reputation has its uses; it’s why Ritsu values him. If everyone’s looking at the person who revels in the spotlight, they might not notice the inky figure hidden by the curtain, watching them from just off-stage.

---

“This time, we got a big one,” Reigen says, brandishing an envelope with a broken wax seal. There’s a curse on his shoulder he doesn’t seem to have noticed; its tendrils drift when he moves, waving like it’s underwater, an anemone made of glowing energy rooted in the grey weave of his suit.

“Bigger than an urban legend, Reigen-san?” Ritsu replies, leaning against the wall as he watches it writhe.

“It’ll certainly pay better,” Reigen says, greed twisting his face before it shifts into a bright smile, emphasized by his hand’s flourish, “Maybe this time we can avoid getting anyone mutilated!”

Not so long ago, his employer proposed a little busting spree. Their attempt to exorcise the Kuchisake-onna went poorly, and culminated in the injury of a professional competitor who’d unwisely attempted to assist. After they helped Shiira Taichoumaru, or whatever his name was, to the hospital—bleeding heavily from the slashes in his face—, Reigen capitalized upon the man’s injury to update his business’ website, to lure in weak minds all the more efficiently.

A side effect has been the uptick in genuinely psychic cases, exorcisms that actually count as exercise; the shame he feels at profiting off another’s misfortune helps him take care of the escalating assignments without too much collateral damage, either to their surroundings or themselves. He’s both intrigued and wary to see what might qualify as a ‘big one’ after all the things he’s seen these past few weeks.

“So what is it?” Ritsu says.

“Some private mansion, I don’t know. Up on the mountain somewhere. It’s a famous businessman, the president of a real big company, but I don’t know if I should say who… can you keep a secret?”

“No, I don’t keep secrets.”

“Liar.”

Ritsu’s hand twitches; point Reigen.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he says. Reigen shrugs easily, conceding to the dig.

“Whatever, you’ll find out soon enough. That’s about all I know anyway, we’ll just have to get over there and see what’s up. So come on, Ritsu, we need to catch the train.”

As Reigen passes him, Ritsu reaches out; the curse crumbles at his touch.

For a moment, psychic silt coats his fingertips, sticking in his fingerprints. He has time to brush his thumb over it, considering, before that too fizzes away.

“Coming, Reigen-san,” he says, dipping to pick up his bag, and texting his parents that work might run late, “But don’t call me that.”

---

After they’ve rattled their way out of town, transferring from the train to a bus and then a hike up a long flight of worn stone stairs, and they’ve spent long minutes surrounded by trees and green smells—a myriad of natural splendours that Ritsu is not equipped to appreciate—they come upon the mansion, which emerges slowly as they crest the mossy staircase.

Ritsu set a brisk pace on their way up, eager to reach their destination and anticipating an equally long trip home after they’ve finished, but he hasn’t overexerted himself. Reigen, however, is sweating more than the weather warrants, and he pauses to take in the view of the massive building, hands on his hips as he gives every appearance of relishing the mildly-less-smoggy mountain air.

“Totally… worth it…” Ritsu’s employer says, endeavouring to seem overcome by the beauty of their environment—somewhat marred by the ostentatious eyesore of a house—and not his own physical limitations.

“Reigen-san, you should really keep in shape. It’s important to take care of your body as you age.”

“I’m twenty-seven, you brat!” Reigen cries, clenching his teeth and a fist in front of him in outrage, “That’s not old!”

He contains himself with a condescending puff; his hand transfers to his chin as he looks up, pensive. “But hey, I can’t expect a little kid to understand,” he says with a knowing nod. “Besides, taking a taxi would eat into our profit margin.”

“We could have taken a taxi?”

“Profit, Ritsu, think of the profit.”

The mansion is enormous, guarded by imposing walls bristling with barbed wire, reinforced chainlink gates, and serious people in suits and sunglasses who bark at them for identification.

Ritsu has a moment of doubt at the set-up, hoping Reigen actually has been invited and isn’t just gate-crashing like Ritsu knows he’s wont to do. But it all goes smoothly, everything in order, and one of the security guards leads them up the short drive to the house and through the double set of tufted leather doors.

They go in, past the vaulted entryway flanked by two double-story staircases, down a hallway floored with flawlessly polished stone that bounces the sound of their steps back up at them, past a room adjoining the back of the house, decorated in the traditional style, to arrive in front of an identical set of doors to the first, padded with creamy off-white leather; so clean they might never have been touched.

Their guide gestures to the brass handles, set into wood the warm, deep colour of chestnuts, and leaves them there.

Reigen whistles, impressed, when they’re alone.

“Nice fucking house, eh Ritsu?”

And with that, he opens the doors.

WELP. here it comes