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It was a rainy day in Seasoning city, with a cool umami breeze rattling at the windowpanes.
Mob had spent his afternoon business as usual. Reigen had stuck his head outside the window and immediately announced an admin day with a click of his tongue and twirl of the wrist. No spirits when it rains! We can build a website!
And with that he had buried his head in a laptop, with Serizawa in the corner practicing for his next midterm.
Mob makes some tea. And then some more. And thinks about asking for help with his math homework. Would that be imposing, he wonders, or would it be good practice?
The homework can wait, he settles, and moves from his seat to watch rain drops draw patterns down the steamed-up windows.
Two fat droplets sit near-parallel at the top of the glass, plumping with every second. His fingers brush the glass, and they move; racing as of their life depends on it. He's got dibs on the left one, he thinks, but then the droplets connect and form a star shape. Mob turns around.
"Sorry." Serizawa nods at him from his revision nook. "Didn't mean to disturb your game. Just thought it'd be fun."
"That's okay. They're nice."
He touches the glass with intent and turns Serizawa's star into a square. Then remembers the math homework again.
6%.
"Hey, Mobbu." Reigen beckons him over from across the room. "What do you think of comic sans?"
He flips the laptop round and crosses his arms, fingers tapping.
Mob squints at the screen. There is nothing that can be salvaged from this page except for the "Spirits and Such" logo.
"Um."
"Impactful, right?" he grins and cracks his knuckles. "I'm going to fiddle with the contrast settings in a second."
"To make it less bright?" There's hope yet.
"Why would I make it less bright?" Hope lost, then.
17%.
"Oh. No reason." Mob turns his gaze away from the laptop as swiftly as he can. Reigen pouts.
"Tsch, come back once you've completed a graphic design course."
Serizawa giggles from the corner, prompting another hiss from Reigen.
The rain continues.
There's a knock on the door that jolts them all from their respective activities. It's too brash to be a customer, and mighty familiar.
The hinges creak.
"Hey." Teru shakes droplets from his jacket sleeves. "Thought I'd come see if you need any help today."
Mob nods a hello, happy to see him. The raindrops on the pane tremble.
Reigen waves over the newcomer. "Ah, I could use your style advice on a little project I’ve been cultivating..."
Teru glances at Mob, then tilts his head. "Eh. I'm not helping with the website anymore."
Reigen buries his face back in the screen. "Whatever. Fine. What do I even pay you lot for…"
Mob joins Teru by the kettle, placing fresh leaves in the strainer as he waits for the water to boil. It does. He counts the seconds as he pours, removing the strainer before any bitterness seeps through. Teru takes the mug from him with a smile and with the first sip sighs the sigh of someone chilled to the bone.
Mob finds himself smiling back timidly. Copies the motion with his own mug and is surprised by its warmth, after sitting by the window for so long.
“Doesn’t look too busy today.” Teru grins, throwing a look over his shoulder at the two adults hunched over Reigen’s laptop, Serizawa muttering suggestions.
“Spirits don’t like the rain.”
“Huh.” He shrugs. “Funny. I guess I never noticed.”
He nods, mug resting against his lip. He can feel Teru watching him; an open, fond look, one he’d grown familiar with since their first encounter. Mob meets his eye briefly and finds he has to immediately look away.
“Oi.”
Thank God for Reigen. The man waves them over again, brandishing his laptop like a spellbook.
“Check out these changes. Could use some youth feedback, you know.”
“Coming, shishou.”
The boys make their way over to the sofas and settle in.
The man could sell a pickaxe to a horse. By the end of Reigen’s ten-minute pep talk and crash course on colour theory, he’s managed to convince himself and everyone in the room that there is no way on the planet to further improve the html code he’s slapped together.
Serizawa claps timidly. Reigen bows.
“Ah,” He straightens and turns to the clock. “That’s time for today, kids.”
They all get up, passing each other items of clothing. Mugs get stacked and taken to the kitchenette, the last of the tea leaves floating in the sink.
Mob grabs a sponge and starts washing up. Teru hovers.
“Hey,” He points over his shoulder, hand close enough to brush against his face. Mob swallows. “Can you read tea leaves?”
“No. Hm. Is that something you can do?” The sponge squeaks against ceramic. He pauses and peers over the sink edge, trying to make out shapes.
Teru waves a hand, and a golden glow blows back the suds and water. “Rei’s been showing me some clairvoyance tricks back at the Lab.” He throws a quick smile Mob’s way, betraying his nerves. “I’ve not really tried it before.”
Mob tilts his head, watching Teru’s aura weave around them. The leaves in the sink shudder, and then all align as if following a magnetic field.
They all point towards him. He moves his hand, and they follow like iron filings to the North pole.
“Oh. I was wondering about that.” Teru suddenly reddens and draws his palm back. The leaves still.
“About what?”
“Where they point. Emi couldn’t figure it out either. They point at you.” He covers his mouth. “Oh… That’s embarrassing.”
Mob reaches out towards the sink himself, and the leaves start dancing kaleidoscopically in the blue glow of his aura. “What do you think this means?”
Teru exhales and puts on a smile. “Your life is your own, I guess.”
“Oh.” He meets his eyes and quickly looks away.
21%.
“Yeah.”
They finish the dishes in companionable silence.
There are no more words necessary.
Reigen hands Mob his coat on the way out the door. “You’d better get home before it’s dark. Rain hasn’t eased up.” He casts a look out of the window and smiles to himself.
“Thanks, shishou. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Reigen. Bye, ‘zawa.” Teru spins his fold-up umbrella with a flourish and gives a little wave. “See you later. Sometime.”
“Yeah, yeah. Off you go. Get home safe.” They get lovingly pushed out the door.
Teru shrugs. “Walk you home?”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
The streets are empty, drains rustling gently with the faraway sound of underground waterfalls. They’re the only two people out on the street, everyone else tucked away in ramen bars and grocery stores; waiting for the clouds to pass. It’s quiet out.
Mob watches his feet as he walks. He’s avoiding puddles, absent-mindedly contemplating Reigen’s web design ideas as he does.
Teru shakes the umbrella, more careful to keep it over Mob than himself. He watches him as he steps over pavement tiles with an unshakable, bone-deep fondness.
It doesn’t quite occur to either esper to use their powers to keep themselves out of the rain. At this moment they’re just two kids kicking rocks and searching for frogs on the way home: nothing more, nothing less.
Mob pauses, prompting Teru to stop in his tracks.
“Did you come by the office to see if I’d be there?”
It’s a disarming question, as it always is with Mob. Teru feels his ears redden as he attempts to hide a blush or play it cool.
“Y- Yeah.” He caves, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Honesty tastes different on his tongue.
Mob nods, back to looking at the pavement. But he smiles. Teru can’t help but thrill at that. He smiles.
They come across a shop awning by the side of the road and make the unanimous decision to shake off as much water as they can before moving on. Rain falls in sheets around them.
Teru ruffles his hair, bristling like the scrawny dog of a kid he is. He folds his umbrella and leans against the wall. Heel digging into the dirt. Chin cocked upwards, image of the delinquent.
“I like the smell of rain.” He shuts his eyes and rests his head, listening to the hum around them.
“Yeah.” Mob sniffs the air. It’s earthy, and damp; almost-mossy with a concrete sharpness. The last of the spring thunderstorms.
He too leans back and settles on watching Teru.
It’s peaceful. He likes this, the feeling bubbling in his chest like a fountain. He likes him.
“Hey, Teru?”
“Mhm?” He opens his eyes and turns to his friend.
It’s actually a little overwhelming. His mouth goes dry. Mob backs out of whatever confession was trying to creep out of his mouth. “N- Never mind.”
“What’s up?” He shuffles a little closer.
Oh, he’s sweating now. Mob swallows and shakes his head.
33%.
“I forgot.”
“Ah.” Teru nods. “If it’s important, it’ll come back to you.”
“I think it was. Important, that is.” He pauses, scrunching his hands into fists by his side. Clenching and unclenching.
They watch the rain a little longer.
The moment passes, as breathless as it started.
It’s a few days later when bad weather comes again, as unrelenting as before and just as unexpected.
Mob swings his legs against the back of his desk chair and watches the drops slide down the window. Another afternoon, another admin day.
Reigen is doing his taxes. He’s attempting to narrate the process to both Mob and Serizawa, dropping receipts in the process. Serizawa nods, entranced, and doesn’t even notice his psychic aura picking up the papers and placing them back on the pile.
Mob does, though.
He thinks about the tea leaves again.
And he wonders.
Mob has a flash of a memory, a moment of future-recollection: a boy stands outside the door, adjusting his collar, ruffling his hair, deciding to leave his shirttails untucked. Raises his fist to -
There’s that familiar knock on the door again. Teru enters with a smile.
“Hey.”
Reigen huffs a laugh. “I’m getting déjà vu with you, kid.”
Mob shakes his head, the feeling fading. He waves meekly at his friend and gets up to leave.
“I think we’ll be going, shishou.”
“Fair’s fair. You won’t have taxes to worry about for a few years yet.” Reigen shrugs emphatically; the receipt pile teeters. “Nothing wrong with a head start.”
Mob picks up his bag and coat. He can feel Teru watch him, as always; a comforting presence, knowing someone has his back.
“Ready?” His friend throws him that dazzling smile again. His hair is still cowlicked to his forehead despite his efforts, Mob notes with a bubble of amusement. Maybe he should say something.
“Your hair.” He points out, not unkindly. Teru flusters.
“Ah,” He attempts to spike it again, to no avail. “I was having such a good hair day today, before all this rain...”
“Oh. It’s nice now, though.” He reaches across and pats him on the head.
39%. Mob freezes. Why did he just do that? 42%.
Teru stares at him like a deer in headlights, pink-blood-blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. 45%.
And then he leans in, just a second, just a –
“Oi, Mobbu. Are you heading out then?”
He snatches his hand back and whips around to find Reigen holding an umbrella. His expression is that of an adult trying and failing to remain neutral and aloof, unconcerned with the actions of today’s youth.
Oh, there’s going to be a pep talk and conversation later, Mob can feel it in his bones. 49%.
“Y-Yeah.” Teru scratches the back of his neck. “Think so.”
“Mhm.” He manages to get an encouraging sound out through gritted teeth.
Reigen sighs dramatically. “Here.” He passes Mob the umbrella. “It’s looking evil out there.”
He stalks back over to his desk and waves a hand. “Thank me later.”
They step over puddles and drains in silence, the patter of drops against the umbrella top the only noise between them. Mob does find the umbrella useful; it is larger and sturdier than the one Teru brought, and they both fit under it - just.
Teru skids on some leaf-rot and grabs his arm.
“Sorry. Flat shoes.” He smiles a little sheepishly.
“It’s okay.” Mob looks around. The ground looks equally slimy ahead, if not more. “Here. Hold on.” He offers his forearm, interlocking their arms so that the umbrella remains stable.
51%.
Teru grabs at Mob as he loses his footing yet again. He flushes. “T- Thanks. Sorry. Glad you have your running shoes on, ha.”
Mob looks at his feet. He sure does. He forgot to change out of them after gym, too distracted by thoughts of the last rainy day they’d had.
The shop awning. His revelation. How the moment had passed. How some moments always pass, and never repeat themselves again.
But he’s looking at his running shoes, and he has a boy hanging off his arm like some swooning maiden from a fantasy story where he’s just slain the dragon and really, it’s just some dead leaves, isn’t it? But isn’t it a pretence?
He can hear Reigen’s voice echoing in his ear about how saving face in the moment can affect the long term, like how you might not point out a friend’s sweat patches to save them the embarrassment but then they appear on live TV and really, it might have been better to upset them in the short term than have them live with that image plastered everywhere online for the rest of time (Reigen had tsk’ed and shook his head at that one; clearly, a sore subject still). Maybe it’s like this, somehow.
66%. Oh.
He can feel Teru covertly-not covertly watching him. His grip on his arm shifts slightly.
Mob wishes he hadn’t thought about sweat. He feels sticky.
“Uhm,” Anything he says will come out wrong. The moment is passing, again.
Teru twirls a strand of hair between the fingers of his free hand and looks away. Then releases his arm and steps out into the rain.
He’s done this wrong, somehow, Mob realises, hasn’t picked up the baton in time and now the relay race is going on without him. He can almost see it drop before his eyes.
77%.
Teru smiles softly and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. The rain is getting his hair wet again. “I might have to leave you here, actually.”
84%.
He looks up from his shoes and something must show on his face. Some indetermined emotion flashes across Teru’s face. He changes his mind. “Or. Well.”
Mob watches as he steps closer again. It’s slow motion, almost, and it could have been for all that he knows; the boy’s nervous energy is emanating from him all fruit-scent and static and not quite unlike the taste of air after it has made its way through an electric heater.
“You’d tell me if I was wrong, right?” He crowds back under the umbrella, water dripping dramatically from his bangs.
“Yes.”
“Then I hope I’m not wrong.”
Mob inhales sharply as Teru leans in, not-quite-all-the-way, leaving him just enough room to back out.
But he doesn’t. He closes his eyes and mirrors the action.
Their noses clash, and Mob fumbles the umbrella. Teru giggles. The umbrella lands handle-up on the pavement, and Mob gets pulled in a little closer and suddenly it all fits.
He’d never quite understood the specificities of Teru’s charisma until now; to him, his favourite version of his friend was the one who fell asleep on the “Spirits and Such” couch with his mouth open, or the one who got overexcited at the prospect of going on a trip together to the zoo. The old, charismatic ringleader was someone Teru had left behind after their first encounter, or tried to anyway.
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It isn’t until Teru pulls away with a sigh and a sparkle in his eyes like two blue flames that he understands the magnetism to him, and it hits all at once.
“O-Oh.”
The ringleader persona and confidence fade as quickly as they appeared, and Teru is again a stammering mess. “Oh. Was that okay?” He blushes thoroughly and hides his face in his hands. “Sorry. I’m so nervous. Hah.”
“Yeah.” He nods slowly, still processing. Mob can feel a similar flush creeping up his neck. “That was nice.”
“Oh.” He grins toothily. Grabs Mob’s hand. “I’m glad. Me too. I mean, it was nice for me too. Yeah.”
“Mhm.” Mob nods again, this time more firmly. He squeezes Teru’s hand reassuringly.
Teru is looking elsewhere, however.
“Hey. Look” He plucks a water droplet from next to Mob’s face. A deep fondness settles in him. “I think this is your doing.”
Mob finally looks around.
The rain has stopped in mid-air, each droplet bristling with a familiar blue-purple glow. The phenomenon is all-encompassing, in all directions, no end in sight.
Several pedestrians have started to gather outside the nearest grocery store at the end of the street and have also started pointing at the sky.
He shakes his head and is surprised to find it is completely dry. “Oh! Sorry!”
Just like that, the rain releases. The pedestrian scatter. The sky clouds over again.
Teru picks up their umbrella and pulls Mob under it.
“Hey.” He shoots him a dangerous smile. “Wanna get some ramen?”
100% SECOND CRUSH/ BEST FRIEND COMBO
A yellow flower sprouts from the top of Mob’s head.
He smiles.