Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Word on the street is pretty unreliable, but when a whole country has heard of the same rumour, there’s usually some truth to it.

In twenty something years, Reigen’s heard enough stories about ‘Black T Poison’ to fill a lifetime of nightmares. It always involves murder, and some form of ‘telekinesis’ and maybe two or three dead kittens for extra flavour. Doesn’t help that Poison’s story has just the right amount of shōnen-esque tropes to run wild on the internet. An active fourteen year-old serial killer? With psychic powers? Hell, he even has the whole ‘accidently killed his parents’ tragic backstory.

Still, there’s hearing it once and hearing it over a hundred times over. You get a little desensitized after a while. So he really isn’t expecting it when he walks into an abandoned building and sees a figure with a black mask, a hoodie in a beat-up gakuen uniform, and a bowl-cut, of all things.

…Huh, his eyes really do look deader than a fish’s.

"Um, I'll just be going—"

He’s suddenly three steps away from a very powerful psychic— Holy shit, that was real, he just pulled me over, what the hell— who could probably kill him with a single flick of his finger.

“Who are you?”

He’s not sure what he expected, but it’s definitely not ‘soft-spoken’. He literally has to strain his ears to hear him.

The hold on his throat became the slightest bit tighter and Reigen panicked.

“Reigen Arataka!” Shit, why’d he go and tell him his real name? Now he could track him down—scratch that why did he go into this abandoned complex again?

Telepathy club thought they saw some ghost in here. Right.

“Why are you here?”

“Er, well, see,” Look, he might be a conman, but that doesn’t mean he wants a bunch of kids to die in his wake. Damned telepathy enthusiasts. “I was, uh, following a lead on ghosts!”

Smooth, where’d your silver tongue go? His massage skills ain’t getting him out of this one.

Poison continued to stare at him with that disturbingly blank expression. “There aren’t any here.”

“Yeah, I, eh, didn’t know you were here, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just leave…”

Reigen did not like the way Poison twitched.

“Are you part of Claw?”

What? What’s he talking about— oh shit the grip’s tightening, it’s getting harder to breathe—

“Answer me.” His vision starts blacking, stars in his eyes—

“No! I don’t even know what—” He chokes, the grip releases a little. His vision stabilizes enough for him to see the black holes for eyes Poison levels on him. “I don’t know what that is!”

Poison’s still staring at him, his grip doesn’t tighten, but it doesn’t loosen either. Reigen’s suddenly aware that he’s actually floating because if Poison was holding him around his neck he definitely should still be choking right now.

"You'll tell everyone that no one's here?"

"Huh?” He stares, before his tongue catches up with brain. “Y-yeah, sure! I will.”

Poison stares at him. Stares long enough that it gets just to the point of uncomfortable before he sets Reigen on the ground. Gently.

"Go."

Reigen’s so shell-shocked that he just stands there for several seconds. Then his feet caught up with his brain and he bolts.

*

After that enlightening experience, he’d pulled some bullshit story to the Telepathy kids about a really terrible demon in there and they should definitely never do not ever go in there, I’m being serious here. You will die. He’d went home, showered, then decided he needed a very, very strong drink.

Which he’d had. And passed out over.

Now that he’s thinking clearly again, he’s feeling… he’s not sure what to feel really. He’s just survived a meeting with the psychic murderer of Seasoning City.

…That gakuen uniform was beat as all-hell.

He really should put it out of his head. For his own sake. He’s nearly thirty, there’s only so much sanity he has left, and he’s got an office to man. He should get ready.

He showers fast and struggles into his clothes, throws his favourite (only) tie on, and walks into the office. He looks good today, great even. Professional despite the heaps of everything he’d drunk yesterday.

Then he sits down in front of the laptop and starts searching for anything named ‘Claw’.

He gets next to nothing on the net, and for all his professionalism he gets no clients either. It’s around 4 in the afternoon when he finally finds something, past the conspiracy theories and random pictures of sharp and stabby bird parts. A small, obscure blog. With no names and no faces, talking about some psychic organization planning to take over the world. With a number that literally said ‘Call to join us today!’ like a cheap advertising poster.

Right then.

There’s a knock at the door. He gets up automatically, a greeting on his lips. The customer doesn’t open it and he tried not to sigh.

One of those kids playing pranks again?

There’s a second knock. He frowns, readies a scolding or a half-hearted glare and pulls the handle, the words already on his tongue—

…Fuck.

Poison is standing there. With the same hoodie and black mask and beat as all-hell gakuen and Reigen is wondering if this is karma for shoving his cards into everyone’s face at last week’s business party.

“Reigen-san?”

He froze. “Uh, yes?”

Poison looked away, the bowl-cut covering his eyes. Caught from the back by the sunlight, Reigen’s suddenly aware that this murderer was shorter than him, and very thin. Why hadn't he called the police again?

Shōnen villain nigh-invulnerable psychic powers. Of course. Weren’t shōnen anime supposed to be where the good guys win? How much did that help the police?

“You’re in danger.”

He blinks and answers intelligently. “Eh?”

“Sorry, I need you to come with me.”

“Eh?”

Poison grabs him by the arm, and he almost jerks it off before realizing Poison might take offense. “We have five minutes, we need to go.”

“What— wait—”

He flinches hard when what sounds like a meteorite lands outside. When he blinks, Poison’s looking away from him, facing two guys. One of them is carrying a jar for some reason, and the other looks like the kind of man Reigen tries to be, professional slicked-back black hair, dressed in the sharpest black suit you’ll ever see with even sharper black glasses.

And a katana. Shit.

Poison wasn’t kidding?

“So, you’re Black T Poison?” Professional Katana man says. Said murderer lets go of Reigen’s arm. “It’s true then, you two know each other.”

“Uh, no, we don’t.” Reigen cuts in.

“He’s right, we don’t.” Poison agrees.

“And trying to protect him.” Katana man pointed it at them. (Hang on, is that sword plastic?) Ah damn but this is bad, this is really bad, they think he’s friends with Poison? The one with the jar has a downright nasty grin. He has this sudden feeling he really doesn’t want that jar opened.

“Hey wait—"

“Reigen-san.” He snapped his mouth shut. Poison still isn’t looking at him, pacing forward towards their guests. “Stand back please.”

Is he going to fight? Why was he protecting Reigen? No, wait, are they going to kill each other—

He doesn’t get much of a chance to think. In the next second, Jar man’s grin turns into a full-out snarl as he rips the jar open with a “Candy-chan!”

Something rushes out into the air, like a shiver you see above a burning flame. He suddenly feels like he's covered in slick, black oil, and Reigen does not appreciate the gross warmth going down his neck. That something forms in front of them, turns bright garish pink and neon blue. It's eyes grow out like blisters, and he counts four, no, five heads on a single giant one and wow isn’t that the ugliest thing he’s ever seen in decades.

More importantly, the… whatever is bigger than his office and just as hostile as his business ventures. It roars, raising it’s six arms and stumbling forward on stubby feet. Next to it, Katana man has one leg knelt, the other pulled back with his hand holding the sword next to his thigh (It is plastic, what the hell?) He lunges forward, drawing it out like there’s an invisible sheath there, so fast Reigen can barely even see it—

Poison raised a hand.

And everything...stopped.

They’re both clearly struggling, faces twisted into distressed glares. Like angry puppies, he thinks distantly. The giant ghost, spirit, whatever, is hissing, just as frozen before it’s excessive number of faces warp, turn inside-out and inwards into a neat little neon circle that pops right out of existence.

Then the two guys get slammed into the ground, strong enough to leave a crater.

They’re dead. He thinks. They’re dead, he killed them—

No. They’re breathing. Just barely, and the blood running down their faces can’t be good but they’re alive.

“We need to go.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. Poison’s right beside him again, looking at him with those empty eyes. How does someone that powerful have so little presence?

“Reigen-san.” Poison says a little more insistently. Reigen looked at him, then at the giant crater in the ground. And the two alive guys on top of that.

“…Ah ok.”

*

Poison doesn't explain while they fly through the air. Reigen was too preoccupied with the fact that people looked like ants from this height and the only thing keeping him from falling was a gentle palm on his shoulder.

That, and the fact that Poison had destroyed his office, literally tore it right apart after Reigen grabbed what valuables he had. He did the same to Reigen’s apartment too, after politely asking for directions like he was some middle-schooler asking to use the loo. To keep Claw off any of Reigen’s family members Poison had said.

He would have done something, but well, it’s not like he can actually stop him. Poison said he would rebuild it with his powers anyway, and he’s pretty sure those telepathy kids’ story about the ‘ghost’ tearing apart the abandoned building and then rebuilding it to chase them out is true now.

Little late to start believing actually.

They’re finally, finally set down on the ground and Reigen could have kissed the dirt right then and there if he didn’t feel like he was standing next to a sparking live wire. They were in a different abandoned building, one he’d seen maybe once while walking to a client’s place across the city. It’s barren, so he’s slightly surprised when Poison crushes a wall and there’s a whole stash of supplies hidden inside.

He’s handed a foldable chair and invited to sit. Poison pulls out a dingy looking portable stove, two packets of something and some water that he starts boiling. What comes next is an explanation. A very interesting explanation.

“…So Claw really is a crazy psychic organization. Trying to take over the world.”

“Yes.”

“And they’ve been kidnapping kids with psychic potential to brainwash them into becoming soldiers.”

“Yes.”

“And they’ve got a hundred odd espers or more.”

“Yes.”

He takes a long, enduring breath.

“Okay.” The universe has decided to flip itself on its head and apparently bad guys with world-domination dreams don’t just exist in manga and comics. Okay.

“Chicken or kimchi?”

What.

He looked up in confusion. Poison was staring blandly at him, the two packets in his hands.

“Which do you prefer?”

“Kimchi.” He stammers.

Poison nodded and put one of the packets (Oh it’s instant noodles.) down. He resumed cooking.

When he’d woken up today, he hadn’t figured he’ll end up in an abandoned building with a rumoured serial killer cooking instant noodles for dinner.

He takes another long breath to stave off the screaming.

Okay.

He still has a billion questions, why Claw was after him, how long he had to stay here, could he ever even go back now, what the hell was he supposed to do with his probably obsolete wallet now, why he hasn’t just gone to the police or the army already, did Poison have a phone charger for android phones he could borrow. He’s cursing his own luck and wondering what god of misfortune he pissed off to end up like this.

Reigen tried to decide if he wanted to risk his life by asking Poison. For all that this kid’s technically saved him, he’s still called a psychic murderer.

He spared those guys though. It could be a fluke, maybe a one-time thing. Who knows, Reigen might get stabbed in his sleep tonight.

A bowl is suddenly shoved under his nose and he flinches back to avoid the steam. He accepts it with a confused thanks, and Poison nods politely, walking back to his own folding chair and opening the second packet. It doesn’t take long for the scent of salt and noodles to fill the air again.

…Well, no time like the present.

“Hey uh, do you know why they came after me?” One, two, three, oh good, his head’s still connected to his neck.

“Claw saw you that day.”

“That day?”

“They found out I was hiding at that abandoned building, so they sent someone there to watch me and saw me letting you go. They thought we were allies. My friend told me they were going after you.”

…Huh. They must have caught the tail end of that conversation, after Poison was done holding him by the neck.

“And they didn’t attack you?”

“Whoever they sent wasn’t very strong.” It’s said without inflection, not a trace of arrogance, factual.

So they were posted there to try and find out who’s working with him, without Poison knowing. And I got lucky.

Ice suddenly goes down his spine. If Claw caught me— they’ve got no qualms about killing and kidnapping people, shit, if Poison hadn’t stepped in…

 He didn’t have a reason to step in, didn’t he? Poison had no reason to save a random civilian who’d stepped into his ‘house’. So why?

He wondered if asking so many questions would make him fly off the handle. Poison hadn’t seemed annoyed at all, but he’d seen about as many emotions in his eyes as a glass doll’s. Said person was currently facing away from Reigen, with his mask pulled down and eating straight from the pot. It’s so utterly normal he forgets he’s in an abandoned building for a second.

“Why did you save me?” Ah. He said that, didn't he?

Poison didn’t answer, continuing to eat his noodles. He finished the last strand, putting it back down on the stove and pulling the mask back into place.

He turns around. Reigen notices a scar across his left eye before he catches on. Those dead eyes don't look so dead now, no, they look dark, swirling with something. It makes him feel like he’s on the precipice of a cliff, wind and rain lashing his face, lightning on the horizon as he looks down at a storming, raging sea.

And then it’s gone, like it was never there.

“I don’t like Claw.”

Reigen didn’t ask any more questions.

Chapter Text

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All images/manga pages read right to left

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He wakes up to a concrete ceiling. So, you know, house and everything is still exploded.

He opts to sit up instead of screaming into his non-existent pillow. He’s great like that. Professional, mentally strong, fucking sweaty.

In his defense, it is hot. It’s mid-summer, his shirt is clinging to his back like a particularly stubborn piece of shrink wrap and his fingers are dripping. His breath’s worse. Everything is disgusting.

Speaking of which, how is he going to brush his teeth? Or do number two? Abandoned buildings don’t come with working toliets.

It is way too early to be thinking about this, he can feel it in his old-ass bones. He entertains the idea of just up and leaving. Go to a nice little police station, pull the victim act (Not really an act in this case.) get some comforting shit-tier cup coffee. Poison had told him he could leave, he could do it.

It’s just the small matter of the murderous psychic organization hellbent on torturing him for information. Maybe a little later then, when they weren’t looking for him that much.

He looks around and sees no Poison. Honestly, Reigen hadn’t even seen him sleep last night, wouldn’t be surprised if he was secretly nocturnal and goes out every evening to feed on the screams of the damned or something. Psychic powers are real, anything goes now.

…He really needs some coffee.

He stretched his back, wincing at all the kinks from the hard floor. Maybe he should check the sky, try and guess what time it is. Good plan. Most logical thought he’s had all morning. Up and at ‘em. He stumbles through the empty doorway that leads to the next room, the one with the open hole for a window in it.

He walks in on Poison. Sewing.

Reigen blinked, and subtly pinched himself in the arm.

Nope, not dreaming.

If Poison notices his presence, he sure doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s on the foldable chair, using the sun’s light to examine the tattered remnants he calls a jacket. Reigen paced at the door, once, twice, and suddenly got very tired of being a nervous wreck.

He shoved his sweaty hands into his pockets and (very deliberately) strolled in. “Morning.”

Poison nodded at him. See? Nothing to worry about Arataka.

He pops over to the window. Sun’s shining, it’s maybe six or seven in the morning. He sneaks glances at Poison, who looks less ‘murderous child psycho’ and more ‘edgy teen’ with the gakuen uniform off.

“So you wouldn’t happen to know where to get a bath right?”

Poison is trying to thread an ordinary black string through an ordinary needle’s eye. “There’s a manga café with a shower nearby. I’ll give you a mask to hide your identity.”

“Ah, okay.” A manga café. That’s so ordinary. Today is just so ordinary. It is amazing how ordinary it is. He could get used to this.

“…Sorry.”

Reigen blinked, biting back the ‘Huh?’ Poison wasn’t looking at him, finally tugging the thread through after eight attempts.

“You’re here because of me. Sorry. I don’t want to involve anyone.”

He… actually doesn’t know what to say.

Eventually he struggles something out, “No, well. It wasn’t like you intentionally pulled me into it. I walked into your building. And you did save me.”

Poison doesn’t reply, tugging the needle just so that it nearly rips the jacket a new one. Reigen gets the distinct feeling he’s unconvinced. So’s Reigen too, if he’s honest.

He leans back against the window uneasily, watches Poison do his work.

Stitch, stitch, one, two, pricks his thumb once, stitch, three, four, pricked it again, five—

Poison is going to have holes for fingers at this rate.

It’s bad, it’s all zig-zagged and messy with knots everywhere. That first loop’s never going to hold and now there’s some blood getting on the cloth from a particularly bad poke and—

Okay. I can’t watch this.

“Hey, uh. There’s a better way to do that.”

When the dead eyes look at him, Reigen stuffs the discomfort back in its cave. He holds his hand diagonal to the ground. “See, you have to hold it at an angle—”

Poison was holding it at a very dangerous angle to his uniform.

“Wait no!” He barked, then choked when he remembered who he was dealing with. Poison flinched at the sound, wrenching the needle away. “Sorry, just, here let me—”

He held his hands out, and after a moment’s hesitation Poison passed it over. Reigen takes the needle and the jacket and starts stitching it, fast and quick. It’s a skill he’s gotten pretty good at, since he’s thrifty (cheap) and his mum had drilled it into his head years ago.

“…Can you go slower?”

The voice is right in front of him and he jumps a little. Poison, no presence I swear, is looking at him.

Hold up, was he seeing that right?

He tilts his head to the empty space on his left. “I can teach you, if you want.”

When Poison plops down, he takes it as a yes. “Okay, first things first, see this needle? You gotta pull it through like this…”

It’s surprisingly calming, teaching him how to stitch. He goes slow, makes Poison attempt it. It takes five tries, three aborted pricks, and one moment where Reigen’s certain he’s going to stab himself through the palm before he gets the first loop down. It’s far less alarming to watch the second round.

They end up undoing the first set of stitches Poison had made (and a few older, nastier ones as well). Reigen splits the workload between them and finishes long before Poison, supervising him for the rest of the time.

When it’s done, the gakuen isn’t good as new. It’s still missing a whole half of a left sleeve for one, and it’s dotted with amateurish stitches, but it doesn’t look like the end result of a grinder anymore, at least.

Also, he might still be hallucinating, because holy hell, Poison’s eyes still have that small light in them.

In fact, it’s gotten bigger, staring down at the jacket in what would be wide-eyed shock for everyone else. His hands are tightened around it like a kid that’s just received a Nintendo or Playstation console.

Reigen's brain makes a single, traitorous comment.

When’s the last time he got taught something?

“Reigen-san.” The monotone is back. Reigen flinched up, trying to wipe the thoughts from his features. The kid— murderer, is looking at him with those slightly bright eyes and that fraction of a fraction of completely, utterly sincere gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Reigen breathes out slow and sets his shoulders. “No problem.”

*

The manga café isn’t expensive, but the moment he shows the card Poison gave him, the cashier gives him a knowing look and ushers him in without payment. He leaves with a newly charged phone, a refreshed body, and immediately melts the moment he steps onto the streets.

God, it’s been a day and he already misses air-conditioning.

Poison had told him that there was a shopping mall nearby with public toliets, and to alternate so they wouldn’t get too many looks at the café. He opts to scout it out when he wasn’t sweating a goddamn ocean and tries to head back. Tries, because every five seconds he has the urge to hide behind an alleyway and checks the street for creepy Claw stalkers.

When he finally returns, everything seems fine. Until he hears a foreign voice and almost knees himself between the legs trying to hide behind a wall. Story of his life.

“I saw the explosions on TV, you should have called me Kageyama-kun!”

Young, the voice is young. And Kageyama-kun?

“It’s nothing.” Poison says, in that dead monotone he should get patented

There’s a sigh, “Just because it’s nothing doesn’t mean it’s okay.”

No reply. The silence stretched for the next few minutes. By this time, he's pretty sure whoever it is isn't Claw, or there would be no building here anymore. Gingerly, he stepped in.

The mystery person is young alright, and a Guinness world record holder for ‘Hair mistakes you’ll regret as an adult.’ The blond cactus (It’s taller than him. Taller than him.) goes right beside bowl-cut psychics and that one time he’d tried a pompadour on a dare.

Cactus immediately whips a hand on him. He has a second to panic as pressure closes in on his throat before it’s cancelled with a fizzle and a snap. Two of Poison’s fingers crackle with electricity.

Oh. No. You’re joking. He’s passed his quota for murderous child psychos a lifetime ago already— you're joking— there’s another one?

Cactus shakes his hand out, looking between Reigen and Poison. “Ah… He’s the one you saved Poison-kun?” The new one smiles at him and has the audacity to look sheepish. “Sorry, was on edge. Hanazawa Teruki.”

He bows slightly and Reigen nods back after a moment. “Reigen Arataka.”

Hanazawa blinked. “You’re the one our friend mentioned.”

Ah yes, the mysterious friend. Reigen wondered if it was another murderous child psychic. With his luck it probably was.

He raised an eyebrow. “Should you be telling me your name?”

“Claw already knows about me.” Hanazawa shrugged. He sat down, inviting Reigen to join them and pulling some supermarket bentos from a bag. Poison makes a half-hearted attempt to reject it, but eventually takes the milk carton, and then the chicken karage bento.

These two clearly know each other, which brings up a hundred other questions. Hanazawa looks rich, or comfortable, at least. Dressed head to toe in designer clothing. Even the wig looks high-quality, cactus or not. He’s the exact opposite of Poison, clearly a socialite, leading the conversation easily. Reigen might have to up his game if this kid gets any better.

“Speaking of which,” He says, “You got better at sewing Poison-kun!”

“Reigen-san taught me.” Poison demurs immediately. Hanazawa blinks, then gives Reigen a glance that says he’s been reassessed from ‘victim, saved by Poison, kinda cheap and shady-looking’ to ‘victim, saved by Poison.’

Eh, he’ll take what he can get.

“That’s nice of you, Reigen-san.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Reigen shrugged.

Hanazawa goes back to talking about the increasing prices of hair wigs, except this time he drags Reigen in. Poison listens but never contributes, which considering how the subject has spiraled into the exponential relationship between wig heights and fabulousness, might be the most sound decision  made this whole morning.

“So, anyway Poison-kun. I was thinking you should hide at my place for a while, Claw’s still rather high-strung right now—”

“No.” It’s the first thing Poison has said this entire time.

“Poison-kun…”

“You’re a civilian Hanazawa-kun.”

“They’ve been after me for years, you staying doesn’t change that.”

“No.”

Hanazawa’s brow furrowed. “Look, if it’s your powers you’re worried about—"

“Did you hear anything new about Claw?”

Something passes through Hanazawa’s eyes. “…Not really, but Onigawara’s going around the middle school gangs with your name again.”

Reigen expects annoyance from Poison. Said person folds his bento placidly back into the plastic bag. “I’ll talk to him.” He says.

“It’s not going to work you know.” Hanazawa intoned, “He really wants to help you.”

“He shouldn’t.”

“Well he does.”

“He can’t.” The voice is colder now.

Hanazawa backs down, and if there’s one thing Reigen prides himself at doing, it’s reading people. This argument is old, it’s written all over Hanazawa’s face. Kid’s only backing down because Poison’s voice is a stone wall laced with titanium.

“I understand, but you’ve never been able to convince him to stop, how are you going to now? He won’t listen to me either since I’m Vinegar’s shadow leader.”

Poison’s eyes narrowed at that, seemingly acknowledging the problem.

“I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

The tone makes Reigen slightly worried for Onigawara’s health.

“...Then bring Reigen-san with you.”

This Onigawara must be some kid that has no idea what he's getting into— Wait, what?

*

Kid’s a sly son of a bitch under all that lustre, managing to convince Poison into letting Reigen go since they’re just talking to a random delinquent. Reigen’s almost proud and he’s only known Hanazawa for half a day.

He’d implied in not many words that Poison was going to do something drastic if Onigawara kept trying to help. Considering what Reigen’s knows of Poison’s social engagements; strangles people when he meets them, punches evil guys into craters on a regular basis; it’s a cause for mild concern.

So he ends up following Poison to a school the next day. Onigawara looks like he’s popped right out of a dictionary page for delinquents. Kid’s sporting a pompadour, for fuck’s sake. At least Reigen had done it on a dare, when he was like, six and stupid.

(What is up with Poison and kids with ridiculous hairstyles? Is this some secret handshake to the knows-a-psychic-murderer-club?)

Onigawara is also every bit the rough uncouth sort that gets right in your face. This does not exclude Poison. Reigen can’t decide if he’s brave or just stupid.

“Don’t call me your shadow leader, you’ll get in trouble.”

Onigawara huffed, “Like I ain’t always in trouble. Sides, you’re the one who stopped the big gang fight last week right? In the alleyway.”

Poison’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Psh, craters? Broken walls? Hundred guys knocked out on the ground? Those were psychic powers, it was you.”

“No, it really wasn’t.”

Onigawara looks at Poison, really looks at Poison. “Fuck, you ain’t the type to lie. Someone’s out there who’s as strong as you?”

“You need to stop using my name.”

“Shit, it’s those guys coming after you.” Onigawara clenched his fist sporadically, seemed like a nervous habit. “Look man, you gonna be okay? If they’re already searching around here, they gotta be pretty close to where your place is right? If you need somewhere to hide—”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.” Poison’s voice could fight an iceberg and curb-stomp it.

Reigen’s getting the situation now. This kid is hellbent on helping Poison for whatever reason. Only Poison happens to be a guy with a whole criminal organization after him, and very willing to execute anyone in their path.

“Course you say that. I saw the explosions on the news man, they hit you didn’t they?”

“Him.” Poison nodded at Reigen.

Onigawara barely even gives Reigen a glance. “Right, whatever. Only so much time before you get hit for real. Look man, I wanna help—"

It goes like that for a while. The conversation's going nowhere. They’re arguing in circles and Onigawara won’t back down.

“You’re risking everyone you know.”

“You’re one of those people I know man, I can’t just let you go at it alone—”

Poison’s fist is starting to clench. Reigen suddenly remembers Hanazawa’s words, about how Poison was going to ‘try and scare him away’.

So anything from holding him by the neck to breaking all the bones in his body.

He’s not exactly a fan of traumatising middle-schoolers, well-intentioned delinquents or not. So he steps in. “He’s not.”

They both swivel their heads to him, and he feels the urgent need to clarify. “Alone I mean. I’m with him, kid.”

Onigawara looks skeptical, probably wasn’t helped by Reigen’s cheap-ass closet. “Weren’t you just some dude he saved?”

Poison looked like he was about to agree, and Reigen quickly cut in. “That’s what we wanted you to think. I’m with him. Look kid, I get you’re worried about your friend here—” He nodded at Poison, pulling himself up to his full height, wraps arrogance and confidence around his skin. “But I’ll protect him, don’t worry.”

Onigawara does not stop worrying. Rude. “Yeah? And how you gon’ do that? You don’t look like you can fight.”

Now this he can work with. He sighs dramatically. “And that’s how you don’t help kid.”

“Hah?!”

Reigen pushes his tone so it sounds a little more genuine. “You’re thinking that to help him, you have to fight whoever’s chasing him. That’s not true, there’s lots of ways to protect people.”

He adds some hand gestures for extra emphasis and points an accusing finger at Onigawara. “Wanna know the best way to protect your shadow leader? Don’t get involved.”

“And why the fuck would I listen to you—"

“Kid.” Onigawara glares at him. “I know you’re not stupid. You know about the psychic powers, you’ve seen what they can do. Do you really think you can fight that?”

Onigawara looked like he wanted to protest, except he didn’t.

Kid already knew then. “If you get caught, they’ll use you and your family as hostages against your leader. You’ll both really get hurt then.” Reigen says gently, tone strict.

Silence in the air. Onigawara is grinding his teeth like a dog. Kid’s not dumb at all, knows his own limits, acknowledges them even. Maybe Reigen hadn’t given him enough credit.

“And how exactly, are you going to protect him?”

“Well that’s simple.” Reigen shrugged, pulling on the most self-assured smirk he has in his arsenal. The one he keeps specially for convincing angry police officers that yes, he is a completely trustworthy and professional entrepreneur making an honest living. “I’m his Shishou.”

The kid doesn’t look convinced, until he looks at Poison’s face. He stares at Poison’s face, and his eyes widen so much Reigen gets worried they’ll pop out of his sockets. “Wait, for real?” His eyes flicker between them. “Seriously?”

Poison nodded. “He taught me to sew today.”

…Did this entire conversation just go over Poison’s head.

Onigawara gives Poison an odd look but shrugs it off. “Shit, didn’t know you had a master. You didn’t ask for help until they got him in too? That’s so like you man.”

Poison actually looks visibly confused. It’s barely there, Reigen can just see the furrow of his eyebrows. He struck by the thought of Poison being some kid that can’t read the atmosphere.

That’s ridiculous, obviously.

He gets it enough to say the correct things anyway. “Thank you Onigawara-kun, but please take care of yourself instead.”

“Tch, yeah okay. I can take a hint.” Onigawara growled, resigned. “You don’t accept people’s help at all, so this guy must be pretty strong huh?”

The kid stalks up to him, like he’s trying to intimidate Reigen. Personally, he’s reminded of a donkey trying to imitate a horse. “Ya better take care of our leader, ‘Shishou’-san.”

It’s a sincere plea.

For a psychic murderer, Poison’s got a lot of friends who seem to care about him.

Reigen straightens his back, looks Onigawara in the eye, and lies. “Yeah.”

He’s not very sure if he’s lying, to be honest.

*

“Thank you.”

“Hm?” Reigen looked over. Poison is walking beside him, the sunset bearing down on them.

“You talked him out of it.”

Reigen shrugged. “I’ve got experience.”

They keep walking. Reigen doesn’t know how to feel about how calm it is. Birds in the trees, crickets in the background. Psychic murderer on his right.

He opts to start talking instead. “So, how did you meet him?”

“I stopped some bullies.” He doesn’t elaborate. Reigen has to hold back the instinctive urge to ask if they’re still alive.

Poison mumbles something and Reigen paused.

“Uh, sorry, you say something?”

“You said there’s other ways to protect. Do you believe that?”

Where was this going? “Yeah, there are other ways. If you’re being threatened, you go to the police or army. If you’re getting hurt, you take yourself out of the situation if you can or look for others and stand together against that situation.”

“What if you’re the only one who can fight them?”

It feels like this is important. This strange little conversation they’re having in between two mundane houses and under a street lamp. Poison’s talking about Claw, about himself, he’s sure of it. The sun burns warm against his face.

“Fighting isn’t the only way to solve things. Besides, you told me Claw existed before you were around right? Just because you can fight them, doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility to.”

Poison’s eyes are wide.

They’re the widest he’s ever seen them. Shining with, light? Shock? Reigen’s struck by how alive they look. He turns away, feeling off-kilter. “Anyway, we should hurry back Poison, don’t know if Claw’s watching—”

“Shigeo.”

He blinks, turns and looks back. Poison is standing there, hood down. Reigen watches him tug the mask off.

Fuck. That’s— good god—

It’s a bowl cut alright. A bowl-cut on a young face, barely older than the telepathy kids from the other day. Younger even, he’ll guess. His cheeks are round, and he hardly even has a jawline. If he didn’t have that scar across his left eye, Reigen would have thought he was some random middle-schooler.

“Kageyama Shigeo.” The boy says with dead eyes.

Reigen breathed.

Black T Poison really is a kid. Fuck.

“Shigeo huh? Reigen Arataka. Nice to meet you.”

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

Shigeo has never forgotten what he is.

Scrapped up knees, broken concrete, dust and ash.

Blood on his hands, it's—

He’s not old. He’s fourteen. He knows that’s not old. Fourteen is middle school. Fourteen is crushes. Fourteen is parents, and homework, and nice comfy beds.

But in all the years of his life after the explosion, Shigeo has never once forgotten what he is.

Blood on his hands, it’s—

Not his.

*

Shigeo doesn’t sleep in the same building.

Reigen knew this, because he’d woken up in the middle of the night, considered his brain’s insistence on empty-eyed kids with scarred faces and resigned himself to wakefulness. He’d looked around the building; not a single bowl-cut head in sight.

That’s how he finds himself here, five in the morning, squinting at the small text of Mobpedia on his screen. It’s connected to the internet through some private set up Hanazawa and some other shady persons had done up for Shigeo. Pretty good job too, better than some of the crap he rigged up when he was young and dumber.

…The urban legend of Black T Poison originates from the Black T Incident. Taking place on April 18, 2005, the incident is named after a black explosion that resulted in 34 casualties, more than 70 injured and hundreds of homes destroyed. A lack of official information alongside witness testimonies of a child-like silhouette with white glowing eyes floating in mid-air has led some to speculate that Poison was the cause of the incident. Poison has been linked to several families found dead or missing in the Incident, most prominently the Kageyama family, whose house was closest to the T-junction road at the epicentre of the explosion…

34 people.

Poison is a kid. Who has killed 34 people.

Reigen breathes out, palm digging into his forehead.

34 people. God…this is just— for real?

No, wait. How does he know this is even true? That’s right, he doesn’t, this is all just speculation. That silhouette could be some other psychic, didn’t have to be Shigeo. There's too little information here, he doesn’t know the hows or whys, or anything that happened before or after the explosion. It could all just be a big misunderstanding right? Maybe it wasn't true.

And what if it is?

There’s a link to the ‘Kageyama family’ article, and it takes him too damn long to work up the nerve. Almost too easily, a forum page flickers up. The Kageyama family is the golden baby for the internet’s unsolved mysteries fanatics. Four bodies never recovered, unreleased CCTV footage of strange men entering the Kageyama house before the explosion, blurry images of that silhouette standing in the middle of the house. It’s a gold mine for conspiracy theorists.

All he can think about is the four portraits posted at the top of the thread. Two adults, warm and kindly. One younger brother with spiky hair. And Kageyama Shigeo.

Six year old, baby-faced, bright-eyed Kageyama Shigeo.

34 people.

Fucking hell.

*

He certainly gets no sleep after that. So it’s with a groggy face that he sees Problem Priority No. 1 walk in. Shigeo doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t slept, which meant he had slept somewhere else, or he was so used to not sleeping that it didn’t matter.

Neither possibility is reassuring.

He’s also carrying a recycle bag that looks this close to an implosion. Shigeo places it on the ground and at least 14 bags of instant noodles come spilling out. Reigen blinked at the labels.

Tom Yum? Isn’t that Thai food? We have Thai flavoured instant noodles in Japan?

“Where did you get that?”

“I took them from a box.” Shigeo says, which is completely inadequate. What kind of box? A box from a warehouse? Beside a rubbish bin? From that one hikkomori who made headlines for hoarding 527 different types of instant noodles?

“You’re on the news.”

“What?”

Shigeo turns his phone towards him. Sure enough, his own face stares back at him. Shit-tier photo though, gah. He has better style now, he swears.

At least he’s famous, even if it’s not how he wants to be. Hey, maybe he could turn this around, return as the amazing psychic that jumped into an alternate dimension and fought off world-ending demons. Great plan right there. He’s looking forward to it.

…Wait a minute, he’s not even on the headlines. He’s a sidenote of a side column, shuffled in between the latest celebrity scandal and the obituary.

Ow.

“Look at the news often?” He asks, trying not to nurse his pride. He’s bigger than that, come on.

“For Claw yes.”

“Claw?”

“The psychic organization.”

“I get that, I mean how do you look for Claw on the news? They don’t advertise up there.” Then again, considering that shitty blog with that shady-ass call number…

Boy, does he have some things to say to Claw’s HR.

“I look for kidnappings.”

Ah. “Because they kidnap people.”

“Yes. And explosions.”

Explosions. Again with the explosions.

“Psychic powers are like bombs sometimes.” Shigeo explains.

It’s a testament of how much has happened that he accepts this readily. “Alright then.”

He knows he’s avoiding the subject. The revelation he’d found out this morning. 34 people. 34 people in an explosion. 34 people are dead.

Shigeo is sitting across from him. He’s pulling out a ripped pillow, stitching it slow. Carefully using the same technique Reigen had taught him yesterday. His eyes are black, his wrists are skinny. He’s shorter than Reigen even though they’re both sitting.

34 people.

He swallows, takes a moment, opens his mouth and starts—

Hey, did you really—?

Nothing comes out.

Without his consent, 6 year old Shigeo’s face overlaps with 14 year old Poison’s face. It looks older than it should be.

Black eyes flicker up to him, “Reigen-san, how do you do the first loop?”

“…Pass it over, I’ll show you again.”

*

“It,” Tome says precisely. “has been three days.”

“Yes, taicho.”

“Three days. Inukawa-kun. Three days.”

“We’ve established that.”

“Have we? Because I don’t think we have.” Tome points a finger at her brilliant, amazing club who are absolutely dedicated to finding aliens through the sophisticated and mostly scientifically proven method of telepathy. “We asked him to go to the building because we saw that alien break it apart and put it back together to hide it’s tracks. He went in, came out, told us not to go in, and then he goes missing.”

“He called it a demon ghost though.”

“Details.” She waves away. “Think about it. Don’t you understand what this means?”

They spend about a millisecond indulging her. It’s no different from any other day. Unacceptable.

She slams her hands on the table and hisses, “It’s a lead!”

“It’s an explosion, taicho.” Kijibayashi replied. “We’ve already told the police what we know. Didn’t they say it was a gas leak?”

“Exactly Kijibayashi-kun!” She whips her hand at him and he flinches back. “We told the police, and what did they do? Wave it off. They didn’t even care!”

“Because you told them it was done by ghosts.”

“Aliens.”

“Aliens.” He allows. “Look taicho, it just doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“Where’s you sense of adventure? Besides, it wasn’t an explosion, have you seen the videos?” At the blank looks on their faces, she whips out her phone. “Here, look—”

It doesn’t actually show the Spirits and Such building, but an apartment block next to it. Two seconds in there’s a loud crackle and bang, and a column of light emanating from the ground that seems to engulf the area around the office.

The others look at it with mild interest. Unacceptable.

“See? It’s not an explosion, it’s a beam, a beam that destroyed the office so it sounded like an explosion, but it’s not. And Reigen-san is missing. I’ve showed you guys alien abduction reports before, columns of light? Missing people?”

Saruta tilts his head. “Don’t aliens fly around in UFOs? Shouldn’t the beam come from the sky?”

Tome ignores the ‘Don’t encourage her!’ from Kijibayashi. Finally, an intellectual willing to discuss things. “Glad you asked, Saruta-kun. That’s the most common version yes, but they’re not the only ones. Experts have speculated that UFOs don’t just fly, no, they can come from the sea, because they’ve been here before us, they could be progenitors of the human gene. They’ve been under our feet for centuries and we just don’t know it.”

They’re staring at her with blank faces. Tome decides they only need a bit more convincing. “Besides, don’t you think it’s weird? An explosion in Seasoning City and the media doesn’t even seem to care! The police didn’t even question us all that much, they just let us go!”

“Maybe because you mentioned aliens.”

“Their brains are too small to comprehend the amazingness of aliens.” She nods, “It’s still weird. It’s like they’re hiding something.”

Inukawa sighed. “I don’t know taicho, putting aside the explosion thing, wouldn’t the evil demon ghost—”

“Alien.”

“Alien, still be there? The whole reason why we asked that Reigen guy in the first place was because it seemed really powerful if it could just tear apart a building like that.”

“It left us alone didn’t it? Maybe it’s scared, it just wanted to scare us away, maybe it’s a friendly alien.” Oh, she’s excited already. Just thinking about it. Imagine that, talking to an actual alien!

“I somehow doubt that’s true.” Inukawa says, deadpan.

Tch, raining on her parade.

“We are the Telepathy Club! Our goal is to contact Aliens, are you really going to let this chance slip away in the springtime of our youth?”

“Taicho—”

“Didn’t think so, that’s why, as your leader, I declare that today, we’re visiting that explosion site!”

And that was that.

*

In the end, he’d never asked.

Reigen had left the building after that, headed to the manga café instead. It’s as hot as yesterday. He tugs at his collar, slaps a hand through the air repeatedly to create some wind.

He needs a minute away to get his thoughts together. Explosions and casualties and the kid asking him how to do stitches, for god’s sake. Thinking about it makes his head ache. He gingerly lights up one of his last remaining cigarettes and blows the smoke into the air.

It’s when he’s heading back that it happens.

“Scuse’ me sir!”

“No thanks.” He replies automatically, still walking. The person shoves himself in front of him, and Reigen reels from the, frankly, rather creepy mask the guy’s wearing.

Oh fuck. It’s a lunatic.

“Just a moment of your time sir, really!”

“Nope, no thanks.”

“Please sir,” Lunatic grabs at his hand, he tugs it out of the way. Hard sell much? “You truly don’t seem happy, I just want to offer a solution to that problem.”

“Nah, plenty happy enough, thanks.”

“It’ll only take a moment—”

Reigen ignores the guy for a good ten minutes. His business tactic is amazing, in how it’s absolutely obliterating all the known rules of salesmanship. There is no way anyone with this kind of shit marketing has that big of a cult, no matter what he says.

When lunatic goes to grab his arm again, (and considering his frayed nerves, Reigen’s rather impressed with his own endurance) he barks back. “Hey listen. Anyone can see from ten miles you’re a con. At least brush up on your skills first before trying to drag people into that shit cult of yours. You're embarrassing yourself, you know that?"

Lunatic, from what he can tell of body language, shuts up in surprise. He fixes his shirt and stalks off. Good riddance.

“You know what? Just grab the fucker.”

Not human. That’s his first thought. His legs freeze in surprise and lunatic’s arms suddenly latch around him, holding him in an almost strangle hold. He curses, digs his nails into the guy’s arm but it won’t give—

“I was gonna take you peacefully, but you just had to mouth off didn't ya?"

Shit, shit—

The pressure burns, he feels slime in the air, sinking into his pores, through his skin—

He sees green before he passes out.

*

.

.

.

“…this guy’s sweaty as hell, the fuck—”

.

.

.

“…followers, it is I, the great…”

.

.

.

He sees flashes of light, electric static buzzing in his ears. A crowd cheering, yelling his name—

Is this what you wanted?

(Yes it is) (No it’s not?)

.

.

.

Where is he? He’s falling down into a green sea, a cacophony of voices, loud and piercing, making it hard to think—

(He can do this, he will do this, he’ll be the one above all of them, the one ruling the world.) (He’ll be someone, he wants to be someone, he can be someone like this.)

He’ll never be invisible again

.

.

.

Say, who’s that kid with the shit haircut?

.

.

.

Hundred bees in his ears, footsteps against the floor. Soundless, but how can that be— Everytime he moves the earth shivers—

(An earthquake?)

No, that’s—

.

.

.

Screeching. Shredding. Running. Wrong, something is wrong. I want to become— I am a god—

Ignore, take it apart, nothing can hurt him, he’s strong now—

(What are you doing? Are you blind or something? Look, look, what is that—)

Black planet, void and space, darkness, just barely an inch away, reaching towards him it’s a true god claws, teeth, fangs, a mere hint of it’s power an abomination

(I’m so close, I won’t let you—)

It crashes against his form, push, shoves, digs in, reaches into his space—

No— don’t—

I won’t let you— I won’t let you— Stop—!

.

.

.

Shigeo?

.

.

.

It’s like an instant lightbulb, suddenly he’s wide awake, squashed and scrambled against his own brain. It crushes him to the side, something gross and wrong and green, and oh god it's in me—

Across the room, (where is this, how did he get here, why are his sleeves purple, he hates purple) there’s a familiar figure. Black bowl-cut, empty black eyes, blank face. That’s… he knows that face somewhere—

It hits like a freight train. Poison. Shigeo.

“You woke him up.” It takes him far too long to notice that it’s his own mouth talking in disbelief.

...What the fuck. What the bloody fuck.

“Get out of Reigen-san.”

It doesn’t and curls his hands instead, gah, so werid, numb and plasticky. Makes him feel like he’s hearing fingernails dragging against a blackboard, ow ow. “What the hell did you do, brat?”

It’s using his mouth to talk. It’s literally just using him like a puppet and Reigen did not sign up for this shit today.

Shigeo doesn’t answer, lifting a hand.

Something snaps across the room, a wave that breaks the jeering faces of the crowd. The people look like actual people now instead of half-assed caricatures of happiness. He can almost see the thing's jaw drop in surprise before it snaps out it’s own wave. The crowd goes back to cawing like hyenas.

“That was… I get it, you’re a psychic. You’re a damn psychic, of course.” His tongue waggles like rubber. Gross.

“Get out of him.”

“Listen brat, I don’t know who you are, but I’m trying to run a peaceful business here.”

“You’re an evil spirit.”

“And I chose a peaceful way to my goals! This guy, he’s ruined, and I’m giving him a new purpose!”

Now that’s just offensive. He’s the rising star of the psychic world! There's nothing better he'll rather be doing! (Though if things like this keeps happening? Yeah, he'll happily switch to being a private investigator)

“Shut up, asshole.”

So it can hear him. Huh.

The ghost (This is possession, right?) ignores him. “Look around you kid, you see anyone here who’s unhappy? No. I’m trying to take over the world sure, but I’m only doing it to make people happy! Don’t you think that’s an altruistic goal?”

“You’re using psychic powers to make them smile.”

“Does that change the fact that they’re truly happy now?”

They are absolutely not. Who's he trying to fool? Has he even heard himself?

You a fucking chatterbox? Shut up, I’ll break your arm.

That makes no sense if you're— His arm twists just a little too much and— Reigen decided a broken arm would be inconvenient and shut up.

Shigeo stares back. Wait a minute, that look— he’s actually considering it?

“Come on, kid. You’re not bad, nothing compared to me but not bad. In fact, you’ll make a great partner, we could make people happy together, what do ya say?”

“I can’t.”

Reigen feels his eyes blink. “Huh?”

“It’s an admirable goal, spirit-san.” Shigeo says, monotone. “But that’s not something I can do.”

“What do you mean that’s not something you can do? Anyone can strive to help others. In fact, you’ll be making me happy already!”

“I’ve done too much to do that.” The voice goes empty.

34 people.

“The hell are you talking about kid? You emo or something— wait…” The thing’s eyes widened.

“You, you’re Black T Poison, aren’t you?”

Shigeo stepped forward. “Release him please.”

He feels the ghost jostle his arm up, slapping a hand over his face. Reigen thinks it’s nervousness for a second, only for something sharp and cold to run over it, covered in delighted deceit.

“Hey now, what’s the rush? Do you know how famous you are among us spirits? Everyone’s heard of you!”

Shigeo falters in his step. “They have?”

“Yeah! Practically a celebrity bud!” The ghost brings his arms up dramatically. His head swings right, snapping at an unnatural angle.

“We all know how much of a monster you are.”

Shigeo’s eyes fly wide open. The perpetually blank face ripped down. In that one moment, Reigen could see right through to Black T Poison’s heart.

…oh.

The ghost keeps digging in the knife. “Yeah, you’re pretty good huh? Pretty strong? Black T Poison, they say. Went and blew up your whole neighbourhood, tore up your own place?”

Shigeo hasn’t moved, feet frozen to the ground. His fists are clenched, the knuckles going white, Reigen can’t see his eyes behind the bangs.

“Ain’t even gonna defend yourself. It’s a wonder you still dare to use those powers, didn’t you kill 34 people with them?” The ghost scoffs. “You emotionless son of a bitch, you got any right to try and exorcise me? At least I’ve never killed someone before.”

Shigeo’s hair is fluttering, as if there’s the barest breeze in the room. He's still as a statue, hands shaking.

The same hands pricked with needle marks. The same hands that had helped Onigawara, that had saved Reigen.

This is cruel. This is too cruel—

“Look at that, you’re a literal corpse, don’t even have emotions. Bet you didn’t even feel anything. You’re a real bastard kid, I’m impressed.” His mouth gives a grave, harsh bark of a laugh. Reigen tries wrestling with the presence in his brain, only for it to push him down with the force of a tidal wave.

“I do feel things.” Shigeo grinds out, shoulders trembling.

“That so? Then you must feel pretty bad right? I’ll give you a way to make up for it. Help me make people happy, you’ll be able to repent, and I’ll make sure they accept you again.”

He pounds against the ghost in his head, slamming on the walls. It barely even gives. Goddammit, stop this!

Shigeo doesn’t reply and the ghost sighs. “Come on now, silent treatment’s kinda rude ya know. I’m trying to be your friend here! I’m trying to help you!” Reigen feels his lips twist into a cruel smirk.

“But I guess someone who killed their family doesn’t care right?”

.

.

.

For one horrifying second, nothing happens.

.

.

.

And then—

100% Rage.

An eruption.

The earth shatters, the floor snaps up in sharp ragged cracks. The air is thick, breathes fire and lava and brimstone, boils and screams with the fury of a tornado. For a millisecond he thinks he sees, the in-between frames of an animation— Black on black, fangs and teeth, claws and knives tearing into his skin—

Poison pulls his hand forward and Reigen feels his body jerk, freeze. He sinks blue and violet fingers into his head, into his flesh, drags the slime, the ghost, the other out of him—

He shuts his mouth to cut off a yell, panting hard.

Almost immediately, he falls to the ground. He’s exhausted, holy shit, he’s never been more exhausted in his life. He can barely even summon the strength to move his face so he’s on his cheek instead of his nose. His legs ache, his arms ache—

It’s nothing compared to the weight on his back. A literal ocean, drowning him—

“You— pushed me out?”

He struggles onto his elbows, (Come on, just a little more—) barely manages to look up— Poison is standing there, hair flying up in sharp points, the embodiment of a volcano. The ground beneath him trembles, the wind howls, everyone is beginning to fly right off the ground towards the ceiling, even Reigen.

“You want me to help?” It’s almost deceptively tranquil. “Then make me.”

“Tch, you’re actually pretty strong huh…” The ghost to his right (That’s what was possessing me?)  resembles a grotesque green bodybuilder, blushing for whatever damn reason. 

It’s leg muscles bulge."Don’t get ahead of yourself, acting like you’re actually pissed!” It launches itself at Poison, raises an arm, swings it up and slams it down like a sledgehammer—

A flash of light, the spirit jumps back, hissing. It hits the wall on the right, ricochets off it like a bullet and lands into the one behind Poison, shooting forward again. “You gon’ cry next?”

It brings a second fist down on Poison, who doesn’t even flinch. There’s a sound like shattered glass and something snaps through the air, a dust cloud rushes out from around Poison’s feet.

The ghost jumps back through the cloud “Oh, flashy!” It pulls into a stop, stands and …stumbles?

He’s not the only one who’s surprised, the ghost stares at it’s missing arm and leg. “The fuck?”

It yells something about using it’s full power, and if Reigen thought it was ugly before it gets even uglier now. It’s muscles bulge to twice it’s previous size, unnatural green veins pressing hard against it’s skin

It tries rushing Poison again. This time, when it’s arm lands on the shield, the whole thing goes flying right off. Poison doesn’t even use much strength, just casually brings one hand back and pushes it forward.

That mild, effortless push sends the hulking ghost flying back, doing loop-de-loops in the air without any limbs. The ground shatters when it hits the ground.

The spirit makes more noises of distress. A foot comes slamming down on it’s face in response.

“Y-You…”

“They came out at your request.” Reigen can barely see his eyes, blood-red, it sends an icy torrent down his spine.

“These are my emotions.” Poison whispered, voice shackled with fury. “This is what happens when they show.”

“T-the hell, you really some kind of monster?” The ghost twists, shoving itself off the ground and turning. Reigen has the sick feeling it’s only because Poison let him. It’s head snaps to the left, jaw wide open, “Laser beam!”

A bright stream of light bursts across the room. Poison doesn’t try to dodge it, and Reigen can’t see behind all the smoke. The ghost cheers, bending at it’s knees and shaping a sword, yelling more rhetoric about itself.

Reigen isn’t worried. If Poison was dead, he’d know. There’s too much fury in the air for that.

It jumps forward towards the smoke, the blade coming down fast— only to shatter and snap off, launching itself past Reigen’s cheek. The smoke cracks and blows out, the ghost looks frozen, completely stunned.

“Yeah.”

Shigeo lifts two fingers, and despite the storm, despite the tornados and volcanos and terrifying, terrifying rage, Reigen couldn't help but think that he seemed incredibly sad.

“I’m the worst.”

The ghost explodes into pieces.

*

Remember how she said they were going to investigate? Together? As the whole telepathy club?

Not happening apparently.

Kijibayashi had a family reunion, and Saruta had already bought tickets for a concert. So it was just her and Inukawa. This would have been fine, if they hadn’t pulled the same excuse three weeks ago. And three weeks before that. And another three weeks before that.

Tch.

Ah heck, forget it, she can’t force them and they were already walking there anyway. She had to focus on the bigger priorities, like aliens, and telepathy, and a way to get this musclehead to stop telling them about steroids.

“We hold such athletes in very low regard, they do not understand the beauty of creating your own finely honed and trained body. Using steroids and being unable to achieve it by yourself? Terrible.”

“Yes, it’s terrible. It really is.” Inukawa nodded like he understood.

“Truly. Did you know Inukawa-kun, Kurata-san, that too much use of steroids can destroy and hollow out your muscles? There was a case of a man who had so many injections his arm muscles ruptured from the inside out. Poor fool has a hole there now.”

Okay, that was not an image she needed.

She tugged at Inukawa’s sleeve. “Oi, why did you invite the fitness fanatic?”

“Uh, he overheard and said explosions are dangerous and he was willing to come with us to protect us and I said yes?”

“But why.”

“Have you tried saying no to those muscles? He could crush us with one hand!”

“You know as well as I do that Musashi-san is too nice for that. Even if he’s, weird.”

“I don’t think you have any right to judge who’s weird, taicho.”

They both pause to mumble out some 'yes' and 'no's to Musashi’s questions. Inukawa sighed. “Look, I just have a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Like… a bad feeling. That explosion sounds a lot like what Black T Poison might have done.”

They go quiet, except for when they have to respond to Musashi. Black T Poison is that one rumour everyone knows. The one talked about beside stories about Hanako-san and the school grounds being old graveyards. The kind that is just real enough to make everyone sweat.

Inukawa was a classmate of Kageyama Shigeo. Everyone knows this. Everyone also doesn’t bring up Poison because of this.

“I mean, it sounds like something a psychic could do—” Inukawa shook his head, “Not that we know if psychics are real either but— ah sorry, I don’t really know what I’m talking about.”

“Inukawa-kun…”

“Let’s just go.” His voice was firm.

“…Alright.”

“They even circulated a photo of the torn out muscle online.” Musashi continued, not noticing their conversation. “Pretty horrific I would say, I have it here if you’ll like to see—"

“No!” She cuts in because she does not need the nightmares. “No thanks, definitely don't need to see that. By the way, look! Isn’t that the junction ahead?”

She sprints ahead, eager to not hear about ‘muscles’ and ‘fitness’ and ‘exploding ligaments’. Inukawa and Musashi follow along behind her. She whips around the corner—

Bodies on the ground. Police officers. The closest is staring at them with blank eyes, spread-eagle on the ground. Is he breathing? His chest is—

No. Oh god. Oh god, he’s not breathing. Oh god, what do we do—

“We’ve been seen.”

The voice snaps her eyes up. There’s a woman. Muscular, like Musashi, orange clothes, eyes trained on them. Why is it getting so hard to breathe? How many bodies are there? Three, four, all police officers on the ground—

Scarred-faced, professional black suit, katana in his hand. A man takes a step towards them. “We’ll have to get rid of them.”

Immediately, Musashi jumps in front of them. “I won’t let you—”

Slammed into the ground by the woman, a crater— Shit is he dead— they have to, ambulance—

Before she can move, a sharp edge traces her neck. “You won’t get away.”

“Stop.”

A third one? From where? She sees something shift in the shadows, cloak and shoes. “Just take them in. We can use them for the awakening experiments. Replace the ones Poison took out.”

Poison?

“The boss has been asking for results and we have no new news about potential psychics.” The man mumbles. “Fair enough, we have enough resources to do so anyway.”

Something slams into her neck. Before the black descends, she thinks she hears a faint ‘sorry’ from the third voice.

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

"You." Reigen starts. "How the fuck are you not dead."

"I am dead, dumbass." It says. And okay yeah, point, but he is not gone and that is the crux of the problem here.

This morning was a doozy. Apparently, Shigeo had followed the psychic trail left behind on Reigen’s route to the biggest energy source in the area. He’d walked into a bunch of murderous cultists, confirmed it wasn’t Claw, and thought it nothing more than a gathering of highly enthusiastic persons.

Had he mentioned this kid’s got no read on the atmosphere?

It’s only after he sees Reigen being possessed that the kid acts. He’d passed out for the whole night after that, and Shigeo had dragged him back to home base.

Reigen had woken up to a face full of green fartcloud and screamed like a baby.

They’d chalked his newfound sight up to whatever remnants of possession had been left in him. He’s never actually seen a ghost before okay? Anyone would scream waking up to that.

“Not the point, why are you here. Why hasn’t Shigeo exorcised you?”

“We came to an agreement.” Ekubo snickers. That’s its name. Ekubo. It makes no sense, thing doesn’t even have dimples.

“What do you mean ‘an agreement’.”

“He promised not to do anything bad.” Shigeo says quietly. He’s cooking instant noodles again, ‘laksa’ this time. Reigen is starting to think he’s got no clue what proper nutrition is outside of ‘I’ll take the most unique sounding flavours.’

“You believe this guy?”

“Not really.” Shigeo poured one half into a bowl and handed it to him. “If he does anything, I’ll just exorcise him.”

Reminders that this kid is ludicrously powerful; check.

Ekubo’s sweating. Reigen’s not mature enough to ignore his satisfaction at the sight. “I promised I won’t! I’m not trying to possess this guy anymore!”

“Why did you possess me anyway?” Reigen asked.

“My previous host was terminal, so I’ve been possessing my followers for now. Saw you that day, figured you were a fraud since you’ve got no aura even though the news says you’re a psychic. I thought you’re one of those, you know, no future, no connections, basically the perfect person to possess, wouldn’t have anyone close I’ll have to fool.”

It irked Reigen that being one of those ‘disappear and start a new life’ types wasn’t exactly all that far off. He fit the profile actually; estrangled family, shit business, life all around going nowhere.

Was it his mother who’d sent the missing notice? Or the police?

He’s almost glad they’d disconnected his phone line so Claw couldn’t track them. God he's such a coward. “Well, you got the wrong guy.”

Ekubo scoffed. “You were lucky.”

They ate in silence, he caught Shigeo’s eyes several times across the stove, flicking away quickly. It’s as Reigen is finishing his last strands that Shigeo starts, “If you need to go, Reigen-san, you should, I’m sure your family is worried.”

He stiffens. Shigeo isn’t looking at him. He takes the mess tin and the bowl, washing them in a small tub filled with water and detergent.

“I…” Reigen swallows heavily. Ekubo gives a face and disappears off somewhere, as if awkward dysfunctional family talk actually phased him. “Yeah, thanks, I’ll think about it.”

There’s no response. The kid looks oddly lonely, swallowed by the shadows cast by the wall.

Reigen shouldn’t get involved, he’s in too deep as it is. He doesn’t know how to help what’s essentially a one kid rebellion against a criminal organization. Besides, he’s not even sure Shigeo needs help, with how he’d just about blasted 50 people into the air yesterday. And he’s a murderer.

A murderer who saves people. A murderer crouching across the room, huddled over plates. A murderer who’s fourteen, with blank eyes that belong among the dead.

Eyes that had quietly agreed yesterday, in a storm of raging destruction, that he was a monster.

…Fuck.

“Hey, let me do those for you.” He walked over.

“I can handle it.”

“Take it as thanks,” He insists, (God, what is he doing, can’t fucking leave it be—) crouching down and slipping the bowl from the kid’s fingers. “For saving me twice.”

Shigeo’s shoulders go taut when Reigen bends down next to him. He doesn’t miss the way he leans back. “You shouldn’t.”

“You didn’t drag me into the building, I dragged me into the building. You didn’t ask me to meet the cult either.”

“No, but I—” Kid cuts himself off. Reigen finds himself wishing he could see the eyes behind those bangs. “You know what I did.”

“…Yeah.”

They stay quiet. Shigeo doesn’t move. There’s nothing he can say, really. No way to make this better. The water drips from his fingers, the bowl and plates are clean. He hears a stray breeze blow outside the window.

“Hey,” He starts—shit, he hopes he’s not making a mistake— and gingerly pats the kid’s shoulder.

Kid stiffens but doesn’t attack.

Okay.

“You, wanna learn sewing right? Got anything else ripped around here? I’ll teach you another method.”

It takes a while before he finally nods, but it’s something at least.

*

The guy who chased out the three guards leans against one of the walls. He’s their size, features obscured by his hood. In the dim light, it’s too much to ask to see his face.

“I’m sorry, this was the only way to make sure they wouldn’t kill you.”

It’s the third voice, she realizes. “What do you mean? Aren’t you with them?”

His hands tighten around his sleeves, arms crossed. “I can get you out.”

“And how can we trust you?”

“You can’t. But do you have any other choice?”

It pains her to say that they really don’t. She bites her lip, curling her hands into fists.

Damnit all, if she hadn’t been stupid, if she wasn’t so insistent about seeing aliens—

“How do you plan on getting us out?” Musashi says. She’s almost grateful for the distraction. The guy lowers his head.

“I’ll tell some friends of mine. They’ll get you out. It might take a while.”

“A while?”

“Three days, maybe four.” He inclines his head. “Faster, if all of you cooperate.”

“L-look, just, what’s going to happen to us? What does this place do?”

He brings a hand up to his face, like he was rubbing his brow. As if he’s the one locked up around here. “You’re in Claw. They’re a psychic organization that, simply put, is trying to take over the world. They kidnap people and try to induce psychic powers in them using… experiments.”

What?

“I’ll try to slow them down, but for now, I need all of you to stay put. Don’t try anything, don’t try to break the locks, or mess with the guards. Claw’s ruthless, they’ll kill you if you do anything stupid.”

There's something utterly chilling about the way he speaks, like he's seen it happen before. Shit, this is really happening isn't it? This is real?

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Inukawa whispered next to her. He’d been crouched against the bed this entire time, sweat running down the side of his face.

“…Act like you’re scared, like you’re unable to do anything. Panic a little, if you want. It’ll throw them off the idea that you’ve got help coming.” He says, as if they haven’t been doing that for the past few hours.

He pushed off the wall, pausing in front of the cell bars. “Look, I’ll get you out, I promise. I’m sorry for this.”

His feet scrapped across the floor, the clang of the door echoed through the silence of the room.

None of them dared to break it.

*

It’s nearly two when Hanazawa walks in with all the flair of a Victoria Secret’s runway. “So, we have a bit of a situation.”

"Situation." Reigen echoes. This odd to be good.

"It's not that bad. It doesn't involve the military this time."

The fact that the measure includes the military does not make Reigen feel any better.

“Heh, nice face ya got, you gutless fraud.” And there’s the cherry on top; Ekubo coming back in time to mock him. This day is going just swell.

Hanazawa blinks, “A spirit— Poison-kun, should he be here?”

“Exorcise him if he does something bad.”

Ekubo cringes, then exchanges pleasantries with Hanazawa. At some point they get sucked into another conversation about hair growth and possessions. Good to know even evil spirits weren’t immune to Hanazawa’s charm.

"The Situation?" Shigeo says pointedly and they all snap back to attention.

“Ah, our mutual friend has informed us that three middle-schoolers have been kidnapped by Claw. They’ve been taken to the seventh division, located in a forest southwest of here. I’ll send you the coordinates.”

Shigeo’s face doesn’t change much outwardly. Reigen catches his eyes narrowing, the barest tremble of his hair before it settles.

“I’ll deal with them.” It’s said with a finality that makes him nervous.

Hanazawa nods, “Let me come with you.”

“No.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you’re strong, but even you have limits—”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

Hanazawa’s mouth clamps shut. He’s looking at Shigeo with a face that sits between resigned and frustrated, fingers wound tight around one another. It’s the same thing with Onigawara, an offer for help that gets shut down instantly.

Reigen frowned. “Hey, Shigeo,” The cactus almost topples as Hanazawa whips over to stare at him. Right, he doesn’t know that Poison told him his name. “Why not?”

“It’s not safe.”

“Wouldn’t the danger be worse for you then? If you go alone?”

Shigeo shook his head, “I can handle it.”

Reigen finds himself exchanging glances with Hanazawa. Shigeo is already dusting himself off, ready to leave. He finds himself thinking of this morning, of the oddly reticent way Shigeo had shrugged off his thanks.

“Having powers doesn’t make you any different from anyone else. Accepting help is important, you know.” He said, meeting dead eyes head-on.

Shigeo stared at him, fists clenched. He turned away and left.

Reigen let him go.

*

“Why are you following me?”

“Now now, Shige-chan, aren’t we friends? I can’t let some evil organization take you out!” Ekubo grinned.

“I said I’ll deal with it.” The air crackled with static. Yikes.

“Y-yeah, you did.”

Shigeo gives him a long look. “…You’re evil and dead.”

Evil and dead—  “Shige-chan, you aren’t supposed to go there.”

“I guess it’s fine.”

“Hey now.” Wow. This kid. Literally just took all the very painful struggles of his afterlife and collapsed it into ‘evil and dead’. He doesn’t know whether to be offended or impressed. “That’s rude Shige-chan, I’m right here.”

“Call me that again,” Fuck okay, that psychic energy is way too close for comfort, “and I’ll exorcise you.”

“Okay okay! S-sorry, Shigeo.”

It’s probably a good thing (or you know, his own divine luck because he is gonna become a god someday) that they land then, so he doesn’t have the chance to dig himself a bigger grave. Shigeo drops them behind some bushes, and they count two guards and a camera ahead of the door.

He needs to prove his worth to the brat, so— “Let me take care of this.” He flies forward, easily possessing one of the guys. Then it’s just a matter of walking the other guard out of the camera’s view—

And slamming him into the wall.

“You— what—”

Heh, too easy.

“So, bud.” He leans in close, a smirk forming on his face. “You know any kids that got taken in here today? Three of them, middle school age?”

“Why would I tell—”

“Hey now,” He tightened his grip. The pathetic thing starts choking. Hah. “You better watch what you’re saying, your life depends on it ya know.”

“B-basement!”

Huh, that was easy. And here he thought they were hardened bad guys or something. He gives the guy a mild concussion in thanks. A rustle makes him look behind to find Shigeo standing there.

“They’re in the basement.”

Shigeo nodded. With barely a flicker, he tossed the guy into the bush and starts casually strolling to the door—

“Hey! Don’t just waltz in! Do you want to alert them?”

“Not really.”

“Then cover the camera dumba— Shigeo. Look, pick up some leaves or something, float them towards the camera so it looks like the wind blew them over and blocked the camera for a bit. At least it’ll slow them down.”

Shigeo blinked. “Ah.”

No shit, ‘ah’. How the fuck has this kid survived so— that ridiculous amount of power. Right.

“Thanks, Ekubo.”

Not much of a thinker, huh? Good, he could use this. He’ll establish himself as this kid’s strategist, and slowly manipulate him into becoming his cult leader. This will work. Won’t even take too long. “Don’t mention it.” He smirked. “I’m on your side remember?”

Shigeo gave him a dead stare and walked in.

…Okay, so maybe a little longer than he thinks.

*

“He told you his name.” Hanazawa says, in the wake of Shigeo leaving.

“He did.”

“I take it the Onigawara situation went well?”

“I talked your delinquent friend out of it, if that counts.”

Hanazawa gives him that considering look again. “I think I was right, to ask you to go with him.”

Reigen raised an eyebrow.

“Kageyama-kun doesn’t ask people for help, Reigen-san. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now.”

He nods. He’ll have to blind not to, to be honest. “He’ll never let anyone close if he could help it, huh?”

Hanazawa sighed, long and tired. “He shoulders everything by himself. You teaching him sewing… that was the first time in a long time he’d accepted help without a fuss.”

They both sit on that for abit. There's alot that can be said about the kid, really. Creepy eyes, killer stare, hellish psychic powers. Take all that and combine it with ‘killed his own family’ plus ‘saves people on a weekly basis’ equals?

A guilt complex the size of a small planet?

“I’m the worst.”

This kid is fourteen. Reigen doesn’t like the picture forming here. He really doesn’t.

“How’d you meet him anyway? He saved you from Claw?”

Hanazawa’s smile faltered. “No, it’s, well. It’s a little embarrassing really. I uh, challenged him to a fight.”

You’re kidding. “You challenged Poison to a fight.”

“I was um, rather egoistical back then.” Hanazawa scratched at his hair, looking visibly uncomfortable. It looks odd on him. “Used to think I was the main character of the world, psychic powers and all— wow saying it out loud now is embarrassing.”

He chuckled awkwardly, “I basically challenged him to a fight, lost pretty badly. He didn’t even need to try, restrained me in seconds. I’ll challenged him, over and over, and he’ll just keep doing that, refusing to fight. Eventually I started really looking and realized he was using his powers to save people.”

Hanazawa has a reticent smile on his face, looking almost small with his hands clasped between his legs. Reigen hadn’t thought it possible, with how flamboyant the kid was all the time. "That… that changed a lot, changed my whole life. Made me think, if he’s so powerful and he’s doing that, what does that make me? I started trying to help and we became friends.”

His tone dulled. “But he won't let people help him, thinks it's too dangerous for other people. He doesn't even let me do much, the only reason he hasn't chased me out is because I at least have some power.”

Reigen breathed out, taking that in. “Sounds like something he would do.”

““Yeah, Kageyama-kun is really a kind person, the kindest person I’ve ever met.” Hanazawa smiled bitterly. The water bottle in his hands crinkled alittle. “I just wish he could see that too.”

Reigen stared up at the ceiling. He tries not to mull over the words, about the very stupid, very insane idea in the back of his mind. He’s not even a psychic, there’s nothing he can do.

…Gah, fuck it. “Then we’ll show it to him.”

“Eh?”

Reigen lets a grin fly across his face, the type of cheesy grin he's probably a decade too old to wear. “Let’s go help Shigeo.”

Hanazawa stared. “You mean you want to—”

“Go there and watch from the shadows, help him if he needs it.”

“I was thinking of a louder approach—” Of course he was, kid puts on the equivalent of a disco ball everyday. “But Kageyama-kun is... he won't accept it.”

“He won’t. But he’s the one in danger here.”

“That’s… true, but he might push us away more if we do this.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take.” He says, dusting off his jacket and standing up. “If he really pushes us away, we can’t do anything, we can’t help someone who won’t let others help them. But that doesn’t mean we can’t reach out and grab on first. It’s not wrong to wait for someone to accept your help, it’s better to, usually. But sometimes you’ve got to take the first step.”

He turned back to look at Hanazawa. “And I think you've gotten tired of waiting, haven’t you?”

Nothing for a few seconds, then a smile climbed onto Hanazawa’s face. “Knew I'll like the way you think, Reigen-san.

He grinned, “Let’s go then.”

*

The Leaf Technique (which he’s now patented, by the way) is getting them into the facility without being seen by the cameras, and he has to say, this has got to be the easiest raid ever in the history of raids.

It’s clear by the first three patrols that these idiots can’t do psychic powers to save their life. By the fifth, he’s not even sure they’ve ever done anything actually evil at all. And by the ninth, he’s pretty much convinced the only thing they can do is flail about uselessly and act as interrogation fodder.

Throughout the whole thing, Shigeo’s face hasn’t even changed once. He doesn’t even sound mad when he asks for the route to the basement, just bored, like he’s asking a teacher how to do math.

You know, while casually throwing thirty guys into the ceiling.

Ekubo's been ranking the best reactions, last group's reigning king after one of the older guys had bleached white upon seeing that shitty bowl-cut and told them not to bother. The others had argued until he'd told them they couldn't win against Black T Poison.

They’d all frozen up after that. Kid’s practically the boogieman to these fuckers.

In hindsight though? They probably should have knocked them out.

“So, that old guy you let go probably told the higher ups about you.” He says, kicking gingerly at the spikey headed, spirit-tamer ‘Scar’. So called bigshot in Claw, right, when this guy pretty much pissed his pants when he saw Poison.

Shigeo doesn’t respond, standing near the second Scar with an upside-down broom for hair and pyrokinetic tendencies. He turns on his heel and Ekubo races to follow behind him.

“…You know, they’re kind of pathetic aren’t they? You sure we got the right building?”

Shigeo shook his head. “It’s Claw.”

Right, of course. Shouldn’t be asking the kid with the nigh-invulnerable superpowers. Everyone’s pathetic compared to him. (...Except himself of course, he is a future god.)

It’s easy enough to reach the jail after that. Shigeo does away with the door easily, and Ekubo leans against the wall. The kid turns to look at him when he doesn't follow. Tch, it’s like he literally has no clue how team raids work, what the shit.

“I’ll watch the door, let you know if any bad guys are coming.” He explains.

Blank eyes give him this look, seriously, you start a cult just once. “Hey you can trust me, I’m on your side!”

The kid just stares, and goddamn does this kid even blink. It’s three seconds too long before he finally looks away and steps in.

…Yeah, so maybe the whole manipulation thing was gonna take longer than he thought.

*

“That guy said he’ll get us out right?” Inukawa whispered.

“Yeah he did but—” There’s another loud thud outside. They all flinch together. Or well, she and Inukawa flinch. Musashi just tightens his muscles and flexes because he’s weird. “—just what is going on out there?”

“It sounds exactly like when one accidentally drops their weights because they haven’t trained their core muscles enough.” Musashi says. Which doesn’t explain anything.

“Look, it sounds a lot like a fight, maybe that guy is trying to get us out?”

“Isn’t that bad then? If he’s a spy and they’re fighting they must have found out about him—”

They shut right up when the metal door suddenly fucking crumples into a tiny metal ball. It tosses itself into a corner.

Silence. Sweat runs down the side of her face.

Who’s there?

Tap, tap, tap.

What comes in is… not the guy from before. This new figure is even shorter, maybe shorter than her, clad in a hoodie and a gakuen uniform.

The figure shifts, walking towards them. Almost reflexively they start pulling themselves back and the figure stops. Their hand twitches and the jail door goes swinging open.

So, a psychic.

They all stare at each other for a second. Unsure how to react.

“…Mob-kun?”

Tome’s eyes fly to Inukawa’s. He’s not looking at her, staring at the figure that just literally slammed the cage open.

“It is Mob-kun right?” Inukawa’s voice is weak with shock. The person takes a step forward, slips just enough into the light filtering in from outside the cell.

Bowl-cut, long nasty scar on his face, their age and… those are some really creepy eyes.

“How do you know me?”

“I, you don’t remember? Well okay, it’s been years—” Inukawa rambled, “Um, elementary school eight or nine years ago, we were in the same class. Inukawa Mameta?”

Those blank eyes flicker over Inukawa. Tome can see him holding back a flinch. “…I’m bad at names, sorry.”

“T-that’s understandable, we didn’t know each other very well when you, went missing.” Dead. He doesn’t say.

God, Tome’s seen less awkward silences after Tsubomi’s rejections.

But that’s not the point right now, because if what he’s saying is right, if what she’s guessing is true, then the one across from them…

This is Kageyama Shigeo. This is Black T Poison.

“Oi, Shigeo!” Someone bursts into the room. Tall guy in a suit (why is he blushing?) sounding vaguely nervous. “Shit ton of psychic aura coming this way, we don’t wanna be sticking around soon.”

Poison’s eyes narrow and he turns back to them. “I came to get you out, can you stand?”

The three of them nod, too stunned to speak. He beckons them to the door and they stumble to their feet. “A-are you with him? The guy that promised to get us out?”

She can’t read his face. “The guy?”

“The one in the long coat, with the hood. You know, he said he would get his friends to get us three days from now?”

“…No?”

No?

“Talk later dammit, we need to go—” The man hustles them out the door, cutting off her train of thought. Around them is—

The aftermath of a storm. Spiderweb cracks lined the floors, walls, everywhere. A dozen-odd guys laid out on the ground, completely knocked out. The place looks like it’s a millisecond away from falling apart.

Any doubts she’d had about Kageyama not being Poison are immediately thrown down the drain. It’s Poison alright. There’s no way anyone could just do all this without being Poison. There’s just no way—

“Shit, they're getting real close.” The man says, “Blocking most of the routes, I don’t know how many there are—”

“Seven of them. Probably all Scars.” Poison says matter-of-factly, like he's talking about the fucking weather. He doesn’t give them a moment to panic. “Go, I’ll hold them off.”

The tall guy gives him a considering look, “Don’t get yourself killed.” Turning on his heel, he beckoned to them, “This way brats, let’s go!”

They look between the people on the ground and Poison. Inukawa looks like he wants to say something but shakes his head. They turn around and run.

The last thing she sees of Poison is him standing there, back to them, static growing in the air.

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

His hands feel sticky again.

He stretches his fingers out, relaxes them, stretches again, relax, stretch—

Ah. It’s not really helping. Feels like there’s thick, congealing strands hanging between his fingers, slipping into the crevices between.

Shigeo tries not to breathe; knows from experience he’ll smell iron and hurl. He takes one of his hands (slimy, sticky, wet) and pulls at the other’s bandages. The pressure helps a little, just enough for him to focus on the psychic auras heading his way instead.

One. Two. One. Two. Three. Take a half-breath— iron on the pavement— Two. One. Two. Three. Another breath. Two. One.

Here they come.

“Poison.”

It’s the man with the katana from before. He looks constipated, Shigeo isn’t sure why. “Trying to break out our subjects?”

They’re not subjects. They’re people. Why would you hurt others like this? Why hurt innocent families who have done nothing to you— something swells in his chest—

He stops thinking.

“We won’t underestimate you this time.” The man says, lifting his sword. He feels the seven auras flare in aggression.

Shigeo tightens his bandages and raises a hand.

*

Reigen had a habit of getting carried away. This had been a very bad time to get carried away.

He’d suggested to a fourteen year old that they should walk into the base of a hostile criminal organization, whose members would try to kill them, to help another fourteen year old who could actually kill all of them.

This was gonna be a fucking train wreck.

“We’re here.” Hanazawa says, as they land. Apparently the high speed flying isn’t unique to Shigeo. If he survives this he’s going to start a course on ‘psychically carrying passengers without making them vomit’. The fact that it doesn’t exist yet is a goddamn human rights violation.

There’s a knocked out guard to the door’s right, and a camera that Hanazawa breaks as they dash in. The inside of the facility has clearly seen some shit. Place looks like the aftermath of a tornado, which isn’t that far from the truth really.

They don’t bother with the cameras after that, it’s clear Claw knows Shigeo’s here. He’s kind of distracted by one of the knocked out Buttchins as they run, so he isn’t looking as he turns the next corner.

He nearly topples over a guy in a wheelchair.

Hanazawa freezes them both like a champ. The man is… well, an old punk. Rundown mohawk hair that resembles a rat’s nest with a sagging physique that used to be muscular. There’s a heavy scar on his face.

Heavy scar?

Crap, he’s one of the—

“Let me go, let me go you fucking shit—”

He’s panicking? Wait, one of the Scars is wheelchair-bound?

Reigen blinks, even as Hanazawa tightens his hold. He’s seen the scar too. “And let you attack us?”

“No, you fucking brat I— Look, let me go, I’m not going to do anything alright? I’m trying to— I need to move dammit—”

“You’re not making sense.” Hanazawa says, hands still fisted.

“I don’t fucking care, let me go! He’s here, Poison is—”

“Tell us where Poison is.”

“He’s there dammit! Let me go! I’m not, I can’t do this dammit, I can’t, not again—”

Again?

It’s almost like they’re torturing the guy. Hanazawa is all together too calm about this. Maybe he’s more psycho than Reigen thought. “Where is he?”

“Basement! Three floors down, just let me go already—”

“And how do I know you aren’t going for backup?”

“Backup?” The laughter borders on hysteria when it comes. “You think backup will do anything to that? You’ve never seen it, you haven’t— shit, I was there, I went into their fucking house and it looked just like some kid but that thing ain’t no fucking kid—”

Guy’s hysterical, holding onto his thighs so hard Reigen thinks what’s left of his bones might snap. He doesn’t have anything below the knees, just two stumps ending in a warped mess of twisted veins and flesh.

“—it’s too strong, there’s nothing we can do. It took all the skin off my fucking legs and then it tore off the muscles and my bones started fucking vaporizing even though I had a goddamn barrier up and it did that to it’s parents too—”

Oh. Oh.

Oh god.

The way Hanazawa stiffens beside him tells Reigen he’s never heard this story either. It’s… shit he doesn’t even know what to think. Shit.

There’s no time, he can mull over this later, Shigeo’s probably right down there—

“...Drop him kid, we need to go.”

“I—” Hanazawa struggles, “—yes, of course.”

He lets go. They don’t look as the Scar desperately throws himself down the hallway with his powers. They can’t afford to.

They run towards the storm instead.

*

65%

Seven auras, but only five stand here. Sixth is hiding behind the far end of the corridor, aura puppeting a crowd of wooden dolls. Seven is hiding there too, behind the dolls.

Doesn’t matter. Shigeo will stop them if they attack.

Katana-san opens with a slash, bounces off his shield. Shigeo sends a shockwave back, blocked by three Dot-head-sans— psychic clones. He hears the clattering of wooden limbs as the dolls slam into his barrier, dozens of hands pressing hard against the surface—

They’re trying to pin me down.

He drops the shield.

The clones and dolls come looming down on him. He whips his fingers apart.

They explode into psychedelic ash and doll shards. Behind him, balls of energy burst through the air, he twists on his ankle and grabs it whole, rewriting it into his own. He sees Katana-san holding a smoking gun, and readies his aura to yank him into a wall—

Only to feel something wrap around his leg.

It drags him through the air, he pulls a shield before he hits the ground. He sees it now, Skunk-hair-san wielding his aura like whips. Orange flashes in his vision on the left and a fist comes flying in—

Muscular-san, the only female in the group. One, two, three, four, the hits are getting harder to block— that’s fine, his shield can hold—

Energy shoots into his barrier from behind where it’s slightly weaker, it cracks—

And snaps on the fifth punch.

It barrels into his gut, twisting into his stomach. He gasps, barely manages to summon a barrier under his skin so it bruises rather than breaks— the whips wind around his ankle and throw him into a wall.

67%

No chance to breath— Dot-head-san summons more clones that press down on him. He throws a wave of energy out that blows them back in a circle, only for more dolls to take their place. When he blows those apart, the katana comes flying in from the right—

He reflexively ducks, and the katana cuts clean through the wall. But as he’s doing that Shigeo’s already moving, palm facing the ground and fingers curved like claws, wrapping invisible hands around the hostile auras around him— the dolls, Katana-san, Muscular-san, all of them—

And shoving them all into the ground. He’ll hold them here, like this, give the others enough time to run. He can—

He can feel their blood running under his fingers.

70%

His aura snaps away, blinks back into the air above them. He just barely manages to keep it there, a warning.

Stay down or I’ll make you stay down.

“You really are strong, Poison…”

Katana-san is struggling under his own weight. Shigeo’s hands twitch.

He hisses. “If you joined us, we wouldn’t even need any new psychics. Just why do you oppose Claw?”

Why did he oppose Claw? Why did he oppose Claw?

73%

“You tried to kidnap me and my brother.” He hears himself say distantly, squeezing the squirming writhing thing in his chest. He can’t— Don’t breathe, don’t let go, don’t breathe—

Katana-san recoils. Ah, he’s showing it on his face. “You’re talking about Koyama.”

He doesn’t recognise that name. It doesn’t matter. “Stop fighting and I’ll let you go.”

“That’s not how it works here.” Katana-san growls, pushing himself upright with one hand. Shigeo slams his aura into that hand and he yelps.

“Let us go.”

“I've always wondered...” He’s wincing. Shigeo hates it. Hates that he’s doing this, hates all of this. “Just what did you do to Koyama, Poison?”

He doesn’t answer, and Katana continues. “He was one of those assigned to retrieve you eight years ago. He came back without both legs and a broken mind.”

Blood and ash, the smell of roasted meat in the air— muscles and tendons shattering into pixels under black—

76%

Stop thinking.

“H-he said,” He’s pressing too hard on Katana-san’s hand now. Skin compressed and moulded into the bones, making them jut out like white lines. “That you didn't spare anyone in that house, that he only survived because of his psychic powers.”

Don’t say it.

“You had a brother right?”

Don’t say it.

Katana-san's eyes whipped up to face his own. “Did you even check to see if he was alive?”

8—

“I'll revive that pain for you.”

Seven! Katana-san had been distracting him— whips around, can’t pull a shield fast enough— hand looming over his face, makes the slightest contact around his mask—

Electricity in the air. Rust on his tongue. He can’t see, blinks smoke out of his eyes.

(No.)

His whole house is gone. The street is torn up. The buildings are a mix of broken concrete and asphalt. His knees scratch against the cracks in the ground.

Where’s mum? And dad? He doesn’t see them anywhere. Ritsu isn’t here either. Where—?

His hands are sticky, he brings them up to rub at his eyes and stops.

Thick red runs between his fingers.

(No.)

He remembers, he remembers—

(Black fire ripping itself out his veins, spears and tendrils pushing and pushing out the points of his fingers, pressing into the living, the inanimate, everything around him)

(Threat, destroy, tear apart, kill—)

(No, no, don’t make him s̴͈͛̋͘e̴̔e̷̛—̸̹̓̏)̸̅͒

(His mother had looked terrified of him, when he’d—)

(̷̭̝͇̲̅̒̎S̶̠̊̎̓ṫ̴̡̜̀͂ǒ̵̄̌͠ͅp̴̤̥̅.̷̡͈̦̀̅͜ͅ)̸͚̈

(—torn her—)

(̴̛̅͆S̵̓t̴̃̌̀́ơ̸̏̓͗̅͒͝p̷̛̪͒̈́!̷͚̱͋̓̕)̶͊͒̏̈́

“Anti-esper dropkick!”

9—8—87%

He gasps, oxygen (not blood) enters his lungs. He’s— here, in Claw, trying to hold them back—

The esper that had done that to him is knocked out on the ground. He’s pulled Shigeo’s mask off, torn fabric clutched in his hand. Shigeo recognises the new figure standing next to the esper in an instant.

“Reigen-san?”

*

Huh, that actually worked.

Not that he’d been thinking when he’d done that. If he had been thinking, he would have realized trying to kick a psychic in the face probably wasn’t a good idea.

Guy’s got one hell of a chin though. The long scar bisecting it makes him look like a hotdog. Weird.

“You okay kid?”

The kid struggles to his feet. Shigeo already resembles a corpse most of the time, (Pale skin, check. Creepy eyes, check.) but nothing fits ‘ghost-white’ like his face right now. He’s breathing too hard. eyes blown the slightest bit wide.

“Kageyama-kun!” Hanazawa stumbles through the hole they made. That’s how they got here, essentially did the psychic version of a giant drill and broke into the basement as fast as possible.

“Hanazawa-kun…” Shit, he can actually hear emotion in the kid’s voice. Shigeo doesn’t sound as pissed as he’d expected, but the kid’s as expressive as a stone wall so he's not going to draw any conclusions here.

“Why are you both here?” With his shoulders still trembling, Shigeo can’t quite pull off his usual stare.

“Hey, that any way to thank someone?” He asks, no bite to his tone. “We came to help.”

“It’s not safe.”

“It isn’t safe for you either, you seemed to be in trouble back there.”

“That’s not—” Shigeo bit the words off. Hanazawa looks at him with a face that says ‘touchy subjects we shouldn’t avoid but will anyway.’ Yeesh.

“Shit, that was our best chance Muto…” Fuck, he hasn’t been paying attention. He whips around to see Katana man pushing onto his elbows. Muscles-for-boobs is getting up too, and that is an impressive physique, holy shit.

He’s also impressed by how easily those muscles could give him a concussion. Holy shit.

She’s not even half-way close to him before she freezes in place, a blinding kaleidoscope wrapping around her frame. The same energy lifts Shigeo's hair up in waves. He's been able to see auras since the possession and it’s nothing like Hanazawa’s; all contained and parsed over, the squares and shapes calculated to the most minute degree.

“Give up, Poison hasn't even used his full strength. You can't expect to win.” Hanazawa says, yellow swirls whisking around him.

That’s not the point here. Psychic powers or not, these are kids. What the hell are these people doing?

“We’re Claw.” Mole-halo says, stumbling to his knees. “Losing is not an option. If we are to take over the world, we must defeat our sworn enemy.”

Are you fucking kidding me.

“Hey.” He says. “Did you really just say that?”

“What?”

“Okay, how old are you?” He stalks up. “Seriously, tell me.”

“Er…Thirty?”

“Fuck, you’re actually older than me. Oi, you with the katana, you thirty too?”

“Yes?”

This is unbelievable. “Okay, see these two here?” He jabs a thumb at Shigeo and Hanazawa. “How old do you think they are?”

“…Sixteen?”

“Fourteen. They’re fourteen.” He’s going to suffer a goddamn heart attack from the amount of stupid in this room. “You, a bunch of thirty year olds, are fighting two middle-schoolers.”

“That doesn’t matter! Poison is too strong—”

“Of course it matters! Just what part of ‘children’ do you not get?”

“He has psychic powers! He’s always trying to stop us!”

“You kidnapped a bunch of kids, you attack random civilians.” He stalks forward, whipping a hand in front of the guy’s face. “Of course he’s trying to stop you. Anyone would. Do you think you’re the hero in this story? Last I checked, heroes don’t do the shit you’re pulling.”

And then Katana man tries to stab him. Which would have worked because Reigen got carried away again, except a blue aura slams the katana into the ground and snaps it in two.

“I told you to stop.” Shigeo says, voice dangerously empty. Fuck.

“Shigeo.”

“Reigen-san, step back.”

“Hey.” Kid doesn’t look all there. His raised hand is twitching, the air getting thicker and thicker with every second. Reigen isn’t getting through— “Hey.”

He carefully puts his hand on Shigeo’s shoulder, ignoring the feeling of electricity under his skin. The shoulder jolts, and the awfully blank eyes swivel towards him. It takes everything in Reigen not to flinch.

“Other ways to protect remember? Let me talk to them?”

Hanazawa steps up next to him. “Let him try, Kageyama-kun. We can hold them down if they do anything.”

Kid gives them both a very long, very unreadable stare that leaves his stomach in twists. His shoulders only relax the slightest bit when Shigeo's hand finally falls.

He turns back to the psychics who are still trying to recover. “Look, why do you want to take over the world?”

“Why? You have to ask why?” Katana shouted, slamming a palm into the ground. Oh man, here we go. “People like you, people who have only seen the good side of society, don’t you dare come here and judge me!”

He balls his hands into fists. “I was abandoned! My own parents left me! I spent my childhood alone! I never even knew what a family bond or motherly love was! All I ever had was being bullied in the orphanage! I cursed this world! That’s the only thing that kept me alive! That’s when I awakened my power! My power was what kept me alive! Anyone who denies my way of living— what’s with that look?”

Selfish fucking asshole doesn’t even realize he’s throwing a tantrum. “Does that give you the right to hurt others?”

“What?"

“Did you really attack so many people for a reason like that? Do you think that the things that happened to you justifies the fact that you’re doing even worse to others?”

Katana stares at him, and Mole-halo speaks up in his place. “We’re psychics! We’re the superior beings that will rule the world—”

“Just how special do you think you are? Just because you have powers you’re better than everyone esle? Don’t make me laugh.”

“You—” Mole-halo starts to attack, only for Shigeo to give him a look.

He doesn’t try anything.

“You want to take over the world. From what I can tell, you’ve been in this organization for ten years? Maybe longer? At what point exactly do you plan to do that?”

“Soon.”

“Soon when?”

“…”

“You can’t even give me a goddamn answer. Just why are you so sure Claw will take over the world? Because your leader told you? Because you have powers? Look at yourselves, take away your powers, and what do you have? What can you do without your powers?”

“I… that doesn’t matter—”

“Basic makeup skills maybe?” He stabs a finger at Mole-halo’s forehead. “What the hell is this supposed to be anyway? Some magical halo? And why the dollar store shoulder pads?”

Mole-halo is sweating. “…They guard my shoulders.”

“So, they’re accessories. They have no purpose.”

He’s sweating significantly harder now. Reigen lets out one long, tired sigh.

“Think. You’ve been in Claw for years. Your so-called enemy is fourteen and has beaten you in every single fight right? Just how much of a chance do you really have at leading the world?”

“…But Claw is a noble—”

“You’re as noble as dogshit. You’ve all relied on your psychic powers for everything, you’ve done it for so long you’ve become narrow-minded. How do you expect to rule the world when you’ve never even seen it? Do you know how many countries and cultures there are out there? How many governments and armies? 8 billion people, with their own thoughts and instincts, and you think they’ll follow someone like you?”

He whips around. “You too Katana, do you think you’re fighting society? Has anyone ever changed their minds because of you? Tell me how many people you’ve changed.”

Katana doesn’t say anything. Figures. “None. You haven’t survived because of your powers, you’ve survived because you hid, you locked yourself away in a pampered little cocoon that said it’s okay to hurt others with your powers. You’re no better than the bullies in the orphanage. Hell, you’re even worse. You’re a whiny brat who needs to grow up. If you want to stand at the top, you need to start living in reality.”

“As if I should listen to a commoner like you, as if you’re better than dirt, needing Poison to keep us down here—”

“Exactly! Poison is stronger than all of you. Poison is fourteen, and what did he do? He’s using those powers to save people, he’s a kid and he’s more mature than all of you. He’s been hurt by all of you more and he hasn’t taken it out on others. If a kid can see it, and a kid can stop your organization, what the hell does that make you?”

They’ve finally shut up. Shit, this is ridiculous.

“Look, we're all human. Everyone is a commoner, everyone has their own abilities. Psychic powers don’t give you the right to hurt others, heck, if you’ve spent the last few years working on skills that help people, you’ll actually be respected. You all want to make it big right? Isn’t it about time you started living in reality?”

Five sets of eyes stare at him, like he's not talking common fucking sense here. God, they're like spoilt little brats in oversized bodies. He rubs a hand over his face, suddenly feeling all the exhaustion in his bones. He still needs to get Shigeo and Hanazawa out of here, and he doesn't even know if Shigeo has gotten the kidnapped kids out yet—

And that’s, of course, when the building decides to explode because the universe fucking hates him.

Something heavy quickly snaps around him and the colours tell him it’s Shigeo. For one worrying second, he catches Hanazawa ducking a small black ball that shaves right through his wig—

“I gave all of you a chance to stop Poison and you squandered it.”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

*

He actually did it.

Shigeo hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d done it. He’d talked them down.

Words. Words and voices and names came to him. Dozens and dozens of faceless Claw members he’d knocked out without hesitation, his hands always so sticky—

He’s wrong about Shigeo. Shigeo hasn’t saved people for the sake of saving people. He’s only ever done it to stop Claw. He’s only ever done it because Claw had tried to kidnap his brother and him, but Claw hadn’t been the one to kill them—

If he can talk them down… what does that make me?

The building shatters then, the floors above them snapping and cracking as holes are blown through to the roof. Shigeo automatically whips a barrier around Reigen and Hanazawa. There's a figure with a black gas mask over their face, aura stronger than the seven he'd taken out, crackling as they stand on what’s left of the higher floors.

86%

“You’re wrong. You say we’re commoners? We’re special! We’re superior beings!”

Reigen looks doubly tired suddenly. Maybe he hadn’t slept well? “Man, you’re the youngest one. Listen girly—”

“I’m the oldest! And a guy!” She— Oh, it’s an old man. He reminds Shigeo of those exceptionally wrinkly avocados he’s saw this morning.

Reigen raised an eyebrow. “Bet that belief's the only reason you're still alive. Too bad old man, society doesn’t care.”

“Society this, society that. Society has no yardstick that can measure me!”

“Quit being so reliant, you’re making me almost pity you here.”

“What’s wrong with showing off these powers? What’s wrong with changing the world? The world should acknowledge my greatness! And I will make it acknowledge my greatness, because I will be the one to defeat Poison—”

“That’s enough.”

89%

That voice.

Something slams hard into the old man’s face. It sends him flying through what’s left of the wall. He’s knocked out in an instant.

“None of you are even close to defeating Poison. The seventh division is hereby disbanded.”

No. No, it can’t be, that voice is—

The figure steps out, barely taller than Shigeo himself. Black hair, so much like his, only cut into untameable spikes. A long scar traces his neck, harsh and jagged across the side.

“HQ sent me to report on your progress, but you're all useless.”

It can’t be—

Familiar black eyes stare down at him, framed by an impossible face.

He can't breathe. He can't breathe. Sickening iron choking up his nostrils, roiling in the back of his throat, hands sticky even though he knows there’s nothing on them—

The little brother he’d killed opens his mouth.

“It’s been a while, Nii-san.”

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

If you asked him what Ritsu sounded like, Shigeo wouldn’t be able to tell you.

It’s been wiped from his memory ever since that day. Horrible, right? What kind of person forgets their own little brother? Ritsu deserves better than that, better than Shigeo.

He can still remember his parents’ voices (they only ever come with the nightmares, and that’s fine, that’s more than he deserves), so why can’t he do better for his brother?

But now Ritsu is here. And he’s alive. He’s alive.

“How long has it been? Eight years?” Ritsu asks. It’s cold as ice, twists something painfully deep into his skin.

Yes.

“You probably thought I died that day.”

Yes. You died.

I killed you.

“I didn’t. I got my psychic powers that day, they protected me.”

…I’m sorry.

“I would have died otherwise.” Ritsu brings a hand up to the terrible scar on his neck.

He did that. Shigeo did that, didn’t he? God, say something. You’ve been a terrible brother already, you killed your own family and now that he’s alive you can’t even apologize?

90%

He opens his mouth but the words feel like mountains in his chest. Everytime he tries to pull them out his throat screeches and tears like it’s lined with barbed wires and every breath smells like oxidizing metal. Doesn’t matter, say it. Say it.

Why can’t he say it?

“…That thing wasn’t you, nii-san.”

That thing?

Black eyes stare at him. Shigeo can’t read Ritsu’s expression. “You weren’t awake. That thing wasn’t you.”

He drops down from the platform and Shigeo immediately steps back. Ritsu can't get close.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from fault.”

I know. I’m sorry Ritsu, it’s not enough I know, I’m so sorry, it should have been me, I should have died, I shouldn’t have been born—

“Did you know why I joined Claw Nii-san? Even though they tried to kidnap us?” Closer, closer. Stop, please. (His hands are sticky, his head hurts bad.) I’ll hurt you again— Don’t come any closer—

His powers surge— No! Don’t— wrangles it back desperately, drags it back by thorns and teeth and— oh god he almost used his powers on—

Ritsu’s eyes narrow. “Because you’re too powerful Nii-san. I can’t trust you to control your powers, no one can.”

He’s right, he always is. Ritsu is a smart brother. Ritsu knows exactly how terrible Shigeo is.

“Claw has the means to control you. Sakurai over there,” He nods towards Katana-san. Most of the Claw members are crouching, half-buried by the rubble and utterly still since Reigen’s speech. “He specializes in curses, came up with a cursed room that can dampen psychic powers. I took the blueprints. With this, we can contain that power of yours.”

You… could?

“…Say something, nii-san.”

Ritsu is looking at him, expression twisting, brows pressing into hard downward lines. He wants to say it, he wants to apologize, he wants to beg forgiveness even though he has absolutely no right and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t—

“Say something!” Ritsu screams.

94%

“What, you’re so shocked you can’t even speak?” Ritsu’s voice is half-way between a scoff and a cry. “Not even going to apologize?”

“You did that last time too right? You didn’t even check if I was alive.”

There’s so much venom in those words. His chest hurts, but that’s fine. He did this to them. Shigeo was the one who lost control, who hurt everyone, who killed their parents— the stench of burning flesh and cauterized blood is choking him but that doesn’t matter because Ritsu deserves better and he can’t even open his mouth to—

95%

He can’t explode. He cannot explode now, he’ll hurt Ritsu again, Shigeo will hurt him again—

Ritsu grabs him by the front of his hood and violently wrenches Shigeo forward. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Do I mean that little to you?!”

97%

Ritsu stares at him, and Shigeo stares back, stares as Ritsu’s hands loosen on his hoodie, lets his feet drop back to the ground.

“Why the hell,” Voice growing in crescendo, “are you crying, Nii-san?!”

Shigeo breathes in iron.

“Ritsu.” He chokes out.

Ritsu reels back like he’s been slapped.

Shigeo wants to lift his hands, wants to grab onto his brother’s shoulders (He’s real, he’s alive) but his hands feel like blood and his ears are filled with their parents’ screams, and hasn’t Shigeo already done enough to hurt him?

“No.” Ritsu steps back, letting go. (Don’t go. Don’t leave— No, leave please, before I kill you again, run—) He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t— I didn’t come here for this. I came here to stop you, so I’m going to stop you.”

He raises a hand at Shigeo. “Don’t resist, Nii-san.”

Jagged glass climbs out of his skin, lurching out into the air towards him. Shigeo watched it with glassy eyes.

You’re trying to protect everyone from me right?

His power was writhing under his flesh, instinctually throwing itself through his veins. He grabbed it before it could reach his skin, shoved it back down into his bones, squeezing it until it could only erupt against his own core.

Do it please.

It gets close. Closer. The slithers in his core burns against his chest. Faster, hurry up, I don’t know how long I can hold it, do it already.

It’s a second away from reaching his eyes when yellow slams into it.

“Kageyama-kun!”

Hanazawa-kun. He thinks first, and immediately shoves down the sudden anger. Why did you stop him?

“Who the hell are you?” Ritsu’s hand flashes out and throws psychic waves across the room. They hit Hanazawa hard, snapping into his barrier and making it ripple.

Hanazawa is good at psychic powers, Shigeo’s seen the way he used to train them, still trains them, in fact. Hanazawa has more skill than most of Claw even after decades of training, he’s strong.

All the same, the shield starts cracking.

Hanazawa grits his teeth and drops it, taking the second of surprise to leap into the air and come flying down— Ritsu—!

Ritsu dodges, and whips around a blast of yellow to throw blue right back. Hanazawa ducks and follows with a hard pull that shoves him into a wall, only for Ritsu to tear the wall to pieces before he hits it and send the rocks flying back. One of them nearly cleaves through Hanazawa’s skull.

They both pause after that, staring each other down. This can’t continue. They shouldn’t be fighting at all, he has to stop them— Shigeo tries to will his legs to move, tries to use his voice, something, anything.

“I said, who the hell are you?”

“Otouto-kun right?” Hanazawa wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “I’m your brother’s friend.”

“Then stay out of this. This is between us.”

“You’re right, this is a sibling squabble.” Hanazawa’s eyes narrow into slits. “But if you think I’ll just stand by and watch you kill Kageyama-kun, you’ve got another thing coming.”

No. Get out of the way Hanazawa-kun, let him do it. It’s okay—

A grey suit steps between them, and Shigeo is suddenly, horrifically aware that he'd completely forgotten about the only non-esper in the group.

“No one is fighting anyone here.”

*

Oh hell, what kind of situation is this.

Standing across from them is another kid, because Reigen’s apparently been blessed with the presence of all the child psychos. He can’t put down why he looks so familiar.

Then the kid says ‘Nii-san’ and Reigen suddenly realises this is Kageyama Ritsu. Who’s supposed to be dead.

Well, shit.

Now he’s standing between Hanazawa and Ritsu and feeling distinctly like a toy about to be ripped apart by two raptors. Fuck, he was conning people out of their wallets just days ago.

“No one is doing any fighting, maiming or killing today, got that?”

“Reigen-san—” Hanazawa starts only for Ritsu to cut in.

“How many times do I have to say it? This is between me and him. Don’t get in my way!”

Yikes. This one’s got a temper.

Okay but this is pretty bad, and he really should be treating this more seriously. Reigen’s got a silver tongue sure, but there’s a reason he went for ‘Psychic of the 21^st century’ and not ‘Consultant for dysfunctional family relationships with a side of murder’, he’s out of his damn league here.

He’s also the only adult in the room, so.

“Hey, listen. You’re justified in your feelings, but so is Hanazawa.” What’s some murder between friends and dead brothers right? “We don’t have to get violent, but when you suddenly appear like this and just start attacking, anyone would retaliate, alright?”

Ritsu isn’t lowering his hands, but he isn’t attacking either. Good, he’s not completely off his rocker, he can work with this. “Could you tell us what you want to do with Shigeo?”

“Stop him.” Ritsu barks out, no hesitation whatsoever.

“From using his powers entirely?”

“Yes.”

Hanazawa’s aura is still fliting dangerously around him. “That’s—"

“It’s not going to kill him. We’re just going to lock away those powers.” We? Claw’s pretty hell-bent on killing Shigeo. “Nii-san is too dangerous.”

“No. Kageyama-kun has lived his whole life with psychic powers. His muscles have become reliant on psychic support, without them, they’ll atrophy over time. You’ll kill him.” Hanazawa disagrees.

Psychic biology, interesting. Also has the side effect of making negotiations ten times harder. The way Ritsu’s face shuts down is probably not good for anyone.

“He’s too dangerous.”

“He’s in control—”

“He’s not! You haven’t seen it!” The shout comes with another blast that tears a crater into the ground. Reigen flinches back from behind Hanazawa’s shield. “You weren’t there. That thing inside him? That thing's a monster, it’s power is impossible, if it wanted to it could kill everyone and everything. Just like it killed mum and dad—”

Shigeo flinches hard. Crap—

“What thing—"

“I’ve seen it!” Hanazawa cuts in. What the hell are they talking about? “And it didn’t hurt me!”

“You—” Ritsu’s teeth grinds. “You don’t get it. I don’t have to listen to this.” Reigen feels a sudden rush of air as yellow throws him back behind Shigeo. That one second is enough for Ritsu to grab Hanazawa by the head and throw him into another wall.

Hanazawa rebounds in seconds, sending the torn rebar around the building at Ritsu’s barrier. They scatter off, followed by a round of concrete bullets that don’t do any better. In fact, the bullets shatter, splitting apart and twisting right back around to shoot past Hanazawa like spears.

One of them catches Hanazawa across the cheek, and another gets uncomfortably close to his neck— Reigen struggles onto his knees. Come on, he has to stop them somehow—

“Stop.”

It’s the first thing Shigeo has said since the fight began.

“Stop fighting, please.”

The air is getting uncomfortably thick, and Reigen suddenly remembers; The (tsunami, ocean, tornado) feeling of overwhelming emotions that threatened to both burn and drown him at the same time. The overwhelming power that came out when Ekubo had well and truly pissed Shigeo off.

But it’s not rage here. It’s…

Sadness. Frustration. Guilt, guilt, guilt—

Oh no.

Ritsu and Hanazawa aren’t paying attention. They’re tearing into each other’s throats like wild dogs. It’s not right, but he needs to deal with the literal force of nature right now before Shigeo does something drastic.

(Rage destroys others. Guilt? Guilt kills yourself, and all Reigen can think about is that black-and-blood-and-claws-and-fangs ripping Shigeo apart—)

“Shigeo.” He gets up, stumbles onto his feet. He grabs Shigeo’s shoulders. “Shigeo!”

Kid’s not looking at him. He’s blankly staring like Reigen’s invisible, hands flexing and flexing and flexing— Reigen thinks he can hear the bones creaking— “It’s my fault, please stop.”

“Kid,” Fuck. Fuck. He swallows. “you don’t have to do this.”

Shigeo’s eyes are glassy, twisting into a deep, deep red. The fear that runs down Reigen’s spine is, for once, not for himself at all. “Look, I’ll try to talk them down, don’t do anything—”

“It’s my fault.” Shigeo whispers. “So if I disappear, you won’t fight anymore, right?”

No, no no no, shit— The wind is swirling, the electricity thrumming under his fingers is boiling into a goddamn thunderstorm and the kid’s eyes are starting to glow—

Reigen takes his hands and slaps them hard into Shigeo’s cheeks. “Shigeo!”

Shigeo gasps, the storm abates— oh thank god— “Don’t do this, you can’t do this. It’s not going to accomplish anything, Hanazawa, Onigawara— You can’t disappear, we care about you, you cannot disappear.”

Shigeo stares at him, and Reigen keeps going, ignoring the silence, the fact that the fighting has stopped behind him, that everyone seems to be staring at them both. “You don’t have to fight, you don’t have to do anything here. When bad things happen, it’s okay to run away!”

Those dead eyes are so wide, so bright with shock and horror and guilt but it’s all overridden by—

100% relief

The thunderstorm starts again and the whirlwind boils through the air, but it’s different— and he doesn’t know how or why but it is—it wraps around him, spreads it’s tendrils to Hanazawa, grabs on and holds and then it reaches—

They disappear from the facility.

In the aftermath, they don’t hear the long drawn-out scream from Shigeo’s brother.

*

“…Yo, Ritsu!”

“…”

“Back from seventh? Heard you disbanded them. Good move, they were pretty useless anyway.”

“Shou.”

“Yeah? You sound kinda pissed, what’s up?”

Black eyes glare at him. “You told me that I should investigate 9^th street. You said there was strange activity there.”

“So? Was there anything?”

“You told me that right before Poison attacked the facility.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” A smirk. “Sides, you still had your reunion with your brother right? How’d that go?”

A fist slams into the wall beside his head. Shou doesn’t flinch. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how we’ve been losing Claw facilities to Poison. Facilities you know about.”

“You trying to accuse me of something? Come on, thought we were better friends than that.” Shou shoves the fist away, still easy.

“Dangerous to be saying things like that around here. You’re lucky I’m your friend you know!” Something dark climbs into Shou’s eyes. “Otherwise I might tell someone about all those prisoners you’ve been chatting with lately.”

“…I’m watching you Shou.”

The door slams shut behind him.

Shou dropped the smirk. “Damn it, Shigeo.”

*

“That energy surge was huge, you wanna explain what the fuck happened back there?” Ekubo asked.

‘What the fuck happened back there’ is a very good way to describe the shitstorm at seventh. Reigen had thought it was gonna be a train wreck? Oh no, it wasn’t a train wreck. It was a train wreck in an earthquake and a tsunami with a fucking kaiju thrown in for shits and giggles. It was the train wreck.

Fucking hell.

He’d blinked and found themselves in a whole other part of the city, miles away. Shigeo had stayed standing for three seconds before he wobbled and went into a dead faint. Convenient, kept Reigen’s brain off all the screaming it was doing.

He’d settled for carrying the kid on his back. Hanazawa had taken them to a building where a man with an… interesting choice of clothing had welcomed them in. Maybe he was the guy that taught Hanazawa about fashion trends.

The inside of the ‘Awakening Lab’ looks like a literal sci-fi movie, so the guy's definitely got some deep pockets. They’d contacted Ekubo with the spare phone kept at the abandoned building, and he’d waltz in with a bunch of rumpled kids and someone’s goddamn body. Not dead. (Thank fuck, that’d would have been real killer.) Ekubo tossed the guy far away before returning as a blob.

Which is how they find themselves here, with three middle-schoolers, two psychics, one ghost, and a conman. Somehow he’s the one saddled with the job of explaining. The kids are staring at them with wide eyes that say, ‘oh my god, I’m in a fucking anime.’

“He’d teleported, I think.” Hanazawa says, wincing at the disinfectant Reigen was applying to his scrapes. Kid’s almost as bad at accepting help as Shigeo is, took Reigen a good half hour to convince him.

Ekubo looks mildly nervous. “You mean he learnt it? On the spot?”

“Yes. It's not that surprising, teleportation is a learnable skill.”

“You hearing yourself? Crap's supposed to take fucking decades to get down, and he just learnt it like that?”

Hanazawa sounds far too impressed about this. “Kageyama-kun is amazing.”

“Amazing.” Ekubo deadpans. “Scary, more like. Why the fuck hasn’t he taken down Claw? If he can learn shit like that, Claw should be fucking dead meat already.”

“Um.” The girl, Tome, if he remembers right, raises her hand. “Are you guys talking to an alien?”

“Taicho.”

“No.” Reigen says because talking to kids about aliens is the most normal thing he’s done in days. “No, we’re talking to a ghost. Ekubo, show yourself already.”

“Tch.” There’s a small flash, and then Ekubo waves a hand. “Hey.”

The kids recoil, the muscular one (who Reigen still isn’t sure is a middle-schooler) flexes for whatever reason. “Ew— wait, you’re blushing.”

Ekubo rolls his eyes. “It’s a ghost thing.”

“You’re the man from before! He was blushing!” Inukawa (Probably.) blurts out.

“Amazing detective work, ten points for you.” Ekubo does an approximation of sitting on the couch. “So? Why hasn’t he fucked Claw over?”

“Language.” Reigen says, even though he’s not exactly the epitome of grace. But these kids aren’t psychotic psychics (god he hopes not) and there are rules for that sort of thing.

“He could.” Hanazawa agrees, placing a plaster over his cheek. “But he doesn’t.”

That’s apparently all Hanazawa would say on the matter. It makes him think of that moment when Shigeo had been entirely too ready to do something horrifying. To himself.

Shit.

A twitch from said kid breaks his thoughts. Shigeo’s knocked out cold, doesn’t even look relaxed in his sleep. The light reflects off his face just so that his scar stands out against the pale complexion. The blanket starts slipping off him and Reigen automatically grabs it and tucks it in.

“Has Mob-kun—” Inukawa keeps glancing at Shigeo like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. Also Mob-kun? “Has he been like this for long?”

“Like this?”

“Uh—” Kid waves his hands around awkwardly. “Helping kidnapped people.” Also fighting other psychics. Also being legally dead. Funny how people can say things without speaking.

“For a long time.” Hanazawa answers. “Years.”

Inukawa swallows. “Oh.”

“You knew him kid?” Reigen asked.

“Yeah— sort of. We used to be classmates.”

Ah. That explains the nickname. Must be a shock, seeing someone you thought dead come back as a criminal with superpowers. Tome puts a hand on Inukawa’s shoulder, looking up at them. “Hey, so how long do we have to stay here?”

“Once we’re sure Claw isn’t looking, we usually send you guys back to the police.” Hanazawa says, leaning heavily against the couch. Kid looks like he’s about to faint himself. Reigen can’t blame him, with all the adrenaline gone, he can feel all his twenty nine years on his back, ergh.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, no one here looks too hot. He makes a spilt decision right there. “Mitsuura-san do you have any extra clothes for these guys?”

“Oh, yes, plenty.”

“Okay.” He rubs a hand over his face, the amount of grime on it makes him cringe. “You three, go get a shower and change. We’ll all resting here tonight, lay low for a little while. We’ll send you guys off to the police station as soon as possible, alright?”

Inukawa and Tome look like they want to protest, except the big one places his hands on them and shakes his head. They exchange glances and stumble towards the rest rooms.

He turns back to Hanazawa, a very much exhausted, very stubbornly awake Hanazawa. “That means you too, you know.”

Hanazawa startles. Reigen catches his hands tightening in his shirt. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

“You’ll be better if you bath and sleep, you did a lot of work today.” Certainly more than Reigen.

He shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

Reigen huffed. “Look, if you’re that worried, I’ll see if Mitsuura-san has an extra futon and you can sleep outside here.”

“But I—” Hanazawa bites his lips.

“Kid, it’s been a long day.” Reigen pats him on the shoulder. “You look dead on your feet, you need to rest.”

Hanazawa stares at him, then looks between Reigen and Shigeo like he’s trying to decide something. “Kageyama-kun might have nightmares.” He blurts out.

Reigen nods, waiting for him to keep going.

“Very bad nightmares. About…” He trails off, waving one hand to indicate Shigeo's utterly depressing shonen backstory. “He doesn’t like to be unconscious around other people, sometimes his powers go out of control.”

…Ah. “Okay I’ll wake you up if something happens, but you still need to rest.”

Hanazawa looks pained from the admission, his shoulders loosen and he teeters to the side. “I know.”

Fuck, this one's got issues too doesn’t he.

They can deal with it later. He struggles onto his knees— god he's going to feel that tomorrow— finds Mitsuura tending to the kids upstairs and asks for the extra futon. By the time he’s showered and washed up, the kidnapped kids have already fallen asleep in one of the upstairs rooms, and Hanazawa is in the futon next to Shigeo’s couch. Reigen throws on an ugly sweater and tosses everyone’s clothes into the laundry basket before he crawls his way back to the living room.

He’s not actually planning to sleep. No way, not after all that, but he can at least try to rest his back. He leans into the second sofa, fingering the light switch on the remote. Without his consent, his eyes catch onto Shigeo and Hanazawa.

They both look too young, scrapes and bandages all over their cheeks.

He pushes down on the button and the lights go out, leaving him staring at the black ceiling. He thinks about the muscle aches in his bones, and that terribly open look Shigeo had on his face.

He sighed.

Fuck, what a mess.

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

He snaps his fingers over the kid’s face once, twice.

Still nothing.

“Really out like a light ain’t he?” Ekubo drawled instead of being useful.

“It’s normal, he passes out after using too much power.” Hanazawa says, dressed in the only semi-normal shirt. (The rest of them get the stupidest prints dreamed up by the dregs of humanity because Mitsuura's closet is a fucking national treasure.) Kid starts picking at one of the band-aids on his face. "I'll move him to a bed later, he might keep sleeping for a while."

“Leave that on.” Reigen barked and tried not to whirl at how mum he sounded. Hanazawa gives him an awkward smile and pulls his hand away.

“Doesn’t he need to eat though?” Tome asked.

She’s right, Shigeo’s been out since the day before yesterday. He’s doesn’t even move; Reigen’s had to check his pulse at least twenty times to make sure he wasn't dead.

“We can’t do anything if he doesn’t wake up.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “What’s the longest he’s been out like this?”

Hanazawa paused, “Four days.”

That startles a reaction out of the kidnapped trio. “Four days?!”

“Doesn’t that count as a mini-coma already?”

“He woke up eventually, very hungry, but he was fine.”

The whole room gives him a long, considered stare. Kid just smiles back like he’s talking about roses, of course.

“Shonen protagonists.” Inukawa mumbles, still staring.

“Shonen protagonist logic.” Tome agrees. Hanazawa looks distinctly uncomfortable for some reason.

“Right anyway.” Reigen starts. “We’ll bring you three to the police in about a week, probably through a sewer.”

Tome and Inukawa look grossed out. Musashi simply nods, because testosterone and muscles and he’s sure the guy’s ran all sorts of routes (Those biceps were the size of Reigen’s face.) Surprisingly not one of them complains.

Then again, they just got kidnapped, and that sort of thing has lasting effects on middle-schoolers.

“We’ll tell you when as the days go by. I can’t guarantee it, but we’ll try our best to get you back to safety as soon as possible.” Hanazawa’s words sound practiced, like he’s said it a hundred times. Hell, he probably already has.

God, they’re just kids.

Tome nods. “Yeah. You need to see how Claw is moving right? Like your friend is telling you?”

“Friend?”

“You know, the guy who told us he’ll ask his friends to get us out…?”

Hanazawa’s brow furrows. “…I’m pretty sure our friend wasn’t at seventh, could you tell me how this person looked like?”

“It was kind of dark so I couldn't see his face." Tome frowns. "Long coat with a hood, was wearing a buttoned shirt inside and jeans, I think he was our age? Maybe a little taller than Kageyama-kun?”

…They are not talking about who he thinks they are. They are not.

Hanazawa’s eyes go very wide. “You’re talking about Kageyama Ritsu.”

Oh goddammit.

“What— You mean that guy’s brother? The one that just tried to kill him? He’s a spy?”

“That seems to be the case, but it doesn’t make any sense—”

“No. It does.” Reigen says, trying not to internally fucking die. This is worse than his grandma’s soap opera. “He said ‘we’re going to contain it’, Claw wants to kill Shigeo. So it makes sense if he was talking about a different group.”

“But… why?”

And that’s the question of the day isn’t it? How’s the weather? What’s for lunch? Why’s a secretive and highly dangerous organization out to kill you?

“He told you he would get you out?”

“Yeah, I think he might have saved us. We went to your exploded office—” Ow. Didn’t need that reminder. “— and there were Claw guys there. They— The policeman were dead, they would have— ”

She chokes, visibly holds back something and spits out the rest. “He told them to kidnap us instead. Something about experiments.”

Before he can even wrap his mind around fucking experiments, she’s already shaking her head. “He suddenly showed up at our cell and said he’ll get us out. Told us it’ll take three or four days and he’ll try to stop them from doing anything to us.”

“So his group is at least opposed to what Claw is doing.” Small victories, he supposed. Good against Claw, not so much for the sinkhole that is the Kageyamas’ sibling relationship. It's information, but not something they can use.

He looks up to say just that, only to see the kids. Really see the kids. Tome’s fingers are biting into her shirt, and Musashi looks like he might break that borrowed dumbbell if he squeezes any harder. Inukawa just looks like he might throw up.

Lasting effects, no shit.

“So, who wants to help me cook?”

“What?”

“Cook. Food. You know, like normal people do.” Reigen says, making his arm gestures wild so it catches their attention. “Mitsuura-san has some extra ingredients, you all have any cravings?”

At the thought of food, Inukawa goes from slightly-green to I’m-gonna-throw-up-green. Tome takes two steps back while shrugging. Musashi on the other hand, goes right up to Inukawa and slaps his back hard like it’ll shake the vomit out of him. Inukawa just goes greener. “Ah, I have a suggestion Reigen-san. There’s a protein hotpot I know of that’s great for muscle growth—”

Reigen’s already regretting this.

*

He walks out to do a grocery run after the hotpot, which was three times as traumatising as the whole bloody Seventh division thing. He’s cooking alone from now on, route to an early damned grave right there.

There’s a black wig thrown over his head (Cactus has a whole stockpile holed up at the lab.) Combined with the mess that is Mitsuura’s wardrobe, it makes him look like an oddly brilliant traffic light. Not doing wonders for obscurity, but hey, refuge in audacity right? Maybe they’ll think ‘Look at that ass-for-brains.’ instead of ‘Look, that’s the guy we gotta kill.’

Never thought having an ass-head would sound so nice.

He stops at the closest supermarket and picks a basket at random. Mushrooms, tomatoes, maybe some milk? Do middle-schoolers even drink milk? He grabs a bunch of fruits and some chicken, just enough to stock up the fridge and heads to the counter. The cashier stares at him like she should report him for being a visual nuisance. He can't even bring himself to be offended.

He’s lugging all the plastic bags back and wondering why he volunteered when something black and awfully familiar catches the corner of his eye. He nearly drops everything, whipping around and opening his mouth—

Oh. Just a mannequin in a gakuen uniform.

…Eh. Blame it on the stress lately.

There’s a giant obnoxious sign sitting on a second mannequin next to it, the words ‘SALE!!! ¥2000 ¥799!!!’ in bright neon like comic sans wasn’t enough. Unlike the sign, the hoodie it's advertising is actually half-decent. It’s simple, a muted cyan with cheap cutting and even cheaper fabric, but he’s not exactly swimming in money here.

It looks like it’ll fit Shigeo.

Reigen stares at it. Carefully checks his wallet. Stares again. Mentally calculates what he’s got hidden in his bag and subtracts the price of cigarettes. Checks his wallet one more time. Stares even longer.

…Fuck him and his conscience.

He buys the hoodie. And then the gakuen jacket too because he can’t quit while he’s ahead. Damned ass-for-brains.

*

He wakes up to a ceiling.

That’s odd. Abandoned buildings have ceilings, but not nice ceilings like this. He’s on a bed too, but he hasn't had one in years.

Someone calls him from the door. He looks, but no one’s there.

Ah. They must be downstairs. He should go.

He gets up and stumbles down to the first floor. His ankles feel like the tendons have been slit, but they don’t hurt so it's probably okay. Below, he finds a kitchen, and when he blinks he finds himself sitting at the table. There’s a plate in front of him.

He thinks he’s been eating. Something's in his mouth.

Shige?

There's a hand on his head.

“Yes?” He says.

They mumble something. They. Them. Two of them, he realises. Were they always there? His wrists press against the table’s edge, digs into his veins. The something in his mouth stings his tongue.

Shige, are you listening? Are you daydreaming again?

Don’t worry so much, kids daydream all the time, it’s normal! Healthy even.

Worry? Is he worrying someone? He looks up.

They’re across the table. He thinks they’re smiling. Their hands are clean. Their necks are cleaner.

Go on Shige, eat.

His arms feel weak. He extends a hand across the table, but there are no spoons here. What should he do? There’s nothing at the sink either. It makes his hands itch, or maybe that's because of the bandages.

That's okay. Bandages are important, they don’t have bandaged hands because they are good people. Bandaged hands are important for him.

He’s getting off-topic, he should find a spoon. He doesn’t want to worry them.

(Kageyama-kun?)

Eat.

He doesn't want to worry them.

Maybe he'll just have to make do?

Liquid paste slides out between the bandages. It splatters onto white grains. There are crevices in their faces, running from their nose out like a star, through their eyeballs, their lips, their tongues. It’s starting to spilt apart. They’re watching him.

Eat. He has to eat. He doesn’t want their faces to spilt. He has to eat.

He drags his wet slimy hands through the grains, the thick slurry, it scratches knives against his flesh. He has to eat. He starts to lift it—

Clammy fingers press into his wrist, nails digging into the thin vulnerable veins under his skin.

Shige, where’s your spoon?

“I don’t know.” He says.

Don’t be silly, they’re here.

They twist his hand around gently. Caress his fingers, his palm, his wrist. Something slithering and worm-like drops a knife into his hand.

That’s not right, is it?

He doesn’t know, but he has to eat. He doesn’t want their faces to spilt.

(Kageyama-kun!)

Eat.

He takes the knife and tries to scoop. The meat and glistening gunk holds on the blade, he lifts—

The knife twists.

Oh no.

Shige.

No.

I thought I told you to fix that habit?

The knife is in their chest. The knife is in their chest. His hands put them there, and all around his fingers there is soft pulsating muscle and red, red flesh. No, no he’s done it again, he’s gone and done it again, no no—

The something in his mouth rusts into iron, the air goes thick with smoke and concrete, he can't breathe— it'll make him hurl—

Their hearts are still beating right? They’re still alive? He can fix this—

(Kid?)

He hasn’t—

She’s upset now. Her face is splitting and splitting, her cheeks and chin and forehead pulls away like a gaping maw and he can see her muscles and tendons and her white cracked bones—

Oh.

He gets it now.

He’s seen this song and dance before.

He knows what comes next. He just has to hold on. He just has to get though this without the maggots and worms in his chest exploding—

Why are you always like this? You should be like R̷̞͓̜̿́͂̆̚͝ì̴̩͔̭̱̖̲́̈́̓̓t̸̺̆s̷̖̏ủ̴̡̖̺͙̀̈́̍.̷̼̣̦̩́͌͊̌͆

90%

That’s not right.

He’s never been able to hear that before.

That’s not right. This is different. That’s not right at all. This is—

(Kid!)

He, the man, the faceless one with a tongue for a face and no eyes wraps his tendrils around him. She, with the bone-face and chitlins for hands rubs his cheeks fondly, leaving slimy wet smears.

We love you Shige.

He has to do it.

We love you.

He has to do it for them. It’s the least he can do.

There’s a street to his right. A humanoid figure standing just barely at the edge of his vision.

He doesn’t want to. He has to.

We love you. So look.

It’s watching him. It’s staring at his neck, tracing his spine with it’s eyes. He knows what he’ll see if he looks.

It has no fingers, it’s arms end in stumps, in jagged bone tips shattered into pixels. It has no skin over it’s chest, there is only red and muscle, fleshy glistering insides and a torn open rib-cage. It is heartless, because he destroyed it.

He’s seen it a hundred times before. But he’s never been able to see it’s face.

N̴̥̈͜͝i̵̧̳̖̻̮͑̎͐́̾̆ḯ̵̗̖͕̜̦̝̇̿̉͌̑-̴̢̧̢̱̰̦̘̗̭̊͛͌̌̏̈́̈͠s̷̨̛͙̺̯̲̞̭̿̎̆̉̆a̸̢̟̦̿̇̆̏̂̔̕n̵̡̤͋̊̂͝͠

He doesn’t want to look, he doesn’t want to, but he has to, he has to—

His head starts moving, twisted by the hands pulling his hair tight. He—

(Shigeo!)

He knows that voice.

He knows that voice, but from where—?

(Kid, wake up!)

Wake up? He can’t, he has to do it, he has to see, it’s the least he can do, it’s the least he deserves—

(Kid!)

But hadn’t that voice said something at some point? What had that person said? He doesn’t know—

It’s too late, his head is almost turned fully, his eyes are squeezed shut but he can feel them reaching with their hands and tongues, pressing into his eyelids, forcing them open—

He has to, he has to let them, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—

(Shigeo!)

All at once, he remembers—

“It’s okay to run away!”

It’s—

It’s okay to—?

For one tiny second, the fingers pause. Not enough, he still has to open them, he still has to see—

Pressure slams into his shoulders, he’s—

Staring at Reigen’s face. Hanazawa next to him. They both look stressed. Reigen lets out a breath when he meets his eyes.

“You’re awake.”

*

Hanazawa had not been kidding about the nightmares. When he’d returned all the tiny hairs on his neck had started doing the hula and static had shot from the doorknob to his fingers. He'd slammed the door open to find the walls bowing in like a shitty dance club rave and ran upstairs to find Shigeo’s room turned into a hurricane with Hanazawa trying (and quickly failing) to contain it.

It’s a wonder they managed to snap the kid out of it. You’d think with how much he’s seen he’d expect this kind of thing already.

What’s more concerning is the kid’s reaction. He’d stared at them with wide empty eyes, turned that stare onto all the objects strewn on the ground, on Hanazawa’s ragged appearance and the sweat trailing down Reigen’s face.

“I did it again.”  

Black eyes swimming with the faintest red, fear and horror and guilt—

And then it was gone.

Just like that. Snap, nadda, eyes went back to being dead, face blank, everything’s fine and dandy right?

Fucking suppression issues on top of everything else. Shit.

“He’s not eating.” Hanazawa says quietly as he slips out the room.

“Not even one scoop?”

Hanazawa just shakes his head, and Reigen has to resist the urge to press his face into his hands.

Kid hasn’t said a word since the nightmare. Hasn’t even touched his food, even though he should be famished. It’s almost midnight right now. At this rate they’re going to have to put the kid on a damn drip. Like they even have something like that.

“He drank something at least.” Hanazawa gestures to the empty cup, looking like a wilted flower.

“Better than nothing.” Reigen agreed. “I can watch over him tonight, you should get some rest.”

Hanazawa shakes his head. “You haven’t slept much either.”

“Kid.”

“I haven’t done enough.”

Haven’t done enough? “You’ve done a lot. If you weren’t around, he would have exploded back there.”

“I didn’t wake him up, you did.” The barest amount of frustration creeps into his voice. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Hey.” Reigen cuts in. “You've been around here the longest, helped far more than most people would. Don’t put yourself down kid.”

Kid stares at him with something unreadable on his face. He looks back down at the cup. “Thank you, Reigen-san, but I’ll like to help keep watch.”

It's the kind of voice that's too polite to be real, but he lets it go. They eventually settle on taking shifts once they realize they’ve spent more time arguing than actually watching over their quarry. Reigen verbally wrestles his way into first watch, hoping Hanazawa will oversleep past his shift.

He enters to find Shigeo sitting ramrod straight in bed like a wax statue, in complete fucking shutdown. Doesn't sleep, doesn't even blink. Honestly? It's freaky as hell.

So he deals by doing what he does best. Starts talking about his groceries. About the cute dog he saw across the street. Discusses his theory on people's proximity to psychics and having their cooking skills fried by whatever telepathic mumbo-jumbo goes into superpowers. He’s getting into his hypothesis of when his brain will go cooking-zombie on him when the door opens and Hanazawa walks in, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and definitely not missing his shift.

Damn.

They keep going like that, with a reverse prank-war in the background where one of them tries to get the other to miss their shift and rest. Throughout it all, Shigeo stays unresponsive. It's literally the most stressful thing he's ever seen because the kid's still not eating enough and shouldn't there be a bunch of side-effects for that shit?

At some point, maybe after his... twentieth shift, maybe, he goes to take another cup of coffee only for Mitsuura to pointedly snatch it away from him.

“If you want to take care of other people, you need to take care of yourself too.”

“I wasn’t going to drink that much.” Reigen growled, then realised what he just did. Gah, okay, maybe he’s more tired than he thought.

Mitsuura sighed and sat next to him. “Were you saved by Shigeo-kun?”

“Yeah, a few days back. You too?”

Mitsuura shrugged. “No. It’s… Shigeo-kun tried to save some kids I knew. They didn’t make it.”

Oh.

Reigen swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright, it was a long while ago.” His smile looked like it hurt. “I’m just trying to help Shigeo-kun as much as I can now. To stop this.”

Fuck, Claw’s a real pile of shit ain’t it?

“You’re pretty brave, doing that.”

Mitsuura laughed. “Pot, kettle, Reigen-san. It’s hard to believe you’ve only known them for a few days, you’ve helped a lot around here”

Hardly. He can’t even keep a bunch of kids from fighting. Let alone stop Claw from coming after them. He doesn’t even know what’s he doing right now, probably be better off if he just goes to the police with the kidnapped trio. The psychics are the ones running the show here, they know how it works.

He tries not to think of dead eyes and Seventh. The storm and black-whatever in the kid and how the guilt, guilt, guilt squeezed his lungs tight and choked up his insides—

Fuck, who's he kidding? He can’t just up and leave. Not like that. Not when he knows what Shigeo's really thinking behind all the scary psychic powers and scary eyes. God.

Just when the hell did he start caring about this kid?

Mitsuura has this look on his face, like he knows what Reigen's thinking. “Take it from someone who’s known them for a while, you need to take care of yourself before you can help them, Reigen-san.”

“I need to switch with Hanazawa—”

“I’ll wake you up, at least take a short nap. I don’t think you’ve slept at all. I’m trying to get Hanazawa-kun to sleep too.” Mitsuura smiled. “You two are pretty similar, actually.”

“Kid's smarter than I was at that age." It irks him that Mitsuura's honestly right. He's been wanting to conk out for a while already. Shit. "Sorry, could you wake me up in about an hour?"

"No problem."

"Thanks, not just for this, the lab too, and the food."

"it's the least I can do.” Mitsuura says, getting off the couch. “They seem to trust you, that’s more than I’ve been able to do. I’m glad someone’s there for them.”

Reigen automatically starts to say no, he's not there for them. He barely even knows them. Reigen doesn't form relationships, there's a reason he's too much of a baby to call home.

Wide eyes filled with guilt, with relief, staring at him with so much hope.

"I..." ...Fuck. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

He takes a small breath. "I guess I kind of am."

Mitsuura patted his shoulder. “Get some rest, Reigen-san.”

*

It goes on for another two days like that. Even the kidnapped trio start to worry. At one point they walked in and told Shigeo about how Ritsu had tried to save them. It was a good try, up until Musashi went to muscle-hug the sad out of Black T Poison.

Hoo boy, that had not been healthy for his heart.

Hanazawa nods at him at the door, face saying nothing’s changed. He heaves his shoulders and the bag to his side up, crossing the threshold. At the very least the kid’s starting to eat more. There’s only half a plate left now, and the cup is completely empty.

“Hey, Shigeo.”

…Too much to hope for a response huh?

“Did you look out the window this morning? There was a double rainbow there, pretty rare.” He places the bag beside him and sits down at the stool next to the bed. Kid doesn't look at him.

“Hanazawa thinks it’s been long enough that we can send the kids to the police soon. He's thinking of the day after tomorrow. You two have some real smarts you know? Can’t believe you managed to figure this all out by yourselves.”

He scratches at the itch at his back. Leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees.

“It's really tough. What you've been through. To do all this, living in abandoned buildings, constantly fighting... a lot of kids wouldn’t bother. A lot of adults wouldn’t bother.”

Shigeo’s eyes are shadowed by his bangs. Reigen’s been driving the same train of conversation over the previous days and has met about as much success as a drowning rat.

He bites back the sigh and keeps going. “Oh, yeah, I forgot because of everything, but I bought this a few days ago.”

He fishes the two items out from the bag and tears the plastic open. The cyan looks almost too bright in the dim room. “Got you a hoodie, it’s long-sleeved though so I’m not sure if you’ll wanna wear it in this weather. Got a replacement for your jacket too. Don’t know what you did to your sleeve there but that’s definitely not something we can sew back—”

“Why…”

It's said with such a soft, vulnerable tone he almost misses it. He whips his eyes up.

Shigeo is looking at him. He's actually responding. 

Kid breathes in, holds it for three seconds. His face goes that awful, awful blank. The next time he speaks the wobble in his throat is gone.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Reigen's heart broke.

“It’s not right.” Shigeo shook his head. “You know what I did.”

“Hey.” He grabbed onto the bandaged hand, the one pressing deep welts into his wrist. “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Shigeo freezes the moment he grabs it. Reigen lets him pull it away.

“I wasn’t lying when I said all that you know. You’re not a bad kid.”

“I am.” Shigeo says, like it’s a fact.

“Bad guys don’t bother saving people.”

“It’s not because I want to, it’s only because it helps to slow down Claw.”

Reigen raised an eyebrow. “Lying doesn't suit you kid.”

“I'm not—" Shigeo's voice starts to inch higher before he snaps his jaw shut. There’s an edge to his next words. “You know what I did.”

“Yeah.”

“I've hurt people.”

"Yeah."

"That explosion was me. I did that. I did all of that."

“…Yeah.”

“So why—”

“I care about you kid.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Shigeo hissed suddenly. The air blazed alight with power, churned for a second before it abruptly settled. It would have scared him a few days ago, should still have scared him.

It didn't scare him now. Not at all. Not with those words, not with that face. The only thing he could feel now was painfully, inexplicably sad.

Shigeo stared at his face, quickly wrenched his eyes away. “Sorry, I…”

“It’s okay.”

Shigeo didn’t look back up at him

“You know… people are really stupid.” Reigen starts, watching black hair tremor behind the weight of Shigeo’s emotions. “You’ll think with how big our brains are humans would be less dumb right? People do all kinds of stupid things, part of what makes us human, I guess."

"Everyone makes mistakes, but sometimes, sometimes we do something big, something terrible, and suddenly the only thing we can think of is how much we want to take it back. We get stuck in this mind-loop, thinking about all the whys and hows and what-ifs, about how if we've just done something different, or if we could just turn back time and reset everything, wouldn't that be great?"

He looks up at the ceiling. "But that’s not possible, because we’re not gods. Powers or not, we aren't omniscient, we're just human, and we can’t change what’s been done, no matter how much we wish for it."

Shigeo's not looking at him, but Reigen knows he's listening. He has to be, with how those shoulders are trembling. “What we can do, is focus on the present. Learn from those mistakes, get better, work on yourself, help others. And you know what? Even though I haven’t known you for long, I can tell you’ve been trying to do that for years.”

"It's not enough." Shigeo whispered. "They're still gone because of me."

God.

"I know, I'm sorry kid. I know you've been trying to make up for it, and..." He breathes. 34 people. "And I can't tell you that makes it okay. Because it doesn't. I can't tell you it'll get better, because it might not."

He pulls on a smile, and bends so he can meet Shigeo's gaze. “But I still think you can be a good person.”

For just a moment, the kid's eyes widen, and the air flutters with energy. It barely lasts a second before his eyes shut. He lets out a single, very small sob.

Reigen kept a hand on the kid’s back for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

“It’s good that we didn’t have to call our doctor.” Hanazawa intones, and shit if that doesn’t say everything.

Shigeo actually ate this morning, almost finished a proper breakfast with rice and miso soup. Achievement of a lifetime right there; Reigen Arataka, psychic murderer therapist extraordinaire. He’ll break out the champagne for the celebrations if there weren’t minors around.

“You have a doctor?”

“Kageyama-kun saved his daughter, insisted we call him if something happens or ‘so help me, I’ll kill you myself.’”

He was starting to learn that anyone even tangentially related to a psychic had a few screws loose.

“He’s a very nice doctor.” Hanazawa continues, smiling. Creepy.

“Whatever you say kid.” He spares a glance at the staircase leading up to the bathroom. “I’m gonna take him out of the house for a bit.”

Hanazawa blinked. “Change of scenery after five days in the house?

Maybe Reigen should be worried that they’re on such similar wavelengths. He might be going psycho too. “Yeah. By the way, you can do makeup right?”

“…Yes? But why—”

“Are you guys talking about Kageyama-kun?” Tome comes in with Inukawa, an alien-shaped popsicle in her mouth. Musashi follows behind them holding the biggest damn dumbbell he’s ever seen. In one hand.

(No, he is not jealous.)

“Sort of.”

“Hmm. I thought he’ll be more scary or intense, but he’s pretty quiet. He didn’t even speak this morning.”

“That’s how he is.”

“He was pretty quiet back then too.” Inukawa says, face a little pinched.

“Surprising considering his reputation.” Tome continues pleasantly, and Reigen really wants to hiss We don’t talk about that in this household. “Anyway, you’re a psychic right?”

“Yes?”

“Do you happen to know any telepaths?”

Hanazawa tilts his head. “...Not really, sorry. Is there a reason you need to find one?”

“I wanna contact aliens through telepathy.”

“I see.” Hanazawa nods agreeably. Reigen can’t tell if he’s being polite, or if this sort of thing is actually mundane for psychics. He certainly doesn’t get people asking for aliens in his office.

“What about you Reigen-san? Do you know any telepaths?”

“No, kid. Why telepathy? Wouldn’t it make more sense to use radio signals or something?”

“Because telepathy.” Tome makes jazz hands like it explains anything. “Shouldn’t you know if you’re a psychic? Or are you actually a fraud like I thought?”

Little punk. “Hey, I’m not a fraud—don’t give me that eyebrow, you called me to that building remember—”

“Yeah, yeah. And you happened to be working for Kageyama-kun, who was hiding in that building so you told us not to go in.”

“Working for— I’m not working for Shigeo, kid.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.”

“So, what, you mean you literally just met him that day?”

“I met him in that building, he let me go. Claw saw us and thought I was in kahoots with him, so they attacked me, Shigeo saved me.”

She’s still giving him the eyebrow. Heck even Inukawa is giving him the eyebrow. “That’s it? You’ve only known him for ten days?”

“Pretty much.” Reigen sipped some of the ‘relax’ tea Mitsuura had handed to him this morning. Ten days. Shit did it feel longer. He might have lost 20 years of his life to these ten days.

“I thought you two were related or something.”

Reigen damn near spit out his tea. “What.”

“I mean, you just spent the last five days fussing over him.” Tome points out. “Maybe you found out he was your long-lost nephew.”

“You did remind me of my uncle, he used to train me when I was younger.” Musashi says, nodding solemnly. “I was much weaker then, he would help me when I faint.”

This was not worth waking up this morning. “Hey, the only reason I was ‘fussing’ was cause Shigeo wasn’t eating, no one wants a dead kid on their hands you know.”

“Sure.” She drawled.

“We don’t even look alike.”

“Mhm.”

“No really, we don’t.” This damned relax tea was not being very relaxing.

Hanazawa puts some considering eyes on him like he's been deaf for the past five seconds. “It would explain a few things.”

Fuck kid, I thought I could count on you. “How does it explain— Actually, why are we even discussing this? You’re middle-schoolers, I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Were we arguing?”

“You know, he seems oddly defensive for some reason.”

“Maybe he’s hiding the fact that he’s related?”

“I’m not—”

“He’s not related to me.” Shigeo says from the staircase.

Oh thank fuck. Everyone’s heads swivel over to stare at Shigeo. Kid meets it with a blank stare, fresh from the shower with water still clinging to his hair and dressed in the new cyan hoodie.

“How did you get such a normal hoodie.” Tome sounds offended. “You should be suffering this fashion fiasco with us.”

Everyone ignores Hanazawa’s “But you all look great!”

“Reigen-san bought it for me.”

…And now they’re staring at him again. Tome’s eyes widen like she’s had a revelation. “Oh, I get it. He’s in denial.”

Let him reiterate; what the fuck did he do to deserve this.

“Stick to your alien conspiracy theories kid. Shigeo? I’m getting some groceries, you wanna come with?”

Shigeo blinks at him. “Why?”

“You need some fresh air, being cooped up isn’t good for anyone.”

“Go with him Kageyama-kun.” Hanazawa says, a small smile on his face. “Reigen-san may need help carrying groceries.”

Shit, he’s not that old.

“But Claw’s still looking for me.”

“They should be less alert now.” Hanazawa frowns, “Less doesn’t mean not though.”

“I’ve got a plan for that, actually.”

“Ah?”

“Well,” Reigen starts, “we could do some cross-dressing.”

*

They did not, in fact, do the cross-dressing. Because Shigeo had taken one look at the skirt (Borrowed from Tome.) and the short bob wig (Hanazawa’s.) and calmly said, “No.”

Hanazawa had deflated like a balloon after that.

So they’d stepped out with just makeup covering the scar on Shigeo’s face but nothing else. Personally? Reigen still thinks they should have done the cross-dressing.

“Admit it kid, that was a pretty clever way to hide from Claw.”

Shigeo somehow manages to convey ‘Have you even heard yourself speak, Reigen-san?’ in a millimeter of a single eyebrow twitch.

Tch. His plan would have been perfect. Absolutely brilliant. No one would have even looked at them funny.

“This way.” He says, automatically steering Shigeo by the shoulder towards the left before he realizes what he’s doing. Shigeo… doesn’t quite stiffen.

Huh.

They turn the corner and find themselves in a quiet park. A wooden bench sits under a tree, overlooking the large field in the middle where a bunch of kids and adults are flying kites and having picnics. It’s so textbook ‘family and fun times’ it’s almost suspicious.

“This isn’t the grocery store, Reigen-san.”

“We can go later.” There’s a van selling crepes nearby, he gestures to the bench. “Sit down, I’ll get us some crepes, any specific flavour you want?"

“You don’t have to.” Shigeo says.

“Nonsense kid, pick one.”

He shuffles a little. “It’s okay, really.”

“And you’re getting one anyway.” Reigen clapped his shoulder and starts over to the van. He buys two strawberry crepes (The cheapest.) and hands it over to Shigeo. Kid accepts it with a half-resigned ‘thank you’ and takes a bite.

Reigen settles in next to him and wonders how to start. He hadn’t dragged Shigeo here without reason, but he can’t just come out and say ‘So about that brother of yours that you killed but is actually alive.’

“Thank you, Reigen-san.”

He blinks, looks over to find the kid’s eyes on him. “For?”

“For coming after me. At the seventh division.” Shigeo shifted the crepe in his hands. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

Black-and-blood-and-claws-and-fangs.

Reigen didn’t know what he would have done either. Didn’t want to know.

“No problem kid.” He leans back against the warm wood. “That was... a tough situation.”

Shigeo nodded. His one free hand starts alternating between loosening and tightening the bandages on the other, and he has the sudden urge to pull the kid's hands away.

He leaned his elbows against his knees instead. “…You wanna talk about it?”

Shigeo goes still.

“No.”

Ah.

“Okay. You wanna talk about something else?”

He nods mutely, so Reigen starts to wrack his brain for something. Takes three bites from his crepe to fill in the silence. The kids across the field chase each other, carefree grins splashed across their faces.

“So I heard Inukawa call you Mob-kun?”

“Yes.”

“How did that come up?”

"We were classmates. Everyone called me that because I didn’t stand out.”

Reigen frowned. “Isn’t that kind of an insult?”

“I don’t mind.” The wrapper crinkled in Shigeo’s hands. “I didn’t mind at all.”

There’s a longing hidden under those words, in the way Shigeo stares at the children in the field. Reigen looks at how small he’s making himself on the bench, how he’d stared at the mirror after Hanazawa was done, how he hasn’t once rubbed or scratched at his cheek this entire time.

“Mob then.”

Black eyes swung up to look at him and Reigen met them with a small smile. “I'll call you that, sound good?”

“Why?”

“Why, well— It does suit you. Mob. Rolls off the tongue too.”

“But it doesn’t fit.”

“Hey, you’re more than just your psychic powers you know. You’re learning sewing from me remember? And not just that, remember what I said?”

Shigeo nods quietly.

Reigen lifts his hand and gently, very, very gently puts it on the kid’s head. He leaves it there when he doesn’t duck away. “I wasn’t kidding. I think you can be ‘Mob’ again.”

Because you already are. Even if you don't think so, kid.

Shigeo lets out a quiet breath, but nothing more.

“Besides, this bowl-cut of yours?” Reigen grinned, ruffling the straight hair under his fingers. “Old-school. Literally everyone's worn this once.”

“I like my hair.” He actually sounds a little indignant, hah.

“Yeah, yeah, suits you kid.” Voice fond, he stood up. “Anyway, we should head to the grocery store soon. I’m gonna have to cook up dinner later—”

“Can I help?”

He blinked. “With cooking?”

Kid shifted to look at him properly, and his eyes aren’t quite dead, not at all. “I want to learn.”

Reigen smiled, “Sure Mob.”

*

They come back to a buzz of activity surrounding the three rascals. The way Tome waves her phone around angrily could give someone a concussion.

“They’re blaming Kageyama-kun for it! How is that okay?”

“I’m not saying it is, taicho. I’m just saying it’s a natural reaction with what they know.” Inukawa says.

“Yeah? Well, it’s stupid.”

“I quite agree, very unmanly and weak to blame Kageyama-kun without any proof.” Musashi nods, arms crossed across his chest.

“You three talking about Mob? Oh, thanks kid.” Reigen passes the bags he was trying to lug in to Musashi, who barely even twitches at the weight. He crosses over to the kitchen with Mob behind him.

“Are we calling Kageyama-kun Mob now? Hey can I call you that?”

Kid’s either got some guts or has completely forgotten about the fact that Mob’s Poison. Mob looks as unperturbed as ever. “Yes.”

“Mob-kun.” She tests it out, nods once. “It suits you. Anyway you will not believe what kind of bull they’re saying, have you seen this?”

She shoves her phone into Mob’s face, kid reels back a little. “These dumbasses think we were kidnapped by you. How stupid is that?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“This always happens.” Mob said calmly.

“It does? Shouldn’t you be upset about that? It’s not right!”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s hardly fine, Kageyama-kun.” Musashi stops next to Tome. “Not when you saved us. It’s not just.”

“Exactly! You can't just accept it like that!” She swings a finger at Mob’s chest and back at the phone. Damned kid has no sense of self-preservation, he swears. “You shouldn’t let them accuse you of those things!"

Mob doesn’t even seem to know how to react. He stares at them with this blank face of mild confusion until Tome sighs.

“Look, me, Inukawa and Musashi were thinking of uploading a video. We’re gonna refute these idiots and tell everyone we were saved by you.”

That seems to snap Mob out of his stupor. “You shouldn’t. It’s not safe.”

“I don’t mean right now. If we upload anything now Claw could track us down. We’ll do it when we’re with the police.”

Mob shook his head. “You really don’t have to.”

“Yeah? Well too bad, we’re doing it.” Tome smacked his shoulder lightly. “Least we can do after you saved us.”

Mob’s blank face twisted slightly, and Reigen got ready to step in. Kid didn’t have a good track record of accepting help, fully willing to threaten people if it means keeping them safe—

Except Mob took one small breath and said. “…Okay.”

Reigen stared.

Tome grinned. “It’s a thing then.”

The three headed back to the living room, and Mob returned to Reigen's side. “Reigen-san? How do we make dinner?”

Reigen looked down at him, up at the kids, then back down again. Something gave a little in his chest, something like relief, or pride.

“Reigen-san?” Mob asked a little more insistently.

“Ah, right, here, we’ll use this first…”

Surprisingly (and thank god because he had not been looking forward to another battlefield like the hotpot) Mob’s actually pretty decent at cooking. Sure he’s got a bad habit of putting too much seasoning in everything (we don't use a quarter of the soy sauce bottle for a small pot, Mob.) but it’s easy enough to fix.

The rest of the kids and Mitsuura say as much at dinner. “Reigen-san taught you this right?” Hanazawa asks, fresh from his shower.

“Yes.”

“He’s like your uncle or something, I swear.” Tome squints at Reigen.

Are they seriously starting with this again?

“He’s not.”

“An instructor maybe?” Inukawa continues. “Teacher?”

“Coach.” Musashi suggests.

Mob tilted his head. “He said once he was my shishou.”

Not helping my case, kid. Better start playing damage control— “That was special circumstance, I was trying to get another kid to stop involving himself with this whole psychic thing.”

“Shishou fits though.”

“Yeah, for a sleazeball.” Ekubo says, because he only pops up when there’s an inopportune moment on Reigen’s part.

“Why the hell are you back? Actually where did you even go?” Reigen deadpanned.

“I’m an evil spirit of course I’ll come back to annoy you. And I was out eating. This place is really hard to find low level spirits for some reason.”

“You eat other spirits?”

“Sick.”

“Wait until you’re dead then tell me that.” Ekubo grumbled at the kids.

It degenerates into chatter and jabs at Reigen. Surprisingly the kids volunteer to do the washing up despite being little shits, shooing the two psychics out so Hanazawa can help Mob remove the makeup on his scar. Reigen puts the dishes in the sink before he goes upstairs and showers.

He slumps down on the bed, digging into the soft sheets and sighing. Mob had mentioned he liked milk while they were cooking, which thankfully wasn't too expensive. Should start looking into recipes incorporating milk. There’s curry but that’s coconut milk… maybe icecream? He could try crepes, that had cream in it right? The kid seemed to enjoy those well enough…

He's nearly asleep when he realises what he's been thinking about for the past twenty minutes.

Reigen groaned and stuffed his face into a pillow. Bloody hell there might actually be something to what those rascals said. Fuck.

*

“Mitsuura-san has a lot of things here— ah, there it is.” Hanazawa shows him the small bottle labelled ‘makeup remover’, with garish neon casing for some reason. “You pour a few drops of this on the cotton— maybe four or five, or more if you need to— and then you wipe it off your face. After you’ve made sure it’s all gone you use this cleanser here to rinse it off.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll recommend you put some moisturizer on afterwards, these removers can be quite drying— your decision though!”

“Okay.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, let me know if you need any help alright? Just ask, it’s no problem.”

Help.

Shigeo thought of concrete and rubble, of iron and itchy hands and blond hair bright against black spikes.

Hanazawa-kun has always offered to help.

Hanazawa starts pulling the bathroom door open, stepping onto the curb, and Shigeo forces himself to say it before he hesitates. “Hanazawa-kun.”

He paused. “Yes?”

Shigeo swallowed. Hanazawa has helped him a lot, over the past year. Bentos and bandages, fixing up the internet, buying extra supplies. The rare few psychic fights he’d gotten into defending Shigeo.

It’s not right. Hanazawa shouldn’t have to endanger himself for Shigeo’s sake. It’s better if Hanazawa doesn’t help, doesn’t know him—

But Seventh had happened. And Shigeo hadn’t known what to do.

“I want to thank you.”

Hanazawa blinks, gives a half-smile. “You don’t have to, Kageyama-kun.”

No, he had to. Shigeo shook his head, looking up to find Hanazawa staring at him with something unreadable. “You’ve tried to help me for a long time, and I never accepted it.”

Blue eyes widened slightly and Shigeo ducked his head, picking at the bandages on his hands. He hadn’t known what to do. Without Hanazawa and Reigen there? Shigeo hadn’t seen an out for the situation, just knew that he hadn’t wanted to fight Ritsu and if the easiest solution was to get rid of the problem then so be it—

56%

He took in a sharp breath, held it, let it out. “I thought it was better if I was alone. So I pushed anyone who tried to help away.”

“Kageyama-kun…”

“But I don’t think I could have gotten out of Seventh without your help.” He continued. “I wouldn’t have gotten out without your help.”

He looked up again, steeling the resolve in his spine. “I’m sorry, Hanazawa-kun and thank you, for always trying to help me.”

Shigeo wasn’t good at reading people’s faces, he couldn’t tell what Hanazawa was feeling. But it looked… genuine. Sincere.

“You don’t have to apologize you know, I’ve always known you were too kind for your own good.” Hanazawa laughed a little. “I haven’t really done all that much really. Just what you’ve done for me.”

Shigeo stared. “I haven’t done anything.”

“See? Too kind.” Hanazawa smiled. “Your welcome, Kageyama-kun, I’ll be happy to keep helping you.”

Shigeo pulled his hand away from his bandages, let them loosen slightly. “Thank you, Hanazawa-kun.”

*

“Why are they sending him?”

“That’s what the superiors want,” Smoke in the air. “We can’t do shit about it.”

“That’s ridiculous. Don’t they remember what happened? That thing came out again because they sent him! He’s a madman!”

“Keep your voice down.” A sigh. “Look, I don’t approve of it either.”

“Why aren’t they sending me? I’ve already proven my worth on the containment team! The only reason I’m in Claw was to get those blueprints!”

“Voice down, kid. Do you want Claw to hear us?”

Eyes flickered to the wall, anger written all over his face. Who the hell thought it’ll be a good idea to put a thirteen year old on a spy mission?

“You are a good operative, especially for your age. You’re one of the best we’ve had, and because of that I think you already know why.”

“…It’s because he’s my brother isn’t it?”

“You’re too invested. The higher-ups like missions with clean stakes, and that throws a wrench in the works.”

“Sending that man is as close to clean stakes as Claw is to actually pulling off a world-takeover. This isn’t going to contain him, it’s just going to make him explode.”

“Which is why I agree with you. The only reason they’re sending him is because he’s the closest in power to your brother. They’re hoping the two of them will run each other out of energy so they can contain them both in one move.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“I agree.” He sighed. “But we’re dealing with behemoths of psychic power. You wanna take one out? You use another.”

“…” The coat whips away, Ritsu stalking out the room.

“Ritsu.”

“Don’t try to stop me.”

“Like I’ll try to stop a stubborn bull like you.” Huffed another breath. “I won’t tell anyone, just try not to get caught.”

Ritsu nodded. “Thanks, Joseph-san.”

The door closed behind him. Joseph ground the cigarette between his teeth, thumbing the screen of his phone. Poison had always been a bomb two ticks too close to detonation, but throwing this guy in the mix? Hell, it was like taking a cutter and snapping all the wires at random. Guy was madder than Suzuki fucking Touichirou, for fuck’s sake.

“Mogami Keiji.” He spit it out like a curse. “What a fucking joke.”

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

Mob getting nightmares is like playing Russian roulette with a megaton bomb, so when the kid doesn’t get any that night and he wakes up wide awake and fully rested, Reigen thinks he’s got a right to be exuberant.

This exuberance shoots itself right through the head the moment he realises Mob isn’t even in the damn house.

He panics for a good half hour and is about to wake Hanazawa up (Psychics can sense one another right? Maybe Hanazawa could find him—) When he looks out the window and sees the kid. Feeding a cat.

Fucking hell Mob, give me a heart attack, why don’t ya?

Got worked up over nothing. Why’d he been so freaked anyway? Kid’s been taking care of himself since he was six, he’ll have been fine. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and steps out, calm and collected and very adult-like. “Morning kid.”

Mob nods at Reigen, dressed in his old grey-white hoodie and the gakuen jacket. (They’re sending the kids through the sewer tonight, and Reigen’s not looking forward to the washing up they're gonna have to do later.) He’s crouched next to the cat— kitten, really, it’s barely bigger than his palm— that’s about as ravenous as a T-rex and eats ten times faster.

“We have cat food?”

“Mitsuura-san likes cats.”

“…Makes sense.” Does explain some of the more curious artifacts in the house. Like the set of baby cat teeth framed in gold. Or the cat skeleton hanging from the ceiling like some macabre chandelier. Or the bottle filled with a number of unknown cat-related somethings crowned on a pedestal.

(Don’t let the shit clothing choices fool you, Mitsuura is a very scary person.)

The bowl’s already empty, and the thing looks extremely proud of all the gunk on its face. The kid raises one bandaged hand, brings it close to the kitten’s fur and leaves it hovering for too many seconds before he picks the bowl up instead.

He files away ‘fluffy grey kittens’ under The List of Mob’s Issues. “You like cats, kid?”

Kid hesitates for a long time before he nods. The kitten mewls and paws forward, trying to become a pretzel around his legs. Mob makes an awkward dance out of sidestepping it’s attempts.

He also doesn’t look very calm, which is, you know, not great for someone whose emotional explosions can disintegrate whole buildings. And people.

He casually puts a foot down to block the kitten’s advance. “I like dogs more, but cats are pretty cool too. You ever been to a pet café? They’re all the rage nowadays.”

“No.”

Right, ask the kid on the run from Claw and The Law if he’s been to a pet café, good job Arataka. “Ah— well, trust me, you aren’t missing much. These cafes pull some shady things, let me tell ya. Last time I went to a puppy café, they hid an extra sitting charge of 2300 yen in the bill. Ended up costing 5300 yen. 5300 yen kid!”

“That’s high.” Mob mutters.

“Exactly! It’s blasphemy! Listen Mob, about these businesses—” The kitten is trying very hard to sneak past his legs. It’ll be cute if the kid couldn’t squish it like dough, so he scoops it up. “—never let them scam you like that. Common tactic to hide costs like that.”

The kitten is getting all tight and cozy in his arms. Feline's not worth the grief it’s given him. “Always gotta read the fine print, lots of things under there; user data, privacy, creepy debt collectors they’ll send after you, healthy amount of rubbish in the fine print, always look through it.”

Reigen reads enough off the kid’s face to get ‘thoroughly confused’, his eyes are still locked onto grey fur.

Maybe he’d misunderstood?

He brings his arms forward a little, “You wanna pet—"

“No.” Mob says sharply, then blinks. Continues more softly, “no, thank you.”

The idea of just shaking the answers out of the kid? Really tempting right now.

“Alright.” He says instead. “We should head in soon, let me just—” He puts the kitten back in the bushes, shoos it away when it tries to bite at his fingers. When he’s sure it’s gone he struts back to Mob and gestures at the door. “Come on kid.”

Mob doesn’t move. Black eyes shift to look up at him, then flicker away, brows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Kid opens his mouth once, twice, but nothing comes out.

Oh.

“You know,” Reigen says quietly, “You don’t have to explain if you’re not ready.”

Kid actually shuffles on his feet, picking at the bandages near his wrist. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s good, alright?” He puts an arm around the kid’s shoulder and tugs it so Mob’s hand doesn’t touch the cloth. “I’m making pancakes, you wanna learn?”

The kid nods, and Reigen looks back once to make sure the kitten isn’t following. He brings them through the threshold.

“Pancakes are easy kid, definitely easier than yesterday. Mitsuura-san showed me this pancake mix somewhere…”

*

The kitten is a lie. It’s actually a velociraptor wrapped up in a cutesy façade of fluffy grey fur. Three hours in and the thing’s still watching them from the windows, scheming to murder them in their sleep with its tiny claws and fangs and tiny little beady eyes.

Death by small kitten. Not sure if it’s preferable to Claw.

Either way, Reigen’s christened it a new name; Lord Black Hole Velociraptor of Ravenousness. It sounds like an edgelord’s twice-dead mary sue, but this kitten is evil. He’d told it as much through a very solid window and it’d yawned in his face, the little shit.

It’s kind of ironic then, that Raptor’s their first sign of approaching danger. They’d all been in the kitchen doing various things; Eating and talking, messing with wigs, teaching psychic murderers how to play video games; Raptor had came by and started attacking the window when it’s fur went ‘poof’ and it whipped around. It’d stared into the distance for an uncomfortably long time before it’d took off.

(In hindsight, he really should have sounded the alarms then.)

Ten minutes later, Mob suddenly stills, and the whole room goes silent at the sight of his face.

“Mob-kun?” Tome asks.

Kid doesn’t react, doesn’t even seem to breathe. He’s starting to think it’s another shutdown when Mob puts the game back on the table, slow and robotic like he’s afraid he’ll drop it.

Hanazawa lets go of his wigs. “Kageyama-kun? What's wrong?”

Mob takes a small breath, his hands start pulling at his bandages again, tighter and tighter and tighter— “Mogami-san.”

Who?

Hanazawa stares, then quietly says, “Fuck.”

This, Reigen decides, is far more alarming than any amount of screaming or explosions.

The next few seconds are a flurry of movement. Mitsuura gets right off his chair, starts hustling the kids to get up. Hanazawa scrambles to the windows, wrenching the curtains shut until there’s only a sliver of window left that he peeks through. “You all need to leave before he reaches us— Where’s Ekubo-chan?”

Chan? No, not the time— “What’s going on?”

Hanazawa makes to answer when Ekubo suddenly appears. “Kid listen, there’s something big coming here, it’s—”

“Mogami Keiji.”

“Wha— you know?”

“Yes. We’re getting the others to run, go with them, protect them please—"

Mitsuura grabs onto his arm, “Reigen-san, we need to leave—”

“Hold up—” He pulls his arm away. “Hanazawa, who’s Mogami? What’s going on?”

Kid gives him a meaningful look. “The one who gave Kageyama-kun his scar.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“You both need to go, Reigen-san, Hanazawa-kun.” Mob says tightly, ice climbing into his voice.

“I’m not letting you fight him alone again.”

Black eyes narrow, seem to decide Hanazawa would take too long to convince, “Reigen-san—”

“Don’t even start, kid.” Reigen’s never seen Mob get injured beyond small scrapes and cuts, for someone to actually scar him?

Reigen’s gonna be in over his head, but like hell he’s running without the kid.

“Listen Mob,” He starts, thinking fast. Teleportation. Couldn’t he just teleport them again— he opens his mouth to suggest it when red flashes outside the window—

Hate. So much hate. It strikes blood into his eyes, boils his retinas, digs something torn and ragged into his chest—

He can’t move— muscles contracting against his will— can’t breathe—

The house is ripping apart around them, broken down into concrete and rebar, furniture and books flying right out into the atmosphere. The kids still haven’t left, they’re stuck like he is, in the connecting living room—

Something snaps into place around them and—

He can move, he can— sucks air in greedily, like a drowning man— fuck what was that, what was that—

His arms tremble, palms bracing his torso on his knees— The kids are breathing hard, Ekubo looking dazed and dangerously close to the ground. Hanazawa has his hand held near his throat, gasping, eyes blown wide. All around them, familiar blues shine brilliantly in a sphere.

“Still letting people use you, Shigeo-kun?”

Talking corpse, he thinks first and tries not to get a bit hysterical. It takes him way too long to realise there’s an actual living creature under the gaunt face and eyebags the size of boulders. It takes him even longer to realize he recognises it.

Mogami Keiji, as in ‘Psychic of the 20^th century’ Mogami Keiji. The last time anyone had seen him was on a shitty supernatural reality show years ago— What the hell is he doing here?

“You truly haven’t grown.”

He sounds like butter over vomit, sweet syrup and chemical burns. It sends shivers down Reigen’s spine and Mob is—

Mob has no expression on his face.

Nothing at all. Not even the minute twitches and furrows that Reigen’s learnt to read. Just stone and ice. Kid’s completely still except for the nails digging crescents into his palms.

Look, if there’s anything Reigen would bet on, it’s that Mob's got no faint heart. Kid faces death every day of his damn life, takes on whole organizations of hardened psychic criminals with the face of a bored middle-schooler and destroys buildings and neighbourhoods as easily as Reigen slings bullshit at unsuspecting customers. But right now?

Mob’s looking at Mogami, and he’s scared.

“H-hey!” Reigen barks, struggling to his full height. Guy looks at him like he’s less than a damn insect. “You—”

Red swarms his vision, he feels something tug deep in his stomach, like the fall of a roller coaster— except he doesn’t slam forward, Mob yanks Mogami’s aura aside, drags Reigen back behind himself.

Mogami looks disappointed— why the fuck does he look disappointed— “Will you fight me, Shigeo-kun?”

“I—” Mob’s fist clenches. “I won’t let you hurt them.”

“Like before? When you failed to choose?”

Choose? Choose what? What’s he talking about— Mob’s trembling, he needs to—

“Why save them, Shigeo-kun? There’s no point in saving those who use you.” Mogami steps forward. “Black T Poison, they call you, the fourteen-year-old serial killer. They’ve blamed you for those children’s kidnappings again.”

Mob shakes his head. “They don’t know.”

“Because you let them use you as Claw’s little scapegoat. For what? Some higher calling? The greater good?”

The guy’s head twitches, all zombie-like. “Or is it simply because you like being weak? Because you want to wallow in your own self-pity?”

What the fuck did he just say?

Hanazawa shook his head, “You’re wrong. Kageyama-kun allows it because he’s kind, he’s saved so many people—”

“Then you don’t understand, boy.” Mogami waves him aside, still staring Mob down. “Have you ever wondered, why Claw is still alive?”

“Kageyama Shigeo, born with so much power, possibly the most powerful esper in existence and barely even fifteen. That day I met you your vessel broke, and it was unidentifiable, unfathomable. Set loose, it could decimate everything, no one would be able to stop you. So why is Claw still standing?”

“It’s the blood, isn’t it Shigeo-kun? Every day you wake up and there is red on your hands, in your lungs, every night you go to sleep and there are screams in your head. It doesn’t go away, it never goes away.”

“I know, I killed people too.” Mogami’s eyes are wide. Not wide like Mob’s guilt-shock-hope wide. They’re like— like a dog with rabies, predator-and-prey and all fucking wrong. “I killed my mother."

He sounds so soft and sincere. Reigen wants to strangle his fucking throat. “‘It’ll be better if Claw killed me’, that’s what’s keeping them alive, right?”

Tell me it’s not true kid, tell me—

Mob flinches and Reigen’s heart sinks.

“This is not how you absolve your guilt, Shigeo-kun. Rescuing victims is reactionary. The tragedy has already happened. Those children there will forever be marked by their experiences, they will never feel safe again, not now, and not when they return home.”

He points at Mob. “You could change this. With that strength, you could prevent the tragedy from happening in the first place, stop it at the cause. Use that power, punish those who abuse others, that is the only way forward for you—”

No, that’s insane, that’s— Mob’s fourteen, not some damned omniscient god— “Do you even hear yourself? You talk about people using people but you’re just trying to use Mob for your own goals. No one can play judge and executioner like that, people have to be given a chance, they can change—”

“People can change?” Mogami doesn’t even look at him. “When an explosion paralyses a man, can that change? When a murderer kills a couple’s children, can that change? What does it matter, if people change? Nothing can be done about the past, those you have hurt will continue to weep, lives you’ve destroyed will continue to hate. What’s done is done, the past cannot change.”

Every word coming out of his mouth is designed to break, and it’s working, he can see it all across the kid’s face— “That doesn’t mean we don’t try. If we never look beyond the past, nothing would ever happen. Just because someone made a mistake doesn’t mean they can’t ever be good!”

“And if they don’t?” Mad black eyes make his skin feel like taking a fucking hike. “Will you take responsibility for them? Do you condone the pain of others who would be hurt by them? Even if they become ‘good’ how will you ensure they stay reformed? Do you plan to watch over them forever? No. Removing them is the only way.”

“Listen to me Shigeo-kun,” He looks away. Reigen can’t even feel relieved because he’s too fucking close to Mob— “The only thing you can do is hurt, is kill. You want to make up for what you did? Then use it.”

Mob steps back. “No, I— I want to be better.”

“Better.” Mogami scoffs. “How many times have you exploded already?”

Mob doesn’t answer.

“Too many to count isn’t it? And you want to be better. You killed 34 people when you were six, boy. I doubt you even believe this man here.”

Mogami leans in, crazed eyes wide and mad as a hyena’s grin. “Tell me Black T Poison, do you really think you can change?”

And god, the look on the kid’s face.

This isn’t Claw, Mogami isn’t some manchild in an oversized suit, he’s insane, right down to the core, no reasoning with him— “Mob! Mob, don’t listen to him, he’s mad. Can you teleport—”

“If you run away,” Mogami says softly. “someone will die.”

Reigen’s words freeze in his throat.

“The government no longer trusts me. It knows I cannot be tied down with family and secrets and the threat of death, because I have nothing left. I know why they sent me here.”

His arm leans backwards, spreads fingers wide and slow. A dark mass speeds out of the bushes.

A man, dressed in a black suit, face more like a collage of bruises than anything human. Reigen would laugh at how ‘typical evil government agent’ he looks if Mogami didn’t fucking exist. Has he been a hostage this entire time? Were there others?

“They sent me to stop you, they sent me hoping we would defeat each other so they could contain us both. They sent our friend to track me, to make sure it goes well.”

“Don’t you see Shigeo-kun? How much the world wants to use us?” Mogami’s head tilts slightly beyond human, just to up the freak factor. “Even him. Reigen Arataka, ‘Psychic of the 21^st century’. Not a single drop of psychic power in him. A conman, an abuser of people’s ignorance.  How can you trust his words?”

“No.” Mob says suddenly.

Mogami looks at him, and Mob continues. “Reigen-san isn’t who you say he is.”

Kid…

“You’re young, Shigeo-kun, but not so naïve.” Mogami swung those crazed-ass eyes at him. “He must have quite the silver tongue.”

He’s going to kill me.

“You’re allowing yourself to be used again. I gave you a choice that day, to choose between the life of four government assassins sent after you, or the life of an innocent cat. You did not make that choice, and so I killed them both.”

Reigen doesn’t even have time to comprehend that, not with Mob whispering “No.” Not with the red boiling up from under Mogami’s green-tinted flesh, making it hard to think, to breath—

“I’ll ask you to make the same choice.” He shakes the unconscious agent. “But I doubt you could.”

“Perhaps you’ll understand once you’re no longer under their influence.”

“Stop!”

Red burns out into the air, and blue whips out to meet it, Reigen expects it to hold—

Mob’s shield shatters in seconds.

As shards of blue hit the floor, Mob’s eyes are wide and utterly terrified.

“I have been absorbing evil spirits since before we met, and I have continued to do so. I am stronger than you, Shigeo-kun.”

“Stop, please—”

“You need to see, and since I can’t expect you to make a choice, they will all die here today.” Mogami’s gaze fixes onto Reigen. “Starting with him.”

Reigen tries to get up, tries to move— but red is already surrounding him from all sides, sharp like thorns, painful and cold like ice, it closes in on him, leaving a mere sliver for him to see the wretched fucking smile on the fucker’s face—

Yellow barrels into Mogami’s cheek, sends his head snapping hard to the right. It surprises him enough that Mob’s able to shatter the rest of Mogami’s hold, and the same yellow snatches the agent out of Mogami’s hand.

That was—

Hanazawa, cheeks blushing a bright brilliant red, a jagged smirk spreading across his cheeks.

“You talk too much, asshole.”

*

Reigen-san almost died.

He hadn’t been able to do anything— if Hanazawa, if Ekubo hadn’t stepped in, Reigen-san would have— Just like the cat— like the agents—

95— 97— 98%—

No. No, he can’t— Mogami-san is right, just because he’s exploded around them before doesn’t mean this time wouldn’t hurt—

Hanazawa shook his head, swept the smirk off his face. “Ekubo-chan, I don’t appreciate you saying things like that with my mouth.”

“A spirit?” Mogami pulls his fingers apart, spreads them, tightens them. “Barely even worth a snack.”

No. (So hard to think, so much iron in his head.) “Hanazawa-kun, Ekubo, take everyone and run, please—"

“I’m not leaving you.”

Gnarled hands twisting into soft white fur, pressing and pressing as the kitten yowled and screamed so high-pitched like a baby’s cry. He’d never known an animal could sound like that—

You can’t stay. He’ll kill you, I’ll kill you— “Hanazawa—”

“Don’t, Kageyama-kun. You thanked me for helping you, you asked me to keep helping you. Don’t take it back now—”

Energy boils next to them, and Shigeo whips back in time to cast another barrier, stronger this time. Mogami presses, and it shivers, ripples, starts to crack at the edges—

Yellow laced with green seals the shield’s wounds, holds it up like a bracing support. It’s strong, solid as steel. Latent power, he gets suddenly. Ekubo is bringing out all of Hanazawa’s strength, pushing his body to the limit—

Hanazawa grits his teeth, hands shaking. Too much for him, it won’t last—

Blue eyes narrow, and suddenly the support is gone— Shigeo nearly stumbles when the pressure strengthens threefold, the shield fractures again and all the while the images of hands-reaching-and-squeezing and eyes-bulging-skull-pressing-into-skin wars against him—

Yellow bursts through the open cracks and blazes into a roaring inferno.

Red lifts off his shield and Shigeo gasps, iron sweeps into his lungs and he nearly chokes but it doesn’t matter, he has to— wrangles back his fear, shoves down on the guilt and the horror— deal with it later, he has to save them but he can’t explode—

95%

Where Mogami was standing is razed with flames— not enough. You can’t attack and defend at the same time, once those flames stop—

“K-Kageyama-kun.”

Hanazawa is panting next to him. It’s draining him too fast, Shigeo needs to send them away—

“Don’t! I know what you’re thinking, don’t.”

“This is dangerous, Hanazawa-kun.”

“It’s dangerous for you too—”

“You can’t keep going like this—”

“Better than Mogami hurting you like that again—

“I’m not safe, Hanazawa-kun!” He hisses, just barely below a cry.

Hanazawa is looking at him, eyes torn, brow furrowed, mouth twisted into something painful. It’s the same look some of the older people he’s saved have given him. The same look Reigen gave him, that night, when Reigen had been so nice to him and Shigeo hadn’t understood why, don’t you know what I did?

“Kageyama-kun, you’re going to be better.” Hanazawa starts quietly.

Shigeo stared at him.

“I have always thought of you as a good person.” He goes on. “And I know you can’t see it and I can’t— I can’t convince you that you are. But I know you want to be better. I think you can be better too.”

He looked back at the flame, starting to die out. “But if we don’t stop him now, you won’t ever get that chance, and he’s stronger than you.”

“So please, Kageyama-kun.” Blue eyes locked onto his own, resolute and determined. Doesn’t he know what Shigeo has done? “You let us help at Seventh, didn't you? It worked out because we were there right? So let us help you now!”

He should say no.

“Since you couldn’t make a choice, then you will save no one.”

His hands are itchy, wet and red, thick and dribbling between his bandages—

He’d watched, as red like grasping claws dug sharp crevices into the flesh of the agent, until the nerves and veins bulged bright red and blue against skin, until the bones of the man’s neck started to give and Shigeo heard a loud sickening—

If Reigen-san and Hanazawa-kun stay—

Mogami wouldn’t let them run either. There was probably more than one hostage, Shigeo wouldn’t be able to save them. What was the use of these powers, if they couldn’t do anything? He doesn’t know what to do—

He could… give himself up? Agree to Mogami’s words?

No. Everything in him rebelled. Anything but that.

He’s scared. He’s terrified. Mogami is powerful, Mogami has killed people in front of him. Mogami is not someone Shigeo can fight without using all his power. Without pulling too fast, too hard, without hurting people—

Maybe it was true. Maybe he really was just a murderer. Mogami had reminded him of the red on his hands, in his lungs, in his throat. He was like Shigeo right? Maybe the only real way was to do what Mogami had said.

But despite this, despite being worthless and terrible and only ever being capable of destruction, despite having killed so many and tearing apart his own parents, Shigeo still holds this one thought true;

I don’t want to kill again. I don’t want to hurt anyone at all.

And right now, he doesn’t know what to do.

Just like Seventh.

So he shuts his eyes and swallows, takes all the what-ifs and I-can’ts and all the fear in his head and shoves it away. Jumps backwards off a cliff with no rope and only an empty promise below. He doesn’t know if they’ll come out unscathed or he’ll kill someone again and it’s more terrifying than anything Mogami could be but—

But he swallows it all, and says, “Okay.”

Hanazawa gives him a bright smile. “Thank you, Kageyama-kun.”

Chapter Text

*

CONTENT WARNING: Graphic depiction of suicide

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

This, is not going to be easy.

Between the dying flames, Mogami spreads his hands in front of him, staring them down with corpse-mad eyes.

“Try whatever you want, you will not defeat me.”

Red spears burst from his skin, tearing through rocks Hanazawa had pulled up as a makeshift barrier. Shigeo blocks it, gritting his teeth as yellow throws its support behind blue. Keep it up like this, give the others time to run—

Something slams into the back of their barrier— Hanazawa yelps and stumbles, yellow shatters—

A fist three times his size barrels into his spine

He stops himself before he hits the wall, feels menacing aura lunging at him. Doesn’t bother looking, throws his power out like spikes, poking holes into the aura and ripping it to shreds. He flips around to see the last fragments of a howling face fading in the wind.

Evil spirit. Mogami had summoned an evil spirit.

A shout catches his attention. A second one the size of a house clamping down on— Reigen-san—

Hanazawa dashes in front of them, hands closing around air and crushing it into a ball. Red viscous circles appear in response, forming more figures not-quite-there. Shigeo reaches out blue to shatter them—

Mogami launches into him and it’s all he can do to block it. He ducks the fist wreathed in red, blocks a blow from the left, misses a kick by an inch. He’s trying to keep us apart, he realises, separate him and Hanazawa and take them down one by one—

Next one’s coming at his stomach, strengthen his shield there— block it and attack when he’s recovering then regroup—

Except it doesn’t come.

Ruse! Mogami’s other fist slams into his cheek—

Spine hits the wall, pain laces through his face. His shield had been weak because he’d concentrated it around his stomach. Barely kept up enough to make it a bruise and not a beheading.

“Do you know what your weakness is, Shigeo-kun?”

Mogami’s on him again, red flying off him in globs as he hurls himself over. More spirits form from the residue, and the rest slams into his shield like a speeding train. It breaks like glass— can’t block that with his bare arms—

He throws himself backwards to avoid the uppercut, breathing hard.

Mogami stares at him, pulling rock shards up and sharpening them into spears. “You’re too easy to read. Powerful yet without refinement. Brute force only means so much in a fight.”

They’re sent hurling towards Shigeo. He digs his aura into the ground and pulls four layers of slab up. When the barrage hits concrete he ignores it, spreading blue across the ground to grab the rebar near Mogami. Wrap it around him, restrain him—

Red bites into his aura like fangs and starts to rip his hold away— only for Hanazawa’s aura to cover the holes, and together they press—

The rebar bends around Mogami. Teleport him, he has to do it now—

The ground around him ruptures and he falls.

“Kageyama-kun!”

Two dozen-odd hands wrap around him. Had they been hiding there this entire time? He grits his teeth and sends out an explosive wave, only for more to take their place. They lift him up and he sees Hanazawa blocking three, four, five— more keeps coming— giant spirits. Shield’s already cracking. Reigen-san and the rest are hiding under the rubble beneath it, but that’s not enough—

96%

“You’re too straightforward. Your attacks, defence, you’re so used to overwhelming your opponents that you don’t account for strategy. That was a trap, and you fell right into it.”

Red seeps out of Mogami’s back and a gargantuan spirit collapses out of him, towering over the others with a gaping maw for a mouth. “You cannot win this, Shigeo-kun. Stop fighting and do the right thing. Fix this broken world.”

No.

Mogami tilts his head like he’d heard it. “Unless… you need a reminder?”

The hands squeeze into his flesh, send him rushing upwards into never-ending teeth. The inside of its maw is black and red, and its skinless lips slam shut behind him—

He sees—

A man holding a gun up to a daughter’s face. A person digging a knife into another’s chest. Screams drowned out by volcanos, earthquakes, tornados. Feels the pain of breaking all his bones on a pavement, or his spine rupturing from a crash. Whole lifetimes flash across his eyes, smiles, laughter, warm and comforting hugs—

97%

You did this to them. They hiss. You did the same.

It pours into his heart, brands itself into his soul. It hurts so much, it’s like he can’t go on, he can’t see them again, can’t ever hear their voice or hold their hand, because they’re gone forever and now he’s alone and he’ll never—

You did this to them!

His father’s torso disintegrating under his hands— his mother’s screams as she yelled his name, as his fingers covered her face, skin tattering off her cheeks—

98%

I did this to everyone.

He’d forgotten. For a few precious hours, with that kind smile and those honest words, he’d forgotten. Just long enough for him to start hoping, to start thinking maybe he could really change. For the first time in years, he’d forgotten what he was.

How could he forget? How dare he forget?

“Stop, Nii-san…” Ritsu whispered. “Stop, please.”

How could he have ever thought he deserved this life?

99%

You know what you are. They say. You know what you did.

He should just… should just—

Something shatters and the spirits shriek. A silver of light cuts through the blood red landscape. He turns to see Hanazawa, battered and almost spent, yellow having ripped a hole into the spirit’s side. In the gaps between his limbs, he spots familiar figures like beacons in the rubble.

“Mob!”

Reigen is so far away that Shigeo can barely see him. Almost doesn’t hear him over the screams that are the spirits’ and his parents’ and his own all at once. Reigen looks terrified, clutching his stomach, something desperate in his face.

“Mob, get out of there!”

Get out? But he’s—

The strain’s starting to show on Hanazawa— gap’s shrinking fast against yellow. At this rate it’ll snap shut around his fingers. The desperation on Reigen’s face deepens. He sucks in one deep breath.

Then he screams.

“You’re going to be a good person, aren’t you?!”

Shigeo gasps.

He…

He’s going to be…

He’s going to be—!

You can’t. They dig into his eyes and skin and teeth. You can’t!

But they believe in him, they believe even when they shouldn’t. He knows he can’t change the past, knows he’s going to wake up to his parents’ blood covering his hands and the knowledge that he could never make up for what he’s done. Knows this so well and they must know it too but they still believe, and he doesn’t get how or why or what they even see in him but he doesn’t ever want to disappoint them. He wants to be a good person, he wants to change, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t think he can he has to at least try.

Shigeo owes so much to them, Reigen and Hanazawa and everyone are such good and kind people and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to express his gratitude in words, but Mogami’s going to kill them and they don’t deserve that. They deserve to live and go on and not be part of this mess— he hasn’t even thanked them properly. At the very least— at the very least what he could do now is—

Is save them.

100% Courage

It fills his entire vessel like a tsunami, cascades through his veins like a burning firestorm straight out of his core through his limbs and erupts out of his skin—

Shatters the red world around him.

He flies out into the air, grabs onto yellow before the owner is flung by the explosion. Wide blue stares as Shigeo pulls him to the side.

“Hanazawa-kun, are you alright?”

Hanazawa’s still staring like he can’t comprehend the question. He’s completely drained, Shigeo can see it in the way he’s about to topple without blue supporting him, not a single hint of yellow anywhere. The blushing that is Ekubo deepens for a second.

“Why the fuck are you sparkling.” He says.

Hanazawa blinks and frowns. “Ekubo-chan.”

The smoke around them starts to dissipate and he catches glimpses of red between the particles. Shigeo squeezes a hand close, pools his aura into it and sends it to Hanazawa. His breathing starts to come in a bit easier.

“Hanazawa-kun, Ekubo, can you still fight?”

Hanazawa opens one hand and closes it, seems to test the power Shigeo had given him. He gives a grin somewhere between his normal smiles and Ekubo’s dark smirks.

“We can go another round.”

Shigeo nods, turns back to see Mogami raising his hands. “Get ready.”

Spirits lurch out of his skin, ten, twenty— too many to count. They climb to varying heights, some barely above his head, others taller than skyscrapers. Mogami’s voice is a warped growl.

“You will not win!”

They crash towards them like a red tsunami. Hanazawa picks off the smaller ones speeding in first, frees Shigeo up to push his aura into the giants until they explode.

Mogami is next to them in seconds, driving a leg into Hanazawa’s torso. Shigeo catches him, and Hanazawa sends his aura out as fire tornados that spiral into Mogami’s face. It licks against a red barrier, and as Shigeo lets Hanazawa go, he’s assaulted by more spirits from below. He pours all his strength into a shield, only for Mogami to come at him from above—

Yellow yanks the spirits away and Shigeo wrenches the shield around so Mogami slams into it instead. It cracks but it holds.

Mogami’s yellowing teeth are bared in a snarl across the blue glass. “Why are you still fighting? You saw what they felt.”

I did.

Shigeo presses back against the gnarled hands. He can hear Hanazawa doing his best to exorcise the spirits behind him. He grits his teeth. Harder, faster, push—

“Do you somehow expect to make up for their pain?

I don’t.

He shoves upwards with all his might. Mogami collides with one of the floating slabs. Shigeo shatters the last remaining giants that Hanazawa hasn’t already crushed, all the while collecting the debris around him and throwing it after Mogami. They disintegrate against red.

They’ll never win against that barrier. He needs to get past it to land a hit—

Mogami wrenches the smoke away from his face and it’s—

Reflections in roadside rain pools, his face in crossroad mirrors, all the guilt and despair in the empty depths of his own dead gaze.

“You know you cannot change, Poison!”

Something bursts in him, and he moves—

Inside Mogami’s shield.

Black widens, turns to see but Shigeo’s already pulling his fist back, reigning all the blue into his arm. He makes it hard, strong and slams it forward into Mogami’s torso.

It hits home.

Mogami tears into the ground, and Shigeo moves again. Reappears right above Mogami and drives his fist into the man’s stomach. Shigeo hears him chokes, for a second freezes— too much—?

Hands grab his hair and a knee smashes into his torso. Shigeo shoots backwards until yellow wrenches him into a halt. Hanazawa throws flame forward at incoming red, and when Mogami dodges Shigeo reappears next to him again and yanks him into the inferno. Flames lick at the man’s jacket, disappearing as they’re swallowed by red faces emerging from his skin. But Mogami’s already breathing hard, holding that many spirits in him has taken its toll, just a little more—

Hanazawa squeezes the spirits with yellow and clears a space for Shigeo. “Go Kageyama-kun! End this!”

So Shigeo moves.

He appears right where howling faces aren’t guarding and grabs the back of Mogami’s head, takes all his thoughts and emotions and that insurmountable fire blazing in his chest and uses it all to burst upwards. Wet mist slaps his cheeks, the wind rushes against his ears, he blows past buildings and skyscrapers, rockets them into the upper atmosphere where the clouds form a great sea beneath them and the sun shines bright and warm—

And sends them crashing straight back down to earth.

They hit the ground like a meteorite and concrete explodes around them. Spiderweb cracks rip themselves into the ground, the earth shakes, dust and debris fly past his cheeks and his hand goes utterly numb from his fingertips.

Shigeo breathes.

Smoke wafts out from around them in slow curling whirls. He stares down at his fingers, curved like hooked claws over Mogami’s face. Mogami is—

He’s not moving.

He’s not moving and he’s bleeding from his head—

Shigeo’s heart skips a beat.

Is he—

No. Chest is moving. He’s breathing, Mogami’s still breathing. Shigeo hadn’t…

Shigeo hadn’t killed him.

He chokes and Shigeo wrenches back fast. Collides into someone and stumbles to find Hanazawa catching his back with one hand. They both look back down when Mogami lets out a pained gasp.

“To think you’ve already learnt teleportation…”

He pulls a shaking hand up, only for it to drop lifelessly back onto rubble. Nothing left. Shigeo tries not to stare at the blood dribbling past his lips. Mogami lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You truly are terrifying, Kageyama Shigeo.”

Outwardly, he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even feel anything until the muscles in his hands start to burn and he realises he’s clenching his fists. Takes him too long to relax them.

“Shame you’re so blind.”

“You’re insane.” Hanazawa hisses next to him.

Another chuckle. “You’ll understand some day.” The smile drops off his face and Mogami’s eyes start to close. His voice whispers.

“Do you… really think you can change?”

Shigeo stares. Like this, Mogami appears nothing more than a weak old man, too thin and gaunt, surrounded by destruction and splattered in his own blood.

He suddenly feels very, very tired.

“I have to try.” He replies.

Mogami lets out one disbelieving scoff.

Then his hand slackens and his eyes roll back into his head, his chest rises and drops slowly.

It’s done.

Shigeo breathes out.

It’s done. He can let go.

He steps back, takes what isn’t already seeping out into exhaustion and pushes it down, lets it flood into the earth beneath him like grounded electricity. It goes without a fight, his bangs brush back against his eyebrows, mussed up.

He tries not to sag. His chest feels hollow.

Something hits the floor with a thud and he turns around. Hanazawa looks twice as drained as before. Ekubo looks no better. Shigeo steps forward to ask if he’s okay when Hanazawa lets out a strangled chuckle.

“It’s over.” Hanazawa says, eyes bright with something. His cheeks are too pale.

Shigeo falls to his knees next to him. “You need to lie down, Hanazawa-kun.”

“I’m fine Kageyama-kun. Don’t worry about— ah—” The elbow that had been supporting Hanazawa suddenly buckles and Shigeo braces him with an arm. He stares at Hanazawa pointedly.

Sheepish smile. “Alright, so maybe I’m a little tired.”

“Mob! Hanazawa!”

He turns, eyes half-dazed as Reigen and the others come running over. Musashi reaches them first and cradles Hanazawa’s torso off the ground. Reigen somehow manages to turn a stumble into a slide that ends with his knees on the ground and his hands hovering over them both. “How’s he?”

“I’m okay— Just—” Hanazawa groaned, head rolling back. “I am never moving again.”

“Haystack here should be fine, just overexerted himself.” Ekubo mumbles from his faceplant on the ground. It’s rather strange to see, considering he’s a ghost. “Fuck, even I overexerted myself, and I’m the passenger.”

“Language.” Reigen hisses. He doesn’t quite get it, Reigen cursed too, didn’t he? “Mob are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Shigeo says, keeping himself up with one arm. It’s not a lie; They’re alive, it’s enough.

Reigen’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t look—"

“That was awesome.” Tome says breathlessly, stopping next to them. Inukawa and Mitsuura behind her. “That was like— like an anime, your hair went all sharp and spikey and you got these red shoujo eyes— h-hey, are you okay?”

He doesn’t realise his forehead is resting on his knee until she says this. He jolts and immediately regrets it when pain laces through his stomach. Five different sets of hands start flying above him and he has to wave them away.

“I’m alright.” He struggles onto his knees and angles his face to the ground. They look so worried, why do his cheeks feel hot? “We should—"

“You stopped him.”

Shigeo’s throat closes on him. Everyone around him freezes. There’s a figure standing behind Inukawa and the others, coming off a road connecting to the street. He looks breathless, and despite being so empty Shigeo’s heart still aches at the sight of his face.

“You actually stopped him.” Ritsu says, staring at Mogami’s prone body behind them.

Reigen lets out a small curse. Hanazawa is trying to pull his torso up, muscles disobeying him. The others are slack-jawed. Shigeo tries not to flinch when familiar black meet his.

“And it didn’t come out?”

Shigeo flinches.

Something seems to tremor behind Ritsu’s eyes before it hardens. “I’m taking you in Nii-san.”

“Hell no, you’re not—” Tome barks— Ritsu lifts a hand—

Aura snaps around them and the fingers shift. Sends a pulse fast enough to cause a rush of dizziness through his head. No injuries, no new wounds. A demonstration of power, a threat.

“Both your psychics are empty.” Ritsu says. “So don’t test me.”

Tome looks very much like she wants to and Reigen curses again. Hanazawa braces himself on the ground, “Why are you doing this? Kageyama-kun just proved he’s in control! He defeated Mogami!”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s always the possibility of him losing control, he has to be contained.”

“By who?” Reigen cut in. “We know you aren’t working for Claw. So who are you? Who is Mogami?”

Ritsu hesitates, but eventually. “We’re from the government.”

Oh.

“Mogami is a madman but he’s also a government assassin. As the only one who can match Poison in power he was our last resort. Although he’s clearly too unstable for this.” Ritsu gestures in disgust at the unconscious agent nearby. “The higher-ups must be mad.”

“That’s one thing we can agree on.” Reigen murmurs. “Listen, Ritsu right? You heard Hanazawa last time, if you take Mob and contain him you’ll just kill him. There has to be some other way to do this.”

“And what other way do you suggest?” Ritsu hissed back. “You’re just trying to stall, I’m not letting you get away again. Try anything and I’ll kill you—”

Enough.

“Stop.” Exhaustion dripped off his voice. He pushed his hands under him, used them to struggle onto his feet. Enough threats. Enough everything. It was meant to be over. “I’ll go with you.”

Reigen’s eyes widen, “Mob—”

“It’s okay Reigen-san.” Shigeo shook his head. “Please let this be.”

“You can’t— Think this through Mob, the government just tried to kill you, you can’t just go with them—”

“Reigen-san please.” Shigeo says. He doesn’t know what it is that makes Reigen pause, can’t tell when he feels so empty. “Please.”

Reigen looks like he might fall apart and Shigeo has to look away. Swallows back the sudden frustration (Why? Shigeo owes Ritsu too much too, its his little brother’s right—) at the bottom of the hole in his chest. There’s no other way. None of them have any strength left, can’t run, can’t teleport— they’re powerless against any psychic now.

Even if they weren’t, Shigeo never wants to hurt Ritsu again.

“Nii-san.”

Shigeo nods, tugging at his bandages. He forces himself to look up, to say the words that have been bolted to his throat since Seventh.

“Ritsu.”

He twitches.

Shigeo feels something tremble in his chest. “I’m sorry, Ritsu.”

Something unreadable passes through black, nothing on his face. Shigeo doesn’t understand why it hurts so much.

Ritsu looks away. “Let’s go.”

He turns around and starts to walk. Shigeo follows, tries to ignore the despair behind him. He hugs his hollow chest with his arms, tries not to hurl.

To hurl?

At what?

His feet stop. Ritsu turns when he realizes Shigeo isn’t following, “Nii-san—”

Jaw abruptly shuts. He’s staring at— no, staring past Shigeo. Why— his stomach turns again, something in the air—

Hate.

Mogami-san—!

He whips around and Mogami is— standing. He’s standing and he’s laughing, loud and hysterical like a hyena and a box cutter in one hand. He’s too close to everyone— Shigeo can’t get in front of them in time—

Mogami grins a mad, mad grin, and guts his own throat.

His brain halts.

Distantly he hears screaming and shouting, but he can’t see anything beyond the viscous dark liquid pouring out of red flesh. It glistens in the light, spurts like some terrible facsimile of a water fountain—

And it drenches his hands, paints the ground a bright red. She has no face, her hands around his arms go slack, slack, slack, he wants them gone—

They start to shatter—

“Fuck!”

Ritsu!

His head snaps up, sees Ritsu to his right, eyes wide. Looks to his front and—

…What is that?

Black sockets filled with too many eyes, too many teeth— wailing screaming face with a mouth opening wider and wider until another face bursts from its tongue like boils popping and another and another and it does not stop—

Loathing-abhorence-resentment-hostility-hate-hate-hate—

They’re going to die here.

Mogami Keiji’s ghost is not a spirit. It’s an abomination, a mass of roiling thought and concepts that wishes nothing more than to eradicate this entire existence, made of thousands upon thousands of souls dripping black-red tar and iron into the atmosphere. It’s covered in grinning faces and its jaw yawns too wide as it laughs and laughs and laughs—

Too strong.

Ritsu cannot fight this. Hanazawa and Ekubo are drained. Shigeo himself is empty. There’s absolutely nothing left to pull from the well.

They’re going to die here. He thinks again. They’re going to die here and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

It grins at them with it’s many many lips. It’s too close, they’re trying to get away but it’ll attack before they can run and Hanazawa and Ekubo can’t even move. Reigen’s face is completely white and filled with utter despair and Ritsu is—

Ritsu is next to him. Ritsu is shaking.

Ritsu is scared.

His little brother is alive. And he’s scared, because he’s going to die here instead.

He rips into the well’s bottom, digs his fingers into the dust and pulls— Nothing, absolutely nothing. Why is there nothing? All the times these powers have hurt and injured and killed and now when he truly needs them they won’t even respond?

Ritsu deserves to live. Reigen-san and the others said he could be a good person. He was going to try— Why isn't it working?

It can’t end like this— Mogami starts to let out another cackle— it can’t end like this, it can’t— You killed my parents, didn’t you?! So work!

Eight red spears shoot towards them.

They’re going to die here.

Each one surges through the air like lightning bolts, faster and faster—

They’re going to die here.

It’ll skewer them through their eyes and out their skulls and Shigeo can barely even see them anymore—

They’re going to die here.

They’re going to die here, and I can’t stop it.

I can’t stop it—

They’re going to…

They’re going to—

They’re going to—!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They won’t.

*

There’s a supernova in front of him.

Reigen has no idea what it is. It’s alien and powerful and making the leftover animal part of his brain scream ‘THREAT’ like a rabid chicken. At least Mogami had the decency to be understandable despite the ‘I took a minor in eldritch abominations for this’ and all-around Certain Doom.

But this? He doesn’t know what this is. He could never know what this is.

It’s a figure painted in black, with white empty sockets for eyes and Jupiter’s gravity around its torso. On its edges the world seems to almost twist, like the ground is reaching up to praise its feet and the sky is bending down in a low bow. Reality itself feels like it’s cracking apart to accommodate its presence.

It could kill him. It could kill him without lifting a hand, without even lifting a finger. This thing could cast him aside like an insect— no, it could do that to the city, the country, maybe the whole fucking universe if it so desired and it wouldn’t even have to twitch save for the writhing snakes it’s got for hair—

....Hair?

Hair. It’s got hair.

Mob’s hair.

Oh god.

This is the thing he’d seen under Ekubo’s possession. This is the black-and-blood-and-claws-and-fangs he’d felt hiding inside Poison’s soul.

This is the thing that killed Mob’s parents.

?̷̡̜͖̍̅̒?̴̞͆̅͌?̵̭̜͙̤͇͑%̵͔̤͐͛̓

“No.” Ritsu whispers. His hand whips up to grab at the scar on his neck. Kid backpedals and hits the ground hard. Another hand grapples at his chest, starts to hyperventilate— “No, please, Nii-san—”

“See what you are Shigeo-kun?”

Mogami suddenly isn’t all that scary anymore. Not when Reigen’s certain this thing isn’t Mob. Not with the way it stands there and the planet itself seems to shriek in horror, with the way the universe collapses into a singular black hole in its shape.

“And you still think you can change?”

It doesn’t even move, it just looks.

The red mass that is Mogami twists, bends and breaks.

Reigen can’t breathe, feels like the air is being sucked out of his lungs, like electricity is buzzing next to his throat. It turns to face him and fucking hell there’s no recognition in that glowing white gaze. He’s a goddamn ant staring up at a god and this thing can kill him so damn easily—

It takes a jittery step forward and he flinches. Braces for pain, or agony or maybe having his limbs disintegrated in front of his eyes like that one Scar guy—

It stops.

What?

“No, no, no—” Ritsu’s face is in his hands and very clearly not functioning. Its head moves agonizingly slow to look and Ritsu jolts.

Doesn’t do anything. Just turns its head back so white pierces Reigen instead.

What if…?

Reigen swallows. He can’t stop his hands from shaking so he curls them into fists instead, uses his knuckles to push himself onto his knees and forces himself to lean forward. What is he doing? What the fuck is he doing? He’s betting on nothing more than a shitty hunch—

But what if…?

He takes a breath and tries very hard not to stutter. His throat is so fucking dry, like it got dehydrated from all the cold sweat running down his face—

He swallows again and whispers.

“Mob?”

It tilts its head at him.

Then it steps back, and reality bends again. He feels that rush, that hard pull he had felt before at Seventh except it’s further away. Light twists around the black shape, images of buildings and the earth warp—

It disappears, leaving floating dust and the taste of ozone in the air.

They’re left completely stunned and staring at the spot where it was. Reigen doesn’t register the foreign voices until they start yelling at them. Can’t even bring himself to resist when hands grab at his arms and haul him into plateless black vans. When he’s seated he looks up to see the same expression of shock repeated across everyone’s face. Ritsu is still shaking.

The van starts up. He’ll probably smack himself for not paying attention later but all his mind wants to do is replay that thing’s image. He doesn’t even realise he’s shivering until thirty minutes in.

The ride goes on in silence.

None of them try to speak.

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

“We’re not going to hurt you, Reigen-san.”

See, that statement would be far more convincing if they hadn’t sent the homicidal maniac to murder Mob.

“We just want to clarify the situation, that’s all.” ‘Yamada’ continues. Yamada, the equivalent of John Doe or John Smith or whatever alternatives there were out there. He’s got on the most boring set of clothes Reigen’s ever seen and a face that’s somehow even more non-descript. “You’re a civilian caught up in a dangerous situation, not a criminal.”

Yeah, he says that, while they’re sitting in what’s essentially every single interrogation scene ever from filmography. Reigen knows how this goes; He’s gonna be chained to a wall and electrocuted until he gives, then they’ll slit his throat, stuff him in a black bag, and throw his body down a dumpster. Fun. Great way to start the day. Shit.

“We’re not some evil organization looking to torture you.” The man says tiredly, clearly cursing all Hollywood blockbusters in existence. “I understand you feel wary now, but I assure you we will be releasing everyone.”

Guy could start a course on ‘Talking Like A Robot 101’, must be the real life of the party. “Why?”

“You’re aware, I presume, of how psychic strength is tied to an individual’s emotions?”

When Reigen nods, he continues. “Then you know that the more a psychic experiences an emotion, the stronger their energy becomes and the faster they lose control. No matter how berserk they are however, psychics still have limits. They can only use as much as their vessels can contain. Even Mogami Keiji could only absorb so many spirits, terminating himself merely allowed him to fully access their power.”

Terminating himself. Yeah. That’s one way to describe what he did. “Mo— Shigeo’s different, isn’t he?”

“Not different, unprecedented. Operative Kageyama had a device that measures psychic energy. We’ve used it to record psychics capable of levelling cities and it barely even lasted two seconds against the entity. And it's power was still increasingly indefinitely.” Yamada looks like he could go for a drink. Join the queue. “Do you understand, Reigen-san? This thing doesn’t have limits. It could quite literally bend reality if it wanted to, and no one would be able to stop it.”

“Kinda obvious if you’ve met it.” Reigen mutters, trying not to wipe the sweat under his chin. AC's gotta be broken in here or something. “So why release us?”

“Despite what our actions may portray, many of the upper brass were against sending Mogami. Poison has proven a valuable asset for suppressing Claw and rescuing civilians, but with Mogami becoming increasingly unstable, others were able to push for elimination, two birds with one stone, if you will.”

Ah yes, the room full of squabbling adults discussing whether to kill a kid with an insane fucker, of course. Maybe if he stops talking like a stiff Reigen will stop wanting to punch Yamada’s face.

“With Mogami departed and this new data, the balance has been tipped. We are thus engaging containment instead. Kageyama reported your involvement at Seventh, and how the entity responded positively— or at least neutrally— to you yesterday.”

…No way.

“You’re saying— I’m his containment?”

“The best way to prevent an explosion is to maintain a psychic’s emotional stability.” Yamada nods, like telekinetic humanoid bombs make for normal people's small talk. “We cannot contain Poison, so instead we will not engage him, so as to prevent any negative emotional triggers, and have observers on him to ensure and improve his stability.”

He really doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry right now. “You’re letting me go so I can be his therapist?”

“His guardian.” Like that’s any better, what the fuck. “Ideally we would have used the blueprints Kageyama provided us, but the entity far exceeds anything it could hold. Poison usually isolates himself from others, so casualties should be kept at a minimum, but we’ll give you a contact to tell us if he loses control so we can evacuate the surrounding area.”

Poison this, Poison that, for fuck’s sake the kid’s name is Mob— “So, what, you throw us into a van, lock us up without explanation, and now you want me to call you and just start— chatting like we’re old friends or something? I’m supposed to ignore the fact that you sent a madman to murder a fourteen-year-old kid—”

“That fourteen-year-old killed 34 people when he was barely out of kindergarten.” Yamada actually looks like a proper agent now, sharp eyes and back straight. “And that’s not even accounting for the injuries; Spinal fractures, facial disfigurements, limb dismemberment; all lifelong disabilities. Yes, the explosion was unintentional. Yes, it was triggered by Claw’s attempt to kidnap him and his brother. But it doesn’t change the fact that Kageyama Shigeo is dangerous, Reigen-san.”

Guy's face is dead, like the thousand-yard-stare patented by haggard soldiers in wartime movies. Reigen wants to disagree, wants to say no.

Could have destroyed him. Could have destroyed the city. Could have destroyed the whole damn universe, if it so wished.

Fuck.

“I understand from your perspective that this was cruel, unethical.” The man continues, voice becoming the most genuine since the start of this whole shitty conversation. “But you are not the only one at stake here. There are hundreds of psychics out there, living among citizens today. The entity inside Poison presents a threat to that livelihood, not merely because of its prior actions and power, but as a representation of the potential danger psychics pose to ordinary humans.”

So they tried to kill him. God, what the fuck.

“Our job is to maintain the safety of the majority, Reigen-san. Ethics are secondary.” Yamada slides Reigen’s phone over. He looks down to find his mum’s number on it. “Do this for us. Don’t mention Mogami Keiji or Poison’s true identity to anyone, and we won’t attempt another capture.”

Son of a fucking—

This wasn’t a choice. It was never a choice at all. Sure it’s practically as good a get-out-of-jail free card as possible for Mob, but ‘work for them or else?’

Fucking hell.

Reigen takes the phone, snatches the heavy-looking document on his left, trying not to just crush the paper in his hands. He hisses out the words between clenched teeth.

“Yeah, got it.”

*

He’s thrown back into the ‘temporary accommodations for rescued victims’, which is a funny euphemism for jail cell. Sure there aren’t any bars, but there’s more guards out the door than he can shake a con at and no windows. They ain’t fooling anyone around here.

Reigen nods at Mitsuura, who looks vaguely like he’s being sent to the butcher. The door shuts with a heavy clang after he steps out.

The kids don’t look good. Hanazawa still looks completely drained despite sleeping for a whole day. “Reigen-san, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He pulls his collar away from his sweaty neck and joins them on the ground. “What did they tell you?”

“The switch to containment.” Hanazawa’s face is startlingly blank. “We aren’t allowed to tell anyone about Mogami or Poison.”

Ergo; they’ve been threatened too. Fuck.

The room goes silent. Maybe it’s the lighting, or how utterly boring the rest of the place is, but Reigen’s eyes keep swivelling back to the kids. He’s trying to come up with some attempt at reassurance when Tome pokes Hanazawa’s shoulder.

“So spill.”

Hanazawa blinks. “What?”

“Spill. You know what that thing is right?”

“I… sort of, yes.” Oh hell, they’re actually tackling that elephant in the room. “Kageyama-kun doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Well, when you’ve got an eldritch abomination in your body…” Tome mumbles. Good to know she's still got no sense of self-preservation. “Tell us what you know, at least.”

Hanazawa’s eyes narrow. “Why should I?”

“Hey, we just got threatened into shutting up about some madman sent to kill an urban legend. I think we’ve more than earned the right to know.” She hisses back, gesturing at Inukawa and Musashi who look just as intent.

Hanazawa concedes the point. “What will you do with it?”

“With what?”

“That information.” His voice lowers into something dangerous. “What will you do with it?”

Tome goes silent. For a second he thinks she’s actually scared, until he sees her eyes. They're strong, and utterly unflinching.

“I’m going to search for aliens.”

Reigen’s got to give her some credit, nonsense or not her voice is tough as nails. “I’m going to search for aliens, and I’m going to ask him to help me, and we’re going to be the first damn persons in the world to find some aliens. And then we’re going to play video games, and sing karaoke, and watch a bunch of lame b-horror movies while Inukawa-kun whimpers like a baby.”

“Taicho.”

“Sorry, but you really do whimper like a baby.” Musashi pats (loudly, painfully slaps) Inukawa on the back.

Blue continues staring. “Why?”

“Dude do you have any idea how out of touch he is? Said he doesn’t know what Avengers is, or Caped Baldy, or Alien. How does anyone not know Alien? He needs some serious help okay.”

Hanazawa still stuck in ‘stunned owl’ phase, blue blown wide. Tome’s eyes soften as she sits back on her haunches.

“Look, he didn’t hurt us when he was like that, and he seems like an okay guy when he’s not punching baddies in the face. I’m not going to do anything stupid to him.”

Hanazawa searches her face for a long, long time before his shoulders start to loosen. “And the both of you? What will you do?”

“Kageyama-kun may be strong psychically, but what makes him admirable is his will to use it in the defence and protection of others.” Musashi nods solidly. “Very manly of him, matches our club motto well.”

Inukawa doesn’t look as solid, but comparing anyone to that iron fortress of muscle is kind of unfair anyway. “I think so too, I mean not the manly part but the not a bad guy part. He’s not… not dangerous, but he did save us and he didn’t try to kill that Mogami guy, or Claw and— what I mean to say is— I don’t think he’s a bad person.”

For all the rambling he does, every single word is genuine. Hanazawa looks like he can barely believe this is happening. “...And you, Reigen-san? What do you think?”

What does he think?

He thinks of collapsing universes, of ‘no limits’, of cosmic unknowable entities hidden inside fourteen-year-olds. Reigen thinks of the fear locking his limbs together and the certainty of death staring him in the face.

Reigen thinks of Mob.

He smirks. “You even need to ask?”

Kid smiles back, warmth finally lighting up his eyes. “I guess not, no.”

He clasps his hands together. “I’ve only seen it once, a year ago when Mogami first attacked. I was, um, still trying to fight him back then. And I tracked them down to a less populated area near a forest where there weren’t many witnesses.  When I reached them, Kageyama-kun was shaking and bleeding from a large gash on his face. Mogami was holding four agents with his aura and a cat by the neck.”

Kid swallows. Reigen has to try to keep the bile from coming up his throat. “He said something, I’m not sure what, but Kageyama-kun was telling him no, and when Mogami heard that he… killed all of them.”

God. That’s fucked up. That’s— His stomach roils at the thought. Mogami said something about that during the fight, right? He’d said—

“He said he gave Mob a choice.” Reigen whispers, horror running up his spine. “Between the cat’s life and the agents’.”

Inukawa looks like he might vomit again. Hanazawa and Tome look like they might kill someone. Shit, Reigen wouldn’t even stop them. What the fuck. What the bloody fuck.

“…Kageyama-kun didn’t make that choice, then.” Hanazawa says after he composes himself. “When that happened, he’d froze up, and then he seemed to almost... faint. Next thing I saw was the ground cracking beneath me and Mogami being thrown up into the air. Defeated him in seconds. It saw me too but didn’t do anything, just left.”

“Left?”

“Flew off. When I found Kageyama-kun again he’d been…” Blue traces invisible patterns on the walls. “It hadn’t been good, I had to stop him from doing anything.”

Kid’s got a knack for making statements sound just ominous enough to scare the shit out of him. “Did he tell you what it was?”

“A little bit. He doesn’t understand it either. Only that it comes out when he’s unconscious and he doesn’t remember anything when it happens.”

“Then what is it?” Inukawa asked. “If he doesn’t remember things it’s not him right?”

“Probably.” Hanazawa rubbed his wrist. Doesn’t sound very sure. “Thoughts, all of you?”

He’s got no clue. That thing had been fucking terrifying, he’d never been so fucking terrified of anything in his life. He’d been so sure it would kill them or erase them or just wipe them all from fucking existence—

But it didn’t hurt us.

“He responded to his name.” Reigen offers. Doesn’t mention that head-tilting could just be some instinct-driven thing, like an animal, or in this case the collapsing universe cramped inside a middle-schooler’s body. “It could be Mob.”

“I agree.” Musashi nods. “Athletes commonly go into this ‘flow’ state when extremely focused on a goal, perhaps that was Kageyama-kun’s version of it.”

People don’t normally gain the ability to erase other dimensions when they ‘flow’, but sure, why not. Next to him, Tome nods. “I think Musashi-senpai and shishou’s right. Maybe it’s like some weird unconscious part of him. It didn’t attack us.”

Really, kid? “I’m not his shishou.”

“You’ll rather I call you uncle?”

“I’ll rather you call me neither. I’m not his master!”

She raises The Eyebrow at him. “You literally act like Tony Stark and Peter Parker from the movies.”

Generation gaps. Fantastic. “I haven’t seen that one, you know.”

“You are so old.”

He’s about to respond when Inukawa frowns. “Isn’t Tony Stark rich? And legitimate?”

“He has a better physique too.”

“Peter Parker couldn’t possibly compare to Kageyama-kun.”

“Okay, so maybe broke fraud Iron Man with like… Spiderman wearing the Infinity gauntlet.”

He’s going to throw himself off a cliff. “All of you—”

The door clangs loudly and cuts him off before he can deliver his lecture. They snap to attention like cats when it opens, slow and tension-building because Reigen’s life is a shitshow horror movie now. He expects a security guard, or maybe another interrogator with a bland face to walk through.

Ritsu steps in.

Fuck. How is this kid the little brother again? The way emotions just boil off his face is nothing like Mob. He looks like he’s going to kill someone and Reigen reflexively steps in front of everyone despite being as psychic as soaked table salt.

“You.” Kid nods at him. “Come with me.”

Huh. Well. He’s lasted pretty long, all things considered.

He gets up, winces around the heavy bruise on his stomach. They were nice enough to treat him, too bad it was going to be ruined by the angry psychic child here but hey, what you gonna do? When life gives you lemons, squirt them in the local tiny psycho’s face.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you Reigen’s not a born optimist.

Ritsu takes him to a separate room that’s just about as exciting as the first. Reigen tries not to feel like some very troublesome garbage under that gaze. “So what did you need?”

Kid lets the silence run for an uncomfortably long time. He has to try not to fidget.

“Tell me what you’ve been doing with Nii-san.”

Does he always look this hostile? “I was saved by him. Didn’t your superiors tell you?”

Crossed arms shift. “I want to hear from you.”

…So pinpoint exactly what he wants to hear so Reigen doesn’t get splattered on the ground. Sure, easy, why not. “I got saved by him two weeks ago. Been hiding with him since Claw was so active. There’s not much to tell really, he saved my life, so I’ve been trying to help him how I can.”

“And ‘how I can’ would be?”

Here we go. He raises both hands and gestures like a king. “I taught him sewing and cooking.”

The hostile look on Ritsu’s face shoots right up to deadly.

“Very essential skills to know.” He rambles faster. “Saved a lot of money as a kid just fixing tears in my clothes. And cooking! The earlier you start the better—”

“Cut the crap.” Fuck. “How did you stop it from attacking?”

Just can’t avoid this topic, can he? “I didn’t.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I’m not lying.” Reigen puts every ounce of genuineness he’s got in the words, because he’ll really rather not learn what creative way Ritsu could rupture his skull with, thanks. “I didn’t even know it existed until yesterday.”

Black burns into him. “You called him Mob.”

“His nickname.”

“It tilted it’s head.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a growing revelation in the back of Ritsu’s eyes. Reigen sees it blooming like a wildfire, only for it to be mercilessly smothered. “No. It can’t be. You must have done something.”

“I didn’t.”

“You have to. The blueprints, they’re saying it won’t contain him but it didn’t attack you. You must have done something—”

“And what could I have done?” Reigen cut in tiredly. “You said so yourself, I’m a fraud kid. I don’t have psychic powers, I couldn’t even see ghosts until I was possessed and Mob exorcised me, how could I have ever stopped that?”

“I don’t know!” Ritsu’s jaw snaps shut again. His face is all scrunched up, eyes flickering away. “I don’t— we shouldn’t even be here. It should have killed us. We should be dead.”

Ritsu suddenly looks all of his thirteen years of age, like his whole world’s been turned upside down. Fuck where’s an actual adult when you need one? There’s a reason Ritsu’s so driven to capture his own brother. What a mess.

“I don’t know how to put this kid.” Reigen’s only met him over two hostile shouting matches but even a deaf man could see just how tightly he’s wrapped his life around the incident. Kid’s clearly separated his brother and the thing to deal with the trauma. How’s he going to tell him it might be Mob all along? “It’s…”

Black eyes stared up at him, lost and empty and broken.

Oh hell, he can’t. He really can’t. “…It’s just how it is.”

Ritsu doesn’t respond. A minute passes, then two. He starts to wonder if the kid’s gonna murder him for stress relief. Ritsu hands him a glare that says he just might.

“Just go.”

He speedwalks out of there while he still has his limbs.

*

You know, when he’d decided to rebel against his shitty dad, he hadn’t counted on the depressed-thunderstorm-counsellor side gig.

Not that he can even find said thunderstorm. The whole thing with Mogami has left aura scattered across the whole city. Kinda like pigeons; boring, pathogen-spreading, just annoying enough for you to notice. Makes the whole task of finding Shigeo ten times harder.

Still, there’s a reason he’s one of Claw’s strongest. Takes him a day and a half, but Shou finds him hiding in an abandoned garage eventually. Shigeo looks, in two words, like utter shit.

So exactly how Shou envisioned him. He grins.

“Yo, Shigeo.”

Shou blinks and suddenly his back’s against the wall, hand wrapped around his neck. Takes him a second to realize it’s teleportation, like Shimazaki.

Huh.

“You knew.” Ah hell it’s Shigeo’s scary voice. The one that’s all dark and low and menacing. Would be pretty terrifying too, if he hadn’t grown up in a highly hostile cult with in-fighting tendencies. See, Shigeo won’t actually snap his neck.

“Yeah, I did.”

Bowl-cut lowered, can’t see his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Who knows?”

“Suzuki-kun.”

Ooh, scary. His smile is made of shark teeth. “Don’t be so dangerous Shigeo, let go of the neck, would you?”

It takes ten whole seconds before he pulls the hand away. Shou rubs the sting with his fingers, shoves them back into his pockets. Shigeo’s eyes are still hidden under his bangs.

“It’s simple really. I needed to keep you two away from one another.”

“Why?”

“Same thing as always.” Shou shrugs. “To stop Claw.”

He has to dig his feet into the ground when a sudden blast of power sends him careening into the wall again. Shigeo’s staring at him with crimson red eyes.

“Ritsu was alive.”

Is that sweat running down his cheek? Heh. “How would knowing have helped? What were you gonna do? Apologize to him?”

Shigeo twitches.

“Didn’t work yeah?” Shou tilts his head. “What did you expect me to tell you? ‘Hey buddy, that dead bro of yours? He’s alive! And trying to hunt you down and murder you.’ You’ll have gone right up to him and handed yourself over like a little present.”

Shigeo shifts. “It’d be his right.”

“Yeah? Well it’s mine to tell you that wouldn’t save lives. You’ve got more power than all of us combined, could have stopped Claw years ago.” Shou shrugs. “There are a lot of people out there we could have saved, Shigeo.”

Shigeo clenches his fist, and Shou suddenly remembers why he came here in the first place. Crap, he shouldn’t be running his mouth, still needs the guy, shitty guilt complex or not. “Why are you here, Suzuki-kun?”

“Claw’s about to do it.”

Shigeo’s eyes flip up to him. Shou lets the grin peel off. “Soon. Maybe five days, maybe ten. My dad’s coming back, been saying they’re finally ready or something.”

Guy’s got the most stotic-ass gaze in the world. Shou’s never liked it. “I’m not fighting anymore.”

Fuck no I didn’t come here to hear that.

“You have to.”

“I won’t.”

Is this guy for real? “Hey, do you get what I’m saying? Claw’s about to take over the world.”

Shigeo stays silent. What the hell. “I thought you were against them too? They tried to kidnap you and your brother right? They’re the ones at fault here, you have to stop them.”

“I won’t fight, Suzuki-kun.” And fuck, those eyes? Dead. Not even the usual corpse-dead, deader than dead, they’re gone, like nothing’s even in them anymore. Just two black holes staring back at him.

Shit he’d misstepped. Guy’s actually pretty torn up about whatever went down with Mogami. He’d thought saying those things would push Shigeo to fight but like this?

For a second he feels like a real pile of shit before he shoves it back. Like he does with Ritsu, and his family, and all those people he sees strapped down in Claw’s basements. He’s got a job to do, can’t afford to think. “Look, I scouted you out years ago cause you were fighting Claw too. We made an agreement to take down Claw. I give you information from inside, you take it down from the out. I know you’re pretty upset about whatever just happened, but this is the last blow, the final battle. We have to fight.”

Still black holes. C’mon Shigeo, this is literally the worst time to have a breakdown, throw him a damn bone here. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Ritsu.” He says. “But if we don’t stop Claw now, everything we’ve done up till now will be for nothing.”

Shigeo stares at him. Doesn’t speak for one, two, three full minutes. Longer. Shou resists the urge to start tapping his feet on the ground.

Shigeo turns and walks out of the garage.

…Fuck.

Shou breaks a crater in the wall before he leaves.

*

Surprisingly, Yamada hadn’t been lying. The next day they’re out in fresh air, which is immediately smothered by the absolute stampede of reporters shoving mics down their throat. It’s ridiculous coverage for a bunch of missing people being found, and it’s only when Reigen goes on Mobtube that he realizes why.

In the space of two days the internet has collectively exploded with videos and images of Mogami’s fight with Shigeo. Everywhere he looks there’s some blurry new footage of running and explosions and floating figures in the air. Everyone is talking about Black T Poison again and all the reporters are hounding for a piece of the pie.

No wonder they were released so quick, no one wants to deal with the media vultures. There’s a ridiculous number of views on that video showing the vans taking them away.

It takes the whole afternoon to deal, and by the time they’re done Reigen feels like another twenty years of his life have been axed off. Some police officers send them back to their homes, at least, until he remembers his apartment’s current state.

Reigen’s having a hard time not just hating life right now.

He ends up hunkering down at Hanazawa’s, which is nice of the kid to offer. Gets the kid to shower first and nearly crashes when his phone line (some cheap one with slow connection and even slower customer service) finally reconnects. It shakes like it’s having a seizure and he has to lunge for it so it doesn’t fall off the table.

He taps the screen to find 137 messages, 50 voicemails, and 20 recent phonecalls.

From his mum.

The phone suddenly jingles again, playing some crappy rendition of a pop song he doesn’t remember downloading. He stares at the little shaking phone icon for several seconds, and the green button below it.

Maybe he’s gotten too used to brushes with death, because he actually presses it before it ends. It takes him way too long to drag it up to his ear.

“Arataka? Arataka are you there?”

He’s not ready for the sudden lurch in his chest. “…Hey, mum.”

“Arataka.” It comes out tinny over the phone and he feels like he’s being bowled over by the sheer relief in those words. “You’re alive— oh thank god, you’re— Why didn’t you call me?! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

And there’s the mum he knows. She’s actually here, she’s actually calling him— Fuck it’s getting hard to see— “Mum.”

“What were you thinking?! Why didn’t you call immediately?!”

“S-sorry, I just— there were a lot of reporters and a lot of things were happening—”

“You still should have called! You were missing for days I thought you were dead!”

“I know, I couldn’t call, I was with— someone. I should have after everything but I— I thought that—” His voice cuts off with a strangled choke. Why is he—

“Arataka…” She sighs heavy over the phone, like she does when he does something particularly dumb. “Of course I still care about you.”

Salt runs past his cheeks. Aw fuck, he’s being a real pansy now, isn’t he? He rubs his snot off with the bottom of a palm, tries to push the lump in his throat down. “I— right, sorry. Sorry I should have called with someone else’s phone or something. I’m fine, by the way. Nothing damaged, or broken, no limbs detached or anything.

“Limbs— detached?”

Whoops. “Uh. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“…Just what have you gotten into this time?” He can practically see her rubbing her temples over the phone. “I saw the videos, it’s exactly like that explosion from several years ago. People are saying it’s Poison again Arataka. I’d always thought it was just a rumour but the images…”

“That’s—” Yamada’s words pop into his head. “…I can’t talk about it. It’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous? You went missing for days!”

“I know, I’m sorry just—” He swallows. Thinks about it. “Look, I met this kid.”

“Kid?”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh— see this kid is— he’s got a pet… snake, or something, anyway. That snake is pretty aggressive but the kid’s got it tamed most of the time. And the kid’s a really nice kid, even if the snake makes people think he’s creepy.”

“…Is that so?”

“Yeah, he uh, when I disappeared I was being attacked by some… some guys with a bunch of snakes too, really poisonous snakes. And they would have killed me if Mo— the kid hadn’t stepped in.”

“…Okay.”

“Yeah. See, this kid, right? He’s…” Reigen swallows, because what kind of stupid analogy is this anyway? “He’s not bad mum, he’s not like what the other kids say. He’s quiet and he gets bad nightmares, and he likes milk, of all things. What kind of middle-schooler still likes milk?”

“I don’t know, Arataka. You still did.”

Gah. “One time mum, one time.”

“I know, I know.” She lets out a strangled laugh, like she can’t decide if she’s relieved or about to go into hysterics. “But what you’re saying—I don’t understand what’s happening, explosions, ghosts, people saying psychics are real— This is so dangerous. It’s too dangerous for you to—"

“I can’t. Mum.” He says. And fuck this was exactly how they got into an argument the last time. Here he goes again, fucking everything up but he can’t just leave Mob be— “I know what this looks like and— you can be angry, I’m being irresponsible I know but I can’t just—” He chokes, braces for her to start yelling again.

Except she doesn’t.

Instead he hears a shaky breath across the phone, “You can’t?”

“I can’t just—” He thinks about wide eyes again, hope and guilt and courage. “I can’t just let him go alone. Mum, believe me, he’s been saving people for a really long time, he’s been doing it alone, all by himself, for years.”

His chest hurts just thinking about it. He breathes out shakily. “He’s a good kid, mum. I can’t just let it go.”

He holds his breath, waiting for her to yell, or scream, openly condemn him. Reigen’s good at that, fucking up his relationships. It’s all he’s ever been good at, really. He’d been so sure no one would care but now his mum is here and talking to him and here he goes again—

“…Alright.”

What?

“The last time this happened,” She says into the stunned silence, “we didn’t speak to each other for years, and— your father is still angry but he’s been worried too, even if he doesn’t dare to call you.”

“Mum…”

“I’m still upset with you.” She says, and he flinches. “But you’re still my son, and you going missing… put a lot of things in perspective.”

“But please, Arataka. Whatever you do, please stay safe, understand?”

God. He can’t promise that. The silence stretches for too long, and she sighs. “Or at least try. Think before you act. Please try.”

“I—” He swallows again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Okay. Okay then.” Another huff of air. “What am I ever going to do with you? Always getting in trouble, now you’ve got yourself a kid too—”

You’ve got to be kidding, his mum too?  “He’s not my kid.”

“Arataka please.”

“I’m not even married. I don’t know how to take care of kids!”

“You used to be so good at babysitting—”

“That’s babysitting, it’s different like—” He struggles. “Like—”

“Arataka.”

“Like apples and uh—”

“Arataka.” She says in that voice when she’s done with his bullshit. “Arataka you nicknamed him.”

“…I never told you his nickname.”

“You just confirmed it.” Oh she’s definitely smiling at his expense now. “Look whatever you do, just take care of yourself please? And call.”

Why is everyone like this. Like being a government sanctioned ‘guardian’ wasn’t good enough, now his mum’s on it too? Reigen lets it go before he digs himself in deeper. “Yeah. I’ll try. I’ll call again.”

“Okay. Bye Arataka.”

“Bye mum.”

The phone clicks off. He sniffs, tries not to grimace at all the gunk on his hand. He steals some tissues to wipe his face and hides when Hanazawa gets out. Washes the evidence off in the shower sink and stares at the black bags under his eyes.

This is probably going to kill him, all things considered. Reigen Arataka is no real psychic. He’s just a dumb guy in a cheap suit who’s half-decent at bullshitting. He’s not qualified to take care of a kid. Hell, he can barely even keep himself afloat, how’s he supposed to help Mob? Don’t they know he deserves better than this? God.

But there’s no one else.

His hands tremble on the sink. Why is this scarier than facing down any psychic? Or explosions? Or that thing inside Mob?

There’s no one else.

He swallows and runs his hand through his hair. Gets into the shower and cleans up. He lands like a dead-weight on the extra futon and covers his face with an arm. First thing in the morning he’s going out with Hanazawa to search for Mob. No idea where to start, no tools to help but shit the kid’s probably going through hell now. Eldritch abominations be damned, he needs to talk to him soon.

Reigen’s going to find his kid if it’s the last damn thing he does.

*

“…Fuck, I just called him my kid didn't I.”

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

He wakes up to the certainty that he has just killed a man long dead, and he thinks, no.

Yes. The black hole in him says. Not maliciously, not in whispers, not even in horror. Yes, like a fact, an undeniable truth. As ordinary as pedestrian crossings and streetlamps and crows sitting over side banks.

You did it again.

He can’t remember anything. Only static. Doesn’t know how he got here, doesn’t know if he did nothing or if he took their hearts out of their chests with his claws and eyes and fangs and ate out their skulls while his blood ran black—

I—

Did I—?

He thinks of Tome and Inukawa and Musashi, of movies and video games. Of Hanazawa’s smiles and offers of help. He thinks of Reigen, who has been nothing but kind and generous, who has taught him how to cook and sew and Ritsu—

“Do you… really think you can change?”

Shigeo digs red-bandaged fingers into his eyelids and sobs.

*

“Anything?”

Hanazawa shakes his head. “No.”

He holds back a sigh, looks out from where they’re standing at the top of the hill. Seasoning city stretches out like a sea of lights beneath him, the 2am breeze stirs up his hair.

Reigen claps Hanazawa on the shoulder. “Come on kid. Let’s head back.”

“I can keep going.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” Hanazawa’s pale as a shambling corpse and just as energetic, kid shouldn’t be doing anything at all. “You’ll pinpoint him better if you rest.

Hanazawa stays silent for way too long before he finally inclines his head. They start towards the staircase, taking it two at a time and passing through empty roads and alleyways. Throughout it all, the kid continues to look like a very dejected and kicked puppy.

“Hey.” He pats the kid’s shoulder. “Chin up, we’ll find him.”

“Yes, of course.”

Way too fast and polite. “I mean it. It’ll be fine.”

It’s a bad lie, especially for him. Hanazawa playing human compass has been about as fruitful as Reigen salt-splashing Ekubo’s ugly face. Kid seems to know it too. “I’m sorry Reigen-san. I wish I could do more.”

“Don’t be kid, you’ve done more than all of us.” Reigen glances at the kid— shoots forward when he starts to topple— nope caught himself in time— “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Yes.”

“…Maybe you should rest tomorrow, gain some strength back before we try to find him—”

“Reigen-san.” The barest edge in his voice slips away, covered by a smile. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, and Reigen likes to kiss cockroaches in his spare time. (Nasty nasty image, ergh. Why’d he think of that?) He’s pretty much figured it out at this point; anyone with superpowers also comes with a complimentary package of ‘so many fucking issues’, and Reigen’s got a pretty good guess on Hanazawa’s loadout. Given the chance, this kid would run himself down to the bone while wearing the most polite fucking smile on his face like everything's fine and dandy.

He needs a damn smoke. “So I’ve been thinking, we’re kind of similar aren’t we?”

“How so?”

“Well— we’re both more extroverted, we’re both good at talking.” He skips over ‘we both don’t like ourselves much’. “We both know Mob. You’ve been a really good friend to him you know? Most people wouldn’t stick around. Especially back there.”

“He helped me. It’s the least I can do.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good friend kid.”

Hanazawa’s smile is bitter. “Not really.”

Issues. “Kid.” Reigen stops, forces Hanazawa to halt behind him. “You helped him fight Mogami.”

“And we’re still here, looking for him.” Reigen can’t see blue under the shock of blonde. “I should have been able to stop Mogami from doing that.”

What kind of world is he in, that some middle-schooler thinks it’s his responsibility to stop a madman from killing himself? “You’re psychic, not a clairvoyant.” Reigen bends slightly, “Don’t blame yourself kid. Mogami was insane, no one could have predicted that.”

“I should have at least sensed it. Should have been strong enough to.” Something like anger and frustration grows in his eyes before it’s wiped clean. “But I wasn’t, and now we can’t even find him.”

Reigen tries not to raise an eyebrow. “Kid, it’s been one day. We'll find him."

“Can we find him in time? The last time this happened, Kageyama-kun tried to—” Hanazawa pauses, looks away. “We need to hurry.”

Kid is getting really good at that ominous shtick. “Okay, we will. But it'll be faster if you let yourself rest.”

“I know that. I just—”

Hanazawa breathes out harshly. “Why can’t I ever do anything to help him?”

Kid looks like he wants to shoot himself right there and then. “Sorry, I— that’s very selfish of me. He already thanked me for helping and here I am being—" He stops suddenly, unable to face Reigen.

Damn. “Hey, listen Hana— actually, it’s Teruki right? Teru? Can I call you that?”

When the kid nods, he continues, “Listen Teru, that’s not selfish at all. That’s normal.”

“It is.” Teru shakes his head. “He only started accepting help when he met you and that’s good. I know that. But the one time he relies on me this happens and I'd been boasting about the fact that I could help him—”

“Kid, no one could have stopped that.” Reigen bends down in front of him. “Both you and Mob were out. Even Mob’s little brother couldn’t do anything. It’s not your fault.”

“I…” Jaw snaps shut, blue seems to shut down. “Yes, of course. We should be focusing on finding Kageyama-kun. I’m sorry, I can be rather narcissistic.”

No, no, no, that’s not what I meant either— “Wanting to help someone else doesn’t make you narcissistic. Everything, all of this—” He gestures vaguely at Teru. “It’s completely normal to feel this way. You’re upset because he’s hurt, don’t put yourself down over caring about someone else, kid.”

“I’m not caring about him, I’m just complaining about not being able to help him. I’m putting my needs in front when he’s the one who needs help now. Kageyama-kun would never do that, he’ll always help everyone else, regardless of whether they cared about him or not.” Blue narrows in frustration. “I could never be like him.”

The kid’s hands tremble as he tries to wrangle his emotions in. Teru’s got a look on his face that’s all too familiar to Reigen. The one he’s seen between alcoholic drinks and ten packs of cigars. When he’s wasting away near the sink and vomiting his regrets out near the bowl. He’s seen it all before.

There’s a reason this kid’s living in an apartment alone, isn’t there?

“Teru.” Reigen starts. “You don’t want to be like him.”

Blue turns slightly hostile. “Kageyama-kun is a good person—”

“He is. Mob’s a good kid, and it sucks that so many people don’t see that.” The hostility fades into confusion, into something fragile and god, Reigen can’t fuck this up. “But he’s still human. Mob’s got his flaws too, we all do.”

“He’s still better than anything I could be.”

“And I’m telling you, you can’t do this kid. You can’t compare yourself to him.” At some point, he’d crouched down, one hand bracing the kid’s shoulder. “No one’s special but no one’s the same either. We’ve all got different lives. Different circumstances and problems. You can’t measure yourself based on other people’s success, you’ll never be alright with yourself if you do.”

Teru doesn’t lean into his touch, but when he doesn't lean away Reigen keeps his hand there. “…Kageyama-kun changed a lot for me.”

“That’s good, kid. That’s fine. I’m not saying it’s bad to admire him. Admiring others is how we all grow. But when you start comparing yourself to that person, when you keep telling yourself how little you are compared to them—” Reigen swallows. “Teru, that’s not healthy.”

A shaky breath comes out of Teru’s throat. 

“You can’t put him on a pedestal like that.” Reigen finishes. “Mob’s human and so are you. We’ve all got our flaws. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Reigen can’t quite catch blue. When Teru finally speaks his voice is shaky. “Then what should I do?”

“Focus on yourself. Make yourself better, even if it’s only a bit, even if it feels like it’ll take months and years and decades. In this world the only people we can truly compare ourselves to is us.” He closes his eyes, wills himself not to think of the memories. “It won’t always be smooth-sailing, sometimes you’ll get better, sometimes you won’t, but as long as you’re trying, things will be okay.”

Reigen squeezes the kid’s shoulder, and puts every ounce of sincerity he has into his words. “And you know what kid? I think you’re already doing pretty great.”

Teru doesn’t answer, but his shoulders loosen a little. He stands like he can’t decide if he wants to curl into his polite shell or burst out in anguish. It keeps him stunned, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I’ll think about it.” Teru says finally. Not acceptance, but not open-out rejection either.

“Okay.” Reigen squeezes the kid’s shoulder one last time. “It’s getting really late, we should head back. We’ll try to find Mob again once you’ve rested up and got your energy back, alright?”

Teru nods, and Reigen leads them home.

*

Shou finds him in a day— maybe two— Shigeo isn’t sure. Everything is a blur, and the sudden anger that rises when he remembers Ritsu leaves him lucid for mere seconds before it dies out. He leaves Shou behind and finds himself unable to breathe under red-iron, numb and empty as the black hole in his chest.

Good. Something in him hissed. Good, don’t think. Don’t feel. You’ve done enough.

He wraps his hands around his arms and sits on the top-floor of a nameless half-built hotel. The sun burns hot against the back of his neck and his limbs feel like pins and needles. His feet dangle above the street far below.

This would be too low.

His chest burns. He locks it up. Shoves it beneath a thick wall of steel and concrete (Never enough, it’s too cracked and battered as it is.) He can’t feel anything right now. He can’t feel anything ever.

Don’t think.

He knows it won’t work anyway. His powers will go berserk if he tries.

Don’t think.

He’ll just hurt people again.

Don’t think.

Shigeo stops thinking.

*

The second day of fruitless searching ends with them coming back at 3am with a whole fucking welcoming committee at Teru’s place. Reigen is literally this close to murdering someone. “How in the world did you even get here?”

“Sneaked out the house.” Tome grins, like the conniving little rascal she is. Nevermind the kidnapping or the government threats or the cosmic horror entities, the kid just doesn’t quit. 

He stares at Inukawa and Musashi, who look alot like guilty little kittens right now. “And you two let her?”

“Hey, we’ve got a plan okay? We didn’t just come here to be like, extra search parties or something.”

Before Reigen can answer Teru cuts in, eyes darting around the empty neighbourhood. “We should take this inside.”

He tries not to think of creepy stalkers watching him from the window. Definitely drawing the curtains tonight. “Right, get in, all of you.”

They cramp themselves into the room, and Tome immediately breaks out into a whole damn heist planning sequence involving social media and the dark web and telepathy and has he mentioned he really misses the days when he wasn’t babysitting these crazies?

“Kid, do you have a deathwish?”

“What? No, we’re trying to help him!”

“You’re not gonna be able to help him if you get yourself killed.” He can do this without strangling himself, he can. “Let me get this straight; You want to ask people who’ve been saved by Mob for their stories and compile it on a single website using the internet. The very public, and mind you, traceable internet.”

“To get the truth out there, yeah!”

“Did you forget we’re being watched by the government?” He snaps his hands up and down in a chopping motion. “Bad idea. Bad. Forget it.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not like we’re telling anyone who Mob-kun is or about Mogami. We’re not breaking any rules here. We’re just compiling rumours about Poison saving people, that’s all.”

That’s… technically true. Still not shit they should be messing with. “You do know what’s at stake here right?”

“Guys in black suits throwing us into black vans and threatening us? Been there, done that.”

“Don’t even joke.” He rubs his face. “When did you come up with this? No actually, do you even know how to do this? You can’t just go online and start asking random strangers you know.”

“We know a journalist, Mezato-san, she’s really good at what she does.”

Another middle-schooler, of course. “I need adults kid, not some random classmate you picked up somewhere.”

“I know some people who would be willing to help.” Teru says with a winning smile.

Don’t encourage them. Why would you encourage them? “Do your parents know?”

“Course’ not. You’re the first adult I told. The three of us were figuring it out yesterday while we were grounded.” Is that what kids call ‘staying home so they don’t get kidnapped again’ nowadays? “Got a whole plan set out and everything.”

A bunch of fifteen-year-olds have figured out some grand scheme to debunk an entire urban legend’s dark and deadly history. Whoopee.

“Look, I’m just telling you cause you’re Mob’s shishou.” Urgh. “Thought you might want to help. It doesn’t really matter what you say, we’re still doing it.”

“You know I could call your parents right?”

“You don’t have their numbers!”

“I’ll figure it out.” He sighs. Thinks of aliens and all the crazy shit this one’s pulled. “But knowing you, you’re just gonna sneak out and do it anyway, huh?”

Tome smirks. “What do you think?”

Stubborn little punk. “You two really on board with this?”

Musashi and Inukawa nod. “Justice must be served.” Musashi says, and somehow doesn’t make it sound fucking cheesy. Reigen’s working theory is that the kid was born in a superhero comic and had some dimensional mix-up when he was a baby. “Kageyama-kun’s heroic deeds should be acknowledged.”

“Right.” He huffs. “Okay, ground rules. If you’re doing this, you tell your parents first— Don’t look at me like that, they’ve just spent the past week worrying about you, alright? You owe that to them.”

“If we tell them they’ll never agree!”

“So I’ll help you.” Getting murdered by concerned parents did sound slightly better than psychic strangulation. “We’ll make sure it’s a solid plan, sit them down and explain the whole thing, and if they say no then it’s not happening, understand? You need to do this kid. This is your life we’re talking about, if something happens what are they gonna do? You have to think about the people who care about you too.”

Maybe he’s getting better at this shit, because they nod eventually. “Good. Teru? You said you know some people?”

“The man that helped us set up the internet.” Teru nods. “I’ve got other contacts too, all people Kageyama-kun has helped over the years. I can get the list.”

“Okay.” So they have connections. People with actual skills. Alright. “Here’s what we do.”

The plan’s simple. Among the list there’s more than several guys with shady computer skills. Quite a few journalists and marketers too. Get them to set up a secure portal to receive stories on Poison, keep all submissions anonymous, spruce it up with some video production and copywriting, and market it on Mobtube and everywhere else. Create a little website that compiles the stories, link it all up together and there you go; Their own little Black T Poison marketing experiment.

Shit, this might actually work if it doesn’t kill them first.

“These kids really got you whipped, huh?” Ekubo says, looking down at the pages of scribbles and notes and half-scrawled numbers.

“Fuck you’re still here.” Reigen side-eyes the useless blob. “Where were you the past two days?”

“Hey, you try having your entire being drained into almost nothingness, see how you get around then.” Ekubo sinks to the table. “You’re really trying to find him?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? Did you see what’s in that kid? Not something you wanna mess with, trust me.”

“Anyone trusting you needs their brain looked at.”

“Funny, coming from a fraud.” Ekubo raised an eyebrow. “So the whole cosmic horror thing doesn’t faze you. At all.”

“Yeah.” That’s a lie alright. “Gotta teach him cooking and such.”

“You’re mental.”

Did he just come back to hurl insults at Reigen? “You don’t have to stay, you know. If you don’t wanna help you could leave. Go do evil spirit things or whatever.”

Ekubo floats there for a moment. Reigen can practically see all the evil plan machinations turning in his head before he sighs. “Nah.”

“Nah?”

“I’m staying too. You’re pretty much useless for searching for Shigeo. I’ll help.”

Fartcloud’s probably still trying to manipulate Mob. “Thanks.” Reigen grumbles.

“Your welcome.”

It goes like that. Reigen ends up delegated to fixing up the crazy plan with the kids while Hanazawa and Ekubo (who aren’t as psychic as wet toliet paper) go out searching for Mob. It doesn’t feel right, not when Mob’s out there and he could be trying to find the kid—

But he knows himself, and his forte’s talking. He’s the guy that does connections and he’ll make far more headway looking around forums and messages than playing at being a psychic divining rod. He doubts it’ll be easy, probably won’t even get anything beyond a silver of information but it’s all he’s got.

So he sits down in front of the laptop and hopes for once that lady luck doesn’t screw him over, because they really need a fucking miracle right now if they ever want to find Mob.

*

He forgets the days. Loses sight of mornings and evenings and drifts along the street like a wraith tugged by aimless strings. It’s only when he blinks, sometime between the sweltering rays of high noon and the cool caress of sunset-twilight that he realizes where he is.

It’s an old familiar playground, one hasn’t seen in… he’s not even sure. Barely remembers the sound of children’s laughter and the games they played between the bars of the jungle gym. He knows it used to be quite popular, but it’s quiet now. No one comes here anymore.

So why is he here?

He staggers across the dirt and into the sand pit where it pours into his shoes. He stops at the slide, the one he remembers going down with his little brother when Ritsu had been young and shorter and still had bright eyes.

Why is he here?

A row of rebuilt shops and houses sit across the street, but there’s still rubble and shrapnel from eight years ago littering the grass. He smells ozone and shattered mirrors and the slide under his fingers feels both too warm and too soft. The playground's colours are murky and he’s not even sure if he’s awake.

“Mob-kun?”

No one calls him that.

No one calls him that except— He turns—

Long black hair and sapphire eyes. He freezes, swears his heart must stop for a second because that face is—

Takane Tsubomi smiles at him. “Hello, Mob-kun!”

47%

“Never thought I’ll meet you again here.”

Maybe he is dreaming, maybe he’s knocked out. Maybe he’s fallen off that half-built hotel and knocked his head out cold or maybe he’s actually dead and looking at an impossibility because how can she be here?

Her eyes (Bright, blue, still pretty, but his heart doesn’t flutter like it used to.) flicker to his cheek for a second— Suddenly he realises what he must look like; hands bandaged, clothing scuffed up, face scarred—

He ducks his head. “T-Tsubomi-chan.”

She smiles at him. “Why don’t we catch up a little? It’s been a while.”

He follows because he doesn’t know what else to say. Sits down to her right on the low bar of the jungle gym and hides his bandaged hands between his calves. She settles in easily, placing her bag on her lap.

“How have you been?”

“Okay.”

“That’s good, have you been doing anything recently?”

“…Not much.”

“Did you eat anything for lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Really? You still seem hungry.” She pulls a wrapped triangle out of her bag. "I've got an extra onigiri, you can have it.”

“I-It’s fine.”

Something grabs his arm— He freezes, too close— and she lets go, putting the onigiri in his open palm.

“Keep it for later.”

She couldn’t have missed the bandages. Couldn’t have missed the scar on his face. His shaking fingers close around the onigiri.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

The silence goes on. His hand stays on his lap. He suddenly feels hyper-aware of all his extremities, doesn’t dare move, like he’s the linchpin of the entire world and if he so much as twitches it’ll fall right apart at the seams.

She stares out into the playground. “You’re still pretty bad at lying, Mob-kun.”

His hands tremble. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, and when she doesn't continue he can’t bring himself to look up. “…Why are you here, Tsubomi-chan?”

“My school’s close by.” She points at the hill behind them. “It's called Salt middle school, the one all the older kids would go to, remember?”

“Yes.” He says, but he's not sure. It doesn't matter, thinking too much is dangerous.

She hums. “I was heading home from school when I saw you. It’s my favourite route home.”

“…Why?”

“People don’t like walking past here, everyone's really superstitious about it.” She tilts her head. “I think it’s silly to be so nervous about a place, but at least I can be alone for a while.”

There's something in her voice Shigeo can't understand. “But it’s right next to…”

It’s quiet again. He can’t hear the birds, or the breeze. She’s looking at him with those sapphire eyes. The dream is already cracking, the edges of white shifting and snapping in the heat.

She exhales, and gently shatters it.

“You don’t scare me.”

56%

He chokes and his hand snaps up to his chest to make it stop pounding. The whole world feels like it’s been turned sideways and upside down. Suddenly he sees her in full detail, his head clearer than it’s been for days.

“Why?”

Shigeo wished he could understand what she was thinking, what was behind that quiet gaze. “Thank you, Mob-kun.”

“I’m not sure how much you remember, but there was a kidnapping near my school once." She continues into his stunned silence. "A police officer saw a man trying to haul away some girls, he tried to stop them.”

Salt middle school. A police officer. Crisp blue uniform and terrified screams, the officer flying through the air— neck would have snapped against the telephone pole—

He’d caught the man, knocked out the Claw henchman. Was about to leave when the officer had stopped and thanked him, gave him his phone number and told him to run before the rest of his squad got there—

Tsubomi’s looking at his face again, not at his cheek, but his eyes. He tries not to flinch. “If you hadn’t been there, he would have died that day.”

The officer had blue eyes, like the sky, warm and steadfast and oh so familiar—

Her eyes are strong and solid, clear as the sapphire sea. “You saved my dad, Mob-kun, so thank you.”

How can you say that?

Maybe she doesn’t know, maybe she thinks he didn’t do it. He has to tell her, she has to know what he is.

“Besides, even with psychic powers you’re still a little boring to talk to.” For all her words, her tone is soft and genuinely kind. “You’re honestly pretty ordinary.”

She has to know. It wouldn’t be fair—

“…That’s not true Tsubomi-chan. I’ve…”

His sucks in a breath, and his voice breaks with the next words.

“I’ve killed people.”

He waits for her to leave, to realise exactly who she's sitting next to. It's better that she knows, better if she—

“Oh.” She blinks. “That’s what you’re worried about.”

What?

“You haven’t seen what's gone viral recently, have you?” She digs her hand into her bag and pulls out her phone. “Because if that’s what you’re worried about—”

She types something out on the screen and hands it over. He looks down to find a simple website, like a blog, filled with posts, but he doesn't understand what it means until he starts reading—

—stopped a man from kidnapping me—

—passing by, helped my child out of the fire—

—attacked them, allowed me to run away—

—saved my son from being taken—

—got me out of that place—

Dozens and dozens of them, pouring out in words and sentences, notes of gratitude, drawings of thanks, it went on and on for pages. He even recognises some of them. And when he hits the very first page, he sees Tsubomi’s own post, and Onigawara’s story about him stopping the bullies and Mitsuura’s, Musashi’s, Inukawa’s, Tome’s and Hanazawa’s and—

The very first post, with nothing but a simple picture of a sewing thread and a cooking pan side-by-side.

You’re already a good person, you know?

69%

They’re alive.

Something burns up his throat.

His fingers tighten against the fabric where his heart is— They’re alive. They’re still alive. They’re alive.

He hadn’t kill them.

And sitting there on a midsummer's afternoon next to his childhood friend, Shigeo hears a single, shy thought.

Maybe I really can change?

“I don’t know who the people who started this website are, but judging from the look on your face,” Tsubomi smiled. “they must be pretty important.”

“…Yes.” He whispers, fighting past the choke in his throat. “Yes, they are.”

“Strange choice of a picture though.”

Was it? He explains automatically, still feeling a world away. “They— one of them is teaching me to sew and cook.”

The smile widens a little more. “…You really haven’t changed much at all, Mob-kun.”

“Tsubomi-chan, I—” He stumbles over his words. He’s never been good at speaking, has no idea how to tell her just how thankful and relieved he is, because they’re alive and he hadn’t killed them and thank god they’re okay. It’s pressing something painful between his ribs and making his throat sore and how does he even express everything he’s feeling right now?

It’s completely inadequate and it could never capture the sheer everything in his chest, but he breathes in and says, “Thank you.”

She smiles, warm and knowing. Before she can respond something loud and made of static pierces through his ears. They both whip around to see the old electronics store across the street. Across a dozen dingy portable TVs, a single image flickers before it stabilizes into a man’s face.

“We are the esper organization Claw.”

Shigeo freezes.

“We have taken over the airwaves with our psychic powers.”

He has brown hair, and blue eyes like Shou.

“This is a mere fraction of our true power.”

73%

I know who you are.

The thing in his chest lurches and makes the breeze around them pick up. The leaves start to float and the dirt trembles near his shoes. The man goes on and on about ruling the world and being superior. Shigeo can feel Tsubomi’s gaze on him.

He shoves his aura back into his veins and locks it down hard.

64%

“A new world is about to begin. Look forward to it.”

The video goes black.

“…Mob-kun?”

He looks to see Tsubomi staring at him. “That man wasn’t joking, was he?”

“…No.” He admits. “'He's not.”

Then he gets up and turns to face her properly, and for the first time since the conversation started, meeting sapphire isn’t all that hard.

“But I’ll stop him.”

Tsubomi’s expression softens and that warm smile from a thousand years ago lights up her face.

“Good luck, Mob-kun.”

Shigeo nods back.

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

“So we got jack shit.” Ekubo says pleasantly.

Reigen wants to smack the fartcloud’s face. He settles for hissing and gesturing severely in Teru’s direction. Kid’s been staring listlessly at a wall for the past fifteen minutes, and Reigen’s not quite convinced he won’t have to tie the kid down so he’ll actually rest.

“He was there Reigen, no point sugar-coating it. 5 days of searching and we’re still emptier than your bank account.”

Maybe if he makes those paper seals he’d found on Mobgle he could slap the spirit with them. “Did he eat dinner?”

“Yeah. Ate some bread while we were walking around.”

Well, it’s something at least. He gets up from his place behind the laptop. “I’ve got leftovers, you want any Teru?”

Kid hesitates before he nods. Reigen sends him to the shower and goes to warm up the curry in the kitchen, splitting it three to one. He hands Teru the bigger portion once the kid comes out and starts his nightly round of Blond Tangles versus Comb. “Did you find anything about Kageyama-kun?”

“…No, sorry kid.”

“Says wonders for our survival.” Ekubo drawls because apparently being dead meant you didn’t need tact. “Can’t believe Claw actually announced their plans on live TV, talk about ruining the surprise.”

“Suppose you’ll know all about that.”

“We probably can’t stay here much longer.” Teru skewers another tangle with his comb. “Claw will attack us soon. I’m surprised they haven’t already, to be honest.”

“Yeah.” The only reason they were still here was because Mob would know the place, if he wasn’t already bleeding out on a street somewhere. “Speaking of which, the guys from Seventh saw the website and called me.”

“Seventh— Did they threaten you?”

“No, they’ve had a change of heart. Said they wanted to become proper citizens in society and join us to fight Claw, asked if we had any hideouts.” Reigen’s fingers pattered against the table. “You know any kid?”

“…You trust them?”

Reigen shrugged. “They’re weren’t lying, took my words to heart.”

“They’re dumbasses.”

“They’re well-intentioned persons looking to join society again, and choosing a very reputable model, mind you. Could tell they were being genuine.”

“So they’re genuine dumbasses.” Ekubo deadpans.

Teru cuts in before he can give his witty reply. “I don’t know if there are others. Kageyama-kun never told me because he didn’t want me to help, but Mitsuura-san might have something.”

“We’ll call him then.” Gotta tell him to keep the other kids out of the loop too. They’d gone home after that day and were preoccupied with the website, but the little rascals were like raccoons; stubborn, nosey, always in places a literal second away from implosion. He jolts when his phone rings and grabs it, not quite looking at the screen. Internet guy had said something about calling Reigen again— “Hey.”

“…”

“…Hello?”

“…Reigen-san?”

Electricity shoots through his spine. “Mob.”

It’s akin to a lightning bolt blasting through the room. Teru and Ekubo both whip towards him, eyes wide like they’d been slapped in the face by a shooting meteorite. Reigen probably looks the same, to be honest. “Kid, where are you?”

“A road.” It’s almost funny how relieved he is to hear creepy monotone next to his ear. Talk about turning horror clichés on their heads. “Are you at Hanazawa’s apartment?”

“Yes, why? Are you coming here—”

He hears what he can only describe as a giant cosmic space blender and lightspeed thrusters doing an impromptu dance jig. Mob’s quiet voice comes back after the static fizzes out. “Yes.”

Teru’s head whips away (How does that kid not already have whiplash?) and he scrambles over to the door. Reigen already powerwalking over as he fiddles with the lock— click, shoves it open—

Black bowl-cut, not-quite-dead eyes— no blood anywhere, thank god—

“Kageyama-kun.” Hanazawa breathes out.

“Hanazawa-kun. Reigen-san.” Mob says, looking at them with—was it just him or was that the slightest curve to his lips? “You’re both okay?”

“Hey, you forget about me, Shigeo? I’m hurt.”

“Ekubo.” Goddamn, he’s not hallucinating, it’s a fraction of a fraction of what would appear on everyone else’s face, but it doesn’t change the fact that the kid’s almost smiling. “You’re okay too.”

“We’re alright, great in fact— what about you Kageyama-kun?” Teru’s hands are half-raised like he wants to reach out and grab Mob’s shoulders. Considering the alternative would be finding the kid’s dead body on some street, Reigen can’t really blame him. “We’ve been trying to look for you and— are you okay?”

Mob nods. “I’m okay.”

“Oh, uh." Hanazawa blinks, fumbles. Mob does seem oddly optimistic despite the reemergence of the planet-eating-entity-that-killed-some-people. "That’s good, that’s great, actually— ah, what am I doing, I should let you in—"

They chase him through the door and bully him into eating leftover toast. Reigen tends to his wounds, but Mob’s remarkably uninjured for the shitstorm that was Mogami. By the time they're done he's dressed in one of Teru’s more ordinary shirts,(“Rainbow vomit is not going to bring out Mob’s eyes, Teru.”) the washing machine whining at the grime on Mob’s clothes.

Ekubo lands on the table. “So where did you go, Shigeo?”

“I woke up in an abandoned building, but I don't know much else.” Mob’s staring down at the floor. “I don’t remember the past few days very well.”

“Any places you do remember?”

“The playground.”

“The what?”

“The playground.” Mob shifts. “I met Tsubomi-chan there. She gave me your contact.”

“Tsubomi..." Teru's eyes widened. "Takane Tsubomi? I think she was one of the first to send in a story— she spoke to you?”

“She’s my childhood friend. She told me that all of you were still...” 

It doesn't matter that the kid trails off. Supernovas and 34 dead people, Reigen could connect the dots. He’s sending Tsubomi a full-length thank you note later, probably saved the kid from himself, shit.

Mob finds his words. “Are all of you really okay?”

“Yeah. We’re good.” He flips a hand through the air. “Everything you see on us was done by Mogami.”

Mob doesn’t stop staring, and when the kid starts cataloging all the small cuts and wounds still lingering on Reigen’s face, he brings his hand up to land on his shoulder. “Mob, you didn’t hurt us.”

“…You saw it.”

“Yeah.”

Black shifts downwards, hands start pulling at his bandages. “Are you… really okay with this?”

“Psh, what do you take me for, a pansy?”

“N-no, I—”

“Then don’t worry kid.” Reigen smiles, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Takes more than that to drive me away.”

In the silence, Teru steps forward, eyes soft. “We still want to help. Kurata-san and the others too, we’re not leaving, Kageyama-kun.”

It's a while before Mob moves, before his hands start loosening on his bandages and he looks up at them like they’re made of dreams, or hallucinations. Reigen finds himself squeezing the kid’s shoulder again, trying to give him an anchor to show they're really here.

When he finally speaks, his voice is fragile. “I’m really glad you’re all alright.”

Reigen grins. “We’re glad you’re okay too, kid.”

*

“I am gonna fucking kill him.” Shou hisses, for the third time this evening because what the fuck did his shitty dad just do on national fucking television.

“Good luck with that.” Ritsu’s voice is toneless. Ass. “Joseph-san wants to talk to you.”

Years and years of illegal psychic bullshit and the government only decides to make a move now. Great comedic timing, he ain’t laughing. “Bet he’ll have been useful during those hundred other kidnappings.”

Ritsu twitches next to him and Shou tries not curse. Just his luck that every single Kageyama he knows is a psychic powerhouse and has more issues than you could throw a cult of shrinks at. He’d better shut up now if he wants that firepower on his side. “Put him on.”

The video call starts up, and it quickly becomes apparent that these fucks have no clue what they’re up against. The guy in the shitty top hat (That is a literal cardinal sin to the eyes, who even wears top hats anymore?) is grinning up a storm.

“Claw’s plan is bogus. If each of them defeat 1000 policemen they’ll have taken Japan down? What kind of rubbish is that?”

Said like that yeah, Claw is pretty dumb, but that wasn’t the point here. Next to him, Ritsu inclines his head. “What are you going to do Joseph-san?”

“Following his logic, if each of us defeats 47 people, we’ll have taken down Claw.” Joseph breathes smoke into the camera. “We’ll make an example of the upper echelons first.”

Shou’s almost tempted to start clapping. “Good plan there. Can’t wait to see you get your asses kicked.”

Eyes fix onto Shou's. “What do you know kid?”

Didn’t take the bait, interesting. One point to him. “Your plan would work against most of Claw, sure, but they’re not the real problem. You start killing Scars, you get the Ultimate Five’s attention.”

“Ultimate Five?”

“The five espers under Suzuki Touichirou’s direct leadership, kept secret from most of Claw.” Ritsu nods. “ I’ve only recently managed to learn about them. They make up it's military core.”

“So, the head of the serpent.” Another drag. Shou’s glad they’re not in the same room; breath must be a real show-stopper. “We arrest them and the whole thing comes falling down.”

These fucks are gonna die. “You really didn’t do your homework. The Ultimates aren’t like the small fry back there. You won’t be able to take them one on one.”

“That so kid?”

Oh he’ll see soon enough. “If you don’t wanna get fucked over immediately, I’ll say take them on as a team.” Shou leans back. “But it’s ultimately your gig. I can’t tell you what to do.”

“He’s right, their strength is quite substantial.” Ritsu vouches, how nice.

“…Hm. What are you going to do Ritsu?”

“All due respect Joseph-san, but I’m following Shou.”

“I figured.” The man sighs again. “Any thoughts on target priorities, kid?”

Is he actually asking for Shou’s opinion? Damn, two points now. “Hatori. Short guy, thick nerd glasses. Always wears a blue jumper with a pigeon, probably his security blanket. He’s got technokinesis so he’s basically a glorified tech geek, but if you take him down you stop Claw’s broadcasts and any reinforcement helicopters from dropping the moment they enter his zone. Only problem is Claw knows this too, so he’s usually guarded by Shimazaki or Serizawa, the two strongest behind my dad.”

“Your other option is taking down Minegishi or Shibata. I’ll send you the details on them all later. You can try Shimazaki or Serizawa, but your best bet is to clean out the other two first so they don’t come in and start playing support. Keep them separated if you can, last thing you need is all five at once.”

“...You’ve put some thought in this.”

“I’ve been planning this for years.” Shou shrugs. “Gotta end my dad’s shit somehow.”

Joseph seems to roll the statement around his head. “Alright, I’ll give your idea a shot kid. We’ll start the assault tomorrow morning and see if we can pick them off one by one. I’ll keep you updated, good luck.”

The screen shuts off, leaving Shou honestly a little stunned. Three points. This guy might actually survive, holy shit. “...Right. That’s that, I guess. Get some rest you all, final boss' coming up and we're gonna have a fucking circus.”

His whole team files out looking absolutely convinced it's going to be clowns and fire-breathers. He smirks and starts to add some extra encouragement when black spikes step in front of him.

“Something up, Ritsu?”

Ritsu has that ‘I’ll murder a puppy with my bare hands for my Nii-san’ face again. “You’ve got my brother’s number.”

“Do I now?”

“Don’t screw with me Shou.” Damn, he almost seems calm if you discount the teeth-grinding and general air of murder-and-homicide. “Is he fighting tomorrow?”

“Nah.”

“No?”

“I talked to him. He said he wasn’t fighting, too scared of his own power.” Shou side-eyes Ritsu. “Guess you'll know all about that.”

Ritsu’s eyes narrow. “Don’t let him get involved. He’ll explode again.”

He lets out a harsh bark of a laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that. The way Shigeo is now there’s no chance he’ll join in. Your bro’s got a kickass timing for mental shutdowns, you know.”

Ritsu’s glares really could do with some notes from his sibling, at least Shigeo’s are somewhat unnerving. “Cool it brother-complex, you’re really gonna get wrinkles early if you keep making that face.”

Ritsu just glares longer and leaves.

Shou rolls his eyes. Dramatic fuck.

*

The next morning, Mob’s already stabbed himself in ten new inventive ways before Reigen can tell him he’s holding the needle wrong. The kid’s trying to fix up his gakuen jacket, and considering it was bought a week ago, the old one’s paper shredder look suddenly makes a lot more sense. The television in front of them drones on and on about budgets and payrolls, but it's a small mercy over any more Claw motive-rants.

Speaking of which, “You saw the news kid? The one where Claw announced its villainous world-domination rampage.”

“Yes. Is it villainous?”

“They’re forcing people under their power and trying to take over the world.” Reigen deadpans. “Straight out of comic book. They’re villains kid.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Really can’t read the atmosphere, this one. “Guess we’re getting to that final stage then. Any thoughts on the future?

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the future.” He gestures vaguely. “Like, hobbies, or ideas for what you want to be. Do you have any dreams, Mob?”

“Not really.” Mob’s voice is toneless. “I’ve only ever thought about Claw.”

Shit. Reigen could smack himself right now. Of course the kid’s never thought about it. Reigen doubts he’s ever thought about anything but Claw and the past. “Ah— well, uh, that’s alright. Lots of people don’t know what they want to do. You’re still got plenty of time to figure it out.”

Mob’s face is utterly blank, “Wouldn’t the government try to stop me?”

“No, they—” Reigen stops. Is he really telling Mob this? Mob didn't need to know. Reigen could keep it under wraps—

Mum and Dad stopped talking to me for years over that lie.

…Shit. “Listen kid, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Yes?”

Sweat runs down his brow, he wipes it off. “The government wants me to be your observer. They want me to watch you, make sure you don’t blow up or if you do tell them so they can evacuate the surrounding area. They’re willing to let you go free if you learn to control it and don’t get involved with other psychics anymore.”

Black eyes stare at him silently, unreadable and Reigen’s mouth opens again, blazing forward even though none of the words make sense— “Kid if you’re uncomfortable with this I can leave. I’m basically stuck working with them now, but you don’t have to—”

“Reigen-san.” Mob cuts in. “I trust you.”

Oh.

No one’s ever said that to Reigen, not once, not ever. Reigen is a conman, his day job is getting people to cough up cash and his nights’ burning his self-esteem up in cigarettes. Reigen doesn’t even trust himself half the time and this kid says I trust you?

“Mob…” Reigen swallows. “You serious?”

“Yes.”

…Well shit. He better not disappoint then huh?

They slink back into warm silence, partly because Mob’s trying to finish up a stitch, and partly because Reigen’s still all kinds of stunned. It’s oddly peaceful, kid fixing his clothes as the sun streams in from the window. If you’d told him several weeks ago that he’ll be utterly comfortable next to a psychic murderer Reigen would have salt-splashed you.

“I think I’ll still have to fight Claw.” Mob says.

Knowing it wasn't going to last didn’t make it feel better. “Mob, you know you aren’t responsible for their actions right?”

Kid’s hands start picking at his bandages and Reigen frowns. “Claw was the one that tried to kidnap your family. Fighting them was never your responsibility in the first place.”

“They’ll come after me.”

“So we’ll leave it to the government or the JSDF. We don’t have to stay here." Reigen twists to face Mob properly. "Running away is okay, remember?”

Bandages being tightened. “If they fight Claw they’ll just get hurt.”

“They’re adults kid, it’s their job. They signed up knowing that.”

The hands still and Reigen suddenly realises what’s been building in the air. It’s heavy, powerful, rolls up from the floor planks and goes pass his knees. It makes his bones tremble in his flesh. Reigen might have mistaken it for the ‘other one’ if it wasn’t so bright.

Mob breathes out. “But I don’t want them to get hurt.”

“I don’t like fighting, and I don’t really have a dream… but I think there is something I want to do, Reigen-san.” Black hair flutters gently as if there’s a breeze. “I want to be better, and I want to change but I won’t be able to do that if Claw’s still here. I’ll have to keep on fighting.”

Mob turns to look at Reigen, and his eyes are alive, coloured the slightest shades of crimson and lit up from the inside like streetlamps on a dark dim night— “So I want to stop them, I don’t want them to hurt anyone else again.”

It’s the single longest thing Mob’s ever said to him and it goes against everything the government and logic dictates. A recipe for disaster, they’ll probably end up dying or getting tortured. Wasn't even going into the morals of letting a fourteen year old waltz onto a battlefield and take on a madman. Conclusion: bad shit all-around, Reigen should say no.

How the hell is he supposed to say no?

“…Okay.” He sighs. On a whim he wraps an arm around the kid’s small, small shoulders. He leaves it loose, and when Mob doesn’t flinch he gives it a light squeeze. “You’re a really good kid, you know?”

Mob ducks his head. “…I’m trying to be.”

God, this kid’s really going to kill him some day. “Well, you’re doing good, okay? You’re doing great.” He lets go. “Take care of yourself when you go after them, understand? Your health’s a priority first.”

Mob’s eyes are still bright when he responds. “Okay, Reigen-san.”

It’s then— because of course Claw has such perfect timing— that the television bursts with that spaceship thrusters-blender-dance-jig. His head snaps towards the screen to see a black and red figure standing there, right next to—

“Hello, prime minister. I’m from Claw, who announced our domination of the world previously.” The figure smiles cordially. “I’ve come to abduct you today.”

Oh for shit’s sake.

Teru rushes out from the kitchen, “Did I just hear— Is he from Claw?”

Reigen nods. The guards are running to surround the figure but they won’t be able to do anything against a psychic—

“Where’s he holding the speech?” Mob cuts in.

Teru blinks, tugs out his phone— “I can show you on the map—” the guards on screen have started shooting, whole crowd’s screaming— Teru points. “We’re here, and he’s way over there. But I’m not sure if it’s this building or the other one—”

Oh. Oh. “It’s this one.” He stabs at one of the largest rectangles on the screen, it’s his old university, knows the place like an extended relative— “Lecture Hall 1A. Biggest in the school, you can’t miss it—"

“Okay.”

“Wait!” Teru snatches a mask out of the closet. “Put this on—”

Mob grabs it and nods once, throws his hood over his face in a single motion, the furniture near him warps, the air twists inwards—

And Reigen turns to see Mob, face masked, standing right between the figure and the prime minister.

*

“Oh?”

56%

“I guess you’ll be Poison?”

Shigeo’s hands are starting to itch again. He focused on keeping the shield up instead. “Stop.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that.” The man’s eyes are wide and black— blind, he realises— “It’s nice to finally meet you, Poison-kun. I’ve heard much about you.”

Behind him he catches snippets of ‘Poison’ and ‘reinforcements’ from the guards’ murmurs. Shigeo would have to defeat him before they arrived, he didn’t want to fight anyone who wasn’t part of Claw—

“Always thought it’ll be fun to spar with you, rather unfortunate I’ve got a job today.” The man’s grin reminds him of a hyena’s laugh. “Maybe we can do this some other time?”

“You’re not abducting him.”

“Hah…” The man looks disappointed. His hands feel itchier. “You’re so predictable, Poison-kun.”

What?

“You’ve always appeared to oppose us. Always to save other people. Where’s the fun in that? It’s not like the world thinks you’re a hero, so why help them, Poison-kun?”

61%

Why?

It was a simple question. It was, except it had a hundred answers and Shigeo could never name all of them in time; The explosion, his powers, everyone he’d hurt and killed, his parents and Ritsu and Reigen-san, Hanazawa-kun, even Ekubo—

But in the end, the single, selfish little reason was because—

“I want to change.”

A hushed silence seemed to sweep across the room, Shigeo was suddenly aware of the cameras at the edges, the giant microphones hidden near the stage.

 “…You’re far more boring than I thought you would be.” The man frowned. “Maybe it won’t be that fun to fight you after all.”

“You’re not abducting him.” Shigeo repeated.

“Actions and words aren’t the same thing. I said you’re predictable didn’t I? We knew you were going to be here.”

His hands clenched reflexively.

“A little birdie told me you had some friends, Poison-kun. Sitting in a house somewhere nearby.” His grin is something sharp, coated in malice. “They might be feeling a bit hot by now.”

67%

Shigeo warped the shield into a spear, sending it flying against the man. The man laughed, barrier flickering up— Couldn’t catch him by surprise, didn’t knock him out— Shigeo has to stop him but there’s no time—

“Here’s our opening bid, Poison-kun, make your choice. I’ll even give you an extra little titbit—” The man disappeared— psychic energy, rip and pull— he whirls on an ankle to see the man placing a hand on the minister’s shoulder. “—you’re not the only one who can teleport.”

He disappears. Amidst the shouts of alarm, Shigeo can still feel the pull of energy. He could track the man, but Reigen and Hanazawa could be dead by now—

Shigeo grits his teeth and pulls.

*

The moment Mob appears, he lets out a blast that sends all five psychics into lala-land and whisks them right out of the raging fire. Reigen curses a long string of words-too-violent-to-be-named and tells the kids not to repeat any of that. Claw must have known they’d been there for days, if Ekubo hadn’t possessed Teru and pulled that barrier…

Yeah, he’s not getting any sleep tonight.

There’s no way they can stay after that, so he calls up Mitsuura and they hightail it out of the place. When they reach the safehouse, Mitsuura (in yet another suit that looks like it’d been forged in the flames of fashion hell) and the Seventh ex-Claw members meet them at the door. They compare notes, and just as they’re about to start discussing plans, Mob’s pocket starts shrieking the all-mighty banshee scream of his phone’s default tone.

Reigen’s going to pretend he wasn’t the only one who jumped.

Mob's face is expressionless when he picks it up. “…Suzuki-kun.”

...Did I hear that name right?

“Yes.” Mob continues. “There are other people with me, they want to stop Claw too.” A few more seconds pass before Mob switches to video call and makes it so the phone faces them. On it, there’s yet another child psycho from the friendly neighbourhood Claw Rebellion Club. There has got to be some hidden age-limit in there, he'll bet salt on it.

“You’re Poison’s spy?” Skunk-hair— what was it? Terada? Barks out. Suzuki raises an eyebrow.

“You're alive, how nice.” A hand runs through spiked-up red hair. “Suzuki Shou, leader behind Claw’s inner rebellion and Poison’s partner. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Suzuki?”

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” It’s not so much a smile as a baring of teeth. Kid sounds as friendly as a Great White. “Hate the guy.”

I don’t doubt it kid.

“The attack against you was done without my knowledge, so my dad must have already suspected or known about me.” Shou shifts to face Teru and Mob. “Sorry I couldn’t tell you about that. What I do know is that he’s holed up at Seasoning’s cultural tower with the prime minister and his best subordinates, the Ultimate Five. Some government agents managed to take one of them down and wreck some of the Scars, but, well, things didn’t go well.”

Mob’s hand clenches. “Ritsu?”

“Your bro’s fine, he was taken back by the government.” The way Shou’s eyes don’t blink is incredibly unnerving. Reigen wondered if espers could burn holes in people’s brains just by staring. “The Ultimates are dealing with the government forces, so my team’s planning to sneak into the tower and take my dad on directly. What are you planning to do?”

“We haven't decided.”

“Hm.” Shou’s eyes catch Reigen’s like daggers. “You’re Reigen right? Gotta talk to you for a sec. Alone.”

Deadly and rude. What a fun combination. Mob stares at Shou for a good minute before he hands it over to Reigen, who walks a pace away. “Yeah?”

“I lied, Ritsu’s with me.” Ah, shit. “He’s following us to fight my dad. Doesn’t know this conversation is happening by the way.”

“Shouldn’t he know Mob’s fighting Claw?”

“Mob? Is that what you’re calling him?” Shou chuckles. It’s not something you can call happy. “No, he thinks Shigeo isn’t fighting after that shit with Mogami, or at least wants me to keep him out of it. Point is, Ritsu didn’t see Shigeo with the minister back there.”

“…You want to keep Mob and Ritsu apart when we attack Claw.” Reigen follows.

“I think you’ll agree with me that it’s in our best interests, and theirs, to keep those two idiots apart.” Shou’s smile still isn’t pleasant. “Don’t need that emotional hellhole messing this up.”

You’re one to talk, you’re trying to kill your dad. “What do you propose then?

“Much as I hate to admit it, Shigeo’s still stronger than me, so how about this.” Shou leans forward. “Send Shigeo to fight my dad, and the rest of us will focus on picking off the Ultimates— act as decoys, basically. I’ll keep my team— and Ritsu— away from Shigeo’s path, and you make sure Shigeo doesn’t go anywhere stupid.”

It’s sound enough. If Reigen thinks pragmatically, it’s probably their best bet. Mob’s powerful, the kid could probably beat down any enemy, but sending him to stop the most powerful megalomaniac in Claw? The same Claw that indirectly led to that very first and very messed up explosion?

“So I want to stop them, I don’t want them to hurt anyone else again.”

He is absolutely going to regret this. “Alright. But you’ll need to let Teru in on this too.”

“Yeah, him.” Shou hums. “Sure, call him over.”

Teru agrees to the idea, albeit looking slightly uncomfortable with lying to Mob. Bringing the call back to the group after makes it worse, because Terada questions their ‘suspicious as fuck’ private conversation and Mob simply replied “You can trust them.”

God, it’s for his own good and it’s still making him feel guilty.

They spend the rest of the afternoon learning about the Ultimate Five and lying out plans. Teleporting was out of the picture; Mob would be overwhelmed by all the psychics swarming him in seconds and Reigen would rather not trigger the other thing, thanks. Instead, Mob would get to the tower through the sewers, while Shou’s team and their group fought Shimazaki and Minegishi respectively. Once their targets were down, they would go after Serizawa or the tower to remove Hatori. Regular updates were to be sent between the groups over phone, assuming everything didn’t go to shit.

The whole time, the television plays a background OST of military helicopters exploding mid-air and the JSDF being decimated by psychics. Reigen watches it all with a half-dazed sort of amazement and wonders for the hundredth time why he’s even doing this. Running headfirst into a psychic showdown goes against everything he’s ever prided himself in for the past thirty years; Cautious? No. Smart? No. Devious? Sure, if you counted hiding behind rubble and half-broken houses as devious. He’s basically doing the equivalent of throwing himself into the sword pit and he sure ain’t coming out the better for it.

He’s also, unfortunately, not the only one aware of this, because the morning of assault day, Mob says, “You can’t come with us, Reigen-san.”

“I’m not letting you head in there alone kid.” Reigen tugs on his jacket and tie because if he’s walking to his death then damn it, he’s going to do it well-dressed. Around them, the rest of the psychics are looking on like it’s a half-assed drama series.

“You’re not a psychic.” Mob continues.

“I’m not going to fight.”

“Kageyama-kun’s right, you’ll get hurt.” Teru agrees.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“You’re basically a burden Reigen. Come off it.” Ekubo deadpans next to him.

They’re ganging up on him, swell. “Look, I’ll stay on the sidelines, just let me handle communicating with Shou.”

Teru shakes his head. “There’s still the possibility that they’ll see and attack you. We can’t have that.”

“I’m the adult here, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

“We’re adults.” Katana— Sakurai, his name was Sakurai—says.

Don't think I haven't noticed you avoiding your veggies. “Sure. Look, I’ll keep myself hidden, Claw will probably be too focused on all of you to notice me anyway, it’ll be fine.”

He starts towards the door before they can respond, far too aware of the seconds ticking past. Shou’s group is probably already out there by now and— Mob steps in front of him.

“Reigen-san.”

“Mob, don’t try to argue with me—”

“Reigen-san.”

Something in his voice makes him stop. Something warm and understanding, like the kid knows exactly what he’s thinking. He looks down and sees Mob’s eyes have gone that brilliant shade of almost-crimson again— strong and bright and shining with determination—

There’s a smile on his face.

It’s nothing like the miniscule lift of lips from before. No, this one is— not big but it’s there, it’s clear as the sky and an open book, no reading of minute twitches and wrinkles needed. It’s an honest-to-god, completely genuine, simple little smile and it's the most real thing he’s seen in years.

And then if that wasn’t enough, Mob says, “You’re a good person Reigen-san.”

Reigen has to try his best not to just fucking cry right there, because no one’s ever told him that, and what the hell the real good person is you kid— but that’s not the point, because shit, shit, Reigen knows what this is—

“Mob, wait—" He tries to step forward and hits a barrier around his face, fuck what’s the kid going to do—

A bandaged hand stretches, and the pieces click.

Fuck!  “Hold on, don’t—"

Too late. Wind whips around him— World starts to twist— Reigen knows that pull in his stomach, tugging and tugging and tugging— No, dammit—

“Mob!”

In the last few seconds before he disappears, Mob’s smile turns a little sad.

“Thank you for everything.”

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

“Our little rebellion is being helmed by four middle-schoolers, a conman and a green snotball.” Shimazaki smirks. “It’s so cute. Do they really expect to win?”

“Shou should know better by now.”

“Your kid’s always been too stubborn for his own good.” Minegishi snaps the book in his hands shut. “How do you want to do this, Suzuki-san?”

“Focus on Poison.”

“Only Poison?”

“Shou is irrelevant; Poison is the one who’s powerful enough to block our goals.” Touichirou turns towards them from his place in front of the windows. “Hatori, stay in the tower and keep the helicopters and missiles away from us. The rest of you go after Poison.”

The order is met with various words of affirmation and a shuffle of feet down the staircase. Piercing blue locks onto the only one remaining in the room.

“Is something wrong, Serizawa?”

He jolts. “N-no, I’m very happy you gave me this opportunity president! I’m ready to prove myself!”

It’s hard not to sweat under the president’s gaze. By the time Touichirou nods, Serizawa’s certain the back of his clothes are drenched. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes! I’ll do my best!”

He shifts to face the staircase, grip tightening around the umbrella. Black T Poison, Seasoning city’s infamous psychic murderer. Claw’s long-time enemy, who took down bases like they were made of paper and decimated whole districts with barely a flick of a finger.

Who was barely even fifteen years old.

Serizawa shook his head and starts towards the stairs.

*

You could summarize Shou’s whole life as A Series of Unfortunate and Rather Traumatising Events, courtesy of his shitty dad. So when he sees Shigeo on the screen with the minister he damn near breaks the laptop in surprise. Shigeo’s actually fighting again, what the fuck. Whoever had gotten him out of that particular funk deserves a goddamn diamond medal.

He calls Shigeo afterwards and sets the whole thing out with Reigen. (Of all the people in the world, Shigeo chooses a fucking conman. Shou’s given up understanding the guy.) Honestly it kind of sucks that Joseph was out of commission. He’d done pretty well taking Shibata down, but then Serizawa had popped by and that’d basically been game over.

Nothing to do about it now, still got a circus to run. He rolls his shoulders and pulls at a kink in his neck. “You ready, Ritsu?”

“…Let’s just go.” Caustic as usual. Ritsu’s only got two modes; touch-my-nii-san-and-i-will-murder-you-hostile and just general low-key i-will-murder-you-hostile. It’s hilarious, Shou could push his buttons all day.

“Heh, right. Look alive troopers!” He grins. “We're hitting that final boss.”

His team gives him a collective look and starts forward with all the excitement of an army marching off a cliff. It’s surprisingly quiet, and the lack of corpses says the government at least managed an evacuation before everything went to hell. Shou appreciates the peace; no big psychic battles, no showboating with Claw members, heck, they even do a little civic duty here and there, save a few stragglers from the rubble where they can.

This nice state of affairs doesn’t last, of course.

“There you are.”

Worst ticket in the lottery. Shou swallows a curse in favour of a smirk. “Yo, Shimazaki.”

“Shou.” Eyes curved innocently. (Innocently, hah!) “Having fun with your play-rebellion? You shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you, you know.”

See, his dad has been surprisingly good at keeping the Ultimate Five a secret, so Shou’s only met Shimazaki like, three times. But the ass is such a special kind of condescending that he practically stomps all over Napoléon’s face. Guy could literally go down as one of history’s great narcissists. “Get off the high horse, we both know you don’t actually care about Claw.”

“You know me so well.” Shimazaki smirks “You’re right, I’m just here to have fun. Don’t suppose you’ll let me know where Poison is?”

Oh, he went there. Blue boils beside him as Ritsu hisses. “Don’t you dare.”

“Even more possessive than they say. And here I was hoping we could be friends.” The endless-sinkholes-for-eyes open up. What a freak. “Maybe you’ll change your mind after I rough you up.”

Shou bared his teeth and flared his aura. “Try it.”

*

“I think you made the right choice, Kageyama-kun. Reigen-san would have gotten injured if he’d stayed.”

Outside of an oversized sewer was not a good place for conversation, Shigeo reflected. Despite years of sneaking around and escorting people home, the chemicals-and-rot smell still made his stomach turn. Hanazawa didn’t look much better, cheeks going a little green.

“Do you still remember the route you should take?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The smile on Hanazawa’s face looked weighted down. “…I guess this is really it, huh?”

"...Yes.”

“…I’m still finding that hard to believe.” A soft chuckle. “It’s been so long.”

He nods. "It has."

Blue traced invisible patterns on the ground. “You know, Reigen-san told me something the other day.”

Shigeo blinks at him, and Hanazawa went on. “Nothing bad really, just—” He paused. “He gave me a lot to think about.”

Ah. He nods again. “Reigen-san is good at that.”

Eyes stared for a long moment before Hanazawa let out a weak laugh. “I suppose he is.”

Was he missing something again? He wished he could understand people better. This could be their last chance to speak, Claw killed so easily and Hanazawa was going off to fight one of their strongest—

“Kageyama-kun—”

“Shigeo.”

He blinks, looks up to find surprised blue eyes. The words had come unbidden out of his mouth, but it’d felt right. “Hanazawa-kun, can I call you Teruki?”

The eyes grew until they resembled a goldfish. Was it bad? “Of course! You can even call me Teru if you want— I’ll, ah, call you Shigeo?”

Shigeo nods and tests the name out. “Teru-kun.” He tilts his head. “I’m sorry, what were you going to say?”

Teru blinks rapidly. “Ah, right, yes. I was going to say something wasn’t I? I was—”

Teru’s eyes sobered suddenly, shoulders bunched up. He looked like he did back with Mogami, like the sky might have shattered any minute. “I was going to ask…” Teru takes a bracing breath. “Shigeo-kun, are you planning to come back from this fight?”

Oh.

“Yes.” Shigeo affirms, and was surprised to find it wasn’t a lie at all. “Yes, I am.”

Blue searches his gaze for a long, long time before Teru finally nods. “Okay. Please take care of yourself, Shigeo-kun.”

“You too, Teru-kun.”

A brilliant smile. “Of course.”

*

“Did that just happen.” Ekubo says from beside him.

“Why the hell are you here?"

“Did that actually just happen?”

Reigen clucked his tongue. “Did what just happen?”

“Shigeo.” Ekubo continues, face blank. “He smiled.”

If it was any other day, Reigen would have fervently agreed that this was very important news. Shigeo smiling was equivalent to having a cash tsunami crash into his office, except Claw had also sent a complimentary package of ticking time bombs, painted like yen for good measure. “Is now really the time to discuss this?”

“We can walk while talking. I thought Shigeo shagged his smiling muscles when he was a baby, how did that just happen?” Ekubo says, without actually walking or floating anywhere productive.

“Clearly they weren’t shagged. Look, why are you even here?”

“Good question.” He shrugs. “Most I can guess was that I was next to you, and his emotions were on the frizz, so when he tried to teleport you he got me too.”

Sounds about right, either way it doesn’t change the fact that he’s in god-knows-where while Shigeo’s off battling some loons whose plan basically surmounted to ‘murder anyone in our way’. He sighs and snatches his phone out, looking for the tower once he realises Shigeo’s gone and disabled his location. (Damnit kid.) It’s pretty far, and with all the buses and trains shut down around the area he’d have to run quite a bit, but if he starts now…

He loosens his tie and collar. “I’m going after Mob, you coming?”

Ekubo raises an eyebrow. “Really? After Shigeo literally sent you away like rabies.”

Shithead. “Yeah. I’m running.”

The barking laugh abruptly stops once Ekubo sees Reigen’s face. “Oh wait, you aren’t joking. Wow.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“Okay listen.” And Reigen has to blink at the sudden change in tone. Ekubo sounds almost concerned, did he switch dimensions while he wasn’t looking? “Are you sure about this? I wasn’t kidding about the burden thing.  You don’t have powers so you can’t defend yourself, and as much fun as it’ll be to watch you get killed Shigeo’s not gonna like that. He might end up trying to protect you more than himself, you'll probably just cause more problems by being there.”

“I’m aware.” Honestly, it’s funny how a few weeks has turned him from ‘tactical-retreat-extraordinaire’ to ‘throwing myself into a literal psychic minefield’ for this kid. What the fuck is he even doing? “Like I said, I’ll stick to the sidelines.”

“That’s the limpest excuse for a defence strategy I’ve ever heard in my afterlife. Seriously Reigen, you might die.”

“I know that,” He hisses. Has to fight back the thundering in his chest because what the fuck is he doing but they don’t have time— “I know I don’t have powers or anything, but I can’t just— I don’t know, sit around while Mob’s fighting for his life out there.”

Ekubo stares at him. “You’re gonna go no matter what I say, aren't you.”

“Yeah, look, we’re wasting time, so if you’re going to argue don’t bother—"

“Cool it, I know a lost cause when I see one.” He eyes Reigen’s legs in disgust. “Betcha haven’t touched exercise in at least ten years. Move over.”

“Wha-woah, wait!” Reigen whips some salt from his jacket and makes some vaguely threatening poses. Shitty spirit doesn’t even have the decency to look nervous. “I’m not letting you possess me!”

“You think you can just run there with those thighs? You’ll pull a muscle the moment you try. I’ll boost your endurance, so get with it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you won’t just take my body?”

“Thought you were at least smart.” Ekubo mumbles. “One, I don’t have a cult anymore, and you’re not exactly brimming with influence. Two, you’re sweaty as fuck, I don’t need to be smelling like salt every other hour. And three, Shigeo would exorcise me. You said we’re wasting time Reigen, make a decision already.”

He almost wishes the fartcloud’s lying, at least then he’ll have an excuse to punch the spirit’s face. He lets it go, because he’s mature like that and they’ve already dallied around way too long— “Alright, fine— you’re not gonna make me faint again, are you?”

Ekubo lifted a hand. “As long as you keep your mouth shut.”

“Could say the same about yo—" He froze as that familiar sinking aura poured through his skin. Shivers and blinks once, then three more times, surprised that he even could.

“There, not so bad right?” And there went the reins. Reigen decides he still hates it.

“Just get going.”

“Psh.” He could feel slime rolling his eyes. Gross. “Sure.”

They start running and as much as he hates to admit it, the green aura really does help cut the time in half . Around thirty minutes of the sun bearing down on his skin and lactic acid in his legs, he pauses to pant and check his phone, sweat running down his face. The tower’s not far now, he can see it looming over the buildings ahead.

“You feel anything?”

“Nah.” God, hearing someone use his voice is weird. “We should try the area near the sewer, that’s the route Shigeo was taking right?

“Yeah.” Reigen slipped the phone into his pocket. “Let’s do that.”

He feels his head nod (Ergh.) and turns to sprint, hoping against hope he won’t be too late.

*

Shou hasn’t answered in the past thirty minutes. Neither has Teru.

He tugs the bandages wound around his hands, wrenching and wrenching. Were they still alive? Were they alright? They were being his decoys, Claw’s strongest would come after them. What if they got injured? What if they were already dead—

Doesn’t realise how hard he’s pulling until pins and needles prickle his fingers. He loosens the cloth, presses nails into his skin. He’s almost at the end of the tunnel, if he hurries he can reach the tower and finally end this—

Someone’s there.

The aura flares in his direction and makes his fingers twitch. Strong and skilled. Saw him even with his aura was suppressed. Can’t hide from them, can’t sneak past them— Shigeo clenched his fist, he’ll have to fight—

Wait. He blinks and looks down at his hand. It’s… less sticky?

The aura grew closer, and he puts the thought aside in favour of climbing out of the sewer. The fresh air leads to a man whose hair reminds Shigeo of that one bird’s nest whose owner kept stealing his bandages. White flashes in his vision, and he catches sight of the umbrella in the man’s hand.

“Serizawa Katsuya, strongest of the Ultimates. Always carries an umbrella around for whatever reason. Guy’s a total pushover in personality but well…” Shou shrugged. “His powers are no joke.”

Better him than the others. Shigeo’s eyes narrowed as he loosened the strangle-hold in his chest.

“…You’re Poison?” Serizawa says.

He sounds shocked, Shigeo doesn’t get why. Doesn’t matter. He concentrates on letting blue flood through his veins, sits it right under his skin where it simmers and sends his hair flying up like slow, writhing snakes. He keeps one hand outstretched to his side, the moment Serizawa did anything—

“But… you’re so young.”

He nearly loses his grip on his aura. I— what?

Serizawa’s expression looks familiar. Why does it look familiar? “You’re…” He paused, shook his head. “…No. No, I have to do this for the president. Poison-kun,” He steps forward. “I’ll give you a choice. You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, but if you turn back now I won’t hurt you.”

77%

It feels like lava bubbling out of cracked seams, like fire digging into his throat and dropping it an octave. “Claw has caused a lot of trouble too. Do you think you’re right?”

Serizawa shuffles. “It’s for the sake of our goal. The president said world domination requires sacrifice.” Eyes flicker left and right. “Besides most of the people were already evacuated.”

Shigeo stared at him. “Does that make it right?”

“W-what do you mean?”

80%

“Most,” Shigeo starts, struggling not to think about broken buildings and bodies on the ground and red, red, red around too-still limbs— “Doesn’t mean all.”

The umbrella shivers. “Hey, could you please leave? If you don’t leave I’ll—"

81%

“Serizawa-san.” He cuts in a voice like knives, ribcage cold and empty. “You have helped kill people.”

Metal slams into his throat— he pulls himself into a halt mid-air and flips his palm so rubble and stone bursts upwards in a cage. Clenches it shut around Serizawa— only for violets and pinks to press cracks into the walls. It shatters in the next second, and as the shards fly outwards the umbrella rushes towards him from the left—

He ducks, throws himself backwards twice. Same pattern, large sweeps left, right, left, right— When the next one comes he drops and throws himself into Serizawa’s space, carries his left arm forward with the force of a missile and drives it into Serizawa’s stomach—

Concrete slams into his side and sends him flying into a wall.

What was— Shigeo pulls himself out of the rubble to see broken pillars floating mid-air. The pattern must have been on purpose, he realises. Serizawa had had those ready this entire time—

“This is your last chance, Poison-kun.” Serizawa says. “Leave, or you’ll get hurt.”

84%

There it was again, that look on Serizawa’s face. What was that? Why was he giving Shigeo a choice? The only person who had ever given Shigeo a choice was Reigen, but that didn’t make sense. Serizawa was Claw, wasn’t he?

Doesn’t matter. Shigeo had come here for a reason. “I have to stop you.”

Serizawa’s face hardens and violet begins to pool around him. Shigeo sees it ebb and flow around the umbrella, his core, he realises. That was it, if Shigeo could just get rid of that—

He gathers his aura and sets it ablaze, sees Serizawa’s eyes widen and focus on the flaring blues and pinks. Shigeo bends his knees and— carefully, discretely— pushes some aura into the ground so it snakes towards Serizawa. He blasts off the earth, whips around flung violet energy balls all while keeping his aura flared—pulls into a stop and shield when a whole barrage slams into him, but his underground aura is almost—

There!

Blue snaps out of the ground and winds around the umbrella— he reaches and yanks—

It flies— He’s powerless now, Shigeo could—

Serizawa lets out a panicked scream.

Shigeo froze. So loud, high, fear and horror just like— theirs, when he had taken a single step and the city around him had shattered, when the earth had broken beneath his grasp and the sky had yawned so terribly, terribly wide—

Pain arched through his chest and he snaps awake— yanks a shield up, trying to breath between the iron and red suddenly lacing his hands again. Violet and pink battered against his shield, Serizawa’s completely out of control— Shigeo could turn that aberrant energy against him but the screaming was—

Too late. Umbrella was back in Serizawa’s grip. The violet dies down, Serizawa still panting in its wake.

Neither of them move. It’s hard to breath. He pulls in gasps of air like he’s drowning beneath a sea. Shigeo feels sick, but that doesn’t matter. He needs to stop Serizawa, Shigeo knows he hasn’t used his full strength yet. If he wants to end this soon he’ll have to use teleportation—

By chance, he looks up to catch Serizawa’s eyes across the torn-up street. They’re nervous and frantic, but what he really sees is—

Hatred.

Not at Shigeo no. Hatred, at himself.

This is wrong. Shigeo thought suddenly. We shouldn’t be fighting.

Hatred was as old a companion to Shigeo as the red on his hands. He knew it like he knew the scar on his face and the locks in his chest, like the memories he parsed over every night in familiar, well-deserved nightmares— Shigeo knew that look, understood that look, and Serizawa had given him a chance to leave—

He has to stop Claw. If he wants them to never hurt anyone else again he has to take them down. He knows that, he has to fight Serizawa, but it doesn’t stop his stomach from twisting because Serizawa is just like him and he doesn’t want to fight—

…But did they really have to?

Reigen had stopped Seventh just by talking, hadn’t he? What if Shigeo did that too? If he tried to talk Serizawa down— He wasn’t good at words and he didn’t even know where to start but if he could—

He’s starting to move— hurry, say something— “Why are you helping Claw, Serizawa-san?”

The umbrella pauses in its ascent. A blink. “The president helped me.”

“Helped you?”

“...For a long time I couldn’t control my powers.” Serizawa’s gaze seems to turn inwards. “I always got nervous around other people, so whenever anyone came close they’ll just… lash out, and I’ll end up hurting them.” His shoulders slumped. “I tried for years and I could never control them, I just kept hurting people. I mean, I even hurt my own mother. What kind of person does that?

89%

He laughed nervously. “Eventually I got so scared I couldn’t even come out of my room. What was the point if I was just going to hurt others right? That’s when the president appeared. He showed me he was a psychic, told me there were others too. He gave me this umbrella to remind me that I could be in control.” Serizawa’s fingers clenched around the handle. “He saved me, he helped me become part of this world again.”

“No.” Shigeo whispered. His chest ached. “You’re further than you’ve ever been.”

Serizawa looked at him with a painfully fragile gaze.

“Claw isn’t trying to become part of society, they’re trying to dominate it. They hurt and kill others so they can force their way on people.” He had to tell him. He had to make him understand. They were the same. “Your president is just using you.”

Fingers shaking on the umbrella, nervous smile across his face. “…I shouldn’t be listening to you, you’re Claw’s enemy.”

“People aren’t going to accept Claw. I know. I’ve seen it.” He steps forward. “Claw has kidnapped hundreds, has torn apart friends and families. Claw has killed, and it will kill, and it will keep on killing. How can anyone accept that Serizawa-san?”

“I shouldn’t be listening to you—”

“If you keep going like this,” Shigeo breaths. “No one will ever accept you.”

“Stop saying that! Don’t you understand?” Serizawa whipped a hand through the air, violets and pinks collecting into a brilliant sphere. “No one else has these powers! If we’re around people we’ll just hurt them! At least in Claw they understand. More than that, they could stop us! No one would hate us or blame us, and we wouldn’t hurt anyone— Don’t you understand that?”

95%

“I do understand. That’s why I know it’s wrong.” He fought the gale-force winds pushing him back, voice pitching higher and higher— “You’re just like me. I’ve hurt people too, I’ve killed people. But Claw won’t help you, they’re just force you to keep hurting everyone else—”

“No, I’m not going to liste—"

“I was scared too! I kept pushing people away because I didn’t know if I would hurt them, but Reigen-san and Teru-kun— they’ve helped me become better. Claw won’t help you become better, Serizawa-san—”

“Stop saying that! The president saved me, I won’t go back on my word!”

“But he doesn’t care about you!”

Serizawa sucked in a hurt breath.

Every word Serizawa had said made his throat burn, every sentence was something Shigeo had asked himself. His chest feels like it’s being stabbed, his words come out wobbly and choked but no less true— “We’re exactly the same, Serizawa-san. They want you to hurt people, but you don’t want to hurt anyone. You already know this is wrong, don’t you?”

“Don’t say anymore!” Serizawa yells, and the energy ball that had been building this entire time explodes from his umbrella. It shoots towards him, faster and faster— but that didn’t matter, because Serizawa was just like him and the burning in his chest reaches its peak as he opens his mouth and shouts over the boom of the wind—

“If you don’t have anyone, I’ll be your friend, Serizawa-san!”

100% Friendship

Emotions. Sadness, fear, anxiety— all of it. He saw cramped rooms and fearful looks, red on his hands and that horrible aching thought that no one would ever help him, would ever save him, that he could only hurt others. He saw it all through unfamiliar eyes, had thought it himself a hundred times.

Just like me.

“Did you… turn my energy into your own?” Serizawa whispers, eyes wide. The umbrella held in his hand like an afterthought.

“No.” Shigeo murmurs. He rolls the violets and pinks into a simple sphere, aware that his own blue was flowing in, turning it a warm calm purple. Shigeo extends his hand outwards in front of him. “You can have it back, Serizawa-san.”

And when it hits him, Serizawa’s eyes widen in realisation.

*

“Are you sure you’re really…?”

Shigeo nods. “I’m okay.”

A relieved sigh. “I’m sorry, Poison-kun—”

“Shigeo.”

“What?”

“My name.” He explained, “Kageyama Shigeo.”

“Oh. Ah, if it’s okay then…”

They’re sitting on the edge of a devastated wall, surrounded by sharp spires and rubble left behind by their attacks. He clasps one hand over the other, fingers teasing the bandages but he doesn’t feel the urge to pull. The smell of iron wasn’t so strong now, more like a dying cat’s whimper than a lion’s scream. His hands weren’t even all that itchy.

"I’m sorry.” Serizawa’s hands tighten on the umbrella. “I’ve done so many horrible things.”

“…You can change.”

Serizawa’s smile was bitter. “If I hadn’t seen your thoughts I would never have believed that. That’s what you did right? You put your emotions and memories in there and gave it to me.”

Did he? Shigeo didn’t know. Serizawa continued when he didn’t say anything. “You showed me a lot, Shigeo-kun. The nightmares and the bandages and the accident—” He pauses, looks at Shigeo. “I— you really understand, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

A pause and a bitter smile. “I wish I was as brave as you. To keep living after all that… it’s difficult.”

“I’m not brave.”

“You’ve fought us alone for years, you’ve saved countless lives.” His voice was kind. “I’ll say that’s plenty brave, Shigeo-kun."

“It’s just something I have to do.”

“...No, I don’t think I believe that. You’re a better person than that.”

Shigeo's heart shivers in his chest.

“…I think,” Serizawa starts, “that for people like us, it’s really hard to believe those words. We’ve hurt so many people, and sometimes it all just comes back. Sometimes we can only think about how much we've done, how the past can’t be changed. And then it seems so much better to just… leave, doesn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

They lapse back into silence. Shigeo tugs at cloth, pulls it in, out, in, out— It’s so easy to slip into those thoughts, so simple. Even back at Seventh, if Reigen and Hanazawa hadn’t been there—

Shigeo had lied, he knew exactly what he would have done. The only reason he had made it was because he still had them.

“Serizawa-san?”

“Yes?”

Shigeo pulls at his bandages, tries not to fidget on the wall— He still has people, but Serizawa doesn’t— “Do you want to become better together? As friends.”

“You would do that?”

“I want to be your friend." Shigeo says firmly.

Serizawa’s eyes flicker away and back, like he can’t quite believe Shigeo exists. The voice that comes out is shaky, nervous, utterly full of gratitude. “Thank you, Shigeo-kun.”

He ducks his head when he feels his cheeks warm. He gets off the wall instead, fiddles with his bandages and tugs them in properly so they stay tight. “I should go.”

“To the president?”

When he nods, Serizawa hesitates. His expressions runs through various emotions, like a battlefield across eyes and wrinkles. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I could help you—"

He shook his head. “I never expected you to.”

Serizawa stares at him again, face collapsing a little. Shigeo’s not sure what he did. “You’re really too kind, Shigeo-kun.” Serizawa’s hands tighten on the umbrella again. “The president is at the top of the cultural tower, Hatori’s on the second floor. He has some armed drones with him.”

He almost wants to apologise, but for some reason he’s sure Serizawa will just look sadder. He nods, starts to leave—

“Shigeo-kun?” He pauses. Serizawa’s standing up, brows drawn upwards and close. Worry. He thinks. Like Reigen-san. “Please be careful.”

There is a wealth of words under that sentence, but for once, it isn't so hard to understand. Serizawa really is like him, they've barely even met for a few minutes, and he could already read what Reigen and Hanazawa had.

Shigeo nods. “I’ll come back.”

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

The first rule of fighting is simple, easy, as obvious as two plus two equals four. Teru learnt it a hundred years ago, could recite it up and down, forwards and backwards, upside down if you so wished. The first rule is only three words;

 Don’t get distracted.

Shigeo-kun’s going to the tower alone— what if he meets an Ultimate? What if he gets injured on the way? What if he’s defeated? Or loses control? What if he doesn’t come back—

Teru is very distracted.

So it’s honestly a relief that the Seventh division members are with him, because when he tries to tear a stretch of venus flytraps in two and fails, Sakurai’s there to slash right through the vines with a length of rebar. He pulls himself back as Mukai’s dolls and Muraki’s clones jump in, pulls oxygen from the air just in case—

An explosion shrieks out from beneath the dolls and clones. Brilliant lavender hair, coupled with the most drab set of clothing Teru’s ever seen in his life (All that lost potential, good god.) appears from between squirming plants and shatters them apart. The energy ball Takeuchi hurls carves a hole in the vines but it’s not enough, so Teru shoves forward, sparks igniting from his fingers—

The plants rupture into fire.

They’re open! And he’s not the only one who sees this. Terada digs his whips into Minegishi’s ankles and Teru sees his muscles strain, strain, yank—

Minegishi hits a wall, broken beams and debris falling over them. Teru lets out a low heave. It’s working, Minegishi might be strong but against all of them they’re getting cornered—

Doesn’t change the fact that Shigeo isn’t here, that he’s heading to the tower by himself—

“You can’t put him on a pedestal like that.”

He grits his teeth and yells “You know you can’t keep this up! This is futile, let us go.”

The psychics from Seventh shoot him a collective look of disbelief before green bursts through concrete again. Minegishi stands as the core of the writhing green beast, eyes incensed.

“Unfortunately the president would kill me, so I’ll have to turn you down.” Minegishi’s voice is resigned. “Why even ask? Surely you knew I’ll say no.”

Teru drops into a stance. “Poison-kun would have given you a choice.”

“…You want to go after him.” Minegishi discerns.

How had they— No, it didn’t matter, what did matter was that it meant Minegishi was observant, perceptive and therefore dangerous. Can’t get hasty. He slides his foot back, lifts oxygen around his fingers to ready another blow—

“How foolish.”

Excuse me?

“Worrying about Poison will only set you up for disappointment.” Minegishi steps forward. “Do you honestly think he cares for you?”

What was he trying to get at? “Of course he does. Poison-kun cares about everyone.”

“But you?” Eyes stare him down. “Just who are you to him?”

A good friend, Teru wants to say.

The silence stretches on for too long. Minegishi shakes their head. “Look, take it from me kid. You better throw that admiration away now or you’ll end up self-destructing.”

“And you would know this how?”

“Because I was like you.” They start. “I followed the president because he had a vision, because he said he could give me a purpose in life. He told us that we were the only people in the world he could trust.”

The plants around them tremble. “The president was the first person that ever cared about me.”

Teru suppresses a shiver.

“He was lying, of course. What he did back then… We’re just tools to him, he doesn’t actually give a damn about anyone.” An acrid smirk paints itself across Minegishi’s face. “I should have known better, and so should you.”

“Don’t do that to yourself.”

Why do I keep thinking of that?  “You don’t know Poison-kun, he’s my friend—”

“No, but he’s like the president, isn’t he? Overwhelmingly powerful, nigh-impossible to compare to, so strong that they don’t actually need anyone’s support, and therefore distant.” They tilt their head. “This should sound familiar to you.”

Dead eyes and deader voices, empty rejections to offers of support—

Shigeo had been cold when he'd started trying to help. That had been okay, Teru was used to that. (He’d still entertained Teru’s demands, hadn’t reproached him like his parents had.) It didn’t matter, Shigeo was accepting his help now so why is he listening—

“People like that don’t trust anyone. Especially those who admire them. You say you’re his friend.” Hard eyes lock onto Teru’s. “How can you be if he doesn’t truly trust you?”

Why am I still listening? He shoves yellow into the ground, rips and tears and pulls— the ground comes apart and hurls itself at Minegishi. Seventh supports him with psychic blasts and thrown rebar. They hit green and tear holes in the vines— only for leaves to knit themselves over the wounds. Fine, so be it, he’ll take it down with fire again—

Tarmac shatters and plants burst out beneath his feet. Teeth made of fibres and thorns dig into his arms. He holds back a scream, feels his energy start to leak away before Muraki’s clones rip into it and throw him aside. Teru barely manages to tuck and roll, dragging fingers-turned-yellow-claws across the ground to pull into a hasty stop. He blinks sawdust out of his eyes, sees how Minegishi’s face has turned pale—

An endurance battle. Teru realises. They’re running out of reserves against us. We just have to keep attacking until they’re out—

“I’m telling you this for your own good kid.” Minegishi holds one hand open. “Stop following Poison around like that. It won’t lead to anything.”

“Don’t do this to yourself.”

Again with those words, just saying it like that like it’s easy. Teru’s not blind, he knows he’s like this because Shigeo’s the first person to care about him. No one has ever cared about him before, he doesn’t have anything else left, don’t they understand that?

(But how much can he help?  Shigeo’s already so strong, and if that appears— there’s nothing Teru can do to stop it. He can’t protect anyone from it like he knows Shigeo wants—)

“Don’t put him on a pedestal like that”.

How?  Shigeo was so kind, someone who had been through hell and back and faced so much more loneliness and solitude than Teru ever had and still he hadn’t become selfish like Teru. He wasn’t arrogant, he didn’t abuse others with his powers, he didn’t even act like he was superior and— Teru was pathetic. Shigeo never let anything affect him—

Never?

Is that really true?

Bandages and the torn up clothes. How he never bothers with anything that isn’t Claw. Teru has found Shigeo sitting alarmingly close to edges far too many times—

God, was he really thinking about this?

Shouts catch his attention, he jumps back to avoid the flood of unidentifiable teeth and sharp maws— Something slams into his side, rush of green brings him flying up to Minegishi’s face—

Eyes narrow at them. “You’ve realised it too, haven’t you?”

Realised? Realised what?

“Mob’s human and so are you. We’ve all got our flaws.”

The nightmares and black-hole-eyes mean something, he’s seen it before somewhere, but where—

“What are you doing?”

It smells like salt-tang steel against rusted blues. Poison looks back at him, standing too close to the edge. The sea beneath him has black writhing snakes for waves. Rain plasters black hair to a pale face.

Poison is silent.

“Hey! What are you doing?” He hisses. Why is his heart thundering in his chest? “You have to fight me!”

“I don’t.”

“You do!”

“No.” Poison’s voice is empty. “I won’t.”

Teru shoves back the ice going down his spine. This can’t happen. This isn’t supposed to be, Poison is the villain and villains don’t do this— “I-is this about that thing—”

Something flashes behind Poison’s eyes, he takes a step back—

“Stop!” Yellow reacts before he thinks, wraps around Poison but he knows blue can break it easily— “Why are you doing this?”

“…I’ve hurt people, Hanazawa-kun.” Poison whispers.

“So? You’re saving people now right?” The words tumble out, panicked, so uncharacteristic of him but he doesn’t know what to say— “Didn’t you save some guys the other day? And Onigawara too— You still have to fight me, you can’t do this!”

Poison stares at him silently. His eyes are unreadable. Water trickles down past Teru’s temple, he tries not to shiver in the wind.

“Let go.”

“I won’t—”

“Let go.” Poison says quietly. “I’m not going to do anything.”

Teru stares. Yellow loosens. Poison steps down from the steel beams of the bridge. His face is covered by black bangs when he walks past.

The look on Poison’s face makes Teru want to sink.

“It wouldn’t let me anyway.”

That look…

How had Teru forgotten about that look?

Teru had hid that with pride and superiority. Shigeo had hid it with atonement. Where Teru had fought and conquered and dominated others, Shigeo had saved and rescued and murdered himself. It was still better than Teru, and he was sure it did come from that truly kind place in Shigeo’s heart but all that meant was that Shigeo was—

Just like me?

The thought makes the yellow in his chest surge, roars through his veins and fingers, reaches his skin and bursts out of his hands where he sets it ablaze—

The plants around him burn. Minegishi curses and lets go. Teru throws himself backwards, path freed by energy balls and lightning beams as Seventh clears the way of green, some part of him registers the fire is wilder, stronger. He grabs yellow with one hand, flips his palm and twists—

Sends it all down into earth, where it burns and scalds the roots within.

Half the plants go up in flames and Minegishi sucks in a hurt breath. Teru hears more than sees Sakurai’s slashes and Tsuchiya’s blows. Cracks of wood, clones disappearing, plants dying one by one by one— He takes everything he has left and pulls it back into a single solid punch—

Minegishi gasps suddenly and wavers on their feet—

Teru pauses. The plants around them brown as Minegishi pants. They've got nothing left, aura little more than a gentle breeze.

“Surrender, Minegishi-san.”

“You say that like it’s a choice.” They look pointedly at the fire in Teru’s hand. “Seemed like you were thinking back there. Figured it out?”

“…Yes.” Teru lets the flames die, dropping his arm. “I did.”

“And?”

“…You might be right, Poison-kun doesn’t trust me because he’s too strong.”

“Then you understand, kid.” Minegishi hisses as they brace a hand against one knee. “You shouldn’t care about someone like that.”

“No.”

The word cut through the battlefield like a lightning bolt. Teru breaths in, trying not to think about lonely houses and lonelier rooms. “Poison-kun isn’t the same as your president. I still think he’s a good person, but this isn’t about him not trusting me, or using me like the president did you.” Teru shakes his head. “This is about him being scared of himself, hating himself. Because no one is strong enough to stop him if he loses control.”

He traces the ground with his eyes. “He’s right to be scared. I couldn’t stop him, no one can. The only person who would be able is himself. And I want to help him do that, to get better. But I’m not going to do it for him.”

“You asked me what he is to me?” Teru steps forward and glares at Minegishi. “He’s my rival. I’ll become someone he can strive to be.”

Minegishi stares for a long, long time, "That's your answer?”

"Yes."

Their eyes continue to stare until a single, sardonic chuckle breaks the quiet. Aura dissipates as they slide down to the broken floor. "Hell, what kind of answer is that?"

Teru keeps his eyes on theirs, challenging. "It's my answer."

Minegishi lets out a dry laugh. “You win kid. I surrender.”

*

Something is wrong.

It’d started the moment he’d left Serizawa’s side, curls thick and heavy in the back of his mind like a python’s hiss; something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

Teru had messaged him, had said he was on the way.

Shou has not.

Sends his hackles rising right up to his neck. Shou wasn’t quite a friend, no, but Shigeo had known him for years. The idea of finding Shou dead, of finding unseeing eyes— His steps hasten towards the tower, he has to hurry—

He stops.

It’s like the far-away aftershocks of an earthquake, a lick of black-red against his mind. Whoever it is they’re strong, possibly as powerful as Serizawa. He squeezes a palm, knows he doesn’t have time but something is wrong, so he closes his eyes, uses blue to reach and sees—

The large aura. Three smaller ones, (Shou’s teammates, he vaguely recognises.) two others— Shou and—

93%

Shigeo wrenches blue and moves—

Right in front of Shimazaki to slam him across the earth.

He doesn’t look. Doesn’t dare turn when he hears a half-strangled cough from the person Shimazaki had in a stranglehold. Across him, he registers a shock of red hair laid face down on the ground, three other figures next to him.

The person behind him coughs again. Shigeo doesn’t breath. Has to hold down his aura so it doesn’t burst out and scream at Shimazaki. His neck feels frozen, he can’t tell if he’s terrified or angry—

“Why are you here?” Ritsu whispers behind him.

Shigeo doesn’t answer.

*

If the city looks like it’s been put through a fruit blender, then the area near the sewer is the end result of a fucking industrial wood chipper. Place has clearly seen some shit, what with all the rubble, torn up pillars and skeletons of buildings scattered everywhere. Just needs a sprinkle of detached ligaments and it’ll had looked right out of an full-out armageddon movie.

There’s also a guy sitting casually on some rubble. Reigen recognises him as Serizawa Katsuya, (Shou hadn't been pulling their leg about the umbrella.) who’s oh, you know, only the strongest Claw member right after the president.

His luck's just amazing today, isn't it?

Ekubo hisses at him— What the fuck are you standing around for— and rips control from Reigen, moving to duck them behind a pillar—

“Y-you don’t have to, I’m not going to fight you.”

 Soft-spoken. Nervous, even. Reigen’s immediately reminded of that fun little meeting with Mob back in that first abandoned building. Good times. “You’re um, Reigen-san right? Shigeo-kun showed me.”

Showed him? What’d they do, exchange family albums while singing ‘Hakuna Matata’ over the burning city? Ekubo’s face has gone deadpan, and Reigen takes hold of his mouth. “How do I know you won’t attack me?”

“I-I won’t! Shigeo-kun, he, um… He changed my mind. Oh but that doesn’t really give you any proof either…”

Damn, Shou wasn’t kidding about this guy. Reigen steps out from behind the pillar, taking in the nervous stutters and shivers until Serizawa finally notices. “Oh! Um… Are you being possessed?”

“…Okay, gonna go out on a limb here and assume you’re not faking.” Reigen walks over, keeping an eye on the umbrella. “Yeah, I’m possessed, don’t worry about it. I’m guessing you and Mob fought?”

“Mob?”

“Shigeo’s nickname.” Reigen waves aside. “So?”

Serizawa stares at his cheeks for a long time before he jolts and looks away. “N-not fought exactly…” Eyes flicker left and right before his shoulders slump down. “I did most of the fighting actually, but he talked me out of it.”

Shigeo did what now? Ekubo says in his head.

“He talked you out of it?”

“Yes. He said we were similar… I think we became friends?”

Reigen considers this and very carefully observes the utterly decimated landscape around him. He turns back to Serizawa. “Friends.”

Serizawa nods, not quite looking at him.

When this is over, I really need to sit Mob down and tell him people don’t usually try to kill each other before they become friends. “Okay, where’s he then?”

“He left, he was heading to the tower to fight the president.”

“Shit.” Reigen whips out his phone to check the location. His legs are still aching but they don’t have time—

“You’re going?”

He blinks, looks back at Serizawa. “Yeah? Why?”

Serizawa’s squinting at him. “But you don’t have powers.”

“Does that matter?” He barks out. “Mob’s my kid.”

…Wait.

And now Ekubo’s snickering at him. Fan-fucking-tastic. He rubs a hand over his face. “Look, you said you’re Mob’s friend now right? Are you coming?”

 “I, uh, well—” Serizawa twiddles his fingers over his umbrella. “I want to, but—” He shifts.

Reigen takes what patience he has left and squeezes it very, very tightly. If he could just get him to help… “But?”

Serizawa shuffles uncomfortably in place, and Reigen is violently reminded of small, skittish critters. Is this guy seriously an Ultimate? “I know that Claw and the president did horrible things, and I don’t want him to hurt anyone either. But he… I owe him a lot, I can’t just..”

Reigen’s first reaction is honestly to start swearing up and down because who cares, your president fucking murders people. Instead, he holds his words for three good long seconds. Doesn’t know Serizawa’s story, yelling’s not the way to go with the one guy that might actually be able to do something against Claw’s leader— “You don’t have to fight the president.”

“I— what?

“You don’t have to fight him. Look,” Reigen gestures with a hand. “You don’t want him to hurt anyone right? Then just protect everyone else. Help them get away or something. You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.”

Serizawa blinks at him. “…Oh.”

“Yeah.” Reigen nods. “You think you can do that?”

“I— yes.” Serizawa nods once, then more firmly. “Yes, I can. I’m sorry for delaying you Reigen-san, can I come along?”

Bingo. Reigen grins and pointedly ignores Ekubo’s wow this guy’s a loser. A win’s a win, dammit, and Reigen will count all his goddamn chickens. “Let’s get going.”

*

Twist of threads and the whirl of reality, a hole rips itself into the air— He shoots forward a second before Shimazaki appears, reaches out blue to paralyze him in place—

“I see you’ve taken to it well.”

Shimazaki disappears and reappears across the street. There is a grin on his face. There is a grin on his face.

95%

Shigeo sends rebar at him and he teleports again. Appears right behind Shigeo so there’s no time to turn. Doesn’t matter, he snatches Shimazaki’s fist with blue and starts to twist—

Nothing. Shigeo shifts his head to the right and stares him down with one eye. “Don’t touch Ritsu.”

The grin falters before it’s wrenched up again. “Protective, aren’t you? Funny considering your backstory.”

He can barely even hear the words over the roar in his head, hands feeling like they’ve been plunged in slick wet. For all his words, Shimazaki is still tense, nonexistent red slicking down his face—

Wait. Shigeo blinks. Shimazaki is actually scuffed up, blood dripping from his nose and a spilt lip. Red and black eyes open, almost as if in reaction to Shigeo’s gaze.

“Your little brother and friend did try their best, but you’re far more entertaining.” Air wavers and pulls—

Shigeo snaps blue behind him again, only for Shimazaki to teleport to his front and drive a punch into his cheek. Grabs Shigeo’s hair and throws him towards the sky. No time to straighten, another attack’s coming— he picks a spot as Shimazaki’s red aura swirls behind him and moves—

Shimazaki raises an eyebrow. “You really have mastered it quickly, but—”

Twist in the sky, right above him—

He throws himself sideways, and a whole car comes falling out where he used to stand. Teleportation on objects, he thinks—

“There’s more to teleportation than just that.” Too close! Can’t pull fast enough— Hard kick into his side—

He flies through the air and hits wall and rubble that hadn’t been there a second ago. Turns himself upright only to have to duck a group of pillars slicing through the air. A hole opens up above him again, tries to dodge to the right—

Shimazaki’s fist slams into his abdomen with all the force of a hurricane.

Shigeo chokes— feels it shudder through his abdomen— Can’t breath— Can’t—

I’ve never actually breathed in these fights anyway.

So he grabs Shimazaki’s torso and slings him into some buildings. Feels him pull again, tugging at the threads of reality—

Shigeo snatches red in blue, and shatters their grip on the strings.

Black-red eyes whip towards him in shock as the building around him falls. Shigeo compresses it, grabs more and more from the ground— the pillars, beams, broken tarmac and concrete— and slams it all into Shimazaki. He hears a pained gasp and lets go—

Shimazaki teleports out of the rubble, and Shigeo readies his aura again—

Only for Shimazaki to not attack.

Instead, he stands very still and hisses, one hand held over one arm. It’s misshapen, a clear break in the limb that makes Shigeo press his nails into his palm. Shimazaki struggles on a smirk as he opens his mouth—

“That’s enough.”

Shigeo’s head shoots to the left. Teru is standing there, and the tension he hadn’t even known was in his shoulders releases. He’d seen the message, but compared to actually seeing that he was okay…

Not quite okay. There’s blood staining one of his sleeves and stray cuts all over his legs. Teru looks wrung out, even with the yellow still dancing around his hand. Behind him, the rest of Seventh looks just as battered. “Give up now.”

Shimazaki’s smile is strained. “You just keep coming out of the woodwork, don’t you? Fine, we’ll see who’s stronger—"

“You can’t actually think you can win this.” Sakurai cuts in. “Your arm is broken, there are eight of us here, and Poison’s already learnt to cancel your teleportation. Ultimate or not, the odds are against you.”

“Strong boast, for someone who can barely stand.” Shimazaki says, except he’s stepping back from them, clutching his side.

“Poison-kun hasn’t even used his full strength yet.” Teru continues. “You can’t win.”

Black-red eyes glare at them and the threads start to warp again. He feels his own narrow and allows his aura to simmer, growling like a heavy leviathan under his skin. Shigeo knows everyone can feel it; the way their eyes shift towards him, the way they watch his fingers twitch. It makes the iron in his throat crawl upwards and paints his tongue red.

It stays like that for three severe seconds.

Shimazaki laughs and raises both hands. “Alright, I give up.”

There’s a beat.

“Wait, for real?” Terada blurts out.

“Sure. No point fighting anymore.”

“Aren’t you part of the Ultimate Five? Shouldn’t you care more?”

“Care? Nah, course not. That’s what I never got about you guys.” A casual grin. “You can’t actually believe in that world-domination nonsense right? It’ll never fly.”

“But that’s the whole point of being in Claw!”

“Both naïve and stupid. Guess I shouldn’t have expected so much from a bunch of weaklings.”

The whole division of Seventh bristles at the words. Teru holds out an arm to stop them. “Then why are you part of it? Surely there’s a reason.”

“Course there is.” Shimazaki shrugs. “I’m just here to have fun.”

97%

“Fun?”

The growl burns into a roar. He sees broken bodies, torn limbs, jail cells and devastated families. Teru and Shou are injured, everyone is injured, and Ritsu has been strangled—

"How many people have you hurt?”

Sweat runs down Shimazaki’s cheek. “You’re surprisingly hung up about this, Poison—”

98%

Shimazaki stops talking. Around him, the figures seem to freeze. All he can focus on is the snakes in his flesh, wanting oh so dearly to tear this man apart—

“You have hurt people.” Shigeo starts, voice sounding very far away. “You have injured, blinded, tortured and maimed. You have caused grief and destruction for hundreds. You chose to do this, by your own free will.”

"Do you understand what you've done, Shimazaki-san? That you have killed people?”

Red-black widens, threads of reality start to rip and pull—

99%

He doesn’t know what happens next. Only that one second he’s standing there, and the next he’s slamming Shimazaki’s throat into the ground.

“You didn’t answer me.”

His voice is utterly calm. He’s pressing nails into Shimazaki’s skin. It’s going red like the smell in the air and the metal rust leaking into his eyes. Shigeo can’t see. Can only think about all those families and all those people crying and missing arms and hands and eyes—

"Was that all just a joke?"

Black-red is wide. Strangled noises from his throat. Pulse fights back uselessly under his fingers. He’s not answering, he’s still not answering, Shigeo won’t allow it—

A hand lands on his shoulder. “Shigeo-kun.”

Shimazaki isn’t answering.

“Shigeo-kun, let him go. He’s had enough.”

No. He hasn’t. He’s hurt so many people. He’s hurt Ritsu—

“Shigeo-kun.”

Teru-kun. Some insignificant part of his brain registers.

Blue eyes swim into his vision. “This isn’t who you want to be.”

Who he wants to be?

What does he mean who he wants to be—

I want to be a better person.

He recoils. Iron abates around him. I—

He suddenly became aware of how purple Shimazaki’s neck had become, how much like the necks of those agents Mogami had— Lets go. Shimazaki falls back to the ground. Chokes and wheezes and hacks and god Shigeo’d almost—

“Shigeo-kun?” There’s a hand on his shoulder. His breath hitches— no, no, don’t touch him— blue’s too close to his skin—

“Shigeo-kun!” Teru tightens his grip. “Shigeo-kun it’s okay! He’s fine, he’s not— you didn’t do anything.”

“Teru-kun.” Shigeo sucks in a ragged breath. “Teru-kun, I’m not safe.”

Teru’s feet are still in front of him. He can’t look up, doesn’t Teru know what Shigeo could do—

“I trust you.”

Shigeo starts. Blue eyes look back, warm and sad.

“I trust you.” Teru repeats. “You didn’t do anything to him.”

93%

Something trembles in his chest.

“You were just angry, Shigeo-kun. You were upset he hurt your brother, that’s all.” Teru shook his head. “You were just angry. It’s normal. You’re just like me.”

But he’d almost—

“It’s okay, Shigeo-kun.” Teru smiles at him. “We all have our bad days. No one can be good all the time. It’s okay.”

88%

Shigeo shivers and drops his gaze.

He stares at the ground for what feels like decades. At some point, the other Seventh members restrain Shimazaki and drag him away. Shigeo catches black-red still blown wide and his stomach churns. His eyes flicker to the left—

Only to meet Ritsu’s instead.

Shigeo stares at him. Ritsu stares back. His mouth opens once, twice, before he speaks.

“Why are you here?”

He flinches, steps back—

A hand collides with his shoulders and he stops. Doesn’t have to look to know it’s Teru. He focuses on its weight, takes a long, deep breath and nods once in Teru’s direction.

The hand pulls away, and he walks forward. It feels like an execution, hyper aware of every inch and step and stagger. He keeps walking until he’s right in front of Ritsu, locking his chest up and pushing down on the snakes, until they stop hissing beneath his skin and sit in his core instead.

83%

“You shouldn’t be here.” Ritsu whispers.

He drops. Jagged concrete and asphalt digs into his knees. Ritsu is half laid against a wall. His leg is bleeding, his ankle looks swollen. He tries very hard not to think about that day and only barely succeeds, the only thing keeping the lid there is the thought of possibly hurting his brother again—

He starts unwrapping the bandage on his left hand.

“You can’t fight Claw.” Shigeo feels black eyes boring holes into his forehead. “You’ll explode.”

“…Yes.”

“Then why—”

“I want to stop them.” Shigeo looks up, just seeing his face… his chest hurts like nothing Claw could ever throw at him. “I don’t want them to hurt anyone anymore.”

Ritsu stares at him before looking away.

Shigeo hesitates a second before he pulls the last length of cloth from his left hand. It’s pale, a tone lighter than his already pale skin and covered with old scratches from bandage chafes and days when iron bled into his head. His fingers burn when they hit exposed air, his palm is slick and wet.

It doesn’t matter. He knows the bandages aren’t actually drenched in blood and that his scars are old and closed. The cloth isn’t the cleanest, but the outer layers would do.

He reaches forward. “Can I—?”

Black is locked on his palm when Ritsu gives a shaky nod.

He cleans and wraps the wound as best as he can and Ritsu doesn’t even flinch. How many times must he have already been hurt before? How many fights has he been in? Ritsu’s hands have old scars on them now too, how many more did he have?

Why had Shigeo done this to them?

“You turned into that thing again.”

“…I did.”

“…You didn’t kill me.”

His heart hurts so much. He opens his mouth to say something, but sorry is so—

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“…I’ve never wanted to kill you.”

“That’s never mattered before.” Ritsu says just as emptily.

His bare fingers tremble against his leg.

They both go quiet, the wind around them whispers a solemn hymn. He feels both hot and cold when he finally opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t remember anything when I’m like that. I only remember flashes and pieces afterwards.”

Black eyes pierced into him. “You can’t tell me that. There has to be something.”

The breeze is his only answer. He holds back the urge to pull at the bandages on his right hand, or to scrape his left against the jagged concrete until it starts to burn—

“Are you really trying to say it just stopped, for some random reason?”

“…Ritsu—”

“That’s not possible.” Ritsu hisses. “It can’t just wake up one day and decide it’ll stop killing people. That’s not— It’s him isn’t it? It’s that Reigen person. He made it stop.”

“It’s not Reigen-san—”

“Then what is it Nii-san? Are you saying that thing’s really you?”

Shigeo flinches, teeth biting into his lips, and Ritsu is— his little brother’s eyes are so wide and sad and tearing up—

“I can’t accept that. I can’t. If that’s true then I— I let them die so that I could stop it and now you’re telling me— ” Ritsu cuts himself off.

Die? Let who die? What had Ritsu had to do— “What happened?”

Ritsu lets out a small sob.

The sound is like a thousand daggers stabbing his ribcage. “What—"

“From the lab, Nii-san.” Ritsu’s hands tighten around his wrists. “Mitsuura’s lab. I could have gotten them out of there but I just let them. Claw wouldn’t have trusted me if I hadn’t and I needed to get the blueprints—”

Oh. Oh.

He’s too late. They’re floating inside the tanks. Their hands are limp, limbs swinging out like dead weeds. Their eyes are blank and bulging, staring at him—

No. “Ritsu—"

“It’s my fault they’re dead, Nii-san! I was there, I knew Claw was going to do something to them, I should have let them out of the cell— They begged me to let them go and I didn’t do anything.” Eyes scrunching up and tears slipping past his cheeks, Ritsu’s head whips to the side. "I just…"

No, no, why his little brother—

“Those blueprints are useless. They say there’s nothing that could stop you.” Voice half-strangled, his little brother looks back up at him. “Nii-san… was everything I did for nothing?”

93%

What had Ritsu done for him?

“Ritsu,” Shigeo whispers, eyes tearing up. Ritsu hadn’t deserved any of this. Ritsu hadn’t done anything bad, it was Shigeo who had done it, so why— “Ritsu, I…"

He doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing he can say. It’s utterly inadequate, so painfully useless but all he can do is whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Black hair shivers. “That won’t change anything.”

They sit in silence. Blood leaks onto the bandage and patches it red. Ritsu’s eyes are still glued to his lap when he curls a hand into a fist and weakly punches Shigeo’s chest.

“Just— finish this. Stop them. Don’t let them hurt anyone again.”

Shigeo stares at the shaking fist through watery vision, breathing in through shattered glass and broken ribs. Droplets splatter off Ritsu’s skin when he blinks.

“Okay.” He promises.

Chapter Text

*

CONTENT WARNING: Slightly gory drawings

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

Emotional problems for a psychic meant big-fucking-explosions, and his partner’s lugging around a veritable payload the size of an entire planet. So yeah, Shou’s rather surprised when he wakes up to find Shigeo right next to Ritsu and city’s somehow still standing. He doesn’t even look all that devastated, just kinda sad.

Might have preferred the devastation, to be honest.

“Suzuki-kun.” Shigeo says in that boring dead-ass tone of his.

“…Sup, Shigeo.”

“You lied again.”

“Heh, yeah, sorry.” He tries to act cool and gets a literal cracked rib playing firing squad in his torso as thanks. Ow. “You can strangle me later if you want. Really appreciate if you didn’t do it now though.”

Guy’s face is as unreadable and empty as an open grave. Has Shou mentioned he hates it? “The hostage is still in the tower?”

“Seems so. Hatori and my shitty dad are probably there too. You going in?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Creaky bones, raggedy knee, terrible pain in his chest. Scale of one to ten? About a six, not so bad. “Just— give me a sec—”

“You’re not coming.” Shigeo says quietly. “You’re injured.”

And there’s the other unbelievable part of this guy. He’s so fucking nice, even to someone who’s let him think his brother’s been dead for— I’ve got a job to do. “Leave it, I’m going.”

“You can’t win like this.”

He grits his teeth. “Leave it.”

Shigeo’s expression is drifting distinctly closer to ‘I’m not above paralyzing you to the ground, Suzuki-kun.’ Heck, even Haystack’s opening his mouth to intervene. It’s like they’ve both forgotten who exactly is up there and Shou starts to say something that’ll probably piss them off—

“Shou-kun.”

Did he just—?

He’s still gaping when Shigeo continues, “Take care of my brother. Please.”

…Oh, what the fuck.

Okay, that? That’s not fair. He doesn’t even look pissed, he just looks so sad. How’s Shou supposed to say no to that? Shit that’s like— like kicking a newborn puppy in the face or something. Sure he can be an ass but that’s dad-levels of assholey. He’s not that much of a dick yet.

Fuck. “That’s low, Shigeo.”

“…But the tower is higher than us?”

Gahhh. He clucks his tongue. “You’re just gonna tie me down here if I say no anyway, right?”

Shigeo’s face is still blank because of course it is. “Yes.”

Tch. “You’re such a pain—” He struggles into a standing position that makes his side ache like a bitch. Definitely some broken bones in there, he’ll bet money on it. “Fine, not like I can do much now anyway.”

He sighs through the nausea glares at his partner. “You’d better kick his ass, Shigeo.”

Black looks at him and… fuck they’re actually pretty darn alive. Gone are the dead-fish pupils and black holes, instead there’s so much conviction Shou’s honestly finding it difficult to doubt him. It’s almost disturbing actually, makes him want to snatch that Reigen guy up and ask what exactly he drugged Shigeo with.

But the eyes facing him were completely sincere.

“I will.”

*

Three seconds after Shou sits down next to Ritsu, Teru topples.

Or well, he would have toppled, if Shigeo hadn’t caught him with one arm and held him still until the dizziness passed. Teru doesn’t miss how he’s carefully facing away from his brother or how his hands are tightened into fists

Ah. Teru realises. He’s still angry.

“Teru-kun?” Shigeo repeats.

Right, he’d said something, hadn’t he? “I’m alright, Shigeo-kun.” Barely, it’s so hard to see— “Are you heading up?”

“Yes.” He hesitates for a second. “Could you help me get them out of here?”

And leave you to fight him alone. Teru reads. Dammit all, it’s true isn’t it? Ekubo isn’t here to support me and even back then I only just managed to keep up. There’s no way I can help you right now—

…But that’s okay. Trust is a two-way street.

He closes his eyes and wills the ground to turn solid again, manages to pull himself onto his legs. “I’m sorry Shigeo-kun, I don’t think I can fight right now.” He admits.

Shigeo blinks. “I never wanted you to anyway.”

That’s just like you. That’s really just like you.

Teru breaths out. “You’re going all out, and you’re worried we’ll get caught up in it aren’t you?”

A shuffle, black flickers away once. “I… yes.”

Teru feels his chest clench. “You won’t hurt us, Shigeo-kun.”

“You don’t know that.”

“…You’re right.”

He doesn’t wince when Shigeo’s eyes flicker towards him. Tries not to remember self-doubt and hatred, at how Shigeo must feel the same, that hopelessness, that futility.

“I don’t know if you’ll hurt us,” He continues before black can look away. “But I’ve seen it twice, Shigeo-kun, and both times you didn’t hurt me, or Reigen-san or anybody. We can’t stop you, no, but I really don’t think you’re as dangerous as you believe.”

Shigeo stares at him.

“Shigeo-kun…” He whispers. “Trust yourself, please.”

“…I—” Shigeo cuts off, and Teru watches ice climb into his pupils, leaving it empty and blank as a black lake. He moves past to stand at Teru’s back, aura already slipping out his fingers.

“He’s here.”

*

“…Reigen-san, the president— He’s outside the tower, he’s with Shigeo-kun—"

“What? Already?”

“Yes, we need to hurry—”

“No shit come on!”

*

89— 93— 95— 92%—

If emotions could be weaved into a landscape inside one’s torso, Shigeo’s insides must look like the shattered hubris of a city right now.

He pulls the outer layer of bandages from his right and snaps it in half with blue. Wraps it tight around his left hand. His fingers don’t shake, his breathing doesn’t waver. Every time he blinks Ritsu’s teary eyes come back to stare at him like hellfire.

93— 94— 92— 90%—

There’s a figure across from him, no taller than Serizawa and Shimazaki and nothing like the half-dead abomination that was Mogami. Suzuki Touichirou looks almost ordinary, little more than a sharp-dressed man with well-waxed loafers, hair razored to an almost painful edge and eyes like glaciers.

Shigeo hates him.

“We finally meet, Black T Poison.” 

He feels Teru and the others’ auras backing up. Good. There is no chance he can hold it in, not here, not after everything. “Release the Prime Minister.”

“Serizawa has already let him go.”

Teru raises an eyebrow. “And we’re supposed to believe you?”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, the fact is that he’s no longer here.” Touichirou gestures as if speaking to a full stadium. “His abduction has demonstrated our power to the world. He’s of no further use to us.”

“You still that delusional? Your Ultimates are down and Hatori’s no fighter.” Shou’s grin is hostile. “You can’t do shit, old man.”

“Claw only needs me to win, you should know this by now Shou.” Glaciers stare him down. “To think you could lose to Shimazaki… You’re a failure.”

93— 96— 97— 98%—

“You cannot say that.”

“Why? Are you worried for him?” Amusement crawls onto Touichirou’s face. “Such a child you are. You had the potential to be like me Poison, but you let yourself be used by others and relied on people. You became weak.”

“I on the other hand, am strong. I learnt young that everyone would bend to my will once I used my powers. Even other psychics were no match for me.” He lifts a hand. “History is mine to shape, and I will leave my mark on it.”

96— 97— 96%—

“That’s your reason for doing this?” His voice rings like a black hole.

“It is my right.” Touichirou spreads his fingers as if clasping the earth between them. “I am this world’s protagonist.”

97%—

Screams and tears and shattered limbs. Corpses filling rooms and cities—

How dare you.

98%—

How can you do that? How can you just kill so many people? How can you simply not care?

99%—

He can’t stop trembling, the blue sea spins a maelstrom inside his ribcage, drowns him as it fractures what broken walls he’d still had standing. So many dead because of him, Shou and his mother have suffered for him, Teru was hunted down and Reigen was thrown from his life—

Ritsu had to let someone die. Ritsu was in Claw. Ritsu is crying.

Because of him.

100% Hatred

It scuttles out of his vessel like a tsunami of spiders and ruptures the earth, feels a dozen-odd auras behind him flinch. Nearby structures rip themselves off the ground, wind tears up a storm as the sky blackens into a sore-like crimson and the clouds go red, red, red—

“Did you really do all that…” He hisses out. “For a simple ego boost?”

Touichirou stares at him impassively and raises a hand. “It matters little what you believe it, Poison. It is my will, and I will see it through.”

Meteors of energy form between Touichirou’s fingers and shoot forward, slamming into Shigeo’s shield. Red splinters, jolts past his barrier and leaves carved lines in the ground below— Shouts of shock from behind him, everyone’s too close—

Red snaps his way and Shigeo grabs it. Flips it in his hands until it yields to his commands and sends it back out like a lightning bolt. It latches onto Touichirou and Shigeo moves them—

Into the sky. Touichirou doesn’t blink. He tears out of blue’s grip, aura in his palms—

20% output

Hurls the red bolts in his direction, Shigeo chooses a point and pulls—

Nothing—?

Incoming! Barely manages a thin shield before the energy slams into his front. It knocks the breath out of him, and when he looks up he sees Touichirou lunging forwards with a blinding red fist—

Dodges sideways and flings concrete back in return. Can’t grasp the strings of reality. Red holding it away like he’d done with Shimazaki—

“There is a reason I am Claw’s president, Poison.” Touichirou casts the thrown pillars aside. “Teleportation will not help you.”

So what? He breathes in clear ozone air. The others are far enough below them, and the spiders are eating at his chest— Loosens what control he has left, lets his aura boil and grow—

“I don’t need teleportation to break you.”

Ice blue widens as buildings tear themselves apart and wrench forward as a massive whirlwind. Touichirou dodges the speeding ceilings and windows, weaving in and out of concrete and rupturing pillars before they reach him. He’s moving fast, the buildings aren’t closing on him quickly enough—

40% output

Shigeo hears the mad laughter of a man on high ecstasy.

He snaps his fingers shut and the buildings slam into Touichirou, crushes it into a giant sphere that digs the sharp edges into vulnerable flesh. He’ll puncture Touichirou’s chest like they forced water into people’s lungs. He’ll grind down Touichirou’s bones until it resembles half-drowned limbs. Disgusting. He’s disgusting. He thinks he can just do this? He thinks he can walk away scot-free? Shigeo will make him feel all of it—

Like you did with mum and dad?

He recoils. No, he— he never— what am I—

The sphere breaks. Touichirou shoves the buildings away from him. “Why did you stop Poison? Weren’t you enjoying it? Using all your strength to break me?”

No I— that was—!

Hands reaching out to him, legs twisted at odd angles. The living mourning the dead with a million razor cuts on their bodies. Ritsu’s scrunched up, painfully red eyes, wet tears pouring down his cheeks.

(He did this to them, he did this to them, he did this to them—)

I—

“Come at me! This is something only we can experience! This is something only the strong can enjoy!” Touichirou laughs, surging forward and unleashing a flurry of blows across his barrier. “This is in our nature Poison! Let loose, try and kill me—!”

“No.”

Shame

The manic power around them dims. Shigeo shakes his head. “No. I’m not going to be like you.”

Touichirou’s face grows cold. “Are you trying to take some higher moral ground? You’ve killed people too.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to stay the same.” The spiders in his chest abate. He can almost breath. “I won’t do it.”

“Pathetic.”

Shigeo glares at him.

“That power should not have been borne to you.” Ice blue stares back. “People are not complicated, Poison. All humans can be categorized into the strong and the weak, and only the former thrive. The weak either follow along or be left behind. This is a fundamental fact, nothing can change it.”

He gestures to the Seventh Claw members down below. “This is why they followed me. They knew they were weak, they knew they could not change. It is the same for everyone else; I am the world’s strongest esper, all will eventually follow me.”

“You’re wrong.” Shigeo refutes. “People aren’t so simple.”

Touichirou raises an eyebrow. He struggles not to pull at the bandages around his skin. “People might start out strong or weak, but that isn’t the sum all in relationships. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses, everyone is trying to overcome their flaws.”

He thinks of outstretched hands and kind faces, of everyone he’s ever met. Mitsuura and Onigawara, who have tried their best to help him. Tsubomi, who wasn’t scared of him. Tome, Inukawa and Musashi who have showed him new things and spoke up for him. Teru who has pulled him through his darkest points and Reigen, who had told him that even with his blood-splattered hands, he could be a better person.

“I am only here now because of them.” He murmurs. “I’ve only begun to change because they believed in me.”

Ice blue narrows. “That only goes to show how weak you’ve become.”

“It’s never been about the strong and the weak.” The words resonate in his chest. His voice grows louder, stronger— “It’s about how we help each other. Anyone can influence anyone else. People can change, they change because of others around them. Even a weak person can become strong.”

He points a finger straight at Touichirou. “People are equal, Suzuki-san. It doesn’t matter if you have powers; you have no right to conquer or hurt anyone esle.” He drops his hand. “And if you can’t see that… I’ll stop you.”

Resolution

It’s like the flick of a switch. All at once the neon blue in his core bursts out like a solar flare and slams into the ground, rips twelve separate skyscrapers right off the earth and hurls it forward so they rush like spears—

60% output

Hits Touichirou like a speeding torpedo. Red aura rips through ten walls and a ceiling, rebar and concrete spilling into the atmosphere as he tears through a hole and straight at Shigeo. He braces behind blue as the blow crashes into him, spiderweb cracks snapping across his shield. One hit, two hits, three hits, four—

“Weak! People can change? Mere wishful thinking! You’ve become so utterly reliant on others that you’ve become nothing!”

Five, six, seven— Cracks are getting too big, won’t last more than a minute—

“I thought you were like me, but I see I was wrong. Your words are just an excuse! You couldn’t face what you did, that’s why you’re trying to change! You’re pathetic!”

Shigeo drops blue and snatches Touichirou’s wrist out of the air.

Glacier eyes go wide with shock, he tightens his aura-strengthened fingers around flesh. “Why are you so against change?”

“What?”

“You keep saying you’re the strongest, and that no one can change. You said I can’t face what I did.” His voice is empty again. “But if anyone can change, that means you won’t always be the strongest.”

“Let go of me Poison.” Touichirou hisses.

“…Do you have anyone you trust at all?”

“I’ve told you, I don’t need anyone.”

“So you’re alone.” Shigeo says. “You don’t think people can change because you don’t have any bonds. Your life is truly empty.”

“Bonds do not matter, I am this world’s absolute—”

“You say that,” He continues ruthlessly. “because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have anything at all, right, Suzuki-san?”

80% output

“Let go of me!” Burst of energy shoves his arm back, red spheres flying in his direction once more—

Shigeo lets it hit, digs his aura into red and twists. It explodes through crimson like starburst galaxies, taming it under his will. He wreathes it around him, readies rebar and concrete at his sides—

Something slams into his spine.

How’d he— Red to his left— ducks a kick, only for an uppercut to drive into his chin, sees sparks and stars as a hand grabs his leg and sends him whirling downwards— ground’s getting too close and he barely manages to build a shield around his skin—

Collides into the jagged tarmac under him. Pain through his back and nerves, can’t breath, can’t see—

“Get up Poison.” Touichirou hisses. He’s gone alien, eyes slitted and veins making thick corded lines against his muscles. He looks like a monster, some dizzy part of him thinks, it suits him.

“You’ve insulted me, I won’t let this end so easily.”

Hostile aura lifts him out of the rubble. He registers familiar colours behind him; Teru and the others, they’re too close—

“Are you listening, Poison?!”

Keep him distracted. “I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“Have you really never lost anyone? Wasn’t there someone you trusted?” I have to stop him, he won’t back down. How do I stop him? “Acting superior and powerful like that… Isn’t that lonely?”

Touichirou stares at him.

“To be utterly alone… I know how that feels, I did that for years.” He clenches down on the thudding in his chest. “How can you stand it? How can you just do that to other people?”

“…You keep going on about ‘bonds’ Poison.” Touichirou seems to come back to himself. “Do you really think you trust anyone?”

“I trust Reigen-san, and Teru-kun—”

“Do you? Or do you just think you do?” Ice blue stares him down. “There are very few people who actually trust each other Poison. Most only act like they do. You say you trust them, so let me ask you this; Can you still trust them at your full strength?”

Of course I can. Shigeo has trusted them before. He’s fought with Teru against Mogami, he’s had Reigen calm him down when he was exploding. He opens his mouth to speak—

But what about that?

He shivers.

“You cannot, can you? You rattle on and on about trust, but you can’t even back your words.” Touichirou smiles at him. “You are like me, Poison. You don’t actually trust anyone.”

No. You don’t understand. That’s not just my full strength, that’s—

A cacophony of voiceless sounds, the screech of a dying animal. Uncontrollable, unidentifiable, black-on-red-on-black-on-nothingness—

Shigeo shoves it all aside. It doesn’t matter, I just need to stop you.

He whips blue and snaps red’s hold on him. Touichirou pulls back, immediately summoning more energy waves that launch themselves at Shigeo. He sees them coming, watches the patterns and waves of red, learns exactly how to break it—

Shigeo opens up his arms, and takes it all.

It pours into his vessel like a tidal wave, floods him with emotions not his own as he grits his teeth. Touichirou’s eyes widens, “You’re trying to take all my energy—”

“I said I’ll stop you, Suzuki-san.” He hisses out. “So I will.”

Red razors, every time it comes he has to pull and shred until it fits under his skin. It’s an ocean, a vast sea that smells of iron and rusted steel and still there is more, so much more—

“Stop, Poison!”

Touichirou’s trying to get away from him. Shigeo holds him in place as he drains the man’s bones dry. He’ll stop him, he’ll seal up his vessel completely, that way Touichirou will never hurt anyone again—

“Stop!”

100% output

Too much—

Red slams into his chest and burns. Throws him back ten steps as the connection shatters. He’s still dizzy when the blinding bright monstrosity that was Touichirou grabs his skull and launches him into a wall, his head snapping back and forwards at the impact. Shield had been down— Hulking mass of white energy lands in front of him and roars—

He knows he has to do something but he can’t move, can barely even twitch his fingers— he struggles to put up a barrier as its fist rises above his neck, blacking out the sky like the edge of guillotine steel—

“Mob!”

Reigen-san?

*

This has been Reigen’s thought process for the past ten minutes;

Crap, crap, crap, crap, Mob’s fighting already! Goddammit where is he— shit—stupid broken cables tripping me up— are we even gonna make it there before that son of a bitch kills him—

Very eloquent thoughts, as one can see. So when he actually reaches the place and sees a white-barely-human-hulk-thing just fucking vomiting psychic energy everywhere? His brain upgrades to this;

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh fuck what is that. Oh shitting bloody piles of—fuck, fuck, fuck, Mob’s right there—

“Mob!”

Kid looks up at him with wide black eyes. He looks bad, like really bad. He’s all scuffed up, and there’s blood running down one lip and his eyes aren’t clear— a goddamn concussion, what has that thing done to the kid—

“Reigen-san!” Serizawa’s still running up to him. Nearby he hears Teru and the Seventh division guys yelling, “Get back—”

Reigen, we can’t fucking fight that— Ekubo barks, trying to get them away—

Like hell I’m running. “Let him go!”

The thing lets out a growl somewhere between a predator and that one radio channel that sounds like a bad LSD trip. Its muscles bulge as it shifts its gaze between him and Mob, head tilting sideways like some alligator trying to act sweet.

It grins.

…Fuck. Reigen thinks. I’ve made a mistake.

It throws itself so quickly across the landscape that he can barely even see it. Ekubo curses and snaps out a green barrier and he just registers the edge of Serizawa’s haori as he throws himself in front of them. More shields pop up, yellow, purple, blue— Teru and Seventh. Reigen would honestly be touched if Touichirou wasn’t right there, huge and towering as red powers up in his face and he barely has time to lift his arms—

The explosion whites out his vision and sends him flying.

*

No.

He’s not moving.

No.

Reigen isn’t moving.

Please, no. No.

He’s still. His sleeves have been torn off. There’s red across his lips. He’s not moving. Blood’s pouring down his face from somewhere above his eyebrows. He’s silent. It’s dripping down his right arm, red-blackened skin leaving pockmarks around exposed muscles and tendons—

Like his mother’s, pale and bloodless against the red of her flesh, pieces of membrane disintegrating into the air. Her mouth is open in a forever empty scream—

Please—

She’s— He’s— Reigen-san is— so still, his chest is— can’t check, can’t see— Screaming in his ears, iron in his lungs, burnt meat and smoke stench and strangling out his throat—

Reigen isn’t moving.

No. He can’t be, no—

He’s not moving.

No, no, no no no no—

He’s not moving.

No!

He’s… dead.

I killed him.

Roaring. Screaming. White gaping jaw and bright eyes. It’s coming towards him. Too much power, burns the same colour as Reigen’s tattered skin—

He’s dead.

I strangled his throat. I grabbed his arms and tore off his limbs. I stabbed his chest and he’s bleeding out and that’s why he’s not moving like mum and dad and I—

I killed him—

No.

You killed him.

You killed him.

You killed Reigen-san—

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You’re going to pay.

And I’m going to make you beg for mercy.

*

?̷͚͌?̵̡̣̋̆̎?̴͓͖̟̈́͗͝%̸̬͙̦͌

He can’t think

It’s always like this. He can’t think. He can’t ever think. The only thing he can do is feel and be swept away by everything. Spikes in his system melt into teeth, a leviathan opening its wide, endless jaws and biting through his skin. Muscles stretching, entrails tearing, bones barely holding together as it decimates all around him— blue-red-blue-red-black-black-black—

Threads of reality. 8 billion souls. He feels towers and buildings. Countries and continents. There are trillions and trillions of planets. Millions and billions of galaxies. A whole universe sits around him, vast and enormous and stretching towards infinity.

It’ll be so easy to destroy everything.

He can’t. Not now. He (Who?) can’t hurt them (What?). He remembers when he had and how’d it hurt him. He remembers— Flashes of yellow hair, black eyes like his— He can’t hurt them. It will hurt him. He doesn’t want to hurt again.

(Does it matter? He’s dead.)

Who’s dead?

…There’s something he needs to do. What was it?

Pupil-less glowing eyes catch the white humanoid mass across from him.

Ah, right.

He just needs to kill it.

The human (And it is human, for under all that energy it still has muscles and bones and organs and skin and that means he can kill it, squash it, tear it, break it until it begs for the mercy it doesn’t deserve—) roars at him. It’s probably roaring. Its jaw is yawning wide open like when people scream, or was that him doing that to it? He’s not sure, only hears static. He thinks he might hate it.

It doesn’t matter.

The human is coming at him again. It’s raising neon red spheres and shooting them at him. He walks forward as the earth’s crust collapses under his feet, red energy less than a paper sting. So weak. So futile. Why is it even trying? Memories slide into place, words like ‘strong’ and ‘absolute’ and ‘protagonist of the world’. He grasps flashes of thoughts and places and things and—

He’s dead—

Can’t speak can’t think can’t breath can’t—

He stops in front of it. Meets the wide eyes that are quickly gaining back colour and clarity. It’s still flashing with white energy, it’s still standing in front of him. It’s still standing.

Alright.

If it won’t kneel, he’ll make it.

So he stands and stares, and gently closes his fist.

The human screams when its limbs collapse beneath it.

Too strong. That’s what happened last time too. Handling humans has never been easy. At least this one doesn’t matter. This one he can let fall apart. This one’s fingers he’ll take and toes he’ll rip off, this one he’ll break and strangle and choke until it never ever hurts anyone again—

He wrenches black in his arms and clamps it around its limbs, ignores the energy fighting him and the words that mean nothing. (“Stop… Shigeo-kun, stop— don’t—“). He needs to kill this one, he’ll break it completely—

First its fingers and toes twist.

Then its wrists and ankles.

Its lower arms and legs bend at unnatural angles, forearms and tibias folding over themselves once, twice, thrice—

Its shrieking. Its energy is blinding. He reaches out and takes it away, like plucking flies of their wings. It’s easy. It’s so easy. It’s always been so easy.

(I’m terrible, aren’t I?)

Up the femurs, then the hipbones— snap, crack, crackle, break— vibrations reverberate against his ears. Not enough. Nowhere near enough. They’re dead. (Who?) They’re dead because of him and he still needs to pay. There is more to shatter, he can always do the human’s spine next—

“…M-Mob.”

He stops.

Pained gasp, barely above a whisper. He can hardly even hear it over the ambient groans and static that make up his soundscape. Who is that? When did they get so near?

“Kid…”

His neck twists inch-by-inch, eyes searching in slow waves until he sees a man splattered against the ground, drenched in his own red.

He’s important, something says.

“Y-you can’t…” His voice is weak. His arm’s bleeding. It looks painful.

Why does his chest ache?

“Mob… Don’t—” He chokes. “Don’t do this.”

Who are you? Why do you call me that? He tries to place the man’s features but every time he puts a name to that face static shatters his head. Why did he call me that—

“Mob then.”

Sweetness on his tongue and a wrapper crinkling between his fingertips. A peaceful park with warm rays shining past leaves, a person to his right, someone who’s been far too kind to him—

“I’ll call you that, sound good?”

He’s—

Teaching him how to hold a needle. Showing him a new recipe. Buying him clothes he doesn’t deserve and telling him he can run away. He’s bandaged his wounds and sat next to him on nights when he’s little more than the living dead. He’s kind, and caring, and he’s done so much for him and his name is—

Reigen-san.

He’s alive.

“It’s you in there... Isn’t it?”

Oh. Oh— All at once he realises— Oh he’s too close, oh no he’s— he’ll hurt him, he’ll tear Reigen apart like the human, like them—

“Mob…” Reigen’s limbs shake as he gathers himself onto his knees. His arm is so red. Its dribble splatters onto the ground, droplets off his chin. He’s injured, he shouldn’t be moving, he needs to rest—

What is he doing? Why is— why are you coming near me— Steps back once, twice—

“Kid— wait please… I can’t—"

He freezes.

“Mob… you have—” Reigen swallows and leans heavily against a broken wall. His legs are trembling— “You have to let him go.”

No.

“…Come on kid, let him go.”

No. He did this to you. He deserves it. He has to pay— His fingers twitch, black around the human tightens—

“Kid… h-hey—” And even though he’s so weak, so injured, Reigen kept shuffling forward, cradling his burnt arm to his chest. Stop. Stop. Please, I don’t want to kill you—

Too late. Reigen’s in front of him. (He’s going to die.) Reigen’s pulling his burnt arm carefully to his side. (He’s going to die) Reigen’s reaching out with his good arm (I’m going to kill him.) and—

Pulls him into a hug.

It’s weak, barely more than a paper-touch to his skin. He can feel exactly where his bones and muscles are, knows just how little pressure he needs to snap them into nothing. Reigen’s so weak, doesn’t he know how dangerous this is? He tries to shove black away but it still leaks out of his veins and it must hurt to hold him like this. He can’t let this continue, he needs to pull away—

He can’t move. Can’t even bring himself to step back. It’s horrible, he knows he could hurt Reigen, he has no right at all—

But some small, traitorous part of him whispers, it’s so warm.

“Mob… listen.”

Reigen’s words tickle the back of his hair. That fragile hand tightens on his back. “You’re a good kid. A strong kid. I know…” He chokes, falters. “I know you can be better.”

“I know… you’re angry, and— you’re upset and that’s okay. He’s done… horrible things to a lot of people.”

“But kid,” Reigen pulls away from him and he can feel the horrible way his arm shakes as he does. “Mob, please… he’s not worth it. He’s not worth you. Don’t let him win.”

I…

And looking at those familiar eyes, he remembers—

“I still think you can be a good person.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. The world goes pure white and sharpens. Colours come into view, shapes cease to be black phantoms. He’s— He’s— Mob almost—

But it hadn’t happened. It isn’t dead yet.

Reigen had stopped him.

Gratitude.

It’s still too dangerous, the huma— Touichirou is still overflowing with energy. He’s being held down by black— can’t stay like this, only so long he can hold it— and Reigen’s still bleeding—

So he takes everything. With one severe yank he rips the blinding white out of Touichirou and alters it into black (careful, careful— don’t hurt Reigen-san), closes his pupil-less eyes and thinks of everything everyone has done for him, of Reigen’s limp weight against his shoulder and how much he wants him to be okay, how happy he is that Reigen’s alive— He takes it all, opens his eyes, and exhales.

The explosion bursts outwards, all across the city.

*

He must have passed out, because when he wakes his arm’s been healed and his body doesn’t feel like a half-dozen semis just played dodgeball with his torso. The air’s still buzzing with electricity he’s come to associate with psychic hoodickeys, and it takes him a good half-minute before he recognises Teru and the others knocked out on the ground, somehow completely unscathed.

…Did the kid heal us?

He straightens, and when he blinks he finds Mob. Like, really Mob. The one that isn’t stars and galaxies and peppered with a thousand black holes under his skin. He’s looking at Reigen with actual pupils now, hair falling down into that silly old-school bowl-cut and eyes suspiciously bright.

“Reigen-san…” Mob whispers.

Oh crap. “H-Hey I’m okay, kid. I’m alright, don’t— aw hell—” It’s leaking out of his eyes now, shit— “Mob, it’s uh— I’m— oh, come here—”

He steps forward and pulls Mob into a proper hug. Fuck, of course the kid’s not gonna react well, he’s already seen his parents die (Does Mob really think of him that way? Wow. Wow that is terrifying, could his heart stop skipping like it’s a good thing—). Scrambles to put some words together. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re here, it’s okay alright? It’s okay.”

Mob’s utterly still, arms at his sides. Shit, was he always this small? He’s just this spot of warmth against his chest, and his fists are trembling— “Sorry, I must have—” He swallows, a sudden lump in his throat. “I must have really scared you.”

“…I thought you were dead.”

Fuck. “Yeah.” He whispers, squeezing the kid tighter. “Sorry Mob, I’m alright now, okay? Whatever you did back there saved me. You saved me.”

Mob’s a statue for another ten seconds before his entire body shivers. There’s a small sniff, then a hitch, and then a quiet whine that’s cut off when the kid presses his face fully into Reigen’s shirt, arms finally coming up to squeeze his sides. He swears his heart just collapses at the sight. God, he really freaked the kid out didn’t he? Fucking hell.

They stay like that for a full minute, Mob trembling and barely making a sound while Reigen mutters meaningless ‘I’m okay’s and ‘You’re here’s. At some point the kid pulls away, eyes still teary as he rubs a sleeve over his face. His side stays plastered to Reigen’s, making it impossible to wipe his own cheeks.

Eh, he’s a big man, he’ll get over it.

He sniffs once so his snot doesn’t dribble on to his face (ew) and counts the survivors. Fourteen people (and one unconscious green snotball— hang on, ghosts can get knocked out?), and he’s willing to bet the government’s coming around any second now. How the heck are they gonna get out? Throw him a car to hot-wire sure, but Reigen’s got as many muscles as a ditch—

“You healed everyone.”

For shit’s sake. Figures the asshole-of-the-century would still be awake. Suzuki Touichirou’s eyes are wide as he stares at Mob, clothes basically a mass of swiss cheese. He’s been healed too, all 20,000-something tons of TNT just poofed up into nonexistence. (It’s way too good for him, considering the whole murder-torture-psychic-bullshit.) He starts forward to give the fucker the vocal-equivalent of an apocalypse when a hand pulls him to a stop. Mob’s eyes are steady when they meet his.

…Huh.

He lets the kid step past, noticing how his face has gone back to a careful blank. “Suzuki-san.”

“…So you’ve won. You’ve protected everyone.”

Mob stays silent.

“You have someone that trusts you,” Tired ice blue flickers towards Reigen. “Even with your true strength.”

“…Reigen-san changed me.” Mob says. “Have you really met no one like that?”

Touichirou seems to almost turn inwards. It’s a long moment before he speaks again. “…There was one person.”

“Who?”

“…It doesn’t matter.” His smile is empty. “I told myself I would go see her once I ruled the world, but I’ve lost. Better yet, that strength you displayed back there… I’m not even the strongest. There’s nothing I could say.”

His hand closes around a piece of rebar— He’s going to—

Mob grabs Touichirou’s fist before it hits home.

“You can still tell her.”

“Let go, Poison.” He says tiredly. “There’s nothing left for me anymore.”

“Just because you lost or aren’t the strongest doesn’t mean you’re worthless.” Black stares him down. “You need to tell her.”

“…Why are you doing this?” Touichirou’s eyebrows are scrunched up, “You were awake in those final moments, you chose to heal me. Why? I’ve brought nothing good to you.”

Mob’s face is still blank when he lets go, watching to make sure Touichirou drops the metal before he looks away. A small breeze ruffles his hair, the silence grows long along the broken tarmac.

“Poison—"

“I hate you.”

“I hate you.” The kid repeats, voice black. “I hate you so much. I hate what you’ve done to everyone, I hate how you’ve done it for years, how you didn’t even care. I hate how you almost killed Reigen-san.”

He holds his hands out, and Reigen just knows the kid’s seeing red streaks across his fingers. “…I hate how you’re like me.”

Hell, Mob…

“But people are equal and people can change. And I want to believe that I can be a better person.” A shake of black hair as steel eyes lock back onto Touichirou. “If I truly meant those words, that would mean anyone can change, even you.”

“...And what if I don’t? What will you do then? You know more than anyone else what I’ve done, Poison.” Ice blue narrows. “Sparing my life might just bring you more trouble.”

“That’s fine. It’s my choice. If this happens again then I’ll stop you once more.” Bandaged hands clench into fists. “I’ve spent years hating you, Suzuki-san. But it wasn’t you who killed my parents, it was me. Fighting you, fighting Claw, I was trying to make up for it. But saving people doesn’t change the fact that they’re gone, and they can never come back.”

The trembling shoulders still. “I know I can’t take back what I did, but I still want to change, I want to stop that from happening again, and I’ll never be able to if I keep thinking about the past.”

With a voice like titanium and eyes like the sun, Mob speaks, “I’m the protagonist of my own life. And I’m not going to hate you, or myself, anymore.”

The words leave both Touichirou and Reigen completely stunned. Shit, that was… God, he can’t even think straight, that was a whole speech, that was worthy of a goddamn medal. Reigen’s never heard the kid speak as much as he has now and it’s literally taken his breath away. He feels his lips lift of their own accord, something warm and bright filling his lungs.

You’ve changed more than you know kid, you really have.

“So you can’t end it here, Suzuki-san. You can change too.” Mob says quietly. “You can talk to her.”

Touichirou doesn’t respond for a long, long time. It feels like decades later when he sighs and slumps forward, knees on the ground and an elbow pressed against a thigh. His right hand comes up to cover his face, bracing his entire body like he can barely sit straight, like the whole sky has crashed down upon him.

He chuckles once. “You truly are a worthy opponent, Kageyama Shigeo.”

Touichirou looks up at the clearing clouds, the sunrays bathing the broken landscape with a resigned smirk.

“I’ve lost completely.”

Chapter Text

*

All images/manga pages read right to left

*

“You’re either the luckiest or most foolish man to ever live, Reigen-san.”

There’s a column fan in the corner of the room, one of the newfangled ones with no blades. It’s very fancy looking. Mighty expensive too. Reigen wonders how much time he’ll need to bolt over there and smash the guy’s face in with it.

He smiles instead, all polite and such. “I have always been pretty lucky.”

Their interrogator raises an eyebrow, which really, he’s got no right to do. Man’s got a carbon-copy of Yamada’s face and he’s decked out in military medals like he’s compensating for something. That’s not even getting into his introduction. Seriously, who the fuck starts with “Sagara Jin, I’ve been in charge of Black T Poison’s containment operations for the past eight years”?

Like shit, there’s a lot of ways to introduce yourself without the murder of middle-schoolers for nearly a decade, it’s not that hard.

“I presume you’ve met my brother, likes to call himself Yamada,” Oh, so it’s not clones. Damn. “This will be fairly similar, I want to discuss how you brought down Claw.”

What follows is a retelling of everything while Reigen struggles not to think of the world’s shittest parents-teacher-meeting. Jin’s expression is basically every principal’s straight-laced seen-it-all face, even as Mob starts talking about explosions and crazy megalomaniacs right out of a shonen manga copy. Sure makes you wonder what he sees in his emails every morning.

“Claw’s been a problem for many years. For your role in stopping it, we’ve decided to overlook your actions for now, Reigen-san.”

“And Mo— Shigeo?”

Jin looks at the kid. “You understand what Reigen-san is doing for us, Kageyama?”

“Yes.”

“And you have no objections?”

“I trust Reigen-san.” Mob says simply.

His chest wobbles (because he’s just a big sap) and the room goes silent. Jin closes his eyes after a moment.

“So it seems, enough that he can stop you.”

Mob stares down at the table.

“Things have changed. Ever since your appearance on live television and a certain website,” He tries not to sweat when coal-black stares at him pointedly. “More and more people are coming out with stories of Black T Poison saving them. You have a surprisingly large amount of support, Kageyama. The question is whether you can live up to it.”

“…I didn’t know I had that much support.” Mob says honestly.

Reigen doesn’t like how calculative Jin’s eyes look as he considers this. “…Let me be frank, we’ve been chasing you for years, Kageyama, and we’ve had more than enough time to observe your actions. You’re young, you haven’t tried to hurt my men, you’ve even saved some of them, along with countless others. Truthfully speaking, I’ll prefer not to put you behind bars.”

There’s definitely a ‘but’ to this, Reigen braces for it—

“But that doesn’t change the fact that accident or not, you have killed people before.” Dammit. “Your power is immense and still growing, and no one wants another Suzuki Touichirou on our hands.” Jin leans forward on his elbows, eyes sharp as spears. “So give me a reason, Poison. Tell me why I should let you go.”

Mob stays quiet for a good long minute while Reigen tries to ignore the sweat running down his neck. The tension’s ridiculous considering how utterly standard Jin’s face is. Reigen’s got no clue how the kid isn’t twitching.

When Mob looks up, his eyes are stronger than steel.

“I want to help people.”

Coal-black pupils scan Mob’s, and something resigned passes over his face. Jin sits back with a sigh.

“Yeah, I suppose that’ll do.”

*

Being hustled to their cell by a whole SWAT team is not pleasant, so it’s odd that Mob decides to hang out at the door and talk to their captain. It’s even weirder when the kid comes back to sit between him and Ekubo and explains how he knows him.

“What.” Reigen deadpans.

“He tried to capture me before. He was very nice about it.” Mob repeats, because he’s got the atmosphere-reading skills of a lemon. “He wanted to thank me for stopping Mogami. The hostage was someone he knew.”

“…Right.” Kid’s gotta stop making friends with people who have threatened to kill him, Reigen’s heart might implode. “Good to know some people are on our side. They said they’re letting us go since we stopped Claw so… any plans, Teru?”

“Not really, no.” Teru’s smile is a sticker. “To be honest, I’m still finding it hard to believe it’s over.”

Fuck, yeah. Reigen would have been more worried if Teru had just accepted it. The kid’s spent nearly as long as Mob dealing with Claw, probably set for a whole lifetime of therapy, shit.

Teru keeps speaking, unaware of Reigen’s thoughts. “I do still have school, they may suspend me for skipping so many days though.”

You’re joking. “They didn’t give you an excuse letter?”

Ekubo looks like he’s demoting the size of Reigen’s brain to a snail’s. “Does secretive branch of the government mean anything to you?”

“They’re the government, they’ve got public branches too. The least they can do is give him a piece of paper.” Kid saves a whole dang city and gets suspension, god the inhumanity— “I’ll talk to Sagara again, see if they can get you something.”

Blue blinks. “Thank you Reigen-san.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

On anyone else, Mob’s expression would’ve been an awkward alligator grin. He shifts next to them. “Teru-kun?”

“Yes?”

“…I just wanted to say thank you.” Black doesn’t quite meet blue as fingers twist in his lap. “For helping me this entire time. Sorry for causing you all this trouble.”

And there’s the hyperactive guilt complex, he’d been wondering when it’d act up. Reigen cracks his fingers and starts to spout some ‘Very useful life advice that’s totally not from a shitty motivational article’ when he catches Teru’s eyes, bright and full of resolution.

He shuts up.

“Shigeo-kun, there’s something I figured out while we were fighting Claw.”

Mob blinks. “Yes?”

“I… I wasn’t helping you just out of the goodness of my heart.” Teru confesses, smile a little pained “I’m more selfish than that, I believe.”

“Teru-kun—”

“But!” He cuts in quickly and Mob pauses. The smile fades into something smaller, far more genuine. “But I think everyone’s selfish in their own way, and I want to become a kinder person. For no one but myself.”

“So I’m not going to be your friend, Shigeo-kun.” Teru draws in a slow breath and holds out a hand. “I’m going to be your rival.”

Ah.

Mob stares at outstretched fingers, and for a moment Reigen worries he doesn’t get it. It passes quickly enough when the kid grasps it with a firm shake, an echoed smile on his lips.

“Alright, Teru-kun.”

Teru beams. “Let’s become better people together, Shigeo-kun.”

*

Ekubo follows Teru when he’s released, because trusting these guys is basically like sending a corgi to survive Godzilla. It’s only later that he and Mob are let go, and he’d been really enjoying just walking out of there, no psychic battles or crazy pyromaniacs or moderately insane children dragging him into the craziest fucking schemes ever—

Then they turn towards the carpark and walk right into Ritsu’s face.

It’s official. He thinks. The universe fucking hates me.

Ritsu’s black eyes are wide, standing halfway across to one of the cars. “…Nii-san.”

“Ritsu.” Mob replies softly.

Que the heaviest pause in conversation since the turn of the century. At least Reigen ain’t alone; Shou and his team are literally about to fidget themselves into an awkward seizure near the car.

“You’re leaving.”

“…I need time.”

Mob opens his mouth once, twice, but nothing comes out from throat. Abruptly he shuts his jaw and breathes in, hands carefully at his sides. “Okay.”

Ritsu’s words are ragged. “I don’t know how much time I’ll need.”

“…Okay.”

Fucking hell, at this rate Mob’s gonna have better conversational flow with Touichirou than his own little brother. They’re both standing like wounded animals, Ritsu’s arms close to his chest and Mob’s hands clutching his stomach, like his guts might spill out across the ground if he doesn’t.

“I don’t know if I can talk to you again.”

“…I know.” Mob’s voice trembles. “I understand.”

Black eyes stare at him. “…You really haven’t changed, Nii-san.”

The kid starts to turn away and every step makes Mob’s eyes break. God, the kid’s legs are shaking. He’s this close to falling apart and Reigen gets to watch as it splinters, crackles, snaps—

Mob stumbles forward. “Ritsu!”

His brother stops.

“I…” Mob’s shoulders tremble. His fingers tighten around his stomach until the cloth is tense enough to rip. The kid opens his mouth again, seems to fight for the words before he swallows.

“Take care of yourself.” It’s said in a voice like shattered glass.

Ritsu doesn’t respond at first. Stands still long enough for a stray breeze to pick torn posters and paper scraps off the ground, dancing them pass their knees. He inclines his head.

“You too, Nii-san.”

He gets into the car and shuts the door without once looking back. Mob lets him go.

Fuck, what a mess.

Shou’s head swivels between them three times before he sighs. He comes over to slap Mob’s shoulder. “Look, don’t worry about him alright? I’ll deal with it.”

“Thank you Shou-kun.” Mob’s voice is empty.

“It’s payback for everything, you don’t gotta be that polite.”

“…Polite?”

“Still shit at reading the atmosphere.” Shou mutters. “Just, don’t change your number. If he ever comes around, I’ll give it to him.”

“Okay.”

Shou gives him another slap and nods at Reigen before he gets in the vehicle. The engine’s low roar rumbles through his spine as the car drives away.

It’s another five minutes before he walks over and lets himself shake the kid’s shoulder.

“Mob?”

Kid shivers like he’s in Antarctica and he finds himself wrapping an arm around Mob’s shoulders. “You okay?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Right, sorry, stupid question.” Reigen sighs. He tugs the kid out of the shadowed carpark and onto the street, where they sit on the bottom steps of a nearby staircase. The place’s quiet, only the sound of early morning birds in the breeze. He rubs small circles into the kid’s back until his shoulder blades stop shaking.

“It’s over.” Mob murmurs.

“Yeah, it is.”

The kid still isn’t crying, eyes dry as stone. He swallows. “…Anything you want to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Mob picks at his bandages. Reigen watches him pull it three times before he pauses. “What about you, Reigen-san? What are you going to do?”

“Probably head home and get a shower.” He scratches his head, suddenly remembering something very important. “Speaking of which, you still owe me a house and an office kid.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.” He grabs onto the idea like a rabid dog and stands up. Finally, something he can actually do. “Come on, you need a bath too, I’ll lend you some of my old clothes.” Holds out a hand. “Reckon you got enough juice to fix it?”

Mob blinks before he grabs it, and Reigen hauls him to his feet. “Yes.”

“Right then, pretty sure I’ve got an old hoodie that’ll fit you, assuming it wasn’t blown up in the explosion anyway—”

“Um, Reigen-san…?”

Reigen stops rambling and looks back. Mob still hasn’t moved from his spot. “Yeah kid?”

“I, um…” Black eyes flicker. “Thank you, for the shower and clothes. I… understand if you’ll prefer not to, and I really wouldn’t mind if you’ll rather not—”

Why’s he so nervous? Reigen raises an eyebrow. “Kid, if you don’t want to you can just say it you know, I’m not gonna force you—”

“N-no, it’s not that.” The way Mob shuffles reminds Reigen violently of kittens. “It’s.. um…”

The kid sucks in a breath. “…Can I stay with you, Reigen-san?”

…Oh.

The words ignite something warm and deep in his chest, makes something rough climb up his throat. Crap, now he’s being real sappy, eyes starting to itch—

He shoves it all back and pats the kid like an obnoxious douche. “Sorry kid, no can do, unless—!” He grins, “You call me Arataka.”

It’s a testament to how much has changed that Mob gets it’s a joke. The kid’s black eyes are warm, lit from behind like morning dew. The smile on his face is brighter than the sun.

“Okay, Arataka-san.”

“Psh— Drop the ‘san’ kid!”

Lips lift an inch. “Okay, Shishou.”

“S-Shishou?! Excuse me— You little punk, c’mere—”

*

A year later

*

“60 seconds, okay?”

Mob nods.

“Alright.” Reigen holds his hands curved around Mob’s, unbandaged and scarred skin pale against the blue of his hoodie. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Mob breathes in, then carefully places his hands in Reigen’s palms. He wraps his fingers around the kid’s and almost immediately Mob’s shoulders stiffen. Reigen starts counting, one, two, three—

Mob holds utterly still. Thirty seconds. He’s still breathing, fingers starting to tremble— Fourty seconds. Kid’s eyes are squeezed shut, breath’s coming in a bit faster— Fifty seconds. Hair’s starting to lift off his face—

Sixty. Reigen lets go. Mob gasps and pulls his hands to his chest.

“You okay kid?”

It takes the kid a few seconds to nod, and ten more before he shivers and grabs the gloves off the table. He pulls them on, tightening the straps around his palms and presses his fingers together.

Reigen sits down next to him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“...Yes” Mob’s voice is oddly steady. “I think it’s getting better.”

He smiles and straightens. “That’s good kid. You’re going karaoke with your friends later right?”

“Kurata-san made a new telepathy song for us to try.”

“…And she wants you to amplify it with your powers to summon aliens.” He deadpans.

“We’re practicing so they get a good greeting from us.”

At this point, Reigen doesn’t have an excuse for being surprised anymore. He grabs his jacket off the chair. “Right, have fun. Where are you meeting them again?”

“Near the train station, Teru-kun said he’ll meet me at the office first.”

“Could have just stayed over last night.” Reigen murmurs. Kid comes over often enough that he’s got his own designated futon and closet space already anyway. He opens the door and nearly screams at the demonic monstrosity in his face, opening its wide gaping maw lined with sharp, hideous fangs as it lets out the most ear-piercing cry—

“Meow.”

Reigen glares at Raptor. “You’re not getting more.”

“Meow.”

“It’s not happening.”

She tilts her head. “Meow.”

I refuse to be bullied by a kitten. He gives her another glare as Mob pets her lightly with a gloved hand. “Good morning Sesame. You’re getting very round.”

“Mew.” She rubs her cheek against his palm. God, the sheer audacity of it all. Reigen will never understand why the kid named her after something as benign as sesame milk.

Mob pulls away a moment later, and Sesame jumps onto the rooftop. (It’s the one good thing about her creepy intelligence, she knows the kid’s limits.) The kid puts the bowl back in the sink and they step out onto the street, where Mob sticks close to his side. The city’s bustling today, but the kid never once pulls his hood over his head.

It’s a good twenty minutes before they reach a quieter road. “By the way, how’s your friend been?”

“Tsubomi-chan’s going for a tennis competition.” Mob says. “She’s hoping to become a national player.”

“Kid’s skilled, she could probably do it.” They reach the staircase to the office, and goddamn was it always this tiring to climb them? Must be getting old. “Good to have that kind of direction at her age— Hey, morning Serizawa.”

Serizawa’s hand swings up so fast Reigen worries it’ll crack his ribs like a damn cannonball. Ekubo snickers next to him. “R-Reigen-san! You scared me… Shigeo-kun too, good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Hey, what, no greeting for me?” Ekubo prods.

“You told me to brainwash Tsubomi-chan over the phone.” Kid’s voice is dead.

“It’s a good idea! You’ve got enough power to do it!”

Black eyes stare at him. Ekubo keeps grinning that oily grin of his as he floats backwards slowly.

“Well, it’s a valid idea, at least?”

Kid keeps staring until the snotball deflates. “Okay, okay, sorry.”

“…Let’s just go in.” Reigen slaps Serizawa’s back as the door swings open. “We’ve got quite a few clients today, first one’s a real mess. You read the profile?”

“Yes, something about strange smells and cockroaches…?”

“Yeah.” Reigen nods intensely. “Cockroaches, Serizawa. Cockroaches. This spirit is the scum of this earth.”

“You’ll think you’ll have grown a pair by now.” Ekubo mumbles. Reigen ignores him.

“I don’t know Reigen-san, it sounds like they just need a cleaner…”

“Don’t sweat the details, it’s a cockroach spirit.” He slaps a nonchalant hand through the air. “Anyway, Mob’s going karaoke-ing with his friends, so we’re handling things alone today.”

“Oh, you sing, Shigeo-kun?”

Mob pauses from where he’s pouring tea into three mugs. “No, I play the tambourine.”

“Ah.” Serizawa nods like the secrets of the cosmos are hidden in those words. “I see.”

The door opens before Reigen can ask if there’s money involved in those secrets, and Teru struts in wearing some flower patterned ensemble fucking aliens would balk at. There’s probably no wisdom in letting him meet Tome like that, is there? “Good morning everyone!”

“Morning kid.”

Teru beams the billionth-watt smile of a rainbow peacock. Fuck that should be illegal this early in the morning. “Shigeo-kun, are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” Mob nods at him. “See you later, Arataka-san, Serizawa-san.”

“See you kid.” Reigen blinks and yells as they slip out the door. “And remember, no alcohol!”

There’s a vague sound of confirmation as it shuts behind them. Serizawa sits down across from him. “I um, don’t think they’re legal yet?”

“They’re teenagers, Tome’s a goddamn tornado.” Reigen rubs a hand over his eyes. “Last time she got some brilliant plan to summon aliens using alcohol, I couldn’t get the smell out of the toliet for weeks.”

“Should have seen the projectile vomit. Whole fucking water fountain right across the damn room.” Ekubo grins. “That was fun.”

Serizawa’s jitters go from ‘phone call’ to ‘micro earthquake. “T-that’s worrying.”

“No shit.” He sighs, tapping the pile of documents on the table. “Anyway, we got a client to prepare for, come on, I need your help with this.”

“Oh, yes, of course!”

*

“Reigen-san’s business seems to be doing well.” Teru combs his grown-out fringe out of his eyes. “Is he balancing work and homeschooling okay?”

“Yes. We’re doing geometry now, it’s hard.”

“Ah, do you need help?”

He shakes his head. “I want to try it myself first.”

“Okay, if you need help just let me know alright? We can tackle it at our next study-session.”

The breeze blows by as they round the corner bookshop and cross into the street across the train station. Mob buys several prawn crackers and a bottle of milk from the convenience store before they step outside to wait near the gantry.

“Have you decided on what school to apply for by the way?” Teru asks as he opens his canned drink. “You’re hoping to join a free school next year?”

“Yes. I’ve found a few.” He pulls out his phone and taps on the notes app, flipping over to a short list. “I’m hoping to join the first one.”

“…Seasoning Spice Free? I’ve heard good things about them, I think a classmate of mine decided to transfer into it because they focus on having a friendly culture.” Teru nods to himself. “There’s a really famous music teacher in there.”

“Oh.” Mob blinks. “I didn’t know that.”

“Something to look forward to then. Who knows, maybe you’ll come out as an idol singer or something.” Teru chuckles gently.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sing in front of a crowd.” He tilts his head. “Tome-san might be able to.”

Teru’s face crinkles like he’s eaten a lemon. It’s a little strange, Mob knows his drink has no lemons; Teru’s love for sour things was comparable to Reigen’s relationship with cockroaches. “Well… I won’t disagree with you there.”

“Mob-kun! Teru-kun!”

A beam clears Teru’s previous expression like a windscreen wiper clears dust and rain. “Hello Tome-san, everyone.”

Tome stalks towards them with so much fervour Mob has to double-check the sky for aliens. The rest of the telepathy and body improvement club follows behind her like a reluctant posse. “Mob-kun these dumbasses don’t think it’ll work, but you believe me right? You know how much work I put into finding aliens!”

“I do?”

“You do!” She nods so furiously he becomes convinced it must be true. “That’s why you gotta help me, Mob-kun. We’re gonna practice today, and you’re going to sing with me.”

He blinks. “I-I’m not sure.”

“It’s aliens, Mob-kun. Aliens!” Her arms flail about in excitement and Mob has to take three steps back to avoid being slapped. “Aren’t you excited about meeting aliens? Whole other extra-terrestrial lifeforms! It’s amazing, beautiful, fantastical—”

“Taicho, I think you added too much sugar to your drink.” Inukawa cuts in.

“Sorry, Mob-kun. Apparently there’s some new proof about aliens recently, so whenever we meet up this happens.” Kijibayashi explains as he and Saruta grab her by the arms. It takes the combined force of them and four other Body Improvement members to drag her through the karaoke’s doors.

“Oh, okay.”

Inukawa shakes his head. “Your nonchalance really amazes me sometimes.” Mob blinks again in response.

They shuffle themselves past the receptionist and squeeze into one of the bigger karaoke rooms. By now, Tome’s calmed down enough that they set her loose over the karaoke controls while everyone unpacks the food. Mob thinks they overbought, but no one seems concerned about the miniature snack landslide on the table so he lets it go.

Inukawa flicks through the songs on the screen. “I’m surprised people are still posting to the website though. I thought it’ll have died by now.”

“You can thank yours truly.” Tome grins behind a drink that looks suspiciously similar to a beer can. “Never underestimate the power of us internet conspiracy theorists.”

“Mob-kun’s not a theory though.”

“He’s an urban legend and he’s got psychic powers, close enough.”

“Thank you.”

Everyone’s attention shifts towards him and Mob feels his cheeks warm. “I don’t think I ever thanked you, for doing that for me.”

Tome slaps his back. “Hey, no worries. You know if you actually want to thank me you can help me sing.”

“I’ll rather not.”

“Come on, you’re the psychic here! If you sang we could probably amplify it by three times or something.”

“I’m quite sure amplification doesn’t work like that, Tome-san.” Teru’s smile is apologetic.

“Eh, for real?” She deflates. “Lame.”

The first set of lyrics starts up after that, and at some point Mob realises the telepathy song is really just the new alien movie theme with the words ‘telepathy’ replacing every other word. Tome, Musashi and Teru sing it to everyone else’s cheers while Mob follows along with the tambourine. Partway through, a half-clothed man walks onto the screen.

“Those are some fine muscles.” Musashi compliments. “Don’t you think Kageyama-kun?

“Yes.” He wonders how long it must have taken to build them.

“Let’s make that our goal! You did a few pull-ups the other day, you’ll definitely get there!”

The song is immediately hijacked by ‘Fight on!’s so boisterous Mob finds himself dizzily cross-eyed when Tome stabs the mic at him. “Hey, exercise all you want, but you better remember you’re helping me this weekend!”

“I do remember.”

“Good! See how enthusiastic Mob-kun is? And you dare call yourselves telepathy club members?” She whips the mic around at the others. “Where’s your passion? Your drive?”

“No one’s going to have that much passion over aliens, taicho.”

“Another word and I am throwing this mic at you.” She shakes it threateningly as her club members recoil.

The next song begins, a rock hiphop number he recognises from the new Caped Baldy movie that has the room collapsing into frenzied cheers. He ends up levitating three bottles and a half-eaten pack of chips when half the group jumps onto the table, struggling to keep from being squashed between the body improvement members’ muscles. It’s utter chaos, Reigen would have called it ‘a teenage hellhole’.

He’d never thought he’ll be part of it.

Something warm fills his chest. Hidden in the chaos, Mob smiles.

It’s really good to have friends.

*

They come out five hours later with dry throats and a dozen-odd bags of used cups and styrofoam, spending the rest of the day at the local arcade before finishing off with dinner. Everyone spilts off at a crossroads later, Tome reminding him about Saturday and the body improvement club cheering out a “See you at the track on Monday, Kageyama-kun!”. Teru’s the last to leave, setting up another sleepover-study-session before heading down a different street.

It’s nine when he reaches home, and Reigen greets him with a look that says he’s still thinking about the cockroaches. “Hey kid, you still hungry? I’ve got leftovers.”

“It’s okay, I ate alot.” Mob plops down next to him. “Karaoke was fun.”

“Yeah?” Reigen glances at him. “How were they, by the way? You guys talk about anything?”

“We spoke more during dinner, everyone was busy singing Tome-san’s song.” Mob tilts his head. “The teachers have been telling them to start thinking about high school, but no one’s really sure what they want to do yet.”

“Those exercises.” Reigen’s tone is the one he reserves for difficult customers. “It’s not a bad thing to know what you want, but who knows that when they’re fifteen? Gah.”

“…I think I do.”

Reigen pauses, then sits up. “You do?”

“Tsubomi-chan and I were talking about it the other day when she told me about becoming a tennis player.” He tugs his gloves off and sets them on his lap so his skin can dry against the air. “She asked me what I wanted to do, and I said I wanted to help people, but I didn’t know how. So she suggested joining a uniform group.”

“Uniform group?”

“She meant the police.” He explains, clenching his fists. Nothing on his palms today. “But I think I’ll rather be a firefighter.”

Reigen blinks. “…You’ll do well in that. You’ll definitely do well in that, actually.”

“I will?”

“Yeah. You’re still aiming to get into high school right kid?” Reigen continues when he nods. “So you can try a vocational course on emergency medicine or something after that, and then you can join the firefighting force. It works kid, you could do it.”

Something lifts in his chest. “…I’ll try my best.”

Pressure on his head makes him blink. He looks up to find Reigen’s hand ruffling his hair, only to pause. “Yikes you’re sweaty. Go get a shower Mob, it’s late.”

Mob inclines his head and gets up. He’s about halfway out of the room when a thought makes him stop.

Reigen notices. “Mob?”

“…Are you free tomorrow?”

“Pretty much yeah. Why?”

His fingers tighten around one another, and he turns around. “Could you… come with me? To that place tomorrow?”

Reigen’s stare is completely uncomprehending until it isn’t. Are human eyes supposed to widen that much? “Oh. Oh. Oh, dam— you’re sure kid? Tomorrow?”

He nods once. “Yes.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I’m free, we can go.” Reigen still looks a little stunned. “When are you going?”

“Maybe in the morning?”

It takes a moment for Reigen to get his bearings. “Alright. Alright, before noon then. Go get that shower kid, we’ll leave at nine, alright?”

He nods again. “Okay.”

*

The playground is still as deserted as the dead sea, and the sight digs something sharp into his lungs. He pulls up his hood as they cross into the rebuilt neighbourhood and pass the corner, hitting the street where there once was an old T-junction road. It’s a small park now, trees dotted with bursts of flowers and hanging fruits, a stone plaque sitting in the centre.

A memorial.

His shoulders tremble.

The sound of shuffling clothes and a weight on his shoulder breaks his reverie. Reigen doesn’t speak, just keeps his hand there to anchor him down.

Mob takes a deep breath to slow his racing heart. Doesn’t dare move until his legs feel less like jelly and his hands aren’t shaking in his gloves. He steps onto the manicured grass, images flashing in his mind; That bench was their neighbour’s front door, that small pond was the streetlamp that could never stay lit, the flowers there used to be red, grew off old shurbs that lined the way up to his house, his footsteps light as he chased after his younger brother up to the knotched wooden door.

He places a hand on cold stone instead, the ice biting through his gloves and into his ribcage.

Mob bends. Dirt scuffs up his knees as the world grows silent and narrow. He fights to keep his back straight while his stomach rolls like a crashing wave, opting to pull off his gloves over collapsing into pieces. He presses his bare palms together.

He prays.

He has no idea how long he kneels there, but it must have been a while; the sun’s shifted slightly when he finally looks up. Reigen’s still standing next to him, face slightly forlorn.

“…Sorry.” Mob says, voice scratchy.

“Don’t worry about it kid.”

He pushes himself off the ground and waves off Reigen’s hands when he nearly stumbles. They stare at the carved names in stone.

“This was the front door.”

There’s something devastated in Reigen’s eyes. Mob steps past the memorial. “And this was the genkan. There was a staircase here that led up to my and Ritsu’s rooms. And over there’s the door to the living room—”

Where that happened.

He stops, hand hovering in mid-air. Closes his hand over nothing.

“I…”

Throat clamps up. He steps back only for his shoulders to hit an arm. Reigen wraps it around him and he trembles, smells iron in his lungs and wet bleeding out onto his hands. He probably doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t have any right to say something like this but—

“I really miss them.” He whispers.

The arm around him tightens. It’s warm. He doesn’t deserve it. It’s so warm.

Mob presses a hand to his face and doesn’t move away.

The park really is quiet. No birds, no crickets. It’s silent as a grave, it is a grave. The thought makes him backpedal until they’re in front of the memorial again.

“You’ve grown up.”

Mob looks up. Reigen is staring at the memorial, eyes heavy.

“I’ve never met them, but from what you’ve told me and from what I know about you… They seemed like a good, kind couple.” He meets Mob’s gaze. “I think that’s what they would have said.”

A whole tremor goes through his torso, something heavy in his ribcage. He nods and pulls away from Reigen’s arm to stand in front of carved names again. His legs feel stronger despite the cold breeze.

“…I’ll try my best.” He promises to stone.

Then he steps back, once, twice. Exhales and breathes in the flower-stained autumn air. He turns to face the road, walking onto tarmac only to realise he has no idea where to go.

Reigen slaps his back. “It’s nearly lunch kid, wanna get ramen?”

“Yes.” Ramen sounds nice.

“Alright.”

They start down the street, Reigen beginning a long discussion about business profit and the consistency of ramen noodles. At some point, his phone vibrates, and he picks it out to see a simple message notification on the screen.

Can we meet up?

Mob stares. Something he’d never noticed was misplaced settles in his chest. He unlocks it before he can hesitate and types out a reply.

Yes.

When do you want to meet?

“Mob?”

Reigen is a little ahead of him, and he breaks into a short sprint to catch up. He listens as Reigen posits another theory about the intricacies of cha shus and soup taste. Mob doesn’t really get it, but that’s okay. Listening to Reigen is always oddly soothing.

He’ll tell him about it later, during lunch maybe.

Golden sunrays stream past buildings. The air is a fresh fall cool. They’re heading to a nice family restaurant and he’s got math to practice later when they get home. His friends want to meet up for movies next Wednesday and his hands don’t itch under his gloves.

Mob smiles.

Yeah, everything would be okay.