Archive of Our Own ^beta

Reigen rushes off of the train and down the street, scurrying to reach the apartment complex their next job is at with Serizawa hot on his heels.

The two of them are running late. In retrospect, Reigen knows he should have called ahead to inform their client about their lack of punctuality, but he'd been flustered and distracted as they'd left. A more skeptical walk-in had held them up in the office, whose qualms Reigen had only been able to settle by throwing a cup of pens to the ground that he'd ordered Serizawa to float back up.

Now it's too late to call as the gated entrance approaches. He slows from a run to a brisk power walk, and Serizawa stumbles past him before doubling back to become his shadow again, just a step behind.

Reigen's running through his mental catalog of platitudes, readying himself to offer discounts, and praise their client's patience—whether they happen to have any or not—and bracing himself for whatever reaction their late arrival may receive. Anger, sadness, blasé disappointment—all are on the table, really.

What he doesn't manage to prepare himself for is the arm that slings across his shoulders as soon as they step onto the property, or the voice that booms into his ear.

"Boys! You made it!"

Well, he thinks, managing not to cringe too outwardly away, the guy's not upset at least.

"Thank god you're here. Come in, inside, we can talk." He gets an arm around Serizawa as well as he speaks, hastily steering them into some kind of front office like he expects them to bolt the first chance they get. "My tenants have been moving out in droves since all of these issues started popping up. Oh, can I get you anything to drink?"

He doesn't give them the chance to respond, seating them quickly and preparing tea as he continues. "I believe I already mentioned some of what's going on over my email. It all started up out of nowhere a few months back—pipes bursting, scratching inside the walls, the like. I've had pest control out here countless times and they always tell me to stop wasting their time. Hah!"

Reigen isn't sure what's funny about that, but he laughs politely anyway. He wonders if the man has worked in hospitality before, what with the welcoming barrage. He's only now able to take in the room around them. It's small, and the walls are yellowed in a way that speaks of white left behind to age. Aside from the flimsy chairs and folding table they sit at, the only furnishing is a plush armchair placed behind a desk across the room.

Their client settles in on the other side of the table, plonking two cups down before them. He's around Reigen's height, but much stockier, built like he's been acquainted with a more physical job in the past. He's dressed almost too casually with a patterned button up and plain jeans—though his hair is slicked carefully back.

Reigen takes a sip of his tea. It's chokingly sweet.

The man continues, "Really, I couldn't think of what else to do. The complaints keep rolling in, and people keep rolling out, and—well—expenses sure do start to pile up after repairing these kinds of things so many times. Between that and losing out on rent, with so many people leaving—you boys are sort of my last ditch effort, here."

Reigen nods then, slow and empathetic. The spiel seems to be over. "I see," he says. "That does sound like quite the problem." He brings a hand up to his face, aiming for a thoughtful look. "You don't recall any kind of specific events, anything you think could have triggered the supernatural?"

He shakes his head. "No, nothing. It really was out of the blue. We do have some… colorful characters around here, for sure, but nothing that could cause this. Though, to tell you the truth," he pauses and his eyes flick back and forth, as though someone may be listening, "I think there's always been a bit of a strange air hanging around."

Reigen hums, and peeks at Serizawa from the corner of his eye. He's unusually tense, face holding a concerning pallor. "I do sense quite a powerful aura here. If that's everything you have for us, my subordinate and I would like to take a look around, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course!" He stands, and Reigen takes that as his cue, also rising. Serizawa follows suit, and the three of them head to the door where the man claps them both heartily on the back, crying, "Good luck!"

It knocks the wind out of him, but Serizawa seems to take it in stride. Maybe he's used to it from Reigen himself—or maybe he just has greater concerns right now. As they walk away, Reigen shaking his shoulders out and waiting to hear the door close, he realizes they had never actually gotten the man's name.

No matter. Next on the agenda is to drill Serizawa on the situation. He figures he should ease into it; Serizawa had seemed uncomfortable from what he'd seen.

"He sure is friendly, huh?" Reigen asks. He continues on walking, and when he receives no answer he realizes Serizawa isn't behind him. He turns and finds him standing several paces back, seemingly in his own world with his gaze fixed on some point in the distance. The sickly look from before is still there. Reigen backtracks. "What is it?"

There's a lull before Serizawa speaks, eyes unmoving and expression unchanging, his words slow. "There's an extremely strong, dark energy here," he says. "Someone must have… really suffered, for this to form."

Reigen turns his head, following the direction of Serizawa's fixated stare, though he can see nothing but the gray and overcast sky. Turning back again, he notes Serizawa's tense posture, shoulders drawn tight. "Is there something else?" he asks.

Serizawa shakes his head. "I just have a bad feeling about this. Maybe…" he pauses tentatively, "you should try not to get too involved this time."

This might be a big deal, then. Reigen's curiosity is piqued now, and he's obviously not going to just wait around. "If we can already see where the problem is then it'll be one straight shot, Right? In and out."

Serizawa finally tears himself from whatever it is he sees, looking searchingly over Reigen's face. "...Right."

Reigen grins, trying to ease the worry still hanging around him. "We'll be fine."

"Just… stick with me," Serizawa says grievously, like it's a warning. It may very well be.

Reigen nods and pivots once more, heading in the direction Serizawa had been looking. "Of course. Let's get this show on the road."

Serizawa hurries to catch up with him, and Reigen can see him looking down with some mix of concern and frustration from the corner of his eye. It's a look he sometimes gets when Reigen insists on spearheading their march into the unknown; a look he happily ignores. Serizawa is simply a naturally protective person, and Reigen doesn't have time to sit around and be fretted over. He has work to do.

He had expected that he would have to stop and ask more specifically which direction to head, but gradually the air begins to prickle at his skin, static dancing where the humidity has left him sticky. The sensation makes him want to pat himself down, though he knows from experience that you can't just brush off an aura like this. So he pushes on towards where it feels like it's coming from, confirmation arriving in the form of goosebumps washing over the back of his neck. Serizawa slowly eases ahead, unsubtly taking the lead.

The sky seems to darken as they trudge deeper into the community, the world around them remaining eerily silent. All around them the apartments' curtains are drawn, and lights out. If he didn't know any better he'd think the place was abandoned. He supposes their client wasn't exaggerating about how many people have left.

It's all starting to unsettle him, the tension swallowing them both now. He decides to try to break it, folding his hands behind his head and speaking to Serizawa's back. "Ahhh, it's so uncomfortable today, isn't it? I should update the dress code for days like that."

Serizawa hums in a way that tells Reigen he either hadn't registered a single word or doesn't care, solely focused on their destination. It must be worse for him, being able to actually see the aura. Reigen half-jogs to catch up and taps him on the back. "Hey, don't take this too hard. We're both taking care of this, right?"

Serizawa takes a few more slow strides before he stops, leaving space between them so that Reigen's still watching his back. It makes him look all the more ominous when he nods.

"So talk to me," Reigen pushes on. "What are you sensing out here?"

His fists clench and unclench. "It's just… I don't know. I have a bad feeling, like I said. I don't know what it is, but this…" he trails off, and then shakes his head. "I meant it, about—you know, you should maybe hang back."

Reigen isn't sure what exactly is scaring him so badly, but all it makes him want to do is stick closer. Serizawa's being ridiculous if he thinks Reigen's going to leave him alone for this. "We're getting close, right?" he asks. "It would be a waste of time for me to double all the way back now. Besides, two heads are better than one."

Serizawa finally turns around. He looks nervous. "I don't think we should take this lightly. At least let me stay ahead."

"I'm not taking this lightly, I'm taking responsibility." Reigen steps closer, hands spreading coaxingly. "Danger is sort of par for the course with our work, isn't it?"

"I guess it is." Serizawa turns to the apartment block they'd stopped by, and points at the stairs. "You were right about us being close. I think it's up on the second floor."

Reigen considers this for a second, and then acts.

He isn't sure what exactly pushes him to be difficult right then, when he nods resolutely and marches past Serizawa to the stairs. He hears the other man's footfalls rushing to catch up behind him, and finds he doesn't need confirmation when they reach the right door, the way the air crackles around them. The way he can taste it, staticky on his tongue, fizzing when he swallows.

It's a perfectly normal, innocuous looking door, but the presence inside looms.

Serizawa stands behind him now, clearly antsy with the desire to pull Reigen out of the way and push the door open himself—and still, he isn't entirely sure what pushes him to be stubborn. To push on in spite of Serizawa's wishes, and reach for the doorknob.

But—once he finds it unlocked and twists, and the door swings silently open to welcome them—he's glad he hadn't listened and left him alone with this.

The smell is what hits him first. It's thick, cloying, and nauseatingly rotten, and so heavy that he can feel it forming a film on his skin. He blinks tears from his now-watering eyes, and the second thing that strikes him is how unnaturally dark it is inside.

The light from outside seems to come to a dead stop just inches past Reigen's toes, in the doorway of the unit, like it's being eaten away, absorbed by the sheerly malignant energy hanging inside. He squints, barely able to make out the furnishings through the shadows. He thinks he sees a couch, next to it some kind of… ottoman? Whatever it is, it's a strange shape.

Against his better judgment, he leans just a scant few millimeters closer, struggling to parse the unusual shape on the ground.

Then he hears Serizawa stagger back behind him and make a strange, high-pitched sort of wheezing gasp, and his hand comes firmly down on Reigen's shoulder, pulling him back from the apartment. A cold, panicked sweat breaks out all across Reigen's body. Because the third and final thing that strikes Reigen as he is dragged away is that what he had just seen was not an object.

It was a dead body.

Serizawa drags him until they're at the railing, and then he presses Reigen against it and stands in front of him, bodily shielding him. Serizawa's shoulder is shaking—that's the most Reigen can see of him at the moment—and he can't blame him; his own hands tremble violently.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself, and doesn't realize until after that that might be a mistake—but thankfully most of what he inhales is the smell of Serizawa's suit.

He grabs Serizawa's shoulder, intending to check in, but it stiffens under his hand and Serizawa clears his throat. "Whatever's in there is very powerful," he says unsteadily. "Probably—probably because…"

"...Because of the body," Reigen finishes, head spinning.

"Right," Serizawa says, voice weak. "Because of the body."

Reigen had not woken up that morning prepared to stumble across a possible manslaughter case. He squeezes Serizawa's shoulder, where his hand still lays. This, he decides, is far out of their jurisdiction. "We should go. This—this is what law enforcement is for. We can call the police and just go."

Serizawa takes a barely-there step away from Reigen, and towards the open doorway. His hands are clenched into fists again. "The police can't exorcize spirits. We'd be sending them to their doom."

Reigen hisses through his teeth, wishing he could argue that. He supposes he should have expected an encounter like this to happen eventually—where else do spirits come from? Now that he thinks about it, it must be dumb luck that he's never come across an actual body on the job before. Even dumber luck that Mob isn't with them today to see.

They need to reconvene. "Just, hang on a second," Reigen says.

Serizawa doesn't turn around. He seems glued to the doorway, like if he turns away it will lash out and eat them, or drag them down to hell. Reigen shivers, and decides not to think about what else the entrance looks like it might do. Serizawa takes another tiny step forwards, and Reigen brings his other hand up, clutching both of his shoulders now. "Wait."

Serizawa glances back, meeting Reigen's eye for a split second before locking onto his target again. "What is it?"

"If we're doing this, then—I want to know what you're picking up on before we go in."

That finally catches Serizawa's full attention, and he drags Reigen again as he takes several long steps away from the apartment, the door swinging shut. Reigen hopes that was Serizawa's doing, and not whatever is residing in that room.

Then, once they're a few doors away, Serizawa turns and faces him. "I really think you should stay outside this time."

He looks grave, and Reigen puffs himself up, ignoring the fact that he can still see dark prints on Serizawa's shoulders from his own anxiously slick palms. "I'm going in with you, we already settled this."

Serizawa leans in, and his hands are on Reigen's shoulders now, as though he can channel his feelings through them. "Please stop brushing this off. We have no idea how long this has been building up here, or what it could do."

"I'm not brushing it off," Reigen insists. "What kind of world's-greatest would I be if I left you to face that by yourself?"

Serizawa is growing plainly frustrated, in a way Reigen's only seen directed towards homework up until this point. "Reigen," he says, speaking the name like a hammer striking down, nailing his point to the wall, "this is dangerous."

"As your boss," Reigen says back, refusing to back down, "I am ordering you not to go in alone. You're not leaving me behind while you go and face off with that." He places his hands on his hips, and prays that he doesn't have pit stains. That would really undermine the authority he's aiming for.

It's a little bit of a cheap shot to flex rank, he knows, but there is no way in hell he's about to let Serizawa enter what looks like the setup for a horror movie by himself. He's not even sure if his attempt will work; they don't really have the typical boss-employee dynamic.

Serizawa huffs, and looks over his shoulder at the apartment again, his jaw working as he visibly mulls over his words. He remains silent for a long minute, and Reigen's about to insist they just leave it to the authorities again when Serizawa turns back to him, gaze so intense he can feel it burn straight through his eyes to the back of his skull. "If you're coming in, then as the esper on the team I want you to stay right next to me," he says.

It's an easy deal, considering that's what he was already planning to do. "Okay," Reigen says and nods. "Okay. So what have you gotten so far? You seemed pretty focused back there." Focused is an understatement; the room had seemed to have a hypnotic draw on him, only broken when Reigen had physically grabbed him.

Serizawa thinks deeply. "Mostly I just feel a lot of… pain. And anger. Like mourning, almost. It was…" His arm twitches up for a second, and then drops back down. "Overwhelming," he finishes.

"You feel it?" Reigen asks, picking at his wording. Something about it sounds different than what Serizawa typically means.

"Yeah," he says. "It's like—it got in my head, just a little bit. I'm not sure if it's how powerful the aura is, or…" he trails off, shrugging. Reigen gets the feeling there's more to that thought, but he decides not to push it.

"All the more reason we should go in together if you're affected like this," he says.

Serizawa still looks unsure about the idea, but he nods uneasily along nonetheless. They return to the door, arms brushing each other as Reigen sticks to his side like promised. He lets Serizawa push it open this time. They have to weather through that smell spilling out and around them all over again, and after a heavy pause, Serizawa steps through the doorway—which means Reigen follows.

Despite how the light had appeared not to broach the room before, there's a beam cast through the door once they're inside. The rectangular splash of light would be at the perfect angle to highlight the body before them were it not for Reigen's own body blotting out the middle, encasing it in shadow.

He very carefully does not look in that direction, instead peering around the room and pretending that the smell doesn't make him want to expel everything he's eaten that day. There isn't very much for him to see—the furniture is modest, and the walls plain; no pictures.

Serizawa holds a hand over the bottom of his face. "I expected the spirit to be right here, but… I think it's somewhere deeper inside right now." With his other hand, he motions towards what looks like the entrance to a hallway. They'd have to step around the body to get there.

Reigen's eyes flicker across the room, seeming morbidly drawn to the very thing he's trying not to look at. "It can't be healthy to breathe this air," he says. "We should try to make this quick."

Serizawa nods. Neither of them dare to move.

He's reminded again of a horror movie as they stand frozen in place, unwilling to get any closer to the body. If this were a movie, he thinks, the door would slam shut right about now, locking them into their fate. Tense, he peeks behind himself, half expecting just that to happen.

It doesn't.

Serizawa shifts on his feet. "Maybe I can draw it out instead?"

"Smart thinking." Reigen snaps his fingers. "That way it's on our terms." He's relieved to have a different plan. One that doesn't lead them blindly into the lion's den.

Serizawa's stance shifts again, and Reigen assumes that means he's sending his aura out, fishing with it. The air in the room palpitates around them, and he swears the smell gets stronger, sticking to the back of his throat. Serizawa's arm starts to shake. He's not sure if he should interpret that as effort or nerves, but he doesn't like it either way.

He resists the urge to clutch Serizawa's jacket, crossing his arms and pressing his fingers into his sides instead. "Do you have it yet?"

Serizawa shakes his head and drops his arm, turning to Reigen. The two of them are still close enough that he brushes against Reigen's forearms. He has to crane his neck to make eye contact. "It might be hiding," Serizawa says. "I can't pick up on anything specific anymore."

Against his better judgment, Reigen glances down at the body on the ground. He only looks long enough to register that it's probably been there a while before he looks away again, swallowing thickly. "Maybe we should check somewhere else."

"It wouldn't hurt to take a lap around the complex," Serizawa says. He steps to the side then, past Reigen, and heads for the door. Reigen follows swiftly, not keen on being left alone inside.

It's unfortunate that they aren't done yet, but he is very glad to be leaving the room. He can tell Serizawa is too, the way his shoulders drop just slightly once he steps through the doorway, turning to wait. Reigen's only half a step behind him, and he opens his mouth, ready to sigh his relief gustily out and suck in the fresh air.

Then something grabs his ankle from behind.

He jumps out of his skin, exhalation escalating into a shriek, and he makes one impossibly short, horrified second of contact with Serizawa's wide eyes—and then the door slams shut.

Reigen goes frozen. Everything around him dulls at once until all he's left with is his own consciousness, and the sound of Serizawa pounding and shouting on the other side of the door. The rot seems to be bubbling out of his own chest now, suffocating, and when he unwisely looks behind himself, the decaying face of the corpse stares back.

He has to vomit. He has to, but in spite of his innards roiling uncomfortably, writhing like a nest of snakes, nothing happens. A flash of feverish heat runs through him next, and he doubles over, coughing deeply.

He doesn't want to cough; doesn't know why he is in the first place. There was never any urge to.

He wants to stand up, actually, is beginning to ache for air—even the disgusting, death-filled air of the room he's in. Distantly, he hears his own voice, breathlessly laughing, and it all finally clicks as his body straightens out again and mutters a hoarse, "Finally."

Dread crashes over him as he whirls involuntarily around, colliding with and kicking the corpse away before stumbling drunkenly towards the back hallway. Everything sort of blurs together, the sound of the body crunching horribly against his leg drowning all else out for a short moment.

The world is spinning hazily when he focuses again, and his body is scrambling onto a bed with a thick blanket of dust. All he can do is watch while his fingers scrabble desperately at the latch of a window now in his reach. It feels strange—everything, that is—but especially so the sensation of his mouth muttering without him telling it to. Even stranger is the desperate lilt to his own voice as it continues to utter one word, repeatedly.

Finally, finally, finally, finally, finally.

Maybe he can communicate with whatever's in him.

Hello? he thinks as loudly as he can. Hey, uh, hi? This body is mine? Can you hear me?

If it can, it ignores him. Distantly he hears the door explode open, the sound of it muffled and dreamlike, and Serizawa's voice grows closer, though he still can't make out the words; only the odd, warbling pitch of it through his hijacked state, but in Serizawa's recognizable timbre. The window snaps open and his hands clutch at the frame, heaving him up and out.

Then there are hands twisting in the back of his jacket, hauling him away from the open air and back into the room. He hears himself shout out angrily, and then abruptly his body is his again, leaving him gasping and collapsing in place. He would have fallen to the ground entirely if Serizawa wasn't still holding onto him.

It takes a moment for him to shake off the fog enough to register that Serizawa is speaking to him.

"—ay? Reigen, can you say something? Come on—"

"Fine!" he gasps, shivering and still settling into himself despite the short duration of the possession. He gets his feet back under him, supporting his own weight, but Serizawa doesn't let go. "I'm fine, get—where's the spirit—?"

Reigen tugs reluctantly out of his grasp, and he and Serizawa turn in tandem to see the spirit whipping around the room disorientingly fast, kicking more dust up. It zips into the next room the moment they've spotted it, and Serizawa does not give chase.

"What are you waiting for?" Reigen urges.

Serizawa turns and grabs his arm. "I'm not running away from you after what just happened!"

A loud commotion breaks through from the other room. "Well, we still have to do something about that!" Reigen shouts and runs impulsively towards the sound. Serizawa follows, fingers slipping from his arm.

They find themselves in the apartment's tiny kitchen, which goes still and silent as soon as they enter. Most of the destruction that's done is to the dishes and silverware, now thrown to the ground. Reigen toes at a shard of ceramic.

"It's hiding again," Serizawa says, sounding like he's tired of this already. Reigen feels much the same.

An odd stain on his pant leg catches his eye before he looks back up, and he remembers the shortly reanimated corpse in the other room. He edges around to face the doorway. This has all gotten away from them fast. "Maybe we should step outside again."

"Maybe…" Serizawa's hair shifts slightly, and the ever-present static that's been surrounding them since they'd approached the complex dulls. "I have a barrier up now, at least."

Reigen reaches out until his fingers brush against it, feeling a much more welcome static tingle up his arm. "Well—"

Something thuds to the ground in the other room before he can finish his thought. They both go rigid, and Serizawa's hands come up, braced palm-out in front of him. Reigen can see them shaking. He holds his breath as something slides along the floor just outside of the kitchen, and realizes he's also shaking. Glass crunches under his heels as he crouches down as though he can do anything to help.

A gnarled hand claps to the ground in the open entrance, dry gray skin barely holding onto bone. Its fingers arch dramatically, clawing against the floor and heaving the body it's connected to forwards, pulling more of the flaking, splitting arm into view.

Serizawa's hands thrust forwards just as it scrabbles for a new grip to slide closer, his barrier dropping and energy flying, whipping their hair and their clothes about. The corpse falls limp, and then a door explodes off of a cabinet from behind, flying between them and just barely grazing Reigen's ear. He leaps instinctually away, slamming into the counter.

Serizawa shouts in alarm, turning like he's about to dive for him when there's a sudden flash, and once again, Reigen's body is no longer his own.

It hits him more strongly this time, cocooning disorientation around him, something hissing in his ears like a radio with no signal. His brain feels… liquid, for lack of a better word. When he blinks back, it's to his own hand clutching a knife, body quaking and sweating while it holds it unsteadily up in the air.

It's not doing anything with it yet—but the threat is implicit.

Then he's again subjected to the sound of his voice carrying a level of desperation that he would cringe at if he could. "Just listen! Hear me out, I won't hurt him if I don't have to!"

Serizawa's face is hard, and Reigen can see the kaleidoscope of power swirling through his fingers. At the very least, that's something he can get out of this; it's always interesting when he gets the chance to actually see auras. Serizawa's arms lower, and the shimmering color fades slightly. "You can't speak to us from outside my boss?"

Reigen feels his grip ease. He can feel relief rippling off of the spirit, too, when it recognizes it won't be blasted away immediately. Then his eyes narrow. "Not after all of that. You just tried to kill me." His voice comes out flat, but still with a trembling note. "All I'm asking is for you to listen. I've been wronged, I'm not evil."

Serizawa's eyes linger on the knife for a second, and he raises his hands again, but placatingly this time. "Okay. I'm listening."

Reigen knows they have to be delicate with this. Even if Serizawa were to rip the possession apart as harshly as possible, there would still be a brief window in which the spirit could take one last desperate swing and cause damage. Still, he groans internally as Serizawa secedes.

He feels his lungs expand on a shuddering breath. "Okay. Okay, so I—" It puffs the air out, and then inhales again. Reigen gets the feeling it wasn't prepared for this. "Okay," it repeats again. "I didn't—my life was not the most… generous? But I," it pauses and gestures to the body still collapsed just outside the doorway, "I didn't deserve this."

Serizawa tips his head just slightly. "So, that's… you, then?"

"It was me." The spirit walks calmly to the doorway to stand over the body, staring unflinchingly down at it with Reigen's eyes. "You can agree I didn't deserve this, right?" It looks back to Serizawa, who seems somewhat perplexed. The spirit hadn't explained anything substantial yet, and Reigen wonders if it will soon, or just keep talking in circles.

Serizawa, sounding deeply unsure, asks, "Deserve… what, exactly?"

"I died here, alone. I still am. My body was never laid to rest because of him." Something not his own sparks inside Reigen.

Serizawa's eyes flicker to the body, and then back to Reigen's stolen face. He says nothing.

"We never got along well. I stayed because this was what I could afford. I couldn't leave." Reigen feels his fist tighten around the knife again, anger that isn't his bubbling hotly. His chest constricts and his voice rings out on a sharp, grim laugh. "I still can't leave because of him."

Serizawa shuffles just barely closer. "Who…?"

"That bastard." Reigen's voice bounces around the room, full of venom. His eyes are locked on the corpse again. He's beginning to feel lightheaded. "He left me here so he could—he could—fuck. Collect rent, probably. I can't leave. It's because of him, it's his fault, I can't leave."

The spirit's hysteria and his own unease are mingling uncomfortably, and his vision is tunneling, chest burning. He thinks the spirit's forgotten to breathe. He isn't sure for how long, having chosen to examine the clothes the body is wearing in order to avoid losing his mind.

It looks like loungewear, a plain dark t-shirt and sweats. In its feet are orange socks, dotted with tiny white pawprints. They're cute. Decay stains them brown.

"We… can have you laid to rest. We can do that for you, and let you find peace," Serizawa says, gentle and soft.

Reigen has hope for a moment that his own instinct to relax into it will soothe the spirit, but no such luck. "That's not enough," his voice rasps, breathless. The spirit seems to finally remember bodies need air, and sucks down a deep lungful. "I need—he has to—he doesn't understand what it's like to hurt like that. I need him to feel what I felt. I—he—he did this to me. It's because of him."

He hears Serizawa take another step closer, his dress shoes upsetting the debris strewn across the floor. "I'm sure there's just been some kind of misunderstanding—"

"A misunderstanding?" Reigen's voice says hysterically. His body whirls on Serizawa, muscles locking in place, so rigid he can feel the knots forming in real time. "He left me here because of a MISUNDERSTANDING? He ignored my disappearance, he kept on collecting rent, left me stuck here for months, because of a misunderstanding?"

Grief pierces him, sorrow dripping down his skin, and he thinks he understands now how Serizawa had felt earlier when he'd ripped him back from the door. When he had tried so hard to make Reigen leave. He feels guilty that Serizawa was experiencing all of this and he hadn't truly listened—but at the very least, he's grateful he hadn't let himself be convinced to leave Serizawa facing this alone.

Serizawa's face hardens, and his aura sparks out again, sliding out from palms to fingertips. "I can't help you seek revenge. I'm sorry."

Thank god, Reigen thinks, as the power snaps out and envelops him; this is finally over.

"No!" his voice shouts out, and the knife is suddenly held up against his stomach. "I can—I'll hurt him, I—no—"

The power pushes and tears, ripping at the spirit's bond to him, and Reigen's body shudders. His vision goes out of focus again, and the only thing he can make out is the spectacularly bright fizzle and pop of Serizawa's aura, dazzling while he waits for the supernatural presence to exit him.

The knife is still clutched in his hands, and his knuckles burn with the force of his grip—and then the spirit shrinks to one white-hot pinpoint at the base of his neck. He gasps with the sudden and overwhelming ability to finally control his own lungs again, and then almost gags when he finds he has regained the ability to fully taste the air, as well.

Serizawa's aura drops and he stands there, hands outstretched. Reigen can still see the residual energy dissipating around him, and the spirit lances deeper, settling in his spine at the small of his back. It's like a needle is stuck there, a cold sensation slowly seeping outwards from that point.

He clutches at his face with his free hand and sort of wipes himself down, and then sighs deeply, meeting Serizawa's gaze, and the movement feels so familiar—so mundanely Reigen—that it takes him a moment to realize he hadn't been the one to do it.

He doesn't understand. His senses are his again, to feel; his movements are accurate, in a way that he doesn't believe could be replicated. It's like someone else is in his brain, plucking at nerves and firing off subconscious commands that he has no choice but to follow.

Serizawa will notice, he thinks. Serizawa has to notice; he's an esper, he'll be able to feel what's happening. But Serizawa only steps closer still, hands held in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them, concerned look remaining. "Reigen?"

He blows out a breath, and the wrongness of it strikes him a second later. It's done something to him, gotten to where it can pick and choose what Reigen does, and he has to act it out before he even knows that he is. Like touching a hot stove and ripping your hand away without any conscious input. It's him, but it's not him.

He fixes Serizawa with a wary smile. "Great work. We should get out of here now, and let our client know about… all this," he says, mouth curling in a slight grimace.

He's reminded of dissociation, the feeling of your body trying to function while you drift off elsewhere. He still clings desperately to the hope that Serizawa will spot something amiss, and a strange sort of glee sparks up and down his body in response, making his skin itch as Serizawa slowly nods in agreement.

Then Serizawa's eyes flick down to the knife still in Reigen's hand. "Are you, uh… feeling like yourself?"

Yes, finally, Reigen thinks, get this thing out of me. His hand slides through his hair while he sinks his weight onto one hip, putting together the image of disheveled relief. "Well… mostly." He chuckles breathlessly. "That sure was something, though. I think I should… put this back."

He holds up the knife, and Serizawa deflates a little bit more. "Yeah. Yeah, let's—"

"You go ahead and check the living room, make sure everything is settled." He can hear the just barely-there begging desperation still present under his voice when it cuts Serizawa off, who seems to miss it—or just assumes it's nerves, considering what they're still standing in the room with.

Serizawa nods, and speaks softer. "Okay. Just—don't take too long."

He lingers for a heartbeat, examining Reigen a little bit longer before he exits to the main room, stiff when he steps over the body in the doorway. Reigen can see his aura pool out over the floor, tendrils of purplish-blue that glitter along and probe for anything out of the ordinary.

Reigen tries to fight it when his body turns and steps deeper into the kitchen. The prickling in his spine begins to turn into an icy-hot burn as he resists, trying to override what he's being told to do. With all of his might, not even a finger twitches. The pressure turns nearly blinding for a moment, and distantly he hears his own voice hissing at him to behave. Like he's a yappy little dog, or something.

With its show of force done, the spirit recedes back to its needling presence deep in his bones. Casually, his arm flips the edge of his suit out and reaches under to tuck the knife in the back of his waistband. Then he reaches out and silently lifts a butter knife from the counter before placing it back with an audible clank. Subterfuge done, the spirit has him return to Serizawa's side.

He makes a show out of it, stepping delicately around the body and cringing. Reigen can feel panic starting to seize him now as his body remains unnaturally relaxed, like it's missed the memo. The mixed signals make his head spin again. His skin feels more ill-fitting the longer he's pushed to act out this game.

Serizawa seems relieved to see him back. "There's still something here," he says straightaway. "I think it's just some kind of lingering energy, but I'd feel better giving everything one more lookover.

Reigen nods, that same glee swelling nauseatingly in his gut. "Why don't we split up? We'll cover more ground faster that way."

Serizawa hesitates, looking Reigen up and down with concern.

Please, he thinks.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Serizawa asks. "We did agree to stay together."

Regien's hands glide smoothly into action, brushing dust off of Serizawa's shoulder, the action as typical as can be. He really hates this. "Can you feel the spirit itself?" he asks.

Serizawa shakes his head, watching the dust drift down. "I'm pretty sure it's gone."

"We should be fine, then." Both of his hands settle down on Serizawa's shoulders, who looks at him again. "I can ask around to see if anyone knows what went down here, and you can make sure there's no particular source for that lingering energy."

Serizawa's eyebrows come together with a hint of confusion. "Do we really have to be separate for that? I can still feel out while you handle the people."

We don't, Reigen thinks, don't leave. "Like I said, it should go quicker this way. You can't trace any trails you pick up if you're just following me around."

Serizawa takes one of Reigen's wrists in hand, still by his shoulder. "I don't think your safety is worth saving a few minutes."

His consciousness sort of… twangs. The spirit is growing impatient. "We've been away from the office for so long already," he says. He gets even more uneasy than before as it dawns on him that the spirit seems to be able to access essentially anything in his head. His voice comes out soothing next. "I don't be doing anything dangerous. Just asking nearby residents if they have any clue what happened to this apartment's occupant. If there's any action it should happen wherever you are. Plus, nothing happened in the kitchen just now, right?"

Serizawa doesn't let go. "Yeah, but… that doesn't mean it's safe to run off."

Reigen steps away, sliding his wrist from Serizawa's hand and his body from Serizawa's space. He heads for the door, pushing the wood aside, splintered and barely holding onto the hinges from when Serizawa had blown through it. "I understand your concern," he says, "but the spirit is gone. You said so yourself." He spins around in the doorway and smiles. It feels predatory on his face. "You can't let your anxiety rule every decision you make, you know. I'll be fine."

Serizawa's face goes blank. Reigen's stomach drops out, and it takes more effort this time for the spirit to turn him away, walking off.

Surely what he'd said will tip him off that something is wrong, right? But the way the words had been spoken, as though it was encouragement and not a barb to get Serizawa off of his back… he thinks that might have been just enough to let it fly under the radar.

He holds onto his disbelief for a moment longer, hoping desperately that Serizawa will dash out at the last second and blast the spirit away, but no matter how hard he strains he cannot hear footsteps behind him. His legs carry him determinedly around a corner, and no one follows. He's on his own now.

He tries to get angry at the spirit, and realizes he can't form a coherent thought; each step away from the desecrated apartment leaves him feeling more unsteady than the last. He can feel the spirit's presence beating against his skin like there's a string attached to it—attached to him, now—trying to prevent him from continuing onwards.

He recalls what it had said about being stuck as buzzing fills his ears again, and wonders what exactly that means for him. Then he tries again to rip back control—tries to swing his arms, to turn his legs back, to shout out—and all he earns for his effort is the twisting sensation that there are wires strung through him, pulling at his muscles to keep him marching forwards.

He's not sure what the plan is, but his heart is beginning to pound, and he doesn't think the adrenaline is coming solely from him. His chest hitches up and down as his breathing staggers, and dark shapes swim through the edges of his vision.

Gradually, the possession is becoming overt once more; taking full control instead of whispering deep inside. Finally, as he rounds another corner, he realizes he's being steered towards the landlord's office.

He recalls the conversation before—the blame, the desire to make the man suffer—and then he recalls the knife tucked against him, and slams against his metaphysical restraints again. His body stops and slides behind a bush, hiding him away.

For a short, irrational second, all he's worried about is spiders. Then the knife is out.

"Look," his voice mutters at him. "You need to stop making this difficult for me. I have not waited this long for you to go and screw it all up. I've tried to be kind—" If Reigen could roll his eyes, he would— "but you're starting to irritate me. I don't need you unharmed to pull this off." The knife is clutched in his palm, blade pressing into the flesh but not breaking it. "I inhabited that corpse for months. Piloting a barely-damaged body is nothing compared to that. So just let me do this and then you can have yourself back."

He stops fighting, only because he has no energy left. The knife is tucked back away and his body steps back out, ignoring the stray leaves that cling to him. It begins marching towards the front office again, and he realizes in one great, stupefying rush that the spirit wants to use his body to kill the man.

He should have realized sooner, but so much has been happening. His mind whirls frantically for some kind of plan, but he's already at the door, reaching out and knocking loudly. His heart is in his throat now—that's coming more from him this time, he thinks—and the door swings open all too quickly.

His eyes land on the man, and an immediate surge of hatred chokes him. Reigen can feel the dead, piercing stare his face holds, the spirit stunned into immobility for just a short moment by the rush of its own shuddering loathing.

"Uh… you alright there?" Ryuchi asks.

The world is falling away from him again. Ryuchi peers around him, uneasy now, seeming confused by Reigen's odd behavior. "Where's your pal?"

The spirit reels itself back in enough to force a smile across his face. "He's taking care of some final touches. I thought we could go ahead and discuss payment while he finishes up."

"Ah!" Ryuchi smiles, all jovial hospitality once again. "Well, don't just stand there, come in!"

"Gladly." He feels the smile melt into something less forced as it morphs with the same vile glee he'd caught snatches of before. His arm pushes the door very deliberately shut behind him. When had he picked up the man's name? It's all happening too fast.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Ryuchi asks, his back turned. "Anything you think your friend might like?"

Reigen thinks that if he were to have a stroke, it might feel something like this. Or maybe this is what it'd feel like to be a lagging piece of software. Ryuchi's words filter through to him sluggishly, all running together, jumbled up nonsense that he has to intentionally parse out. He thinks it's because of the spirit, it's focus purely on the knife held under his belt, lit up like a brand against his back.

"Really," he continues, "I'm so grateful you two could come through and take care of this for me. I've never been one to believe too much in the supernatural, but between you and me…" He sets the mugs down, just as he had earlier that day, and squints conspiratorially over them. "I can already feel the difference, I think." Then he settles into his own chair, and grins vibrantly. "Maybe my finances will stop looking so bad now. Hah!"

Reigen's arm jerks. That one word, finances, rings through his entire body, echoing. He can hear it so clearly that he wouldn't be surprised if the spirit had started repeating it out loud. The hatred is back, the pulsing grief, and it pools on his tongue like saliva building.

"Your finances?"

He feels himself sink further.

Ryuchi leans over the table. "Are you sure you feel okay? You're looking pale."

He feels more than hears himself begin to laugh, throaty and hysteric. "Oh! You're so good at pretending you care."

Uncomfortable, Ryuchi leans away again and scoots his chair out. "Maybe we should wait for your friend to get back. You seem to be…" he pauses, looking Reigen up and down. "I think you need a moment."

Reigen's body stands. "No, I think I can take care of this just fine by myself." His heart is thudding again, almost painfully, and he thinks that this can't be healthy for him. The knife feels physically hot now, burning like he'll be able to find blisters later.

Ryuchi also stands. "On second thought, why don't we see ourselves out of here? Maybe some fresh air will help."

He turns his back, and when his hand brushes the doorknob Reigen's body coils and then pounces, faster than he thought he was physically capable of. They collide, and Ryuchi shouts wordlessly, staggering before throwing Reigen off who slams into the ground, swiping at the empty air.

This is really going to happen, isn't it?

"What's wrong with you?!" Ryuchi cries.

Reigen is launched back to his feet, face drawn into a snarl, and when did the knife get into his hand? Then he's charging again, wailing, "What's wrong with me is you left me to rot!"

This is all very theatrical, he thinks.

Ryuchi throws an entire chair at him before he gets the chance to swing, and his body braces, letting it simply bounce off. The spirit seems numb to the impact, and Reigen tries one last desperate plea.

Come on, that's my body, just put down the knife—you said you didn't want to hurt innocents—

His shin slams against the folding table, sending a shock of pain through the bone and the table skidding across the room. "I told you to be quiet!" his voice screams. If there was anything human left in this spirit upon death, it had clearly decomposed to nothing right alongside that body.

He must miss something vital while he's reeling from the blow, because when he's present enough to see again he finds Ryuchi thrown to the ground below him, staring up with wide eyes.

"Dead?!?" Ryuchi yells, clearly not comprehending whatever it is the spirit wants him to.

"Yes!" Reigen's voice is shrill. He didn't know he could be that piercing. "Do you know what that feels like? To sit there and have nothing else to do but watch your body rot? Stuck, immobile, helpless? I couldn't do anything."

"But—you're not—" Ryuchi sputters. The two of them seem to be holding entirely different conversations.

"ANYTHING!" Spittle flies from his lips. "All because you wanted your fucking money."

"What are you talking about?!" Ryuchi's intense bewilderment finally gives the spirit pause.

It stares blankly, and he feels his face sort of spasm. "You… don't even…?" Then it inhales raspily, and crashes to its knees over him. "You don't even know?"

His arm pulls back. Reigen grips onto the spirit's fraying composure, shoving against the invading presence with all his will, trying to force control back. Maybe, maybe, in its spiraling, irrational fury, the spirit will slip enough for him to gain the upper hand.

It doesn't work, just like it hadn't the last several times. What he does at least manage is to delay the downward swing long enough for Ryuchi to knock his arm off course, leaving the knife to glance along his upper arm rather than plunge into his neck, as the spirit had aimed to do.

This encourages him to continue wrestling at it, because if half a second of lost coordination is what it takes to not kill a man, then Reigen is going to try. His effort feels futile, but it must be some kind of distraction, at the very least—otherwise the spirit wouldn't have tried so hard to shut him up at every turn.

Ryuchi kicks him off, but the knife is still tight in his grip as he tumbles, fingers going numb as his body lurches to its feet again.

And if Reigen was in control, he thinks he would start crying with relief, because finally, the door flies open, and there stands Serizawa. His aura crashes over everything, and he locks eyes with Reigen. Beneath his stony anger, he looks terrified.

"Fuck you!" the spirit shouts. Reigen's voice sounds like it's about to go out. Which is strange, because he doesn't think it's been yelling for that long. "I was so fucking close!"

Serizawa says nothing, only watching the knife in Reigen's hand. He steps in, and slowly they begin to circle each other, like boxers in a ring. Ryuchi cowers in the corner. Reigen's vision continues to flicker in and out, and he realizes his eyes are rolling.

"I'll hurt him. You want this body? I'm going to hurt it if you don't leave and let me take care of my business." Reigen's fist tightens still. There's an audible pop. "This doesn't involve you."

Serizawa's only response is his lashing aura.

The energy shifts and snaps, and it feels like a giant fist closing around his spine where the spirit had adhered itself to him. Even through the chaos and the otherworldly electricity zapping through him, he's grateful for whatever stroke of luck it was that allowed Serizawa to arrive in the nick of time.

Though, as he should have expected—should have braced himself for, been ready to fight—the spirit piloting him screams in a way that he thinks will haunt him for a while, and swings the knife down in a last-ditch effort to scare off Serizawa.

It enters off to the side of his thigh. The dulled kitchen blade doesn't cut especially deep, and he thinks maybe some base instinct had stopped his arm from plunging down too hard as well. His sweaty palm slips off the handle before any more pressure can be applied, and he doesn't think he's ever been grateful for his ability to endlessly perspire like he is now.

Then the spirit finally rips from him, the feeling akin to an organ being torn straight from his body—he imagines, at least—and some faraway part of him registers that the spirit's despairing, warping cry has morphed into his own hoarse yelling while he crashes to the floor. Serizawa's aura becomes invisible to him again, and the world becomes overwhelmingly sharp as clarity returns.

Eyes screwed shut, Reigen claws at the ground, teeth clenched against the oceans of pain, and sound, and touch to filter through. He's hyperaware, all of it overstimulating. Hands are on him then, propping him up—Serizawa—and he manages to crack his eyes open. He's hunched over him, haloed by fluorescent light.

He looks freaked out, and in Reigen's opinion just 'freaked out' means he's holding it together ridiculously well. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Fine," Reigen croaks, squinting. "You—where's—"

He pulls Reigen into his lap. "The spirit's gone, I got it. It's gone."

"Where's Ryuchi?" He tries to scan the room, but Serizawa's torso blocks his view.

"Ryu—? Oh." His hands are onReigen's forehead, checking for a fever like he's sick, rather than coming down from ghostly influence. "He ran away after I got here."

"He's gone?" That makes sense, though it's unfortunate. "You—we need to tell him everything, you let him leave?"

"That's not important right now," Serizawa says, hair shifting. "We need to call an ambulance."

"Huh?" Reigen tries to sit up, but Serizawa doesn't let him pull away. "For what?"

The armchair from behind the desk is suddenly next to them, and through the still-rocking world he's not sure if he's placed in it by Serizawa's power or just Serizawa himself. Kneeling in front of him, Serizawa looks at him like he's speaking in tongues. "For you?"

"We are not calling an ambulance." Reigen sits up straighter, and realizes he's clutching onto Serizawa's arms. He grabs at the chair instead, unsure if he's swaying in place and hoping that he's not. "I'm fine."

Serizawa gives him a dry look. "You need stitches, at the very least."

"No I don't." He lets go of the armrests and crosses his arms instead. "There's a first aid kit at the office, it has butterfly sutures."

"You want to take a train to the office like this for bandaids?" he asks, gesturing disbelievingly at Reigen's leg, and Reigen notices the large red stain for the first time.

Still, he argues. "No, I want to take a taxi to the office for butterfly sutures. Look, it's not even bleeding that much, it just needs pressure and it'll be fine." He hooks the tip of his finger in the tear where the knife had gone through, tugging at it to get a better look. "It's barely even a stab, it mostly just bounced off, see?"

Serizawa's hands settle over his own, brushing them carefully aside. They're very close like this, with Serizawa next to him, and both of them hunched over Reigen's leg. Maybe he should get himself into trouble more often if this is the outcome.

Serizawa slides a finger from each hand into either side of the tear and winces a little. "Uh, sorry, but I think these pants are done for anyways." Then he applies force, ripping the opening further.

On second thought, he might find himself in an early grave if this happens more often.

Serizawa's thumb brushes with a barely-there touch along the edge of the gash, like Reigen would shatter if he used any level of force. It's pretty funny when he compares it to the chair that got bashed over him earlier. Funny is easier than whatever the hell he's going through right now, looking down at Serizawa with all of his intensity and his unwaveringly determined care. And his propensity for ripping pants open, apparently.

Reigen's making himself dizzy again.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, smelling and tasting copper. Serizawa is just checking the wound on his leg and that's it. He opens them again when Serizawa sits back on his heels, though his hands stay right where they are.

"Okay," he says, "it's not as bad as I thought. But you're still letting me take care of this when we get back."

He looks up, and they make eye contact, and Reigen throws his head back before he can do anything impulsive, sagging dramatically against the back of the chair and sighing loudly. "We didn't even get paid…"

Serizawa stands up. "Let's just get out of here."

They call a taxi as Reigen had suggested, and wait awkwardly in the office for it to arrive. Ryuchi doesn't come back before they leave.

Reigen can walk—he knows he can—but not without a limp, and of course Serizawa refuses to let him hobble his way out. So he ends up being mostly carried, their arms slung around each other while Reigen tries to convince himself he's helping with his dragging feet.

He'd been a little nervous that the driver would leave once he laid eyes on the state of them, but something must compel him to wait as he sits long enough for Reigen to offer a bribe up front for any bloodied seats. He thinks it's mostly pity that sways him in their favor in the end.

The ride is tense, both of them still on edge, and his leg has started weeping again from all the commotion. Serizawa leans across to press a hand down on it before Reigen can. It hurts, but it's grounding, helpful as he's still recovering from the phantom sensation of someone puppeting his limbs. He can feel the tremors running through Serizawa too now from where they're touching.

It's been a rough day on both of them. He wonders if maybe it's easier for Serizawa to focus on caring for him, instead of thinking about… everything. If it's how he's coping.

There's a bump in the road, and Serizawa whispers an apology when it makes his hand jump up and down even though Reigen hadn't so much as blinked. He'll have to check in with him once they're in the office.

The taxi pulls up their street, and with payment already taken care of, all they need to do is step out and leave. Reigen is ready for some awkward maneuvering while Serizawa tries to help him, and instead what he gets is sudden weightlessness as he lifts into the air.

The taxi driver turns fully around, eyes wide and mouth agape. He stares as Serizawa thanks him, and he stares as Reigen levitates out after him, and he stares until they disappear into the building and he can't anymore. Serizawa doesn't let him down again until he can sit him on the tiny counter in the bathroom, and Reigen ends up almost halfway in the sink.

He shouldn't laugh. He really shouldn't, because he doesn't want to encourage surprise levitation, but it's such an easy thing to start giggling over after the hell they'd just had. Serizawa looks bewildered and slightly suspicious as Reigen struggles to muffle himself. He thinks he might still be just a little bit delirious. "That man just watched me levitate."

Serizawa shakes his head a little. "Are you concussed?"

He almost snorts at the question. "I'm fine." He rolls his shoulders, mirth lingering. "You can't say his face wasn't a little funny, at least."

"Oh." Serizawa exhales once, like an almost-laugh. "I wasn't looking, I didn't see it."

Reigen hums, not really sure what else to say. He taps his heel against the side of the counter as Serizawa glances around the tiny room. "Where, uh—first aid kit?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah," Reigen says. "It's in my desk, bottom drawer. It's in the back, you'll have to slide some stuff out of the way to get it."

Serizawa steps out, and he hears the reverberating thrum of the drawer rolling open and then papers shuffling around. After, he hears the drawer close—and then nothing. He continues to tap his heel. There's no sound of footsteps, or of Serizawa returning. Just silence.

Reigen leans towards the door. "Everything okay out there?"

"Yeah," Serizawa calls out, sounding distracted, "I'll be right there, hang on."

Reigen presses his lips together, still strangely amused. He's truly getting the full hospital experience. He only has to wait another minute before he can hear Serizawa moving through the room again, returning.

"Alright," Serizawa says, first aid kit in hand, "you'll probably need to take your pants off so I can get to the wound properly."

Reigen slides off of the counter he'd been so courteously deposited on, unthinking, and then hisses when the landing jolts his leg. Serizawa drops the first aid kit, and it stays floating—even after all these years around espers it's a strange thing to see—and he's on him in an instant, clutching at him like he's going to keel over and spitting out an apology. "Sorry, I didn't think, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine," Reigen interrupts, already steady on his feet. "I'm fine. I didn't think either, I just jostled it for a second. Are you okay?"

Serizawa looks up from Reigen's leg, eyes emotional and eyebrows screwed together. "I'm fine, I'm not hurt."

"I meant—you seem… agitated."

"Oh." Serizawa looks back down. "Yeah. I—today was a lot, wasn't it?" He takes a shaky breath, likely trying to calm down. "Let's get this done."

Reigen nods slowly, though Serizawa isn't looking at him. His focus is on Reigen's hurt leg as he slides his pants down. They stick to his skin briefly, and he hears Serizawa suck air through his teeth at the mess revealed. It's not the wound itself that makes it look so bad; the way the blood has been spread around, flaky in some parts and still fresh in others, has made it look more severe.

Serizawa helps him back up to the counter—at least partially using his arms this time, so that Reigen's not subject to the feeling of drifting untethered through the air again—and plucks the first aid kit down from where it's remained suspended. Reigen wonders how much conscious effort it takes to keep something up like that. Whatever the amount, he's impressed Serizawa hadn't forgotten about it and left it to clatter to the ground. Reigen knows he would have if he were holding it.

"There's not really anything…. ah." Serizawa seems to work out whatever problem he'd just encountered, and one of the rags Reigen uses during massages lets itself into the room. He's not sure if it's a good or bad sign that Serizawa's using his aura so freely like this.

He can't read his expression to try to figure that out; Serizawa's head is bowed as he washes his hands and wets the rag under the sink, then carefully starts wiping away the rusty sheen on Reigen's thigh. Reigen would point out that he absolutely could do that himself, but he's starting to think he was right about this being how Serizawa copes. At the very least, he himself is reveling in the strange intimacy, the two of them so close together that he can smell the shampoo off of Serizawa's lowered head.

Serizawa stops his work to rinse the rag. "There's certain things you're supposed to check for, right? Like…" He wrings it out. "Criteria, for when someone needs stitches?"

Reigen squints into the air as the cloth returns to his skin, resuming its meticulous work. "Yeah," he says, "Something about ragged edges, I don't know." He does, actually, but he also knows that his wound might meet one or two of those criteria, and he's not about to get himself carted off to the emergency room.

Serizawa's head tips to the side, just enough so that he can give Reigen a look with one narrowed eye, and he thinks his lie has been caught. But Serizawa says nothing, only turning back downwards and continuing his cleaning. Reigen really wishes he'd quit acting strange and just speak his mind, but that's probably a hypocritical request coming from himself.

Still, he can't resist the urge to prod. "You did good today," he says gently, and Serizawa's hands falter. "Sorry it was all up to you in the end."

Serizawa drops the rag in the sink and turns back to the kit, fingers brushing over various little boxes and ointments. He plucks out a small wipe, peeling it open with steady fingers. He uses it to wipe the last of the blood from the very edges of the gash, and then drops it on top of the rag before looking up. "Isn't it usually?" he asks.

Reigen thinks he's upset with him at first—but Serizawa only looks thoughtful. He inclines his head in a silent prompt and Serizawa doesn't take the bait, instead looking away again to pull out a tube of antibiotic ointment and squint at it. Reigen watches, unsettled by the contemplative silence as Serizawa spreads a small amount just outside of the wound.

Maybe Serizawa's just thinking about their day, he reasons, watching him wash his hands once more before grabbing the box of butterfly sutures. He tapes the gash closed, and the sensation of skin being tugged together is strange, but Serizawa's work is neat.

Reigen would have considered that good enough but Serizawa goes the extra mile, taping a square of gauze down with the same fastidious care he'd done everything else with. Then he takes a deep breath and looks up, past Reigen's eyes, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

He leans in until Reigen could count each one of his individual eyelashes if he so desired, and hums quietly to himself. "Not too bad…"

Reigen holds his breath. Serizawa has always been thoughtful and studious, but not quite so… close up. It's actually a little intimidating, even if the only thing he's scrutinizing is Reigen's injuries.

Serizawa backs away just a touch then, and his hand stays holding the hair off of Reigen's face. He thinks he might be blushing, but if Serizawa notices he doesn't seem to care.

His eyes flick subtly back and forth, and he opens his mouth, preparing to say something—

"What the fuck are you guys doing?"

Reigen shouts and jumps, sending his knee into Serizawa's gut, who doubles over and wheezes. Dimple just hovers there, looking at them with a little bit of curiosity and a lot of disgust.

"I—what are you doing here?!" Reigen yells, unreasonably irritated as Serizawa pulls away and the moment is broken. He turns to Serizawa next. "What is he doing here?"

Serizawa backs into the doorway and stays there. "Uh, I—"

"He asked for help from his good pal Dimple." Dimple grins unnaturally wide, sharp teeth all the way across his little fart face. "Now, I hate to impose, but if you'll excuse me for just a minute—"

He dives, and everything goes green. Reigen's consciousness is pressed down, everything pressurized and heavy, and his thoughts nearly turn to white noise as he tries to claw his way back to the surface. A startled oh, shit reverberates through his skull, and then Dimple shoots back out.

"Fuck!" he gasps. "Why did—what the hell is going on?" He realizes his fist is clenched in his shirt over his heart, and lets go to hold the edge of the counter instead. He has god damn had enough of being possessed. "A little warning would have been nice!?" he snaps.

Dimple flits up to the ceiling. "Well if there was a ghost in you then I would've wanted to catch it off guard! You're welcome, by the way."

"A—huh?" He takes a deep breath, willing himself to sound less hysterical. A ghost—they thought he might have still been possessed. He doesn't know why he didn't think of that sooner, considering how the spirit had hidden so neatly away last time.

Serizawa steps into his space again, suit pants brushing Reigen's bare knee. "I'm sorry. I just—I wanted to be sure since I couldn't sense it before, and I thought… I thought another spirit would be able to tell."

"Right." Reigen nods slowly. It does make sense. And he can't be upset at Serizawa, not really, especially when he makes such sorrowful looking kicked-puppy eyes. "Right. Is that why you were being so—" He motions up and down through the air, as though that's an adequate way to end a sentence.

Serizawa does understand, though. "Sort of. I mean, I was pretty confident that it was actually gone this time, I just…"

They stare at each other, Serizawa's face searching his own.

"Well," Dimple drawls, and Reigen realizes how close they are, and then remembers he's not wearing pants. "I'll let you lovebirds get back to it, I guess."

He's gone before either of them can say a single word of protest. Reigen rolls his eyes and decides fuck it, letting his forehead crash into Serizawa's chest and groaning with as much irritation as he can muster. Serizawa's hand settles on his back between his shoulder blades.

"I am sorry," he says quietly.

Reigen can feel Serizawa's voice buzzing in his chest where he rests. "You don't need to be. I should have thought of that myself, really." Then he sits back up. He doesn't particularly want to, but he doesn't want to take advantage of his employee's pity, either. "So… what does 'sort of' mean?"

Serizawa's hand stays where it is. "Well, today was a lot."

Reigen kicks the counter again, waiting, but that seems to be all the explanation he's going to get. He doesn't know where to go from here.

He should probably put his pants back on, for starters.

Just as he thinks it, Serizawa backs away from him. Then he bends, and his hand is on Reigen's calf, lifting it up to show him the developing bruise on his shin. "What happened here, anyways?"

Serizawa really needs to stop putting his hands on him so easily before Reigen goes and gets the wrong idea. He doesn't know if Serizawa just doesn't realize how familiar he's being or if it's just another facet of his personality, but whatever the reason, he's acting entirely disaffected by the closeness he keeps seeking out.

Reigen realizes he hasn't answered, and has just been staring at Serizawa holding up his leg. "Uh. Table."

Serizawa blinks. "Table?" His thumb traces the edge of the bruise.

Reigen feels nervous babbling fight its way up and out. "Uh, yeah. I tried to suggest to our dear little friend that murder maybe wasn't the answer, and—well." His unoccupied heel raps harder against the counter. "You know, I don't think it cared to hear that. Or cared to hear anything?"

Serizawa looks sad. Reigen wants to jump out of his hold and run away. Once again, his mouth runs ahead of his brain, attempting to smooth over the situation. "I've had worse. It's not a big deal, really."

And, great, now Serizawa looks alarmed. "What do you mean by that?"

Reigen looks up, examining the ceiling tiles instead of Serizawa's face. "Hazards of the job? I mean, this is my business. I've been doing this for a long time, I accepted the risks long ago. I don't mean things typically get this out of control, though."

He looks back down, hoping that's adequate. Serizawa shifts on his feet, hesitantly letting go of Reigen's leg before he speaks. "You know that… I know you don't have psychic abilities. Don't you?"

His immediate instinct is to deny it. But of course Serizawa knows—he's always acted so protective from the very beginning. It's turned into almost a game between them to ignore it, Reigen boasting his power while Serizawa nods skeptically or utters a placating 'right'.

He wants to think he doesn't know why Serizawa's broken the unspoken rule now of all times, but with the concern he's radiating while he keeps on looking at him Reigen knows it's because he's worried.

And ah, people caring about him. Reigen's old enemy. He pulls in a deep breath. "The ghosts aren't even the most dangerous part most of the time. You know, when people regard you as a fraud—" when you are a fraud— "they might get mad, about—well. I mean, I'm not just going to quit. What would I even do? What would you do?" He laughs to shake off the acute sense that he's said too much; it's a feeling he's used to. "I'm just saying, I can take care of myself. You don't need to stress yourself out so much."

Serizawa, again, just looks at him, like he's slotting the pieces of a puzzle together. Then, instead of saying anything, he begins picking up the various little pieces of packaging strewn around the counter.

Reigen decides that means the one sided conversation is over and eases off the counter—slowly this time—to slide his tattered, disgusting pants back on. He's probably defeating the purpose of all of Serizawa's careful washing, but at least the wound itself is protected now. Besides, he can't just go pantless.

Maybe Serizawa just needs some room to breathe. This is their first true moment of downtime since the ordeal of the day had started. He knows he needs to get out before he goes on another unnecessary tangent, at least. He needs to email Ryuchi too, and apologize for… well, almost murdering him. That wasn't very professional.

He takes the first aid kit and hobbles out of the bathroom, leaving Serizawa where he stands trying to rinse stains out of the massage towel. Squatting to reach the bottom drawer would probably pull at his bandages too much, so he just drops the box off to the side on his desk. Finally settling into his chair is a relief.

Serizawa trails in as he begins drafting, and looks bewildered to see Reigen typing away. "You're working?"

"I need to explain what happened to Ryuchi," he says, glancing away from the screen to take Serizawa in. He looks exhausted, hair and suit rumpled. "You should head home and get some rest. There's nothing else to do here."

"Not yet," Serizawa says. He crosses the room to the little office couch, pulling his suit jacket off and scrubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes. "I'd like to talk a little longer once you're done."

"Oh. Yeah, that's fine."

He can't tell if that makes him want to rush the email or drag it out for another half hour. Talking could mean anything from "I quit" to… well, honestly, the quitting is Reigen's main concern right now. He's worried he's scared Serizawa away by spouting off about their occupational hazards so thoughtlessly.

But he couldn't rush it if he wanted to; he has no idea what to write. Does he go with "Hey, sorry I stabbed you but it wasn't actually me" or "Hey, please excuse the near death experience, we took care of your spirit problem"? Or maybe a good old fashioned "Please don't call the cops on me I don't want to go to jail". Though he should probably mention the whole dead-body-in-one-of-the-apartments situation.

In the end he settles for a basic rundown and avoids any kind particularly emotional intonation. The spirit's gone, you have a corpse to deal with, and so so sorry for my behavior before the spirit was banished. Your consultation will remain free of charge.

In more or less words.

He sends it off and closes his eyes, resting for a moment. Without any further distractions all he really has left are his thoughts on the day and the aches in his body. He hopes it wasn't too rough on Serizawa, but…

He opens his eyes again and looks at him across the office. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He shouldn't avoid this any longer.

"Okay," he says, letting the word fall out quietly before standing gingerly from his chair. Serizawa looks up to watch him cross the room and sit next to him on the couch. Reigen thinks this should be easier than going face-to-face as they usually sit. "Let's talk. What's on your mind?"

He expects Serizawa to take a moment as he usually does, always so considerate with his choice of words, but he sits up straight and gets right to it. "You've told me before that part of my job is to pick up on the things that you can't. You know, catch your mistakes. And you don't have powers, which means that the spiritual side is something I can handle, that you can't."

There's a lull. Reigen hesitantly fills it. "You already do that, don't you?"

"I try to. And—I know you're my boss, and this is your job too, but it's just… I think you take unnecessary risks sometimes. It worries me that if something serious happens I…" he trails off, losing steam.

So this is what's been on his mind. Reigen brushes his thumb back and forth on the pleather material of the couch. "This is in fact my job, and I'm not going to stop doing it. So you are right on that count. But… you should trust yourself more. I mean, getting Dimple to check—I didn't think of that. That was you." He pauses. "Actually, how did you get him here?"

"I sent a message to Shigeo," Serizawa says. "I told him we needed Dimple's help at the office."

"Oh."

A beat passes.

"Yeah. But, uh—it's not that I don't trust myself. I guess… what I'm asking is for you to trust me more. I mean, I know I'm kind of…" He quiets for a second. "...behind in life. But I'm still an adult, you don't need to… to try to…"

He shrugs, but Reigen gets the gist. He'd ignored a lot of warnings today in favor of trying to be some sort of guiding figure. "Yeah. I can do that. And uh, I do mean it when I say you really pulled through today."

Serizawa smiles tiredly. "Thanks."

"So…" Reigen drums his fingers on the couch. "Today didn't scare you off?"

He says it mostly jokingly, but Serizawa sits up even straighter, looking almost offended. "No, if I'm not here then who's stopping you from—I don't know, trying to punch a ghost?"

That startles a laugh from him. Serizawa must know him better than he thought to guess something so on the nose. "Well, thank you," he says, nudging him with his elbow. "I didn't know you cared so much about me. That's kind of sweet."

He hadn't necessarily meant anything by that, moreso indulging himself than anything else, but Serizawa is suddenly stuttering, looking anywhere except Reigen. "Well, it—I mean, it's just—you've been very kind to me too, so it's only fair."

Reigen pauses. Could he—?

No. It's just regular gratitude, he's sure. Even if Reigen is pretty confident that he's only ever extended an average level of concern—he shouldn't overthink this. He claps Serizawa on the shoulder, maybe too forcefully if the way the sound reverberates is any indication. "Of course. You're a part of the team, aren't you?" That does remind him, though: "I don't think I ever actually got your answer. Are you okay?"

Thinking about it now, the spirit's story—being trapped in a room like that—might have been intense for him.

Serizawa shakes his head. "It was pretty chilling to get hit by that aura when the door opened. It did make me wonder for a second if that's what my room would have felt like if another esper were to stand outside. But I didn't think about it that long, really—I mean, the worst part was—uh…" He scratches at the side of his neck awkwardly. "Well, I guess it's not important. It all threw me off a little, but I am okay overall."

Now it's Reigen's turn to lean his elbows on his knees, bending to get a better look at Serizawa's face. 'Didn't think about it' doesn't sound like a healthy way to cope. "If it's bothering you then it's important," he says.

Serizawa faces him, and he has that expression that tells Reigen he's thinking pretty seriously about what comes out next. "Just… seeing you hurt bothered me the most." He chuckles, like it's an embarrassing secret, and Reigen has to look away again, sitting up straight so that Serizawa can't see his face.

Serizawa sighs and leans on his knee again. Reigen can see a smile curling around the side of his cheek. "Yeah, I thought that might happen."

"You—huh?" Reigen gapes at the back of his head. "Wait, what does that mean?"

Serizawa grabs his jacket and stands, then crosses the room to collect his things. That knowing little smile remains. Reigen doesn't like it. He wants to know too.

"Serizawa, what does that mean?"

Serizawa slides his jacket on and slings his book bag over his shoulder. "We should go if we want to catch the next train."

"I—you can't say that and not explain yourself." Reigen says, not having stood from the couch.

Serizawa walks to the door and waits. "Do you need anything out of your desk?"

What is with him all of a sudden? "Serizawa," he says as sternly as he can.

"No?"

"I—goddammit—" Reigen shoots out of his seat and scrambles across the room only to realize he doesn't actually need anything from his desk. He pulls the bottom drawer open with his foot and drops the first aid kit into it just for something to do, even though it won't shut after. Serizawa waits for him to finish, pleasant and infuriating smile still in place, and they walk out together. Reigen crosses his arms. "So, what did you mean?"

"Nothing," Serizawa says. His stride is unusually confident, though he still keeps himself slow to accommodate Reigen's injured pace.

Reigen takes advantage of that and hurries past so he can shoot him a serious look. "Do I need to order it out of you?"

Serizawa doesn't even look at him. "We're off the clock."

"Ugh."

Serizawa's hand alights on his lower back then, fingers lightly brushing there, and his aura wraps around Reigen to shift his weight off his feet. Enough to ease the pressure on his leg, but not enough so that it would look unusual to any outsider.

It's aggravating how impossible it is to be irritated at him sometimes.

Still, Reigen doesn't stop asking what he'd meant as they walk down the street, through the station, and onto the train. His incessant questioning definitely does not help the strange looks they're getting over his trashed appearance.

He's only distracted from his interrogation when they reach his stop, and Serizawa stands at the same time he does. He finds himself nearly weightless again, and even though the answer is obvious he asks, "What are you doing?"

Serizawa ushers him towards the door. "You can't walk on your own, you'll get hurt."

He would argue but he needs to get off the train before he can't, and Serizawa isn't wrong. Besides, he's beginning to notice a trend—the direct correlation between his own level of injury and Serizawa's assertiveness. He won't be able to deter him.

So Reigen decides to give it all a rest and just enjoy the rest of their short trek together. The company is nice on the usually dreary walk. It doesn't take long to reach his door though, and once Reigen unlocks it and steps in he turns to stare back out with narrowed eyes. "So… what did you mean?"

Serizawa smiles at him. "Good night, Reigen."

And then he's off, leaving him there.

"Serizawa!" he shouts at his retreating back. Someone in a nearby apartment yells at him to shut up. "You can't run forever, we work together!"

Despite this, he gets the feeling he's never going to get an answer.