Chapter Text
“And you’re sure about this being the right building?” Serizawa asks, his eyebrows pushed together in a frown. Outside a building in the bitter cold, he, a small green blob of a spirit, and one self proclaimed psychic stand out on the curb. The latter squints at his phone.
Reigen doesn’t seem to hear, so Serizawa speaks again.
“This is the right place?” he says, and this time Reigen picks it up.
“Of course it is!” Reigen declares, flipping his phone closed and shoves it into his pocket, which further in it lay several small restaurant size salt packets. In case of emergency.
“How could it not be the right place, Serizawa? Can’t you sense that powerful energy? ” Reigen shakes his head in exaggerated exasperation as they walk to the door of the building. Above the entrance stands a large apartment building, slightly worn down and weathered, the door creaking as they step onto the pilly carpet covering hard concrete.
Dimple makes a face, slightly transparent.
“Yeesh, this is even worse than your apartment. That’s some of the ugliest wallpaper I’ve seen in my life.”
Reigen rolls his eyes. “You’re dead.” he says, pointing at the floating spirit with a hand as his other is shoved into his pocket. “So, your afterlife, you mean. Anyway, who cares. We’re not here to judge the people who live here, or the interior design skills.”
Dimple shrugs in the odd way that a floating spirit can shrug, and drifts over to another side of the lobby as Reigen peers around, taking in the area. It is a small lobby, unattended by any clerks. A perpetual film of grime covers each surface. Furniture that is trying it’s best not to be mismatched sits around, also attempting to cover up holes in the apparently awful wallpaper. No one walks in or out of it, save for the employees of Spirits and Such Consultation Office. Serizawa stands behind, glancing around the place and keeping an eye out for any otherworldly presences other than the one that is picking his nose behind them.
They had been called a week before by the owner of the building, who started blubbering right as Mob picked up the phone.
“You gotta help me, you do, you really do!” the owner cried into the phone. Mob sat at the small reception desk, phone in hand, as the other line whined and howled. Both Serizawa and Reigen were out on a quick errand, and Dimple couldn’t really lift a phone or be polite enough to talk to a potential customer, so Shigeo was left sitting at the desk awkwardly, his half-done homework splayed out on the surface as the man wore himself out. After a moment of silence, Mob spoke.
“This is Spirits and Such, where your exorcism is our exercise.” he said, reading off the cheesy script Reigen had prepared for him whenever he answered the phone. Mob was silent for another moment- he felt like he should say something else, but he wasn’t sure what.
The owner of the building took in a deep gulp of air.
“You’re the best exorcism place I know. So you've got to help! I’ve got a demon haunting my building.” he said, voice thick with fear. “There’s something wrong with the building! The thirteenth floor is haunted, I’ve gotten so many complaints, and the housing market is awful nowadays…” he blathered.
“Ah.” Mob said, taking a moment to slowly write down what the man had said, as Reigen had instructed all people acting as secretary to do when they got a call. Which was usually just him, or occasionally Tome when she really annoyed Reigen. When he was finished he spoke again.
“My master is out of the office right now,” he said calmly. “But you can call back later, he will probably be back. Have a good day.” He set the phone down as the main wailed and eventually quieted as the phone clicked.
Dimple stopped zig-zagging around the office for a moment to float over to Mob, who quietly went back to working on his homework. It was a school day, after all.
“Y’know, Shigeo, you could just take the job for yourself.” he prompted. Mob kept writing, uninterested.
“Reigen wouldn’t even know about it. You could take all the cash!” he said. Mob looked up at where he hung in the air.
“That would be dishonest.” he stated as Dimple continued.
“C’mon,” he encouraged. “You know he doesn’t pay you peanuts. What’s one exorcism out of his salt-crusted pockets? You can handle it…” Dimple kept talking. “Maybe you can buy Tsubomi some nice flowers! Get some new shoes. Or even give it to me, just to look after…”
Mob affixed the spirit with an unimpressed look that looked like his normal expression, but with a little annoyance behind it.
“No thanks. Shishou can take care of this one. I have a test I have to study for.”
Dimple made a sour face, defeated by the middle schooler’s complete lack of deceit, and went back to ping-ponging around.
The small bell on the door rang, signaling that it had opened, and Reigen walked into the office, followed by Serizawa. The two wore heavy coats to try and avoid the cold outside, Serizawa with a pair of earmuffs to further keep warm, Reigen with a scarf. Their cheeks were both tinted pink from the cold as Reigen gestured animatedly, talking to Serizawa as they laughed.
“Hello Shishou, Serizawa-san.” Mob said, looking up from his work.
“Ah, Mob!” Reigen exclaimed as he took off his coat and scarf, hanging them on the rack by the door. He rubbed his hands together to try and warm them.
“You keep the office in order while I was gone?” Mob nodded, opening the drawer of the small desk to take out a paper. He handed it to Reigen, who looked over it.
“Someone called,” Mob explained. “They said they needed an exorcism. The details are on the paper.”
Reigen nodded, a stern look on his face as he read the notes of the call.
“The thirteenth floor… I see…” he mumbled seriously. “How very… stereotypical. However, the state of the owner shows that this must mean something…”
Serizawa peered over his shoulder, quietly reading the note as he took off his earmuffs.
“Kageyama-san, did the owner happen to say what kind of evil spirit?” Serizawa asked, looking up from the paper. Mob shook his head.
“All he said was that it was haunting the thirteenth floor.” Reigen hmmed in consideration.
Finally, after a minute of thinking, he asked what the client was willing to pay, and Reigen Arataka was sold. And a few days later, he, Serizawa, and Dimple find themselves in the fluorescent-lit lobby, keeping their eyes peeled for an evil spirit.
“What are you feeling, Serizawa?” Reigen asks, an investigative look on his face as he pokes around. He pushes over a potted plant, dirt spilling onto the floor. Quickly, as if the plant had never been there, he stands up and walks over to the other side of the room, as if to try and cover up his crime.
Serizawa watches this quietly, slightly embarrassed for his employer, and then responds to the question.
“It feels… normal,” he says, a little surprised by his own answer. “Although it looks a little… run-down, it seems to be uninhabited by any evil spirits. However,” he adds “I’m not so sure that all of the building is safe. This part seems to be, at least.”
That’s enough for Reigen. He puts on his poster-worthy grin, a confident look in his eyes.
“Well, there's no time like the present, right, Serizawa?” he announces, turning to the hallway that led to the elevators. “Let’s go check what’s going on up on the thirteenth floor.”
If the lobby had been bad, the elevators are worse. Serizawa wouldn’t be surprised if he and Reigen become the evil spirits haunting the building; the elevators are rickety and almost too ready to drop them to their deaths. The elevator creaks and groans as it moves up, seeming to never even entertain the idea of stopping. However, the precarious nature of the elevators seems to be of no concern to Reigen, who watches the numbers go up with an intense glare. After a minute or so he swings to face Dimple and Serizawa.
“Seems like we’re not moving,” he says, in the tone someone would say that there was a bill in the mail.
“Not moving?!” Dimple responds. “The hell do you mean, not moving?”
Reigen gives him a withering glare, one that suggests the spirit is a lime popsicle and that he was going to melt him. “I mean we’re not going up. The number hasn’t changed from twelve to thirteen, and I’ve been watching it for a good minute.”
“Well, maybe the damn elevator’s broken!” Dimple snaps. He flies up to the top of the elevator, heading to pop out and see what’s going on. But the moment he touches the ceiling, the spirit richochetes off, bouncing around on the walls. A strong energy strikes through the elevator, making Serizawa gasp and clench the railings as the elevator shakes. Reigen notices his white-knuckled grip on the rails, then turns to where Dimple lies on the floor like a wilted piece of neon lettuce.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, eyes darting around the small compartment. He tries to steel himself.
Serizawa presses his hand to his forehead, a pounding headache now throbbing in his skull. That burst of energy had been extremely powerful, but it made no sense as to why it was surrounding the elevator. It felt similar to some kind of psychic barrier, similar to the one Serizawa put up for many years. But this one didn’t feel like it was keeping things out. More like keeping things… in.
Reigen, frustrated with the fact that something had obviously just occurred and he hadn’t picked up on it, huffs.
“So? What’s going on? Anyone have any idea?” Dimple still lays pancaked on the ground, motionless like a little green booger. No help. Serizawa takes a deep breath, thinking for a moment, then begins to speak.
“I think we’re trapped in some kind of barrier.” he says, chewing his words around carefully. “There’s an energy around the elevator, trying to keep us in. That’s why Dimple couldn’t look out.”
Reigen nods like he understands, which he doesn’t at all. “I see,” he says, which he doesn’t. “So something is keeping us from moving.”
“Exactly,” Serizawa responds, moving past Reigen’s great underlying confusion. “The question is why it’s keeping us in here.”
Reigen taps a finger to his lips. “The client did say the activity was on the 13th floor. And we’re stuck on the twelfth floor, so my guess is… the spirit is keeping us from entering it’s floor.”
Serizawa nods in agreement at Reigen’s proclamation, even though it really is just restating Serizawa’s own. However, it seems as if maybe Reigen understands a little.
“How’s about exorcising the spirit?” Reigen suggests. There goes his credibility.
“I don’t think the actual spirit is near us,” Serizawa comments. A bead of sweat drips down Reigen’s neck. “Just that it’s got some extension of itself that’s wrapped around. I can’t sense any of the spirit around us, the complete thing feels farther away.”
Reigen thinks about what Serizawa said and feels a little less talk-show ready. So there really is a spirit, not just some rumor. This is definitely not good; his favorite type of spirits are ones that don’t actually exist and that he only has to pretend to deal with. No matter! This spirit is no match, he tells himself. He’ll first try to talk it out, and if that doesn't work he’ll hit it with all the salt he has, and if that doesn't work he’ll ask Serizawa to sort it out. No reason to worry, a plan has been made. Not quite a concrete plan, but at least a cardboard one.
The neon wad of gum that lies on the floor still doesn't budge. Even when Reigen pokes him with his shoe. Even when Reigen kicks him with all the force he can muster. Dimple is out of commission.
This makes Reigen a little worried. As annoying as the spirit is, it was helpful to have something of psychic substance there alongside Mob or Serizawa. Now it’s just the two of them; one man who parades his false abilities around, and one that often keeps his real powers hidden.
“So, before anything we need to get out of here,” Reigen muses, tapping his chin. He tries to not let the fears that are trickling in the back of his mind show. “But that’s nothing I can’t handle,” he says, trying to sound reassuring. The effect doesn't really work, but he likes to think it does.
“Can you try to find out more about the barrier, Serizawa?” Reigen asks, staring up at the ceiling, his neck craned to look for any ghostly signs.
“Sure thing.” Serizawa responds, and closes his eyes, splaying out his fingers. Like his umbrella used to, having his eyes closed makes him feel safer. More connected to his own abilities. And if he feels more connected, then he can feel more powerful, and more in control.
Reaching out with his aura he feels through the thick fog of the opposing energy. Upon first psychic glance the energy doesn’t necessarily seem evil; more curious, scared. Territorial. As if the spirit has staked a clear claim on this floor.
Further and further Serizawa outstretches his power, feeling every nook and corner of the 13th floor, looking through door after door. It is less of seeing it, as if he was walking around the floor, but more of sensing the area. He feels a slight tugging of his spirit, as he does whenever he uses this much power, and his eyebrows pull together in concentration. Reigen stands in the corner of the lift, staring at him with a frown. An immense aura radiates through the shaft, pouring out of Serizawa, but Reigen doesn’t feel it. He’s a little miffed he can’t feel it. If he could, though, he would feel something like looking at the street on a blazing hot day. The slight wobble of the air above the pavement. Serizawa’s unseen aura shifts, pulsing through the air. And then suddenly, his eyes fly open. A gasp leaves his chest.
Reigen, ever the comforter, immediately begins to question him.
“What? What? What was that?!” he barks. The shift in the energy is so powerful that even he can feel it, although he thinks it only as a slight stomach ache.
A few blocks over, Mob looks up from his homework.
Serizawa blinks several times as if he is trying to get water out of his eyes. He has a dazed look on his face as Reigen shouts, gesturing with his hands in classic Reigen-style. He thought he doesn’t show that he is rattled, but the whirlwind of expression set in an anxious tone says otherwise. Reigen likes to think that no one can ever tell his real emotions, but unless he really tries to hide them it is as if they are written on his forehead, even if for a brief moment.
Serizawa stands silently, thoughtfully, as his own whirlwind flies around in his head. There had been something… sharp in the aura of the thirteenth floor. Sharp. That was the only way to describe it. Something that didn’t want anything near it, something with enough power to shove Serizawa the hell out, like an angry teenager slamming their door.
And Serizawa is right. It wanted him gone. This aura, from the moment he felt it, felt old. Like it had been there for many years. And would be there for many more. Yet, despite this feeling of constant inhabitance, the spirit feels… small. Like a child that has never grown up. Serizawa wonders what this means.
Reigen wonders how long Serizawa is going to stay silent.
He’s itching for answers he can’t get himself. It’s the type of itch that to satisfy he would normally pull out a cigarette from another carton he always swears will be his last. But there’s no cigarette to calm the inquiries of psychic powers, and even more questions remain unanswered as the elevator door opens with a ‘ping!’. And just like that, they’ve reached the thirteenth floor.
It's… empty. Reigen didn’t expect it to be bustling, but… maybe one or two people in their apartments, the ones too stubborn to leave, even through a haunting. But there’s not a single sign that anyone has ever been there. The hallway continues in an ominous monotony, the brass number signs beside the wooden doors all the same as the ones before. A few plastic plants sit in spread out corners, and the slight hum of what Reigen hopes is electricity comes from behind the walls.
Reigen feels… unnerved. Many haunted places simply lack that feeling of, well, hauntedness, oftentimes being hoaxes or stuff of rumors and urban legends, but this place feels… real. Scary, even.
Not that Reigen would ever dwell on the things that scare him.
Looking beside him, he notices Serizawa looks just as scared as he feels, maybe even more. Looking farther, he also sees Dimple laying like a lime tissue, still unmoving on the ground.
The two of those things come together in a huge pot of really not good . If the one with psychic powers is nervous, Reigen should be in hysterics. He prides himself with not being in hysterics.
Serizawa takes a deep breath and steps onto the worn carpet of the thirteenth floor, eyes intently scanning the surrounding area. Reigen follows, then takes a glance back at Dimple, then walks a little farther, and then sighs, going to grab the spirit. Serizawa obviously wasn’t going to.
He picks Dimple up, and instantly makes a face. It feels like he’s picking up a sentient piece of jell-o that had been made terribly wrong. Eager to get rid of him, he places Dimple in a fake plant, making a mental note to try his best not to forget where he put the blob. Reigen then looks up, and Serizawa is gone.
His heart drops for a moment before he catches himself. His eyes dart around as he glances quickly around the floor, staying absolutely still to see if he can hear his footsteps. Reigen doesn’t hear anything. Not even the cars outside. A bead of cold sweat drips down his neck.
“Hey, Serizawa!” he calls, laughing in a little bit of a pitiful way. “Serizawa! Hey! Come back!”
He is answered with silence, and a narrow, empty hallway. It smells like mothballs and lighter fluid, and seems to stretch on endlessly.
It’s getting hotter now. Or is it him? He rolls up his sleeves, the heat itchy like little needles. His hands move to loosen his tie, to scrub through his hair. He hates it when he feels like this. This is not how he should feel. He tries not to think about what he would do if a spirit showed up.
At the same time Serizawa wanders the halls, one after the other. He’s looking for Reigen. It’s just not like him to vanish without saying anything, he thinks to himself. Serizawa feels a little like he did when he first started working for Spirits and Such- lost, confused, constantly checking the note in his sleeve to make sure that he was doing everything right. Now he has no note, no one to tell him what to do. He’s not used to this, but he keeps looking anyway. Tells himself he’s alright, that sooner or later Reigen will show up in some random room looking for something to eat, or a glass of water, but… if the spirit really does show up, he’s not sure what he will do.
An old reflex, he wishes he had his umbrella. He thinks about that crutch less and less these days, but he still finds his hand reaching to his side to grab something that’s not there.
As Serizawa keeps walking, the air gets thicker, more full of energy, like some type of spirit humidity. The identical doors pass and pass, seemingly endless. Only the sound of his own footprints and his controlled breathing are heard.
He feels a tingle on his back. A pricking sensation. Serizawa doesn’t want to turn around, every cell and piece of his being is screaming to not turn around. If he turns around he will die.
He looks back.
Behind him stands, no, floats some sort of inhuman mass, indescribable . A mess of hair and tangled limbs that at first don’t even register as such. It’s disgusting, and horrifying, the worst spirit he’s ever had the misfortune of setting his sight on. Eyes filled with rage and hunger stare at Serizawa, who stands frozen. He is more scared than he has ever been in his life.
This spirit’s energy is filling the hallway, drowning out Serizawa’s aura. The buzz of the electricity is even louder now, like bees trapped beneath the walls. But there aren’t any bees in Japan this time of year.
Quickly, as if it had always been in motion, the spirit lunges. Forward at Serizawa it stretches it’s skin and filth, reaching to snatch him. Serizawa moves quickly, his head still empty save for a deep fear. An overwhelming sense of being chased.
He turns and runs. Serizawa can’t think of anything else to do but run. So he runs fast, through hall after hall, passing the same door over and over. He runs until the breath in his throat runs it ragged, and he cannot run anymore, and then runs farther.
That is the spirit that he felt. The same sharp, piercing presence that grows weaker and weaker as he gets farther away. There is no mistaking that energy.
It’s gone. It’s gone. Serizawa finally cannot run any further. His throat hurts, burns, as he heaves for air. Pushing one of the apartment doors open, luckily unlocked, he runs to the toilet and heaves. Bile fills his throat. He was never the most athletic person, but this sort of cat and mouse chase would leave anyone leaning on their knees.
It is dark in the bathroom. No light shines from under the door, the door of a place that has long been abandoned; not long enough to begin to rot, but long enough to lose it’s touch of anything human.
Serizawa leans on the side of the tub in the bathroom, the layout similar to his small apartment, and tries to catch his breath. He is angry, and he is scared.The feeling of deep fear hasn’t left and doesn’t seem like it will anytime soon. He lays on the floor, and wishes. Wishes that he was home. That he had his damned umbrella. That someone was there to tell him what to do because he never learned how to tell himself. Like the little boy that locked himself in his room, scared as he is now, Serizawa leans his head on his knees, wraps his arms around, and begins to cry.
Thick, hot tears roll down his face. He is crying silently, shuddering against the cool tile. Serizawa feels as pathetic and alone as he did when he shut himself away.
Reigen is also not having a great time. He’s lost signal, the slightly salt dusted phone in his hand draining precious battery each moment he holds it up in the air to feed the pipe dream of good reception. He paces around, fruitlessly hoping to maybe get a bar or two. No dice.
Increasingly desperate, Reigen jumps in the air. He would be ashamed if anyone saw his little hop, but no one is there, so he’s just ashamed of himself.
His embarrassment pays off. There in the top corner one bar hovers, unsure of how long to stay. Reigen immediately brings up his contacts, wasting no excess time, and calls the first person he can think of.
“Hello?” Mob answers the phone after the third painstaking ring. Reigen feels more thankful for his disciple picking up his phone than he ever has, and immediately starts shouting into the phone.
“Mob! Thank god you picked up.” Frantically, Reigen speaks, greeting Mob as more of a habit than genuine salutation.
“Uh, Shishou, do you need something?” Mob asks. Reigen can see him now; sitting at his desk, homework laying around, a quiet day in the office. How he wishes he was there too.
Mob begins to speak, but Reigen cuts him off.
“Listen, Mob, I do need your help.” He says quickly, beginning to pace as he talks.
“Serizawa and I are on the job right now. Now, nothing’s gone wrong,” he lies, “I just need your knowledge.”
A banner shows up on his phone showing he was on five percent. Damn, that battery went quick. He needs a new phone.
Reigen is walking around the hallway now, down the long paths to who knows where.
“Have you felt any energy nearby lately? Like, a big aura spike.” he asks, slightly nervous. He fiddles with his tie.
“Uh, yeah, I have.” Mob responds, either not picking up Reigen’s anxiety or simply ignoring it for his ego’s sake, and Reigen feels what could be possible relief.
“Great. What kind? Evil?”
Three percent.
“Sort of, more… hurt. Scared.”
“Uh huh.” Reigen says, not listening to Mob describe the energy. Just tell me what I should do to get rid of it, he says in his head, annoyed.
“Ok listen, Mob, I need your help. Tell me what you’re feeling right now. Any more spiking?”
Mob is silent for a moment. He is thinking about what he’s feeling right now. Reigen can hear the gears in his psychic brain turning, turning, sensing for anything out of the ordinary.
“Shishou,” Mob says suddenly. “Shishou, there's-”
And finally, Reigen’s phone dies.
Mob takes the cell phone from his ear and looks at it. Reigen has hung up. That’s odd, because Reigen likes to hear himself talk so much that he talks an abnormal time on the phone.
Mob has a feeling of dread in his stomach: a queasy, nervous feeling.That energy he felt, that sudden spark… it hadn’t felt nice. At all. It felt like when you got shocked by an outlet, the electricity still lingering in your fingertips.
For a while, he sits quietly at the desk. The office is quiet. The office is too quiet. Mob picks up his phone.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Reigen Arataka, star psychic of the twenty-first century. Now, naturally, I know your name but… leave it along with your number so that the spirits know who it is too.”
Reigen’s cheesy voicemail. Mob always was annoyed when he heard it. He is annoyed now. But with that annoyance is also fear creeping in, little by little. It isn’t like Reigen to not answer his phone. In fact, it isn’t like Reigen to not be calling him every second. And so, this seldom-heard-by-Mob voicemail is a sign that something isn’t quite right.
Mob gets up from his chair. He closes the blinds of the office- it is getting dark now, and the dark brings cold, and the cold brings expensive air conditioning bills, so Reigen always closes the blinds at night.
Pulling on his coat, his gloves, his shoes, and putting his phone in his pocket, Mob packs up his things, also placing the spare key to the office in his pocket. As he slides in his folders and notebooks, the bell above the door sounds. Hope springs in Mob’s chest, and he turns to greet Reigen, but sees that it isn’t Reigen that has entered. Instead Teruki Hanazawa, nose and cheeks pink from the cold, stands by the small entrance.
He looks at Mob, who stands by the desk, his backpack swung onto his shoulders. Mob looks at Teru.
“Hanazawa,” he says. “I’m glad to see you,”
He is glad to see him.
Teru smiles warmly. He walks into the office, casually looking around at the wall decor that hasn’t ever changed. Mob fidgets with his gloves.
Teru finally breaks the brief moment of silence by making an observation.
“Looks like you’re headed out, Kageyama.”
Mob nods.
“Anything to do with some sort of energy?” Teru asks, nonchalantly perusing the books that lean on top of Reigen’s desk. He lifts up a few papers, really just acting like he is doing something. As smooth as Teru seems, he gets a little nervous around people he wants to impress. Like Mob. So he messes with the things splayed on the desk to seem occupied.
“You felt it too?” Mob exhales, a sense of relief in his chest. Teru is good at picking up on things like this, like this energy spike, but so is every esper in a 3 mile radius. However, Teru has the advantage of being his friend, and his words of confirmation create reasurredness.
Teru nods.
“Figured I’d head over here, that you would know what was going on.” He laughs. “Turns out I was right!”
After sending a quick text to Ritsu and packing up his things, Mob puts the key from his pocket into the door and locks it, then places it back in his pocket. Teru stands behind him, and begins to speak as he winds his scarf around his neck.
“So, Kageyama, what was that energy? Seems like you know a little about it.”
They step out into the cold air.
Mob sticks his hands in his pockets, trying to keep his chilly fingers a little bit warmer.
“Shishou called me,” he explains as Teru nods seriously. “He said that he and Serizawa-san were on a job, and that he needed my advice. He said nothing was wrong but I think he may have been lying, because he hung up.”
“That is strange. Usually you have to hang up on him .” Teru responds, eyebrows scrunched as he walks side by side with Mob. Teru is listening, but also is focusing on each step. He is secretly using his psychic powers to not slip on the ice; if Mob looked closely at his shoes, he would see about a centimeter of air between Teru and ice.
Mob nods in agreement, looking at the ground.
“I think Reigen-shishou is in danger,” he says gravely. Teru falters for a moment, his foot skidding.
“In danger,” Teru echoes. Mob continues.
“He hung up in the middle of the conversation. And I could feel something.” Mob concentrates, his mind recalling the phone call.
Teru makes a noise of agreement, like he already knows what has happened.
“He sounded… frantic.” Mob recalls. The two keep walking further into the city, the slick sidewalks now fading to more dirty slush. The night is getting colder, bitterly cold. Not many people are out now, the ones that do dare to venture into the frost holed up in ramen restaurants and cafes, the windows warm and clouded with condensation. It’s near time for dinner at the Kageyama house, and it could be time for dinner at Teru’s small apartment, but those ideas are clearly abandoned.
Teru jots down what Mob says in his mental notebook like a reporter trying to soak up every detail. Reigen is important to Mob. So he is important to Teru as well.
Teru has never worked a job before. He is in middle school, after all, and although he will be old enough soon usually middle schoolers don’t work. He also has never wanted to. A steady stream of money from his parents overseas keeps the lights and water on, and food in the refrigerator. He doesn’t want a job, and yet, he envies Mob. Working at Spirits and Such seems… dependable. Stable, if that sounds stupid. Like there is always some sort of constant; whether that be Reigen speaking loudly, dramatic while on a phone call, or Tome talking about her alien journal’s newest entry on the customs of aliens, or... What he means is that he thinks Mob is lucky to have people who care about him so much. Like a family. Oftentimes he wishes that he could fit in that office; to have a space for him.
That’s why Reigen has to be alright. They have to make sure he’s alright. As annoying as he is, there is a genuine part to Reigen that can be seen when one tilts their head at just the right angle, like a glare of sunlight at a window. Spirits and Such was Reigen’s first, after all, and now that it belongs to everyone else too there is a responsibility bound by duty and close connection to keep it together.
As Teru thinks, Mob stops walking. He stands, and cranes his neck up to look.They have reached the building. It stands like a tombstone, looming, the windows darkened and the outside grimy. It stretches up, up, as if the building will never stop reaching towards the night sky.
This much unpleasantness any normal person would notice. However, a layer of discomfort lays hidden to those lacking psychic powers, and as the two people imbued with powerful energy stand looking up at the apartments, a feeling of dread seeps down through the concrete and onto the street below.
Undaunted, Mob steps onto the stairs of the entrance. Less confident, Teru follows; his energy focused on sensing any sort of possible danger. Around the entrance of the building and further inside is dead quiet. Mob and Teru both silently take this as a bad sign.
The inside of the lobby is cold, clammy, echoing the weather outside as it’s temperature sits at an uncomfortable level. Still empty as ever, there is no sound, no noise around but the soft sound of steps on carpet and the door closing behind them.
Mob and Teru both feel a weight above them, like a sort of psychic headache; a constant stream of heavy energy stories above. The air is thick, claustrophobic, hanging onto the pair like freezing humidity. Behind this suffocating feeling there is also a sense of unease, the primal knowledge that something is wrong. Both Mob and Teru feel it. Both Mob and Teru also feel a shared sense of panic; this place is wrong. This place is wrong. This place is wrong.
Teru notices a plant laying on the ground, the soil spilled on the carpet, carelessly left laying as the dirt sinks into the rug. This is a welcome sign; it means that someone has been here before. In an apartment building normally that is a given, but in this abandoned structure the fact that it has not always been empty is a slightly comforting feeling.
Teru turns to Mob, who is looking at some old advertisements sitting on a small table.
“Kageyama,” he says quietly, like the atmosphere of the lobby is keeping him from speaking in anything above a mutter.
Mob turns around to look at Hanazawa, walking nearer to him.
Teru doesn’t know what to say. He really only wanted Shigeo’s comforting aura; the presence of a person who is more powerful. Shamefully he thinks this, not without a hint of jealousy. But still, Teru hadn’t thought of what to say.
Mob seems to understand what Teru doesn’t say. He moves beside him, taking up his stride. They both walk through the lobby, a shared feeling of curiosity guiding them forwards to the elevator. As three did before, two head into the lift, the doors closing with a whoosh, and a silent barrier coming to wrap around them like two hands clasped and closed.
Floors above, either presence unknown from the other, Serizawa lifts his ache-ridden head up from his knees and scrubs the exhaustion and dried tears from his face. From his stomach he takes a deep breath in, then out, then in, and out once more. His heart has slowed now, and no longer feels like a slamming in his chest, echoing through his ears. It’s time to get up.
The apartment outside the small bathroom is uncomfortably silent as he steps out, cautiously poking his head from the door before the rest of his body follows. He feels nothing and sees nothing as he ventures further out, opening the door and walking into the dark hallway. Artificial lights hang above, lighting the walls in a sickly tone as Serizawa passes door after door. He wonders if any more are unlocked. If any more could host a place to hide.
He walks further and further, a sense of unease settling deeper and deeper with each step he takes. What if he is playing into the spirits hands, if he is about to be caught unaware and unprepared? A weight has settled onto his neck, the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
And there it is again. That slicing aura. The thing in this building that has that weight that only can be attributed to the spirit, the one that is keeping this floor enclosed as its own personal domain.
Along with the aura of the spirit, almost unable to be separated from the suffocating atmosphere, Serizawa feels another separate energy. This small feeling nearly swallowed up feels scared, terrified. The fear of death hangs on it like an acidic smell, like lighter fluid and bile. Just as quickly as it was felt it is gone, and a shout that delves into a guttural scream echoes through the hallway. It reverberates through the passageway as Serizawa runs, towards it or away he cannot tell. He just knows that wherever he goes, he needs to go somewhere, to discover the cause and the source of this unnerving sound of pain.
And he does.
Serizawa stops running, the clear and piercing aura of the spirit so close, so bone chillingly near to him. And yet he cannot see it. He is thankful for this; the unnatural twist and mangled features of the spirit still lingering in his mind.
A garbled sob suddenly rings out; muffled by liquid. A soft splatter drips down on the old carpet as the cry changes into a gasp. Serizawa’s blood runs cold, and his aura swirls and grows as he stands in horror, the energy lighting up the dark hallway, which at the end stands a harrowing and ghastly sight. The spirit floats a foot or so above the floor, energy oozing off of it as it’s unblinking eyes stare, stare, stare into Serizawa, straight through him.
He is not the most powerful esper out there. Not close; barely scraping the ranks of Mob’s power. However, the fear and upset he has shoved down his throat for so many years do not come without weight. Serizawa explodes.
His power rips through the hallway, tearing the wallpaper and drywall, whirling around the spirit in a tornado of fear and rage. He is poured into the energy that flows out of him, his hopelessness and horror turning into a tangible force. This powerful blast rips into the spirit as it screams, a high pitched shriek, and it vaporizes into spectral dust that lays in a pile on the floor. Serizawa feels it’s energy dissipate, and as the ashes float to the ground he begins to return.
The spirit is… gone. It has been erased, it’s aura lost, no longer hanging around in the air.
Serizawa’s power settles back inside him like a rope that coils back into a pile. His tense shoulders relax, and he turns to walk forwards, towards the pile of ghostly embers that lay on the cheap carpet. As he nears, his hair stands on end as he feels a deep pain reverberating through the air. The hidden aura is so close to him now, and though the spirit has gone it still lingers. That means…
Serizawa holds up his hand, channeling his power to appear as light. It casts a faint purplish glow onto the floor and walls of the dingy apartment hallways, and as he turns, looking for that energy, the light shines on a shoe near a wall. The loafer is covered in dried blood and dirt, scuffed on the heel.
His heart drops. His heart feels like it has stopped beating. Only a faint cold hum echoes through his head and chest as he walks to the shoe, each step against his will. The thought in his head cannot be true. It can’t, it can’t, it won’t be true, it can’t possibly be.
It is.
A few feet away, laying in a dark pool of blood and grime, Reigen sits slumped against the wall, his head hung as his ragged breathing shows a deep gash in his chest. His energy is faint, slipping away moment by moment like water through a closed fist.
Teru and Mob stand in the elevator. It has stopped moving and stands stationary, alone in the dark shaft. It’s just like before, although they don’t know it.
Mob stares at the buttons. Teru stares at Mob. The buttons hang on the wall, staring at nothing because they are buttons.
Teru breaks the silence. He clears his throat, looking down at his brightly colored tennis shoes, painfully scuffed at the toe, and opens his mouth to speak.
“Elevator’s stuck, huh?”
Mob nods seriously.
“A barrier,” he says. He pokes a button on the wall. He doesn’t elaborate.
Teru watches as the light behind the button turns on, a faint yellow glow behind the plastic. He had felt the barrier, of course, but really just wanted some conversation, the elevator being completely silent for the duration of the ride. Now he feels stupid; he should have said something about the obvious barrier, about how to get rid of it, about…
Mob reaches out his hand as Teru mentally berates himself, barely noticing the static gathering in the air next to him. A pearl of energy swirls around and coalesces into his palm, and as he lifts his arm the orb floats up into the ceiling. Almost suddenly the elevator begins to shake and shudder, creaking like a hacking cough as the barrier surrounding begins to melt back, coming away from Mob’s power like drops of water. And just like that, the barrier is gone. Teru’s amazement never goes away, no matter how many miraculous feats Mob catalyzes.
With a jostle and many ominous creaks the elevator begins to rise again, like it’s muscles are getting used to moving again. On the screen the numbers start to rise, and eventually the floor reads thirteen. The metal screeches and the wires stretch to nearly snapping, and the doors slide open in an ordeal.
Mob steps out onto the carpeted hallway, Teru following. The air smells electric, tinged with a smoky sharpness as the two begin to walk down the winding passageways. Each hallway is so similar they blend together, and eventually Teruki begins to burn small holes in the rug just to see where they have been, like a trail of psychic breadcrumbs. Each corner they turn a new corridor emerges from the dark, and there really isn’t any choice but to see where they go.
This hallway, the one that Teru and Mob turn down after quite a number of minutes walking around in a residential labyrinth, is… different. There is an energy attached to it; complicated and layered, with no discernable singular emotion or connection. It feels heavy, weighted, and uncomfortable, like a smothering blanket. This hallway also seems darker than the others, the corners barely illuminated by the small light Teru has produced and holds in his palm, an orb of his yellow-tinted aura. Mob also holds a light, but his shoes are lit by the dim blue glow of his phone, not psychic powers.
Squinting to see in the pitch, Teru holds out his hand to point towards what he thinks could be the end of the hallway. The light is swallowed by the inky black, the rest of the passageway indiscernible, and above the electricity flowing through the building like blood hums constantly, nearly as loud as each footstep and breath taken.
And then, they both feel it; a strong, metallic sort of energy. It feels like coins tumble around in Mob’s mouth like hard candies, his teeth feeling strange and out of place in his mouth. It feels panicked, frightened, and frantic, and is filling the air around with stabs of static.
Teru feels this too. He turns to Mob, who is already looking at him with concern. They share a glance, the air of the corridor too tense to exchange words, and Teruki reaches out his hand again, concentrating on the energy around him to sense anything out of place. His aura reaches out in a protective barrier around himself and Mob, who walks beside him as they venture further down into the darkness of the hallway. The path behind them vanishes as they tread away from it, taken from view by the ink black that seeps in the air, as if the places where they stepped were never there.
Teruki is scared. Terribly so. A cold sweat hangs on his temple and neck as he keeps walking, against his own judgement. Mob is scared too, but they keep walking. What other choice do the two boys have than to keep walking, to see what is at the end of this hallway? It’s not a conscious choice to keep on, rather a reflex.
With Teru’s aura, and the energy of the building itself, many of the feelings blur together, but Mob feels a new aura creeping in, closer and closer with each step he takes towards the possible end of the hallway. It feels… strangely familiar.
Serizawa is trying to stop the bleeding. He presses down on Reigen’s chest, putting pressure on the deep wound that turns the once freshly starched shirt a smudged red. Blood is on his hands, too, now dried beneath his fingernails. Reigen’s blood, he thinks.
Reigen is breathing, thankfully, but the breath in his throat comes out ragged and strained. He coughs every few exhales, a few spots of blood gracing the edges of his lips. He lays against the wall, completely limp, too weak to even turn his head to the side. He feels lightheaded, dizzy, and his eyes can’t focus on anything for longer than a few seconds before they get blurry. He is faintly aware of a pressing on his chest, but he feels his consciousness slipping farther and farther.
Reigen is tired. He is so tired. Heavy eyes and heavy breathing, he can’t do much but think, and even that he can’t do well. Did he write his will? Are his files at the office in suitable order? What will happen to the office after he is gone?
If he could shake his head, he would. Arataka, he says to himself. Quit being so dramatic. You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.
The thing about the wound on his chest is that it doesn’t really hurt. He thinks he is probably still in shock. That’s what happens when people get hurt, right? Shock? He doesn’t feel very shocked. He just feels warm, heavy, tired, so tired.
Reigen blinks. He can’t fall asleep, not right now. He realizes with a panicked internal chuckle that he is… afraid. He can feel Serizawa pressing on his chest, trying to keep him alive with panicked hastiness and hope.
Reigen Arataka is afraid to die. He doesn’t want to. He had so many big plans, after all, he’s only 28, that’s too young. There’s so many things he has left unsaid. Introspective thinking a while ago left him thinking he would be fine if he just… died one day but now, that it’s really happening, he...
Reigen’s eyes are unfocused now, nearly closed. He can feel himself fading, his eyesight becoming dimmer, his breathing slowing. He wishes he could talk to Serizawa. To his family. To Mob.
He opens his eyes slightly. Mob stands over him.
Teruki and Mob stand at the end of the hallway over Reigen, who lays slumped on the wall, his eyes closed and his forehead beaded with sweat. Serizawa is frantically wrapping Teru’s scarf around the wound on Reigen’s chest with tight, quick movements. Mob is watching. He cannot do anything else but watch. Percentages rise, and his hair begins to stand on end.
Reigen is slipping down the wall, and Serizawa is panicking, and Hanazawa is calling an ambulance, and…