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In his line of work, Arataka had come to expect the unexpected. Whether it be actual spirits or grown ups behaving like children, Arataka was accustomed to the strange and unusual. Not much phased him anymore.
But one thing he never expected was Ritsu coming to his office of his own free will.
It was around the time school got out, and on Serizawa’s day off, so Arataka was alone in the office. Even Dimple was gone—probably off following Mob or Hanazawa around.
On occasion, he would get some student customers when school let out. Sometimes they had romance problems, sometimes friendship problems, or sometimes they just wanted a picture “exorcised”. It wasn’t hard work, in fact, it was pretty easy compared to some of the other jobs he takes.
So, when his door opened, he assumed the walk-in would be a student. Well, he was kind of right.
“Welcome to Spirits and Su—oh, hi, Ritsu-kun.” He stopped his welcoming spiel once he saw that it was Ritsu who walked through the door and turned his attention back to his laptop. Ritsu typically didn’t like his whole pretending to be psychic persona, so he figured he’d spare him the agony or whatever.
Silence.
Huh, that’s odd. He was used to some snarky comment or a polite greeting depending on what kind of mood Ritsu was in at the very least. “If you’re looking for Mob, he’s not working today,” he said.
Still no response.
Arataka frowned, shutting his laptop and looking up. Ritsu was just… standing in the doorway with his head down. His posture was really tense, and while a tense posture was pretty normal for Ritsu, something about the way his shoulders were touching his ears and the way his body seemed so stiff that Arataka could knock him over simply by poking him made him weary.
“Ritsu-kun?”
Still, nothing. He was definitely worried now. As much as Ritsu may dislike him, he was still always polite and wouldn’t just blatantly ignore him like this. Maybe he was sick or something? Arataka craned his neck, scanning him for possible injuries.
And that’s when he noticed the blood.
“Holy crap! Ritsu, you’re bleeding!” he exclaimed, fumbling out of his seat and running to him. It looked even worse up close. Blood coated both his hands like a second skin, and speaking of skin, his looked pretty torn up.
No response.
Now that he was closer, Arataka could hear his very quiet, almost sporadic breathing. Shoot. Something was really wrong.
Arataka lightly placed a hand on Ritsu’s back (oh God, he’s shaking pretty badly) and gently guided him over to the couch. Ritsu sat down almost mechanically; his bloodied hands in his lap and his legs bouncing violently.
His backpack strap slid down his shoulder, but he didn’t seem aware of it. In fact… he didn’t seem aware at all. Arataka ended up sliding the strap the rest of the way off and depositing Ritsu’s bag on the floor.
Okay, now that he’s settled, onto the matter at hand: Ritsu’s hands.
Through the blood, Arataka managed to see uneven lines running down Ritsu’s hands. Some were kind of deep, some didn’t even break skin, but they were criss-crossing and everywhere.
Oh God—did someone hurt him? Did something happen? Arataka bit back the rage burning in his chest. No, he couldn’t just jump to conclusions, he couldn’t get angry if someone did do this to him. This isn’t about them or his own feelings: this is about Ritsu and making sure he’s okay. There’s time for anger later.
“Stay here, alright? I’m going to get the first aid kit.” Unsurprisingly, Ritsu didn’t respond. As much as Arataka didn’t want to leave him alone right now, bandaging Ritsu’s hands was his first priority.
When he first opened Spirits and Such, he didn’t have a first aid kit. But then Mob came around and with him followed not only spirits, but also reckless children. The day after he found Mob and the others at the Seventh Division Claw Base, he made sure to buy first aid supplies. He’s kept it stocked up ever since.
Good thing he did, too.
He ran to the office bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit. There were some white adhesive and plaster dressings in there that would be useful. He put a couple of hand towels in the kit before closing it. Then, he raced back into the office area, stopping to snatch a bottle of water from his mini fridge.
Once he had the water, Arataka turned around, ready to start cleaning Ritsu’s hands and hopefully snap him back to the present, but he faltered at the sight before him.
Ritsu’s breathing had picked up in the short amount of time he was gone; it was frantic now. His eyes were wide, his mouth was twisted shut, like he was doing everything in his power to be silent, and he was staring straight ahead at nothing. He was terrified.
What worried Arataka the most, though, was that Ritsu was scratching his hands.
No, scratching was too mild. He was attacking his hands, his chipped nails clawing into his knuckles, his palms, the back of his hands, fingers, even his wrists. He was somehow able to scratch both hands at once.
A small part of him had hoped that the scratches were the cause of some kind of accident—not necessarily that someone else did that to Ritsu, but maybe he fell or hit his hands on something. Somehow, knowing that he was doing it to himself, however conscious he was of it, was so much worse.
Without thinking, Arataka flung the kit and water bottle onto the couch and practically leapt at Ritsu, grabbing his forearms and forcing them away from each other. “Ritsu, what’re you doing?”
But Ritsu just kept staring with his big, red eyes that glistened with unshed tears. It was almost like he couldn’t even tell that Arataka was with him.
Seeing Ritsu like this was so… disconcerting. He was used to the polite, collected, put together Ritsu. The Ritsu with a small, fake smile and the perfect posture. And, sure, he knew none of that was real—a conartist can sniff out another one miles away—but Ritsu was brilliant at keeping it up, even away from those he wanted to fool.
He didn’t know what pushed Ritsu over the edge, what caused him to lose control of his body and mind, what led him to this. Whatever it was, it must’ve been pretty bad.
There was no point in trying to help Ritsu while he was panicking, not like this.
So, he did the only thing he could think of doing. He let go of one of Ritsu’s forearms to search his pockets for his phone. “Okay, something is clearly wrong. I’m going to call Mob and—”
He didn’t even have a chance to find his phone before Ritsu suddenly came to life and desperately latched onto his wrist. “N-No,” he croaked. “P-Please, don’t.”
Oh, thank God—Ritsu finally said something. Something in Arataka’s chest loosened as relief flooded through his body.
Arataka raised a brow, giving Ritsu an unimpressed look. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call him.”
“I—”
Ritsu couldn’t and they both knew that.
“That’s what I thought. So—”
“I didn’t know where else to go.” The words rushed out of Ritsu’s mouth, high-pitched and full of shame.
Oh. Arataka knew what that was like—being so desperate for something that you go to a place you don’t care for. So frightened that you need to run away from everything you know. He remembered the harrowing emptiness in his gut, the panic fueling every decision like it was yesterday.
And he hated that Ritsu felt that way, too. It’s lonely and scary, having nowhere else to go.
“I don’t—I don’t know why I came here. But I just—I can’t go home or to student council like this,” Ritsu continued, his nails pressing into Arataka’s wrist. He swallowed, a choked and shaky sound. “You… you don’t need me to—expect me to… I—”
His lips fluttered and popped, his neck arched back so far Arataka heard it crack. Ouch. He winced in sympathy.
“Hey, Ritsu,” he cut in softly before Ritsu worked himself into even more of a frenzy, “it’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Alright?”
Ritsu cocked his head to the side. “I don’t?”
God, these kids were going to be the death of him. Arataka shook his head. “Nope. You’re allowed to come to me for help. You don’t have to, like, come up with a list of reasons to justify asking for help, you know.”
From the way Ritsu pursed his lips, Arataka guessed that he didn’t know and he probably did have a list of reasons prepared. He sighed, letting go of Ritsu’s other forearm. That’s something to unpack later. There were more pressing matters at the moment. “How about we clean you up now, eh? Can you show me your hands?”
It took a second, but Ritsu let go of Arataka and held his hands out to him, looking away almost as if he were embarrassed or ashamed. Well, he probably was.
He leaned down, taking a closer look at them. It was kind of hard to see how bad the scratches were through the blood, but it didn’t look like he’d need any stitches. This was something he could handle.
“Alright,” he said, grabbing the first aid kit and water bottle he’d tossed earlier, “these don’t look too bad. They probably hurt though, don’t they?”
Ritsu just shrugged.
The kid was stubborn, he’ll give him that much. “Hold out your hands for me, will ya?” he said, twisting the cap off the bottle. Ritsu did so reluctantly, his cheeks burning red.
“That wasn’t a tic attack, though the scratching was a tic, right?” he asked as he poured some water on one of the washcloths. Ritsu nodded. “So, that was an anxiety attack then?”
Ritsu scoffed. “Am I that easy to read?”
Arataka hummed, gently bringing Ritsu’s left hand forward until it was resting on his knee. “Maybe not, I’m just good at reading people. Now, what’s up? You came here for a reason even if you’re not entirely sure why. This may sting a bit.” He carefully brought the washcloth down and began dabbing at the blood.
“I just…” Ritsu spoke quietly, hissing as Arataka got a tender spot and glaring at his hands. “I don’t know. It’s stupid and… embarrassing.”
The cloth went from a pale grey to a pinkish red pretty quickly, though he did manage to wipe away most of the blood obscuring his cuts. Arataka placed the washcloth to the side then grabbed the second one to dry his hand. Once it was mostly dry, he squeezed some ointment into his palm and began to rub it on Ritsu’s cuts.
Ritsu managed to keep an impassive face throughout, wincing only once. Yeesh—the kid must have a pretty high pain tolerance. Either that or he just refused to react in front of him.
When he finished with the ointment, he grabbed the bandages and began wrapping them from Ritsu’s knuckles to part way through his wrist. “Hey, look who you’re talking to. I’m, like, the master of embarrassment. I embarrass myself all the time!”
The comment didn’t get a laugh from Ritsu like he hoped, but it did receive a snort which was something at least.
“I promise that whatever you say won’t be embarrassing.”
“Okay…” Ritsu shifted, sitting with his legs crossed on the couch and facing Arataka. His chin bobbed up and down while he thought. It was kind of funny how serious he looked—funny but also kind of sad.
They sat like that for awhile, but Arataka didn’t mind—he had all the time in the world to wait for Ritsu to be ready. If he was anything like Arataka (which he was), he probably bottled all his real emotions up until they devoured him and had no idea how to start.
Besides, it gave him the time to clean and bandage Ritsu’s right hand. It was a bit better than his left, but it was still pretty torn up.
After a couple minutes, Ritsu straightened his back, just as Arataka finished wrapping the adhesive dressing around his hand and let it go.
“I just…” Ritsu trailed off, voice cracking. “I’m stressed.”
Arataka waited for him to continue, but Ritsu just stared at him, mouth in a thin line and cheeks puffed. Right, Ritsu wasn’t really one to talk about feelings. From the looks of it, Ritsu had no idea what he was doing or how to say what he was feeling. He’d probably need to lead the conversation, help him figure out what’s wrong.
Well, luckily for Ritsu, getting to the bottom of this kind of stuff was his forte.
“Soooo, what’re you stressed about?”
Ritsu sighed dramatically. “I don’t know. Everything. Nothing. Gah, this is stupid,” he huffed, brows knitting together.
“Hey, it’s not stupid.” He nudged Ritsu’s knee with his own. “Your feelings aren’t stupid, alright? Breaking down is a natural part of human life. I mean, you’ve seen me break down plenty of times before! And your brother, and Hanazawa-kun… heck, even Dimple. What I’m saying is, you’re not alone in this, okay?”
Ritsu nodded slowly as he digested his words, then took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m so tired. Everything is-is too much! And I don’t know how much more I can take before I just–I just break. I have so much homework and I have to get good grades or my parents will be upset with me and I’ll get kicked out of student council, and people keep asking me to tutor them and I can’t just say no! Honestly, the only person I want to tutor is Shou. I have so much to do for student council, too, so I’m always at school and when I’m not, I’m doing homework or studying. And exams are coming up and I need—I need to do well.”
Oh boy. That was a lot to unpack. Arataka opened his mouth, but Ritsu continued before he could even say anything.
“And I can’t—I can’t stop scratching. I don’t want to scratch, but it just happens and it’s kind of freaking me out. It hurts so much but I can’t stop and it hurts—”
The more Ritsu spoke, the more panicked he became. If Arataka wasn’t holding his hands right now, Ritsu would probably be scratching them. Each word was followed by a vocal tic until eventually, Arataka had absolutely no idea what Ritsu was even saying.
God, his heart hurt for the kid. He didn’t know Ritsu well. Sure, he knew of him and the other kids all spoke highly of him, but he’d ever gotten the chance to figure out who Ritsu really was. Now, he thinks he may understand a little more: he’s just a scared kid who puts too much pressure on himself.
Worst yet, he was hyperventilating, his eyes blown wide and body lurching forward as his chest heaved.
“Ritsu, hey, Ritsu,” he said through all of Ritsu’s incoherent mumbling. “Deep breaths. In… and out… slowly…” Arataka gently maneuvered Ritsu’s hand, bringing it to his own chest. He took slow, intentional breaths. “Copy me, Ritsu. Breathe with me.”
They sat there for a couple of minutes just breathing together. Ritsu’s fingers were tapping his chest, but Arataka didn’t mind. He knew the feeling of restlessness, maybe not in the same way that Ritsu did, but he still knew how awful not being able to expel that energy can be.
Besides, a few months ago, Ritsu probably would’ve held it in, would’ve suppressed until he exploded once he was alone in his room. This was a good thing.
“There ya go,” he whispered. “Good job.”
Eventually, Ritsu was breathing normally. He pulled his hand free, swiping at his eyes even though nothing had fallen. “Sorry.”
Sometimes, Arataka forgot that Ritsu was only thirteen. He acted so mature that he found himself falling for the illusion at times. Now, though, sitting on his crappy office couch with Ritsu who was staring very intently at the cushions and picking at the skin around the tips of his fingers, he looked so young. So small and vulnerable as he apologized for being human.
“No need to apologize. It happens to the best of us.”
Ritsu grimaced like he didn’t agree, but Arataka didn’t push it. There was no reason to make Ritsu get all defensive and agitated. He was in fight or flight mode right now, and running away would end up hurting Ritsu more in the long run.
“So, it sounds like you have a lot going on right now.”
Ritsu shrugged, beeping quietly. “Not really. It’s not like I’m working or doing sports or anything. It’s just school and student council. I don’t… I don’t know why I made such a big deal about it. I’m just tired, I guess.”
Ah, deflection—one of Arataka’s oldest friends. Ritsu was trying to diminish his stress, pretend it wasn’t anything worth changing as if he hadn’t just completely broken down over it. “Well, you’re young. You don’t need a job for another couple of years.”
“Nii-san started working for you when he was younger than me.”
Arataka frowned, biting back the you don’t need to compare yourself to your brother and instead waved him off. “That was a special circumstance. And school can be a lot; I know you take your grades seriously.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Ritsu spoke confidently. Almost like he had nothing else going for him or like school determined his worth. Actually… that was probably the case. He was probably addicted to the rush of validation he felt when he got good grades or praised by teachers.
See, Arataka knew what it was like to seek validation—from scrolling through reviews of his business to buying everyone food in hopes of making his presence a little more tolerable. It was hard knowing that Ritsu was so consumed by school that his identity and self-worth fell into a symbiotic relationship with it, completely dependent on one another. And Ritsu’s so private, so used to suppressing everything about himself that… no one noticed how entwined his worth and school were.
It was hard knowing that that’s what was going on beneath the surface and that he missed it.
Arataka reached forward, lightly flicking Ritsu’s forehead. “Because grades aren’t everything. Take some time to hang out with friends and go on walks. Have some fun and take breaks! There’s more to life than studying, you know.”
“Maybe for you,” Ritsu snapped, completely ignoring Arataka’s whole spiel about having fun and instead sending him a piercing glare. “I need to get good grades.”
“Why?”
Ritsu blinked. “What?”
“Why do you need to get good grades? Did someone tell you that?”
For the first time since he’s known Ritsu, the kid looked absolutely lost. This was the kid who always had the answer, who had some kind of solution to every problem. Here he was, staring at Arataka as if he’d grown an extra head.
His hands were fidgeting in his lap, fingers twisting around each other and picking at the bandages. “No, but I need good grades to get into a good high school. And I need them to be successful in life.”
Yeah, sure.
Something everyone always seemed to forget is that Arataka can see through lies—they’re like a second skin to him. He’s bathed in lies, swallowed them, burned himself with them.
He knows lies.
Sure, Ritsu probably thought that on some level, but that wasn’t the actual issue here. Ritsu seemed uncomfortable with his answer, and not because he was being vulnerable. Uncomfortable as if he wasn’t sure, uncomfortable in the way that that’s his go-to response. The way he spoke was mechanical, rehearsed. It was probably a script he had sitting on his tongue, ready to lunge out at any moment.
An excuse to keep pushing himself.
Maybe that cover was enough to fool his family and friends, but it wasn’t enough to fool the greatest liar of the 21st century. Because Arataka knows lies, and Ritsu’s a liar.
There’s more to it than being successful or having a good life.
So, Arataka chuckled, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch. “You can get low grades and still be successful—look at me! I struggled in school and turned out just fine!”
It was a cheap joke—one that he punctuated by making wild gestures before pointing at himself and flashing a charming smile—but he could tell Ritsu liked it. The corners of his lips were twitching like he was trying to hold back a smile.
Ritsu scoffed, rolling his eyes and blinking thrice. “Yeah, okay.”
“Now,” he said gently, leaning forward just a bit, “what’s the real reason?”
All the color drained from Ritsu’s face. “W-What?” he spluttered, brows furrowing. “That was the real—”
“Ritsu.”
That was all he needed to say, it seemed. Ritsu’s mouth snapped shut almost obediently. He scoffed again and wrinkled his nose. “You’re mean,” he mumbled.
“Yup, the meanest,” Arataka agreed.
His neck dropped so low that Ritsu’s chin was touching his chest. He took a deep breath then slowly let it out, wrapping his arms around himself while he did so. “I-I guess it’s just that… everyone expects me to get good grades. I need to represent the student council well and-and make mom and dad proud,” he said, so firmly and forcefully yet so earnest. Almost like he was trying to convince himself more than Arataka. “And if-if I don’t do well in school, then I can’t help Nii-san or Shou with their… with their classes…”
He trailed off, his words hanging in the air between them, sticky and thick. They were a transparent wall, one that only shielded so much.
Arataka knew what it meant—they both knew.
Neither of them wanted to admit it.
Because admitting to it was owning up to it, facing the facts.
Arataka knew from the beginning—one look at Ritsu and he could see it in the intentional emptiness in his eyes and the perfect smile. He was scared of letting everyone down, of being a disappointment.
And, well, with a brother like Mob, Arataka can’t blame him. He even felt that way around Mob sometimes—Serizawa and Hanazawa, too. It’s almost like they have to do more to catch up with them, to keep pace.
So, when Arataka saw it, he ignored it. He didn’t want to admit that Ritsu reminded him of himself, he didn’t want Ritsu to recognize that they were the same. Instead, he cracked jokes and tried to make Ritsu laugh, tried to subtly steer him clear of the path of faking it all.
He didn’t want Ritsu to turn out like him: a broken, empty guy struggling to pick up the scraps of his identity that he’d thrown away.
Tch, he just didn’t want to admit that his best efforts weren’t enough. That avoidance wasn’t the solution. That he didn’t do enough to protect Ritsu from being as messed up as he was.
God, he’s only thirteen. He shouldn’t have to be so conscious of other people, so eager to please. Though, he is an honor’s student and a part of the student council and he’s heard Mob rave about his “awesome younger brother”… maybe hearing people talk about him like that, being as far academically as he is got to him. Maybe some of the people who sang his praises really did hold Ritsu to this impossible, godly pedestal. Draped him in so much shining gold that they were too blind to see it was crushing him.
Maybe the pedestals became more than admiration, but expectation. More than praise, but a curse.
Arataka doubted that Ritsu actually wanted any of this; any of the academic achievement or high social standing. No, all he probably wanted in life was to be seen for and live as who he really was and loved for it.
He deserved to be a little selfish every once in awhile.
“Ritsu, look at me.” Arataka paused, waiting until Ritsu reluctantly raised his head and met his gaze. “You are a kid. You’re just a kid. You’ve already done so much that you shouldn't have had to do in the first place.
“Childhood is for being stupid and making mistakes and having fun. Don’t let it run away from you because you think everyone expects more from you. You deserve to be a kid, Ritsu. I’m positive that if you told Mob or Shou-kun that you didn’t have time to help them with school work, they’d understand because they care about and respect you. I do, too.
“I’m really proud of you, kid.”
And Ritsu just looked at him, his eyes big and uneasy. Then, his bottom lip quivered, tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, and he sobbed.
It was loud, like a dam that finally broke after years and years of built up pressure. His arms fell to his side, hands clenched in fists, pushing on the cushions as if that would relieve some of the pain. His cries seemed to ring through his office; all outside noises were nothing but a heavy silence.
Still, his sobs were broken, all choked up as if he were trying not to cry. They almost seemed hesitant and torn; like he wanted to cry but was disappointed that he actually was.
When was the last time Ritsu cried?
So, Arataka opened his arms to Ritsu. “Do you want a hug?” he asked softly. It really looked like Ritsu needed one with the way he was hunching in on himself, but he knew Ritsu wasn’t always comfortable with touch. Arataka’s seen him shy away from group hugs, duck before arms could wrap around his shoulders. Maybe he could give Ritsu a small pillow to hold if he said no, that way he had something, anything so he wouldn’t hurt his hands even more.
But Ritsu didn’t even hesitate before crashing into him, his face hidden in Arataka’s suit, sniffing and wailing, beeping and sktsktskt-ing. He could feel his clothes getting damp from tears and snot, but he didn’t even care.
When was the last time anyone’s told Ritsu this? Has anyone? Maybe everyone just expected him to know it already. Maybe everyone expected that he already believed that he’s worth it.
So, Arataka held Ritsu, one hand on his back and the other running through his hair.
Eventually, Ritsu’s cries died down, slowly fading into sporadic sniffling. Once his breathing became steady again, he shifted, sitting up and scooting back until he was on the other side of the couch. Ritsu was looking anywhere but at him, but Arataka could still see the redness in his cheeks.
“Are you feeling better?”
“I think so. Th-thank you, Reigen-san,” Ritsu mumbled, bowing his head. “Sorry for—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Arataka cut in, holding a hand in the air. “I already told you: there’s no need to apologize, remember? So quit it.” Yeesh, the kid was so polite it was kind of sickening. He just had an anxiety attack and he’s already slipping into formalities. Arataka barely remembered where he was after his last one.
Ritsu looked up, tilting his head. “O-oh. Okay.”
It was obvious that Ritsu didn’t really believe him, but that was okay for now. “Alright, what can I do to help you, Ritsu? What do you need right now?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” Ritsu said. “I guess… I really want to stop scratching. It’s kind of freaking me out and it really hurts. And I’ve tried! I’ve tried stress balls and drawing and putting my hands in my pockets but it never works!”
“Well, the scratching is a tic, right?” Ritsu nodded. “And it’s been getting worse recently.” Another nod. “Stress is probably making it worse then,” Arataka mused, tapping his chin. “Not that you’ll completely stop scratching as your stress diminishes, but that should help, right?”
“I-I guess so. Maybe.”
“Okay, let’s start with this, then: when was the last time you slept?”
Ritsu visibly recoiled, panic flitting through his eyes for the briefest of seconds, but that was long enough for Arataka. “What does that have to do with this?”
“Poor sleep or lack thereof tends to make stress worse. Sleep deprivation can actually heighten anxiety, stress, and depression,” he explained, holding back a grimace.
Sheesh, this was all too familiar. He looked this stuff up years ago when he kept waking up before five in the morning no matter how early or late he went to bed. It wasn’t fun—he remembered a mind so clouded that he couldn’t think straight and anxiety so high he could barely function. “While we can’t instantly relieve you of your school work or council duties, one easy way to try to lower your stress levels is by making sure you’re getting enough sleep.”
Arataka leaned forward slightly, chin in his hands. “I’ll ask again: when was the last time you slept?”
If he had to guess, Arataka would say it's been a couple of days at least. The bags under his eyes looked like bruises, and the corners of his mouth were droopy. Little red spots of acne popped up around his lips and chin. They were scabbed over, too—Ritsu probably picked at them which… wasn’t too surprising.
Not to mention, he definitely looked skinnier than usual. In fact, his cheeks appeared sunken. So, he also probably hadn’t been eating enough.
It took Ritsu longer to answer than it should have. He was squinting, his head tilted in thought. In fact, he appeared extremely uncomfortable, shrinking into himself. His fingers tapped his thighs restlessly as he rocked back and forth, like Arataka asked him a tough question on a quiz.
He bit back the if you have to think about it, it’s been too long that was at the tip of his tongue. No, that would just scare Ritsu away, make him retreat back into his carefully shielded shell or snap at him.
“Um… I don’t… I can’t remember.” Ritsu’s voice wobbled. His breathing picked up again, once more on the verge of hyperventilating. Shoot—
“Deep breaths, Ritsu, remember?” he said softly, once more miming the action for him.
Ritsu nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. His breaths were messy, tattered like his torn skin.
The panic faded slowly but surely until Ritsu was back to sitting slightly hunched over, lightly rocking back and forth.
Alright, so sleep was clearly something he needed. Well, there was an easy solution to that problem.
“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to lie down and put your head in my lap. You’re going to let yourself sleep. While you do that, I’m going to give you a massage.”
Ritsu blinked at him. “No.”
Yeah, that wasn’t surprising. “Why not? It’ll be good for you. I know I’m a fraud, but I give great massages. Never had an unhappy client after a massage.”
“That’s embarrassing.” Ritsu was pouting now, and it took every ounce of self-control Arataka had not to snicker at the sight.
“Sometimes you have to do things that seem embarrassing but actually aren’t.”
Ritsu continued to stare blankly at him. Well, almost blankly. One of Arataka’s greatest skills was his ability to see what people didn’t want him to see. He can read faces like nobody’s business, he could pick up on all those little tells, little minuscule twitches of genuine emotion.
So he could see that Ritsu was torn, he could see the desperation to give in clinging to his lips, gleaming in his eyes, could see the light redness to his cheeks that said he was truly embarrassed by the thought of sleeping in his lap.
Arataka sighed. “How about I give you a choice? You lie down and let me help you or I call Mob and we both gently force you to rest. You decide.”
“Don’t… don’t bother Nii-san.”
“He wouldn’t think it’s a bother. Not when it’s you.”
Again, Ritsu looked torn, like it was hard to believe that his existence wasn’t an inconvenience, and Arataka wanted to throttle him and yell: you are not a burden! We want to help you! Let us love you!
But Ritsu wasn’t good at that; he wasn’t good at letting people love who he really was. Arataka knew the feeling. It’s easy to show everyone his shady businessman persona and pretending that’s who he really is. It’s easier than letting everyone in and showing them the worst of Reigen Arataka, the parts he hates.
He and Ritsu were similar, in a way, although Ritsu would probably hate that he even thought that. They both carefully crafted what they thought others wanted, what they thought was expected of them. Arataka was the family disappointment, so why not be a conman? Ritsu was part of the student council, so he needed to be the perfect student.
He sat with his back straight and his hands in his lap, he studied hard and suppressed everything that wasn’t “perfect”.
In the end, Ritsu just shrugged, clearly unwilling to let himself want something. It was choppy and resulted in his neck arching back so far that Arataka winced.
So, Arataka patted his lap. “Well? What’re you waiting for? Are we doing this the easy way or the older brother way?”
Arataka thought he heard Ritsu mutter something about how both choices suck, but his body was so worn out and his mind was so slippery that, after staring at his lap for a couple of seconds, Ritsu all but collapsed into it.
He chuckled lightly as Ritsu shuffled around, trying to get into the optimal position or something. He kind of looked like a cat, in a way, stretching his legs and then curling them into his chest, flopping back and forth and bumping his head against Arataka as he shifted. A spiky, scared, tired little cat.
“Not—” Ritsu cut himself off with a yawn. “Not a word to anyone, okay?” he muttered, smushing his face so far into Arataka’s thigh that he almost couldn’t hear him.
Arataka ruffled his hair, eliciting a whine from Ritsu, but he must not have minded too much since he leaned into the touch. “I won’t tell a soul.
“Not even… not even Serizawa-san?”
“Not even Serizawa-san.”
That seemed to satisfy Ritsu, because seconds later, he was out.
Dang, he really was tired.
Honestly, Arataka was grateful that Ritsu came to him, that Ritsu felt safe sleeping in front of him. He was always so independent, unhealthily so for his age. Maybe he just reached his breaking point. Ah well. Whatever it was, Arataka’s heart swelled knowing that, deep down beneath all that
As he slept, Ritsu’s arms wrapped around Arataka’s waist, his fingers clenching the back of his shirt. Almost like a hug.
It was almost funny, in a way, seeing Ritsu act so much like a child. Funny, and sad.
So, Arataka rolled his neck, shook out his hands, then placed them on Ritsu’s upper back and started massaging him.
Ritsu was tense; so unbelievably tense, even in his sleep. It was like he was waiting for something bad to happen. His back was covered in knots, the kind that took awhile to really get rid of.
And it did take some time, but Arataka was able to get one of the knots out. Hopefully getting rid of it will actually diminish some of the pain Ritsu’s been experiencing. God, has it always been this bad?
Once Arataka managed to work through a couple more knots (yeah, he’d resort to begging to get Ritsu to make massage appointments with him), he slowly lifted his hands, careful so as not to disturb Ritsu, and grabbed his phone from his pocket. He flipped it open and checked the time. Hm, it’s not super late, but probably late enough that Ritus’s family was wondering where he was.
He pulled Mob’s contact up, sending him a quick text to let him know that Ritsu was at the office and would probably need some help getting home.
Mob responded almost instantly.
Be right there.
While he waited for Mob, Arataka moved from massaging Ritsu’s back to his shoulders. He noticed the way Ritsu sat hunched over and the way his shoulders were too far forward, so he figured it’d be good to do some work there, too.
And then, Arataka heard the office door open.
“Hi, Shishou,” Mob greeted. “Where’s Rit—” He cut himself off as he fully processed the scene before him. Well, he can’t really blame Mob for not actually seeing it sooner. Ritsu asleep in Arataka’s lap? Heck, if someone told him this would happen a couple of days ago, he wouldn’t have believed it either.
“Hey, Mob,” Arataka whispered in reply. “I got something for you.” He gestured cheekily at Ritsu.
For a moment, Mob just stood there, staring at them, his eyes wide and blank. Then, he slowly grabbed his phone from his pocket and raised it up. A mischievous smile crept onto his face.
He was going to take a picture, wasn’t he? God, Ritsu would kill him if he let that happen. “Hey, Mob, buddy—” he began, but protesting was futile. He heard a couple of clicks, and then Mob was looking through the pictures he took.
“Oh. Good, I caught you smiling in this one,” he said, looking very pleased with himself. He glanced up at Arataka, who was staring incredulously at him. “What?”
“Mob,” he began, actively trying to keep his volume down, “Ritsu is going to kill me if you send anyone that picture.” And just when they finally somewhat bonded.
Mob giggled, turning his phone off and putting it back in his pocket. “Oh, don’t worry, Shishou. I won’t send it to anyone. They’re just for me. It’s not everyday I see my two favorite people together like this.”
Ugh, how could Arataka be mad at that? He huffed, not saying anything further as Mob approached the two of them.
“Is Ritsu okay?” he asked, pointing at Ritsu’s hands. Mob’s brows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked so much like his brother that Arataka couldn’t help but smile. It fell pretty quickly, though.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, he’s not doing too great right now,” he said, letting go of Ritsu’s shoulders and instead placing a hand in his hair, beginning to run his fingers through it again.
Even in his sleep, Ritsu seemed to enjoy it, humming almost contently and leaning closer to the touch. It was sweet—innocent in a way he’d never seen Ritsu act before. “I’m not going to get into all the details since it’s not my place to tell you, but he really needs his friends and family right now. It would also be good if you helped him change his dressings in the morning in case they started bleeding again. I don’t know if he’ll actually do them himself.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you. I have another job for you, Mob. I need you to make sure Ritsu takes breaks, okay? Force him outside over your shoulder if you have to.”
Mob nodded, brows drawn together seriously. “Of course. He works too hard, doesn’t he.” It wasn’t a question, more of a sad statement.
“You can say that again,” Arataka agreed, lightly scratching Ritsu’s scalp. “You know, maybe you, Ritsu, Suzuki-kun, and Hanazawa-kun should all get together and hang out sometime soon. Have a sleepover or something. It’ll be fun for everyone, a good socializing break for Ritsu, and he won’t be able to say no if all three of you ask.”
“That does sound fun,” Mob said, a spark of interest in his eyes. “I should text Hanazawa-kun. He’s better at planning things than I am. How long has he been asleep?”
Arataka glanced at the clock on the wall. “About forty-five minutes, I’d say.”
“I’d hate to wake him. He could really use the sleep,” Mob mused, tilting his head as his eyes bored into Ritsu. “I may just carry him home on my back. I think that’ll be easiest.”
The mental image of Mob carrying Ritsu home was sweet, but the one of Ritsu’s reaction to being carried home was hilarious. Arataka pictured his cheeks getting all puffy and his face turning red from what he’d pretend was anger but was really embarrassment because he liked it. Ritsu’s so dramatic.
So, he dropped his hand from Ritsu’s head (and he actually whined in his sleep at the loss of contact) and asked, “Need any help getting him home?”
Mob shook his head. “I’ve got him. I’m stronger now, you know. Joining the Body Improvement Club really paid off.” Mob paused, turning around so his back was to him. “Can you get him on my back without waking him up?”
Arataka saluted, adjusting his grip on Ritsu until he was pressed against his chest, his head lolling on his shoulder. He stood up, careful not to jostle Ritsu too much, and walked over to Mob. Slowly, he turned Ritsu around, draping his arms around Mob’s neck and slotting each of his legs through his arms. “How’s that?”
Mob hummed, readjusting his grip, making sure it was secure. “That’s good.”
“I’ll walk you home since it’s dark out. Don’t want you two getting into any trouble,” Arataka teased, lightly nudging Mob’s foot with his own.
An eyeroll was his response. “There’s always trouble when you’re involved, Shishou.”
Geez, Dimple was rubbing off on the kid, but Arataka couldn’t help but laugh. “Right you are,” he replied, making a point to ruffle Mob’s hair. “Alright, let me get my jacket then we can head out.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure you want to carry him back? I can do it,” Arataka offered one last time as he put on his coat. He knew the answer already, but it’d feel wrong not to ask again.
But Mob just shook his head again. “No, I want to do it.” He looked over his shoulder at Ritsu, a soft smile creeping up his lips. “He’s carried me for so long, I want to do it for him in return.”
He turned back to Arataka. “Thank you for taking care of Ritsu.”
Arataka lightly clapped Mob’s shoulder then stooped to pick up Ritsu’s backpack. “Not a problem. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’s a good kid.”
Unfortunately, Ritsu’s knots would probably return in a day or two, but that’s okay because they’ve taken the first step in the right direction. Accepting the help others have to offer can be hard, but Ritsu’s a tough kid.
After all, the strongest thing a person can do is ask for help, right? And Ritsu’s already managed that. Sure, he may call it desperation, but even behind all that was him listening to his heart.
All that’s left is for Ritsu to continue being brave.