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“How’d you get ahold of the shabby thing, anyway?” Dimple asked after a few moments’ pause, hovering by Reigen as he leaned precariously out of the office window.
“My sign isn’t shabby,” Reigen grunted past the screwdriver held in his teeth. “Used to be a liquor store down on ground level. Asked ‘em if I could keep the sign up when I started renting.”
The little gears turned in Dimple’s head, and then he laughed, booming and boisterous, making Reigen jolt dangerously in his position halfway out the building.
“Oh, I get it,” the spirit crowed. “Spirits and Such. You’re a real card, Reigen.”
“I’m not kidding.” Reigen allowed himself a smile as he finished screwing the new bulb in, then affixed the small metal plate in his free hand back into place. “Came free of charge, too.”
For a second, Dimple gaped, then laughed even harder. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I even -” the conman stopped here as his hand, busy pulling his torso back into the office, crunched into a little stack of twigs. He let out a huff. “Freeloading pigeons. Maybe I should get that thing spiked.” Finally back on his feet behind the desk, Reigen brushed the bracken from his palm out onto the street below. “Won’t look all too inviting, but anything’s better than some tacky owl decoy.”
Dimple shrugged. “You smushed the nest. Maybe they won’t come back.”
But the birds did come back - just as Reigen had supposed, a pair of scruffy city pigeons.
“Looks like your tenants want another go,” Dimple called from across the office the next day, half-smiling at the sight of the creatures dutifully constructing another nest in the crook of the sign’s lower support bar.
Meeting the spirit at the window, Reigen let out a frustrated sigh. Nest Attempt No. 2 had come along significantly farther than the last, and Reigen couldn’t stomach the thought of knocking it off his sign in its state of near completion.
“If Mob were in town, I’d have him float the thing somewhere else.” The conman drummed his fingers on the desk behind him. “Stupid autumn break. We didn’t even have those when I was in school.”
“He’s been gone for a day, Mother Hen; let the kid enjoy his vacation.” Dimple eyed the birds again, watched as one of the pair fluttered into view with a beakful of pine needles. “Haven’t you got anything more to do around here than risk your neck fixing the sign and complain about the absence of your protege?”
Reigen sniffed, leaning back on the desk with a contemptuous frown. “Lots more. And with Mob gone, you’re my stand-in helping hand.”
Dimple groaned as if this were the greatest inconvenience in the world, which it most certainly was not.
-
With the changing of the seasons and the sickeningly-sweet promise of holiday celebration to come, Reigen had indeed found himself annually itchy for menial tasks - cleaning out his closet, repotting the little jungle of plants dotted around his apartment, writing up new pricing guides. But as a man of few possessions and fewer bucks to spend on new ones, the conman ran out of things to replace and mend and toss by the fourth day of Mob’s break.
He saw clients, brought Dimple along on field work, and watched the birds.
“You know,” Reigen absently told Dimple one afternoon, eyes out the window, “at first I thought Ushi might’ve been the girl, but she - uh - he? They’ve spending a lot less time on the nest than they were yesterday.”
“Oh, come on , Reigen,” Dimple groaned, hiding his crooked smile as he dragged a hand down his face and floated over. “Weren’t you ever taught the dangers of personification? You’re gonna get attached, and then -”
“It’s not like I’m carrying out some scientific study, Snot Cloud; I just gave ‘em names for convenience!”
“- they’ll lay some eggs, kick the babies out of the nest, and inevitably fly the coop - and then you’re gonna cry about it. Oh, I see; Ushi like a cow. ‘Cuz of the spots. What’s the grey one called?”
Reigen laughed shortly. “I won’t cry about it.”
“Five hundred yen says you will.”
With a sly smile, Reigen looked Dimple over. He was never one to resist such a low-stake wager, especially not when his win was guaranteed.
“Fine. Good luck finding the funds to pay up, pal,” Reigen cracked, reaching out to shake Dimple’s hand. “I’m calling the grey one Niji, by the way. The feathers on her neck are, uh, iridescent, you know.”
“Rainbow ,” Dimple cooed, shaking his head. “You are so cute , Reigen.”
“Fuck off.”
-
Absent from the office for a few hours on field work, both conman and spirit were wordlessly drawn to the window upon their evening return - just to check in before closing up, they might’ve reasoned.
“What are - oh!”
“Oh!”
“Oh my gosh!”
Two faces smashed up against the glass, marveling at the sign’s dull glow briefly illuminating one perfect white oval, quickly hidden once more by Niji’s feathery breast as the bird finished adjusting its seat.
“Who do you think laid it? Niji?” Dimple asked.
“Could’ve been. Must’ve happened while we were away.” Reigen pouted. “Guess there’s no way to tell.”
Another moment of marveling, then: “Sure was quick. What’s it been, a day?” The spirit snorted. “Guess they had to act fast after you wrecked the first nest.”
“Stop, don’t make me feel bad,” Reigen whined half-heartedly into his hands, hiding an embarrassed smile. “It was an accident.”
“Well, if it weren’t for your dumb sign, who knows where they’d have ended up?” The spirit looked at the little support bar whose joint housed the nest. “The thing’s electric, right? I bet it’s like a heating pad under there.” Dimple floated back, tapped an entranced Reigen on the top of his head. “Come on, let’s close up.”
“Just another minute,” Reigen replied absentmindedly. He and Dimple lingered by the window until the sun went down, watched Niji sit on her egg, Ushi perch on the edge of the nest.
-
Mob relaxed, spent time with his family; Reigen and Dimple worked and watched the birds. Fall, that aliphatic cloud of baking and spices and bracing air, must’ve infected them - because when they weren’t working or watching their birds, they were walking. Pretending not to admire the array of vibrant autumn leaves on every side street uptown, pretending not to laugh at one another’s jokes.
Reigen wasn’t used to talkative company, and he reveled in it. Reigen told stories of his early months with Mob, floundering through interacting with a child when he was barely a capable adult himself. Dimple talked about his old gang, his days ruling the spirits of Seasoning City before Mogami came and tore him down more than a few pegs. Both of them had lots to say about Mob’s younger brother, laughing until they ached at one another’s tales of the boy’s terrifying disposition.
They walked. They talked. They worked, and they watched the birds.
And then two weeks had passed.
Mob texted to let Reigen know he and his family had arrived home and that he’d drop by the office the next day, a Sunday, just to say hello and maybe help out for a few hours.
(“More like get a break from his family,” Dimple chuckled.)
They convened at the office early Sunday morning and, while waiting for their first consult, inspected their feathered neighbors.
Ushi was on the nest today, though she seemed fidgety - ruffling her speckled feathers and turning this way and that. Finally, the bird stood, plopped down on the edge of the nest beside a snoozing Niji.
Reigen, in a murmur: “What do you think they’re -”
And then, in the exact same rising cadence of shock and wonderment, both Dimple and Reigen said nothing more but “oooohhhHHHHH!” because the egg was cracking.
It took longer than expected. Piece by piece, the egg was kicked and pecked through, its parents never intervening if only to sit patiently back and watch. The same could not be said for Reigen and Dimple.
“Poor thing’s gonna have a crick in its neck if it comes out like that,” the spirit hissed. “Can’t those two featherheads get in there and rearrange their kid a bit?”
“You know that’s not how it works,” Reigen snapped back. “Oh! Oh, look!”
Tiny pink claws poking out from one of the wider fissures, grasping at the twigs underfoot. The shell parted into two uneven pieces, and something sharp cut through the off-white membrane stretching between shell and chick.
The most hideous, fleshy little beast either of them had ever seen finally came tumbling out, eyes shut and bugged a bruised purple, beak too long for its wrinkled face and stripes of yellow down stuck to its slimy skin. Niji and Ushi watched the thing wriggle around, and then the latter stepped back into the nest and plopped down on top of her baby as if there’d been no change in the thing’s status.
“You’re crying, you big sap,” Dimple observed. Reigen lifted a hand to his cheek, felt the streak of tears gently tracking down his skin.
He looked at Dimple with the beginnings of a sheepish smile, then laughed, swiped his wrist across his eyes. “So are you, asshole!”
“I’m not crying. Ghosts can’t cry,” Dimple stated, mirroring Reigen’s attempt to dry his own eyes. “This is, uh - ectoplasm. Gotta keep the system clean, y’know?”
“Bullshit. You’re as soft as they come.”
They laughed, close together and leaning on the windowsill - and then the office door opened, and Mob came in.
“Hi, Master; hi - um.” The kid’s face understandably dropped, and, after a glance shared between them, Reigen and Dimple plucked their overconfident facades from their spots on the floor.
“Mob, you wouldn’t believe what kind of spirit our last client brought in here,” Reigen told the boy, striding over and pointing to his face. “The guy thought he was cursed, maybe possessed by some sort of troubled ghost, since he couldn’t stop crying -”
“But he just had a giant onion spirit tailing him all day,” Dimple cut in, shrugging. “Took care of the thing just fine, but - well, looks like we got hit with its effects.”
Mob smiled at that, and there was a trace of laughter in his voice as he spoke: “That’s tough. What a weird spirit to get saddled with.”
“You’re telling us,” Reigen agreed. “Uh, unrelated - come see this nest a couple pigeons built on the sign.”
Mob walked over to look and took on a barely-perceptible glow about him at the sight of the birds, pressing gentle hands flat against the window pane and gasping when Ushi shifted, revealing the little pink lump hiding beneath her tummy.
“They’ve got a baby,” Mob whispered.
“Mhm. The one in the nest is Ushi, and the grey one is Niji.”
“Oh, Ushi like a cow,” Mob said, smiling. “I get it. That’s a good name, Master.”
Reigen puffed up his chest with pride. “Isn’t it? We haven’t had the chance to figure out what to call the little one, though -” with this, Reigen shot a glance at Dimple. “You got any ideas, Mob?”
Mob lit up at the opportunity, stared at the nest in thought for a solid two minutes.
“Ichigo,” the boy said.
Dimple laughed, but Reigen simply gave a satisfied nod, repeating the name. “Ichigo,” he said. “Excellent choice.”
-
Two weeks managed to pass them by once more. The leaves fell, the air went stale and cold, and billowing white clouds took over the sky each day, always threatening snow but never following through.
Until her scrubby silver feathers came in, Ichigo slept warmly between the bodies of her parents and the humming support beam upon which the nest was built. Reigen stayed late in the office each night just so he could leave the sign on, keep the birds warm for as long as possible.
On slow afternoons, Mob would silently drag his desk chair over to sit beside Reigen and look out the window, watch as Ushi and Niji came and went with squiggling worms and other such things held tight in their beaks. They drank tea, watched the birds, worked, watched the birds. Perhaps there was something in them that knew the trio of pigeons would be gone soon - hence the fixation. Ichigo started carrying herself like a real bird, hopping around and stretching her pinfeather-pricked wings.
-
It was Saturday, and Mob had the day off for some function with his friends, a birthday or perhaps just another outing. Reigen had trouble keeping track of all the names and causes for celebration these days.
The conman came into work late, not seeing much need to work a full shift on such a bitterly cold day - Dimple had stayed over (inconspicuously, though both could tell they were inching towards the opposite), and hovered in the crook of Reigen’s collar to keep him warm as they walked to work.
Up the stairs to the office, over to the desk, and - and the nest was empty, nothing left inside but a few stray feathers, white and gray and black.
“Oh,” Dimple said. “Well, I guess that’s that.”
“Yeah. Shame we couldn’t see them off.” In Reigen’s voice, resignation, fake as could be. His heart was so clearly in his throat, thumping against his words, making them shake.
Dimple cast him a sidelong smirk. “What’s our time limit on that wager, by the way? Do I still win if you keep from crying ‘till tomorrow?”
Reigen forced a laugh, sat down at his desk and opened his computer with more focus and intention than Dimple thought possible. The screen blinked to life, waited on its owner’s password - but Reigen’s hands just hovered over the keyboard.
So began the waterworks, slow and steady.
Dimple grimaced. “Oh, boy.” Victory didn’t feel as sweet as he’d imagined it might, and he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Still silent as fat tears rolled off his nose, Reigen turned to his safe deposit box, turned its key and pulled out one five hundred yen coin.
It fell onto the desktop between them. Reigen opened his mouth to speak, but Dimple waved his words away.
“Th-the bet was just a joke, Reigen; what’s a spirit gonna do with five hundred yen?”
Reigen shook his head, wiped his tears with the base of a palm. “You won fair and square.”
“Just... add it to Mob’s pay next time he -”
“What if he leaves before I’m ready?” the conman managed, knocking Dimple into stunned silence. “Before I realize he’s gone?”
After a moment of gaping silence, Dimple slapped a hand between his eyes. “Oh my god. Oh my god! I knew it! You’re so fucking predictable, Reigen!” At the conman’s imploring look: “I knew you’d do this! Seems like it’s just about the cute little birds but no , you’re really just finding something to mope over so Mob doesn’t have to take the brunt of it -”
“I’m n-not predictable!”
“Please; I saw this coming from a mile away.” Dimple drifted mere inches from Reigen’s face, placed a firm but placating palm on his cheek. “I’ll be the first to admit the damn birds make a real poetic little metaphor, Reigen, but they’re goddamn birds! They hook up and have babies and kick ‘em out because it’s what they’re wired to do! You and Shigeo are people! ”
Reigen stared, wide-eyed, at the spirit glaring back at him. In a second of self-awareness, Dimple retracted his hand, moved an inch or so away.
“Humans don’t grow out of each other, Reigen; they grow off of each other.” A scoff. “If anything, your damn plants make for a better comparison. Shigeo’s gonna move forward soon enough, Reigen, but it won’t be, like, in spite of you - it’ll be because of you. You’ll always be a part of him, y’know?”
Reigen’s entranced stare softened; he wiped his eyes again.
“And this is Shigeo we’re talking about. I don’t think he could shrug anybody off with a level of subtlety, let alone you.” Dimple laughed, the sound canvassingly gentle. “The kid adores you, Reigen. You’d have to be a real dumbass not to know that.”
Dimple poked the tip of Reigen’s nose, knocked off a persistent tear.
“So quit bumming yourself out over a couple of birds, alright?”
Reigen laughed again, genuinely this time, and rubbed his eyes.
“Wanna close up shop and go get lunch?” Voice frayed like tissue paper. Dimple felt something distinctly heart-like inside him ache at the sound.
“We just got here,” the spirit replied, smiling gently.
“Yeah, well -” Reigen sniffled, stood from his seat - “I’m hungry. And there’s a nice gardening store near the ramen place. I think I’m gonna get a couple more plants.”
Dimple laughed, followed the conman as he retrieved his coat and headed out the door. “Can I name ‘em this time?”
“Yeah,” Reigen chuckled. “Of course you can.”