Chapter Text
Their client is an old washerwoman with a suspected haunted scrubbing board. Her kindly smiling face, wrinkled from years of life and permanently set in a sweet grin, shifts the second those words leave Arataka’s mouth.
“My,” she coos. Her thin silvered eyebrows are up as she turns to address Mob. “The big young man behind you is your disciple? How old are you, dear?”
“Twenty-four, ma’am.” he murmurs with a small nod, peeking out from behind his bangs. Oh, well. At least he stopped hiding behind Arataka when he grew too big to do so. Can’t chase away all shyness in the end.
“So I take it that you have been his disciple for many years if he’s still calling you little!” She chortles and her laugh sounds a bit like an elderly sparrow. “I find the older one grows, the more that mistake is made. My youngest sister was taller than I was when she turned thirteen and even till this day I call her little…”
Mob’s eyes light up quietly as he tells their client about Ritsu, and she congratulates him on his brother’s success in passing his magistrate exams at such a young age. And she turns to Arataka once more and grabs his hands in her callused own and looks him in the eye. Her smile has faded.
“You are lucky to have such a loyal disciple as Shigeo, mister travelling priest. Cherish him with all your heart as he does for you.”
The point of his ear flicks. She says it so gravely but he can hear the genuine intent behind her words. He nods slowly without breaking her stare. After a few seconds, she releases her grip and pats him on the cheek good-naturedly with her nice old lady smile back in place. He’s left to wonder for a dazed moment how exactly she got Mob’s name when he’s sure he never introduced her or said his name and when they were talking Mob sure as hell didn’t introduce himself.
The confused seconds end when his not-little disciple tugs at his kimono sleeve.
“Shishou,” he says quietly. Letting himself be pulled aside, Arataka leans in to listen to what his employee has to say.
“Suzume-san used to do local exorcisms with her sister when she was young,” he murmurs. The gleam in his eyes is genuine. Seems he really managed to connect with their client in that short conversation. Also, how exactly did they exchange names? He heard nothing, and he was standing right there . His hearing can’t be going yet, he’s not that old…
“Her little sister used to work as a magistrate like Ritsu!”
Arataka smiles softly and raises his hand, then remembers he can’t pat Mob on the head anymore and settles for a solid clap on his shoulder. “Nice to see you getting along with new people you meet, kid.”
Shigeo nods, eyes still holding their glimmer. His bangs flutter in the wind and Arataka fend off the urge to brush them out of his face. Quelling that little sting of longing for the not-distant past when Mob was still little, he gets on with explaining the charging rates for exorcisms to their elderly customer.
She nods in earnest understanding. Arataka isn’t heartless, he knows this woman doesn’t have an abundance in money. If the prices he named were significantly slashed compared to what he usually charged, well - Mob doesn’t show any sign of noticing.
She reaches into her apron and counts out the coins on her palm, sorting surprisingly quickly. Arataka’s ears flick in tune with the clinking. He feels his tail sway slowly and half-hopes that it wouldn’t give away how he felt. It’s a little embarrassing to be excited every time he gets paid, definitely not normal…
She finishes counting, takes his hand, and places the coins carefully. Curling his hand shut with her own, she nods, satisfied. She’s comfortingly warm.
Before the nice granny can say anything else, her washboard starts to clatter angrily in its waterstained basin on the dirt of the front yard. Mob steps forward with his hands out as Arataka reaches for his salt and asks the lady to please move back as the spirit oozes out of its host item with a bubbly growl.