Chapter Text
Reigen-san, Serizawa thinks, is a really messy eater.
It’s the first conscious thought that he’s had all day that isn’t related to anything along the lines of Oh god oh god oh god he’s going to regret this I already regret this I’ll be fired before the day is even over. Which, by some miracle, never happened. Even when Serizawa showed up late, even when he nervously revealed that he didn’t know how to make something as basic as tea, even when the spirit called Dimple very bluntly professed his lack of faith in him, Reigen didn’t do anything more than shoot him a quizzical glance here and there. That in and of itself isn’t ideal, but Serizawa’s just relieved that it never got any worse than that. The Oh god oh god oh god he was giving me weird looks he must think I’m a freak I’ll be fired first thing tomorrow morning will probably hit him later when he’s lying in bed and willing himself to fall asleep.
The workday itself admittedly wasn’t very eventful. Even though Reigen had promised that there was something that even Serizawa could do, all the latter did for the first half of the day was stand and dart his eyes between Reigen, Shigeo, and the clients that showed up at the door. Someone must have said something about his staring, because sometime around noon, Reigen straight up told him to stop hovering in the corner of the office and sit down. And thus, all Serizawa did for the second half of the day was sit at the desk way too small for him and dart his eyes between Reigen, Shigeo, and the clients that showed up at the door.
He gets the feeling that he may have been the subject of further complaints from the afternoon visitors. Regardless of the truth behind that hunch, neither Reigen nor Shigeo said anything about it, not even when they were closing up. The part of Serizawa that wasn’t dying to roll up in a futon out of shame was grateful for that. As a matter of fact, the idea that he wouldn’t have to come face to face with a stranger for the rest of the evening was a comforting notion.
Up until Reigen turned to him and asked if he had any plans for the night.
The next thing he knew, he was in a ramen bar. With Reigen. And strangers. Strangers from whom he had foolishly assumed he would be free. Reigen must be a regular here because he barely spared a glance at the menu before deciding on what he wanted. As for Serizawa, he was visibly too overwhelmed by everything to choose, so Reigen simply ordered the same thing for him… whatever that same thing was. Serizawa never even registered what their orders were exactly, too focused on curling his shoulders inward in an effort to become smaller.
It only took a few minutes for their bowls to arrive. One second, Serizawa was gazing down at the teak countertop of the bar, then his face reflected in the ramen broth the next. Before the fingers intertwined in his lap could move out of their position, he heard a loud slurping noise to his left that could only be described as akin to the sound the washing machine makes in his new apartment.
(Okay, so Serizawa is exaggerating a bit. Reigen was still pretty loud, though.)
Which brings them to this very moment. Serizawa, his own meal all but forgotten, gapes at the piece of narutomaki that somehow got stuck to Reigen’s cheek. Seriously, how is it doing that? Serizawa can’t help but imagine a second piece on the other side of his boss’s face to match. Then he would look like Dimple, except instead of red circles, there would be white fish cakes with pink swirls.
Reigen momentarily stops mid-chew to look at him. “What?”
Serizawa suddenly realizes that, deep in his own imagination, he’s been leaning forward to peer around at the other side of Reigen’s face. “Um, nothing.” He quickly averts his gaze (though not without first confirming that there is no secret second narutomaki), then hesitates. He hopes he isn’t overstepping when he motions toward his own cheek. “Y-you have a little, um…”
He holds his breath, half-expecting to be told off for his audacity, but Reigen only blinks and uses a napkin to wipe the food off of his face. “Thanks,” is all he says on the matter before turning his attention to Serizawa’s still untouched ramen. “You gonna eat or?”
“Yes, s-sir!”
When he finally takes hold of his chopsticks and ceramic soup spoon with way too much frenzy required, Reigen sighs. “You can relax, you know,” he tells him, eyebrows furrowed. “We’re off the clock.”
Serizawa flinches. “I-I know.” He wills his shoulders to relax, but he still can’t help but feel tense. “This is… all very new to me.”
“Your old boss didn’t take you out to eat? Ever?”
Serizawa thinks about his answer. Of course he’s eaten with the Pres—Suzuki, but the other members of the Super Five were usually there as well. And even when they weren’t, Suzuki Touichirou wouldn’t have been caught eating anywhere as run-of-the-mill as a ramen bar… No, his choices were always first-rate. American steakhouses serving prime rib. Japanese kaiseki costing tens of thousands of yen per person. Sparkling wine imported from France tasting like effervescent honeycomb. Fine dining that was far too fine for someone like Serizawa Katsuya, a man who spent half his life shut in his room and didn’t own a proper suit until recently.
“Not like this,” he finally settles on as a proper reply before his heart can clench further.
Reigen nods like he didn’t even have to ask to know. “Things are gonna change for you from here on out, so get used to it.” Suddenly, he fishes a piece of pork out of his bowl, letting the broth drip off of it before quickly moving to place it on top of Serizawa’s noodles. “Take this. To celebrate your first day on the job.”
Celebrate? Serizawa can think of nothing he did that warrants such an act. “Reigen-san, I can’t possibly—”
“Seriously, it’s okay.” Reigen sounds slightly annoyed for a second before his voice takes on a more neutral tone. “I give Mob my pork all the time.”
Serizawa thinks back to earlier, when Reigen invited him out. Before he could recover and form a response, Shigeo piped up from the sidelines that he couldn’t join them, having promised his parents that he would be home for dinner.
“I’m sorry, Master.” The boy offered a small, apologetic smile. “Maybe next time.”
“Sure,” Reigen said. “Guess it’s just you and me then, Serizawa.”
The exchange couldn’t have been more casual, but it stuck with Serizawa regardless. He was already suspecting that ramen outings are a regular thing at Spirits and Such, but the implicit confirmation from Reigen just now hits him full force. Something so natural to them is utterly foreign to him. Shigeo can accept or reject Reigen’s invitation without being asked directly. Reigen can hand his pork slices off to his companion like it’s some sort of tradition to reimburse people with food. They both can promise there to be a next time despite not knowing when that next time will be.
It was never this way with Suzuki, who never allowed for any leeway. Eating with him meant that he had the final word on the time and place. Eating with him meant that seats were no less than two feet apart. Eating with him meant that the concept of sharing didn’t exist. Eating with him meant that Serizawa was never sure if he’d have the opportunity to do so again before Suzuki realized he didn’t belong.
Only instruction, never invitation. No matter how much Serizawa tried to convince himself otherwise.
For the first time, Serizawa takes a good, long look at the ramen before him. Long strands of noodles rest in a bowlful of rich and creamy broth, surrounded by two halves of miso egg and chopped scallions. A few squares of nori seaweed align the brim of the bowl, slowly succumbing to gravity and slipping into the soup. Finally, two pieces of tender chashu pork sit off to the side, plus the extra one from Reigen delicately placed right in the middle. The metaphorical cherry on top.
A simple serving of tonkotsu ramen. No optional add-ons like enoki mushrooms or menma bamboo shoots. It really is just the most basic dish.
Suzuki would never. But that doesn't mean Serizawa has to be the same way.
At last, he brings the noodles to his mouth and slurps.
It tastes better than any gourmet meal ever could.