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His pace was brisk, not quite a walk but certainly faster than the average commuter. The blood rushed into Reigen’s ears as he barked into the phone: “Okay Mob, what do you see?”
There was a sad little sniff on the other end of the line. “There’s this building with a giant picture of an anime band,” Mob said, “and it’s yellow.”
“Is there a sign?” Reigen asked. He had a glimmer of an idea where the boy was but more details were always better than none.
“Something Records, the sign’s really hard to read.”
Okay, Reigen got it. “Stay where you are, Mob.”
The boy’s voice was small. “There’s so many people.”
“Duck into the doorway of a store nearby then,” Reigen said. “Once you see me you can come out.”
“Thank you.” God, the kid sounded so scared. Reigen’s feet practically flew as he made his way down the busy walkway. It was rush hour and every salaryman and office lady seemed to be out in force. As he turned the corner, he spotted the building Mob was talking about. He was almost there.
Reigen nearly fell over as a pint-sized obstacle latched onto his legs. He barely maintained his balance before looking down. Yup, there was a terrified eleven-year-old with a bowl cut hanging onto him for dear life. “Let’s get out of the crowd, Mob.”
He ushered the boy into a drugstore, making their way to a bench. “What happened?” Reigen asked.
“I wanted to get a present for little brother,” Mob said. “I thought I knew the way home from the store but there were just so many people—”
The boy hadn’t been working for Reigen that long. Mob had more control over himself than when he started but he was still young and that crowd outside would overwhelm all but the most seasoned commuter. “It’s okay, Mob.” Reigen didn’t have any more clients that afternoon anyway. He rubbed the shaking boy’s back, watching him slowly calm down. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”
It was nearly a half hour before the boy felt willing to move. The crowd had thinned so it would be easier for them to navigate. As they left the store, Reigen looked down at his tiny employee. “Why did you call me and not your parents?” He was genuinely curious.
The plastic bag in Mob’s hand rattled. “Because it’s your phone, you gave it to me for work,” Mob said.
Right, Reigen sometimes forgot the kid was literally eleven. “You still could have called your parents,” Reigen said. “I mean, you’re not supposed to just call anyone with it but you were in trouble. You’re allowed to use it if you’re in trouble.” He said this last bit with authority, he wanted it ingrained in Mob that the little cell phone was for emergency use.
Mob was silent. Had he hurt the boy’s feelings? Reigen stopped walking. “Are you okay?”
“Uh.” Mob wouldn’t look at him. It took Reigen a second, but he suddenly understood.
“You don’t know your parents’ number, do you?” Reigen asked, tone flat.
“They have it at the school,” Mob said. “I’ve never needed it.”
Reigen sighed, kids these days. “Well,” he started walking again, keeping his stride slow enough for Mob to walk beside him. “We’ll program it in once we get you home and any other numbers you think are important.”
The look on Mob’s face-- yeah Reigen didn’t think he deserved that level of adoration for something so simple. The poor boy really needed better heroes. “Come on,” Reigen said, “we’ve got a train to catch.”