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A few months into Reigen Arataka’s second year of middle school, he requested to change the emergency contacts he has on file. He doesn’t know what his teacher was expecting from said request, but she did give him an odd look when he turned in the form a couple days later.
The first phone number listed is his mother, as expected. She’s home most days, and it is rare for her to miss a call from the school if they really need to contact someone. She’ll be polite with the staff, and then reprimand Arataka for whatever her son got up to.
The second is his father. It would be a miracle if he actually answered the phone on the special cases where his mother can’t pick up. More likely than not, an automated message will play or one of his aides will answer. There’s not much they can do, especially if his father is busy (or does not wish to waste time with his son’s frivolous behavior).
Originally, his grandmother was the third contact. She lives outside the city, and Arataka sees her on the holidays, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time with her. She’s studious and straight-laced like her son, and doesn’t find much joy in playing her grandchildren's games. She definitely likes his sister more than him. Though whether it’s for either of them, she’s usually too caught up in a book or watching the news to answer a call.
Arataka hands in his new emergency contacts with a slight alteration. His mother and father don’t change, but instead of his grandmother, the phone number listed belongs to Kageyama Shigeo. His teacher scans the list quickly, and asks, “Is your third contact a family friend? You didn’t list a relation.”
Arataka shrugs, “Something like that.”
She doesn’t push it further, probably not caring all that much. Besides, it’s rare that the third emergency contact is ever used.
-
Starting a new school year begins with the typical ritual of paperwork, and between the usual documents is an extra form that Arataka requested. He gets a few signatures from his mother, ignores his sister’s questions about what high school he’s thinking of attending, and his father doesn’t even spare a glance at any of it. As expected.
His mother had paused at the emergency contact form, and asked about it. Arataka easily pushes it aside, explaining, “They’re having all of us refill it out. I can take care of it, mom.”
Arataka hands in his paperwork, and once again, his emergency contacts have shifted. His mother is still the priority number, he wouldn’t dare change that. However, his master has ended up answering the phone more times than even his father’s aides. It’s better to have someone more reliable to answer such important calls. His father isn’t even on the list at all. Instead, his new third emergency contact was now Hanazawa Teruki.
He wasn’t sure the former television star would even care to get phone calls like that, but he’d shaken his head, and insisted, “Nonsense. If it’s important, and both your mother and Kageyama-kun miss the call, I wouldn’t want you left stranded. You said it was rare, anyway, so it might not even come to that! It’s just a precaution, Arataka-chan.”
He went along with it. It’s a decent back-up, but it’s entirely possible that it won’t be necessary.
-
Arataka was tempted to curl up in a ball, but the pain in his torso was a sharp reminder of why that would be a bad idea. He hasn’t looked, but he knows he probably has a nasty bruise blooming near his ribs. He didn’t get to ice it properly, not with his soon-to-be black eye taking priority. He just wanted to hide away from the world, but instead he’s splayed out pathetically in one of the hard plastic chairs arranged in a line outside the nurse’s office. She gave him some painkillers, but they haven’t set in quite yet. She deemed him fine enough, and now he’s waiting for someone to take him home. He isn’t sure who’s going to come walking through the door to the front office, and he isn’t entirely sure who he would prefer.
His mother would be the worst case scenario. There’s no way she would listen to him. Once she knew the nurse took a look at him, she would be practically dragging him by the ear to the car, and would scold him for the next two weeks. Heaven forbid if he accidentally got blood on the car from his scraped palms. No, he can only hope she’s busy chatting with friends or driving his sister somewhere.
His master would be better, but not by much. The man has never been the most expressive, even after the chaos of last spring (hearing him laugh still catches him off guard sometimes, and while he does emote, it’s not as if his mellow nature disappeared), but Arataka is good at reading him. He always gets this sad look in his eyes when Arataka shows up to work with bruises or a busted lip. He’ll try and pry for answers, but Arataka is stubborn. He’ll happily help him bandage what he struggles with, and offer him a comfortable environment before he has to face his parents’ wrath. He appreciates his master’s concern, but…
This time it really stung. Most insults he hears and fights that Arataka finds himself in, he can easily brush them off. He can hold his head high, because these are just misguided kids with anger issues or too much time on their hands. They have no say on Arataka’s worth and they don’t even really know him. Besides, incidents with them have lessened lately since he’s garnered a few protective friends (and spirits).
Unfortunately, today kinda sucked, and they happened to corner him when he was alone. They dragged him away, and easily outnumbered him. They found a few old bruises that hadn’t quite healed yet that he got about a week ago from a particularly strong spirit, and dug their fingers and heels into them. They twisted their words, managing to jab right into the chinks of his armor. It was only a handful of minutes, but they were inescapable and a painful reminder of how weak he really is.
A teacher found them, and Arataka wasn’t even allowed to defend himself when his bullies started claiming he’d thrown the first punch. They’ll still get in trouble, no avoiding that, but not as nearly as bad as Arataka.
At this point, he’s used to it.
It doesn’t make it any easier, though. Doesn’t help that they caught him on an especially shitty day. He and his sister had a fight the night before, so he could barely sleep. Katsuya has been out sick the past couple days, and he misses him. Yoshioka and Dimple were on the other side of campus when it happened, and he hasn’t had the heart to answer any of the former’s texts. His father had made a vague comment about keeping up with his schoolwork and spending less time at the office that morning (something he brings up every other week), and reprimanded him when Arataka tried to argue the fact that he isn’t that far behind. He failed his last math test, his mother switched his and his sister’s bento boxes by accident, his history teacher picked on him for nearly falling asleep, and everyone was just in a pissy mood. Hence why it seems his bullies declared today was the perfect day to really screw with him.
The school nurse didn’t offer him much sympathy. Even if it feels like she should know better, it appears she thinks he’s a delinquent who’s asking for it just like everyone else.
His stomach hurts, his head is killing him, everything aches, he’s exhausted, he just wants to go home and hide under the covers—
Arataka nearly jumps out of his skin when the door opens. He whips his head up, and ah… he hadn’t even considered the possibility of his third contact showing up.
Hanazawa is dressed as brightly and as sharply as ever, with an air of confidence he seems to always carry. However, there is an unsteadiness in the way he keeps his hands in his pockets and his eyes keep flitting about. This is unfamiliar territory for him, he’s never been asked to come retrieve Arataka before. He never even had to answer the phone since becoming his third contact. He is fraying at the edges, but only a keen eye can see the cracks in his careful composure.
Arataka doesn’t know what they told him, but it probably wasn’t anything good. The esper has never really scolded him before, but his blood freezes at the thought of his face twisting in frustration at Arataka’s recklessness and troublesome behavior. He remembers Hanazawa’s dark scowls when he challenged his master, and the idea of that kind of anger being directed towards him… He swallows nervously, shoulders hunching a little closer to his ears despite the pain in his sides.
Hanazawa’s eyes zero in on him, and he takes in his likely very rough appearance. There’s another crack in his composure, and a flicker of many different emotions cross his face. Shock and anger at first, and he winces. He waits to be reprimanded or something, but then his expression shifts to worry and something almost nostalgic. Arataka doesn’t know what to make of that. Hanazawa takes the seat beside him, pursing his lips, “I would ask if you’re okay, but… I have a feeling that you’re probably not.”
He’s not yelling at him, that’s good. Arataka huffs, adjusting the ice pack against his face, “What gave that away?”
The esper’s hand gently rests against his shoulder, startling him. It’s easy to banter with him most days. He’s expecting a funny comeback that he can easily spin off of, and their back and forth can be normal, like any other day at the office. Or, maybe that worst case scenario is happening. He’ll ask him to step outside, he’ll demand answers, and Arataka can try and tell him the truth, but it won’t matter. He won’t believe him, because no one ever does. He’ll have to stand there and listen to another spiel about how thoughtless and rash his actions are. However there’s no humor or anger, only a sickly amount of concern in his voice when he asks, “Arataka, what happened?”
He and Hanazawa’s relationship has always been complicated. It’s strange to think that a little over a year ago, he was just an excited fan of his show. He was so thrilled to be on that stage, to live out one of his wildest dreams. Of course, he never could have expected things to turn out the way they did. He never envisioned the arrogant and egotistical star to turn his life around, and become a necessary ally and friend. Even beyond the crazy things that happened because of his master’s business or Claw, the two of them grew closer than he was anticipating.
Hanazawa bumped into him while grocery shopping once, and despite the fact Arataka was just running a quick errand for his mom that he’s done a hundred times, the esper offered him some advice and guidance. It was nice, spending time with him without a ghost to exorcise or an esper to fight. When he’s at the office, his master ends up stealing most of Hanazawa’s attention. That grocery trip was one of the first times he and Hanazawa could talk without distractions. (He gets why, the esper’s crush on Kageyama was as clear as day, and something he likes to annoy Arataka with to the teenager’s dismay.) It then became a thing the two of them meet up to do every other week.
He’ll sometimes pick him up or drop him off at school, if his mother is unable to. Sometimes the blonde lets him stay at his apartment if a job they both work on goes too long. A few times when an emergency has come up, Kageyama will have either Kurata or Hanazawa close the office. Once when the esper had to fulfill the task, Arataka had nearly fainted from a fever he’d been neglecting to acknowledge and Hanazawa took shockingly good care of him. The only explanation he got was that he used to get sick a lot when he was younger, but Arataka has a feeling there’s more to the story.
The point is, Hanazawa became an integral part of Arataka’s life, just like his friends and his master, before he even realized it. He’s not a gentle soul, but he is kind and eager to assist. He reminds himself that Hanazawa is not like his parents, and has never treated him like they have. There’s no expectations, no deadlines, no pressure. He won’t pretend that nothing is wrong, or brush aside Arataka’s feelings for the sake of not facing them, like his sister does. The two of them don’t gush about their honest feelings all the time, but he knows that Hanazawa cares. Some of the tension he carries slowly settles.
Even so, he doesn’t want to burden him more than he already has. Thank god he doesn’t seem mad or disappointed, but Arataka doesn’t want to waste his time anymore. He waves a lazy arc with his hand, “The usual. Sorry to bother you with this, but do you mind taking me home?”
He hates to ask for help and he doesn’t really want to go home, but it’s best to just act like everything will be fine and only ask for the bare minimum. He’s caused enough trouble as it is. Katsuya and his friends constantly worry and defend him, which isn’t their job. He bothers his master with these injuries, since he insists on fixing his bandages and all it does is bring out that sad look. There’s no reason to drag Hanazawa into his mess anymore than he already has with this awful luck. It’s Arataka’s problem, not his. (A part of him can’t find it in himself to regret putting him in his emergency contacts, though. He shudders at the thought of what it would be like if his father was the one to walk through that door.)
Hanazawa looks like he wants to argue with him, but he holds his questions for now, and nods, “It’s not a problem, Arataka-kun. You don’t need to apologize. You’re okay walking?”
Arataka scoffs, “I didn’t break my leg, I’m fine.”
The pain in his ribs makes it hard to breathe, but that doesn’t affect his ability to walk. Mostly. He can’t walk as fast as he normally would, but he almost can hardly tell because Hanazawa easily falls into step beside him. It’s silent between them, even as the car doors slam shut, and the world is blocked out. He remembers his mother’s car, the oppressive air he sometimes feels like he suffocates in. Familiar anxiety creeps in, and he huffs humorlessly at his own misfortune. It’s as if everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Mogami and Dimple always joke that he has too much luck, and one of these days it was going to bite him in the ass. Good thing he’s not going to work today, or who knows what would have happened. The smile on his face feels wrong, crooked and lifeless, but he doesn’t have the heart to fix it. Hanazawa glances at him as he starts the car, the engine rumbling softly, and Arataka can’t meet his gaze.
He fidgets with the seatbelt, wincing at the stinging in his palms. He wishes the nurse had actually bandaged them, instead of instructing him to just clean them in the sink. If Hanazawa notices how carefully he folds his hands together, so he doesn’t speckle blood onto anything, he doesn’t say.
Hanazawa starts the drive towards his house, and Arataka’s eyes drift shut.
-
“Arataka-kun? Wake up, we’re here.”
Gently jostling him awake, Arataka slowly and painfully crawls back to the world of the living. He thoughtlessly rubs at his eyes, and winces at the bruising there. Right, that’s gonna itch later.
He sighs, spotting his house just outside the window of the car, “Thanks, Hanazawa. Shishou will probably insist I take a few days to recover once he gets wind of this, so—”
“I used to get into fights a lot when I was your age, you know?”
Arataka blinks, his hand hesitating where it hovers just above the car door handle. He hasn’t heard much about Hanazawa’s past, so his curiosity (and relief about postponing his parents’ scolding) has him asking, “Really?”
Hanazawa’s smile is nostalgic, but more in a self-deprecating way than something he looks back fondly on, “Yes, I was my middle school’s Shadow Leader. I used my powers to win fights and keep my place in the hierarchy.” He chuckles, “It was childish, I see that now, but at the time I felt like I was on top of the world. How little I really knew. I instigated the fights, unlike you.”
Arataka interrupts, sputtering, “Wha—Wait, how’d you—Didn’t they tell you I threw the first punch?”
Hanazawa laughs, shaking his head, “As if I would believe that for a second.”
He’s completely baffled by this reaction. His mother would believe any authority figure over him, no matter the circumstance. Hanazawa’s humor dies quickly when realizes his shock, and he gives him a funny look, “You’re not a violent kid, Arataka-kun. I know you wouldn’t do something like that.”
Now that’s just ridiculous, even he would have a hard time disagreeing with the story his bullies spun. How does he possibly believe this?
He crosses his arms, protesting this for some reason, “Maybe I would. How could you know I didn’t?”
Hanazawa sighs, explaining, “I saw how you handled the Seventh Division kids. I saw how you welcomed your friends with open arms, even when many of them have hurt you in one way or another. I know how you tried to stop Kageyama-kun when he was in that state. You’re not a fighter, not like that. You don’t give up, sure, but you aren’t picking unnecessary fights.”
Arataka scoffs, incredulous, “I punched Shimazaki and Suzuki! I tried to fight some of the Seventh Division kids. There’s no reason to believe I wouldn’t throw a punch at some random kids trying to rile me up.”
“I said, unnecessary fights. You were trying to keep your friends safe or defending yourself in those instances. I know you, Arataka-kun. You don’t hurt people for no reason, because you’re a good kid.” He smiles ruefully, “Better than I was at that age.”
Arataka is left completely speechless. His throat constricts, but he refuses to cry over something stupid like a bad day and some comforting words.
He continues, “So, that’s how I know you wouldn’t. You should put some more faith in me, Arataka-chan. You and I both know Kageyama-kun wouldn’t have believed it for a second either. It’s not like you. Those kids hurt you . Speaking of which, you should definitely get some rest. No chasing ghosts until you feel better.”
He offers Hanazawa a more genuine, if very tired, smile, and moves to step out of the car, “Got it. Thanks. I’ll see you later?”
The blonde nods, “Of course.” Before Arataka can stray too far, however, he gently grabs ahold of his wrist, and says, “Hey, if those kids bother you again, I can try and say something. I’m only your third emergency contact, but I must have some sway.”
Arataka shakes his head, remembering when his master made the same offer a long time ago and had continued to quietly urge more recently, “No, there’s nothing you can do. But, thanks, I appreciate it.”
Hanazawa doesn’t look happy about that. In fact, he can see the gears turning in his head to potentially find a different solution or suggestion. He cuts him off before he can start to go down a more illegal train of thought, and reassures him, “It’s alright, really, Hanazawa. I’ve got it under control.”
He doesn’t even look a tiny bit convinced or relieved, and he feels almost offended by that. The esper wars internally for another moment, before letting go of his wrist and clicking his tongue in frustration, “Fine, but remember I’m just a phone call away.”
He doesn’t know why that is the part that nearly breaks him. Is it the knowledge of having someone to lean on? Is it the inherent trust that lies between them? Is it the fact that Hanazawa continues to prove that he cares, when so few people in Arataka’s life ever have? Is it the esper’s unflinching loyalty? Is it the fact that he somehow hasn’t driven away one of the few adults who accepts him? He sniffles suspiciously, and waves goodbye as he approaches his house, “I know. Bye, Hanazawa.”
“Ah, wait, Arataka-kun!”
He barely has the time to register the car door opening, turn around, and ask, “What is it?”
A pair of arms ever so carefully wrap around his shoulders, and Arataka’s senses are overwhelmed by his cologne and the bright purple of his jacket. Arataka has never been much of the hugging type (he and his master share that in common, that’s why shoulder pats or hair ruffling are much more common). However, he lets this happen, just this once, and awkwardly hugs him back.
“You’ll be okay, Arataka-kun, I know. You’re a tough cookie, and it’ll take more than a few dumb kids to stop you. But, you can ask for help once in a while. Okay?”
Arataka lies. Little white lies to comfort and assure his loved ones are simultaneously the easiest and the hardest ones to make. He lies through his teeth. He lies in the tears lining his eyelashes, refusing to fall. He lies in the beat of his heart, nestled behind bruised ribs and a scuffed school uniform. He lies with his trusted silver tongue, a trait he can thank his father for. He lies as naturally as breathing, and this moment is no different.
“Okay, I will.”
Hanazawa lets him go and walks away. His answer to his kindness is a lie. Arataka feels sick. He won’t be a burden, not to good people like Kageyama, Katsuya, or Hanazawa. They don’t deserve the weight of his responsibilities.
He’s tired, and he hopes that maybe he can sneak to his room without notice, but at this point he doubts that will happen. He feels his cellphone in his pocket, and contemplates calling the esper to come back. Postpone the reminder of his mother losing faith in him and his father’s disappointment, just a few moments longer.
He’s just a phone call away, he promised him that.
It’s not Hanazawa’s job to babysit him.
He said it’s okay to ask for help.
It’s not the esper’s problem to solve, it’s Arataka’s.
Just a phone call.
-
His cellphone remains in his pocket, but he holds it tight through the predicted lecture. It helps a little.