Archive of Our Own

Cover, as always




- - -


This had to be it.

It oozes—swarms with an ambient sheen of raw power. The glittering hues mark a bright stain on an otherwise dead and brutalistic apartment complex, drifting about the surrounding area like a fine dust caught in air. No ordinary esper could even fathom the idea of having so much energy it spills out of you like a broken egg, nevertheless this much of it.

It was a venus flytrap to all spirits alike, around five or six currently basking in the vibrant blue glow like lizards. Still, none dared to venture past the outer edge—be it instant vaporization or a losing game of hide-and-seek, that journey would never be worth the risk.

Dimple didn’t have a single thing to lose, though.

His cult had just been obliterated, his body dissolved into thin air, all those years of waiting, all gone and wasted in an instant—all but a faint whisper of a dream to “Rule The World”.

That whisper screams at him, louder and louder with every passing moment, the sound billowing through the streets and into his ears as he stares down the balcony of a brat with a shitty bowl cut.

If anyone could do it, oh, oh it was him alright. This was not a guess, but a fact—a truth of that man’s nature. Dimple had seen the monster in action, felt it split his vessel in two with the ease of a blink. He was nothing more than a crumb on the floor in that moment.

He had felt utterly pathetic.

It would be insane for Dimple to not yearn for that kind of power—to salivate for just a chance to use it. It was nothing short of a miracle that Earth wasn’t already under the man’s rule, worshipping him day and night. He was practically a god already, just one that unfortunately refused his right to be special.

Someone needed to put that potential to use.


With a sigh of resolve, Dimple winds his meager form up, a grin on his face despite planning on going straight into what might as well be his certain doom. It’s only a few moments before he’s shooting through the skies, a green blur heading directly towards the doors of a balcony, one that will be remembered in laughs or riches, his fate only a few feet ahead, the deciding moment of it all–


..oh.

He’s in.

...That was ridiculously easy.

He didn’t even... He wasn’t even hurt! He was fitter than a fucking fittle! ...How..? How?

...He needs to stop questioning this—miracle, whatever it might have been. Thank the gods or this guy or whatever later. His top priority right now has shifted focus to not getting completely obliterated for a second time, lest this pristine opportunity goes to waste.

Taking in his surroundings, the apartment somehow seems even shoddier than the outside ever looked. The place was dingy, gloomy, freezing, smelled bad, and also somehow terribly cramped despite the only furniture being.. “decorative clothing piles”, a couple of boxes, a trash can, and a single futon—in that of which lay his point of interest.

Hovering a bit closer—not too close—he realizes that the man is actually awake—just... staring. He looks like a total mess, somehow exhausted and pale despite presumably being in bed all day. He doesn’t even bother to turn towards Dimple as the spirit creeps closer, locked in a daze of thought only irregularly interrupted by blinks. It’s only when the ghost is inches away from his face, that their eyes meet.

...

The man rolls over to face the opposite way.

Okay. Alright. What, is he just not good enough to address? What’s going on here? This is the guy that brutally exorcised him not too long ago, with that laughable excuse for a haircut and those dead, expressionless eyes. Spitting image. The guy could probably sneeze and Dimple would be completely evaporated into nothing, but noo. He just didn’t have the time, or care, or– respect! There’s a malicious spirit in your house, so do something about it, asshole!

...Maybe he should try again instead of fussing about it like a spoiled kid.

The ghost hovers to the other side of his face, plopping down on the floor in front of him as a way of sitting—making some peace—letting him know he’s not a threat! ...For the most part, anyways.

“You just gonna lay there and ignore me all day?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow.

...

That answer is a yes, no matter how deafeningly silent that “yes” was.

“...Alright. If you’re not gonna talk then I want ya’ to listen.” Dimple clears his ghostly throat.

“My goal is to become a god, yeah? Rule the world. Anyone would kill for the opportunity, anyone I tell you! But– the moment they go wrong is the moment they think they can’t do it. And– Well– You saw me. I was already halfway up to the tippy top of the world, and I’m not about to back down yet! But– course, I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t keep climbing the same mountain and falling back down at the same slope, I’m a man who recognizes when I have a weakness. And I realized in that moment—that the only way anybody is gonna make it to the top of that mountain, is if you join–”

“..re you the cult leader..?”

The man in the futon lazily blinks, mumbling out a question as he studies Dimple’s features.

The spirit blinks a few times, sighing. “Well, who else would it be? Ah– and you can drop the “sama”, since we’ll be on equal footing from now on! Of course, I should also ask, just out of courtesy—what might your name be?”

“...Mob.”

“Oh, please, please, no need for any silly nicknames of the sort! Gimme your real name, huh?”

“...Shigeo Kageyama.” A twinge of frustration leaks through the cracks of his tired murmurs.

“Alright, Shige-chan–”

While no words are said, there is a certain look in Shigeo’s eye that tells Dimple he will get his ass swiftly handed to him if he dares continue that sentence.

“...Shigeo. Whaddya’ say about joining forces? We’d be the perfect team! All you need to do is let me possess your body—simple! I’m absolutely sure you’ll be able to take control at any time if you think things are getting too out of hand–” (Dimple is hoping this isn’t the case, but he’ll figure something out if it is) “–so you don’t need to worry your sweet little head about being forced into anything evil of the sorts. You have my word.” He snaps into a point, just for added flare.

“So, is it a deal?”

“...Sure. ..Can you possess my body right now?”

...

What?

He’s joking. It has to– no, this killjoy probably doesn’t even know how to joke. He’s being dead serious. He’s being dead fucking serious about this.

And... Wait– hold on– “Now?? ..The hell’s got you in a rush? We have all the time in the world!”

Shigeo blinks a few times, the muscles twitching in his face to show only a hint of shame as his eyes shift to the floor in front of him. He weakly nods while drawing the comforter closer to his face, almost trying to hide himself in it.

“I should.. be at work today because someone wanted to hire me.” He despondently mutters into the blanket, gaze twitching from one floorboard to the next.

“Should? There a reason you’re still in bed then?”

The man rolls over again, head now fully covered by the sheets as he settles into the new, curled up position. He seems to be shivering a bit.

“I don’t know.”

Okay. This was getting real awkward. “Um.. I mean– did’ja even want to go in the first place? Where we’re headed, you won’t even have to think about that kinda stuff, but...”

“...Of course I want to go.”

Dimple lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well if you can’t even get out of bed to go work, how are you gonna rule the world?! ...Listen, how about we make that our first order of business, huh? If they’re still open, and ya’ don’t like.. hate your boss or anything, I can tidy you up and drag you there myself. Sound good?”

A general noise of agreement comes from under the comforter. He doesn’t move an inch, simply waiting for something to happen as he continues to waste away in the solitude of his own bed.

Well, it’s not world domination just yet, but... Ah– he really wasn’t expecting to have to deal with this sorta thing. Honestly, Dimple didn’t even think he’d get this far—he even had an entire thing planned out to slowly befriend him and gain his trust so that he could manipulate the guy into letting him in his head, free of charge! It seemed the world was insistent on throwing every curveball it could today, and although mostly welcome... Dimple would not exactly say he was looking forward to the fun and exciting task of going to work.

...Might as well get it over with quick. It’d be bad if the place closed before they got there, anyways.

It was easy, too easy to slip into Shigeo’s head. He wasn’t even trying to put up any sort of resistance, it was like passing through nothing more than a pocket of air. After a moment of transition when merging into the other’s consciousness, his senses carefully settle into all of their new places. He flexes his newfound fingers and legs just to confirm that he still has the hang of it, before pushing himself up to sitting and glancing around. ...Those bangs were gonna get real annoying real fast, weren’t they?

“Sorry.”

..Oh. Right! Thoughts. They can kind of hear each other, can’t they? It’s been a while since Dimple’s been in a conscious body, but it should work nevertheless. He just hopes this guy’s boss doesn’t think he’s gone completely insane if he decides to respond out of nowhere.

“...I’ll stay quiet.”

“Roger that,” Dimple says through the other’s mouth.

While visually snooping around Shigeo’s room for some kind of clothing other than sweats, he spots a couple of cautious spirits hovering just inside the door to the balcony. It seems they had also realized the concentrated aura spewing out from the home was nothing more than a ruse, tempting fate and successfully entering the apartment after watching Dimple’s own little stunt. And, well, I mean.. what better time now than to do a test drive on Shige’s powers?

With a swift raise of the hand and a soft crackle of power, the ghosts are reduced to a small light show before simmering out into colorful ash. Dimple is glad he’s at least able to use the psychic abilities—this would make things a hell of a lot easier, but it definitely felt like he was being intentionally restrained by Shigeo in the moment. Somewhat annoying, but better than nothing for the time being.

Either way, he has better things to do! However.. gruelingly boring those better things were.

Aiming to make this as speedy as possible, Dimple practically leaps up out of bed, beelining towards the– oh– shit, oh– jesus, the floor feels like it’s spinning under his feet. He feels like he’s gonna hurl. His vision begins to cloud up with murky shadows, leading the two inhabitants to clumsily fumble the single body over towards a wall in an attempt not to fall flat on their face.

This was fucking awful—no wonder Shigeo was curled up in bed all day! The path to godhood was only looking longer by the second, but Dimple was determined. Humanly problems are always an easy fix—even if this specific one might need a little more TLC, but it was worth the trouble. Couldn’t have his ticket to glory dropping dead the moment they got there, could he?

After a slow few moments spent dizzily propped up, the spirit not being particularly sure what would cure this sudden oncoming faster than just waiting, their vision clears back to normal and his feet finally feel a bit more anchored to the ground. Still getting the feeling of needing to throw up, though. He must be hungry, then—way hungry.

“When’s the last time you ate, seriously?”

“..I was going to get groceries yesterday.”

Right. And then he got abducted into a cult, and.. yeah, yeah, whatever. They both know that story. Dimple continues his original path to the kitchen, finding an urge to hunch over and hold his aching stomach in an attempt to lessen the discomfort. Crouching down to peek inside the mini-fridge, he finds it... basically completely empty, the only sustenance being a half-eaten, store-bought onigiri.

To say Shigeo’s food situation was laughably pathetic was an understatement.

The spirit stares in disbelief before speaking up. “I’m making you stop by the store on the way back Shige, this is miserable.”

The onigiri was (hardly) better than nothing, so Dimple takes it upon himself to force the other to finish it off. It’s cold, soggy, and tastes more bland than cardboard. Neither of them seem particularly happy about the snack, and it somehow makes his stomach hurt even more. The next thing Dimple opts for is a simple glass of water, hoping it’ll at least do... something?

“Ah– do ya’ know when they close? Could try and freshen you up a bit if we have the time, so they don’t mistake you for a walking corpse.” He leaves the glass with the rest of the dishes piled up in the sink, scanning the surroundings to find the door to the bathroom.

“Um.. I’m not sure. He just gave me a business card before running off with his boss. ...The kid—the blonde one from before, at the cult meeting,” Shigeo rambles as his body moves itself through his apartment.

Dimple scoffs, “That little snot? You really want to babysit him all day? That pay better be worth it, I’m telling you.” He opens the door to an even tinier bathroom, sink and mirror awkwardly compressed into the space above the toilet with a bath taking up the entire opposing side. Not the worst, but definitely not the best.

He wasn’t sure how quick of a shower he could get in, so he opts for just brushing the guy’s teeth at the very least. There doesn’t seem to be any cup of sorts on the sink, and there definitely isn’t any space for a drawer, so... medicine cabinet behind the mirror? No, it’s mounted directly to the wall. Then where..?

“Hey, bowl-cut, you know where your toothbrush is?”

He can feel his hand clench up impulsively, likely an action done by Shigeo rather than himself. Actually, his whole body seems much stiffer, a wave of shame pervading his thoughts.

Did he seriously lose it or something? Or– did he not even have one in the first place? ..Dimple decides to inspect the body’s teeth, leaning in towards the mirror and pulling at the edges of Shigeo’s mouth–

The hand promptly freezes, its tendons aching under the skin as his muscles are suddenly strained to an unnatural degree. The spirit can feel the pace of a heartbeat increase somewhere within him, paired with a slight twinge of warmth creeping onto his host’s face.

Dimple winces, managing to get out a fumbled sentence while still pulling on his face. “Arigh,, arigh, i woh look. Prohise.”

It takes a moment of contemplation before the limb is entrusted back into his control. The moment everything relaxes, he brings the hand away from Shigeo’s mouth and gives it a few good shakes to loosen everything back up.

If he couldn’t do anything about that, then the next best thing was making sure he didn’t look like he had been laying in bed for a whole day. Examining the man’s face in the mirror more closely this time, Dimple begins to notice certain details.

Shigeo’s hair frizzes and sticks up on his head, disheveled and knotted. He looks paler than a ghost, dark eyebags and bold red cheek spots only accentuating this fact. Something the spirit had already taken note of was how much thinner this body was than his last, because he especially did not enjoy the feeling of cold permeating through every scrawny muscle there was.

The only thing that was mildly surprising was the fact that the man barely had any wrinkles at all despite presumably being well past twenty, a testimony to how little his expressions must have shown themselves in the years prior.

It was almost sad seeing him up-close like this—but, Dimple didn’t have time to feel guilt. He was a ghost, an aspiring one, and bodies like these don’t last forever! He snaps himself out of the trance of pity, letting loose a sigh before attempting to straighten up the rat’s nest on his head. Running his fingers through it seemed to work well enough, but that didn’t help the fact it was still grown out to an awkward, eye-level length.

The spirit, taking matters into his own hands, splits the bangs down an impromptu side-part. This wasn’t the best solution, but it was time-effective and allowed at least one eye to be unbothered by the mound of hair. It also just wasn’t a complete bowl cut. Dimple grins in a cocky triumphancy, but for a second, he swears he can feel his smile grow a bit wider.

He washes his hands in an attempt to get some sort of clean before exiting the bathroom and beginning to rustle around in the scattered lumps of clothing. Whatever Shigeo had decided to wear yesterday was relatively acceptable, a turtleneck paired with black pants and a thick coat. The rest of his clothes? Hoodies, sweaters, and sweatpants. It was getting abundantly clear that—what he had worn yesterday—was his only nice outfit.

Looks like they’d have to visit a clothing store too after this—if he even had the money to do so, that is.

“I think.. I threw it in that pile over there,” Mob speaks up. He shifts their gaze over to a particularly troublesome area, one with the exact garments he needed resting right on top. Bingo!


After changing clothes and rummaging around for some shoes, Dimple would say he looked... well, still not great, but it was presentable enough. If anyone asked why he was wearing the same outfit twice in a row, the I washed it last night excuse was always an option.

“Um.. the card should be in my pocket. I don’t think the place too far away.”

Glancing out the window, it seemed to be fairly early into the sunset hours of the afternoon. They at least had a reasonable chance of getting there before the sun was down, simply assuming the time due to Shigeo not owning a clock.


A swift rustling of the pockets and one skimming of an address later, they’re out the door and hitching an elevator ride down to the main street. It’s not particularly noisy out, most of the crowd opting for the calming warmth of an indoor heater rather than the oncoming chill of winter. The area around them seemed to encourage it, cold and looming shadows casting a maze of city streets into darkness—only an occasional box of fleeting warmth able to seep through the cracks of architecture. Weaving clumps of powerlines cut the sky into fragments, busying their peripherals as they walk.

As soon as they enter a particularly empty street, Dimple takes it upon himself to strike up a conversation—however deranged he might make Shigeo look. Their walk was getting boring.

“So, why do ya’ wanna work there, anyways? Better question—where the hell were you getting your money from before?”

“I wasn’t really... working, at all. ..My parents just send me money every month.” Shigeo speaks in a quieter, almost whispering manner.

“Sheesh, well it definitely isn’t enough! Your apartment looks more like a prison cell than anything else.” He rolls his eyes. “There a reason you aren’t staying with them instead?”

“...”

It takes a moment for him to contemplate this—whether it be the question itself or his willingness to reveal the answer.

“I don’t know.”

Something Dimple had begun to pick up on the fact that he was disproportionately humiliated by every little aspect of his own life, refusing to let even a simple ghost know a truth that he quite honestly couldn’t care less about. Humans were always a complicated disaster of events and emotions, and after so many bodily possessions, he found he didn’t have the energy to judge anymore.

Something he also didn’t have the energy for was pushing a topic, especially one the other party was refusing to engage in. That uphill battle absolutely wasn’t worth the answer.

- - -

It wasn’t too long until they found themselves on the street they were looking for, staring up at a black-and-white sign that read: Paranormals n’ Stuff Consultation Office.

“..This place looks like a nut-job,” The spirit scoffs.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Sure, sure, of course—whatever you say.”

Shigeo can feel his shoulders shrug before he automatically moves to open the door. It was a weird feeling to be possessed—not exactly a limp puppet, but more of an abnormal autopilot.

He was still doing every action with his own body, but the decisions being made about what to do with it were certainly not his own. It wasn’t a feeling he was too unfamiliar with, an uncertain nausea of past reminders stirring within his thoughts once he had seen that the ghost—Dimple, was able to use his powers. Still, the realization that he was able to regain control comforted him in the moment.

He had made peace with the idea of Dimple inhabiting his body the moment he was practically hurled out of bed. It felt so easy—so impossibly simple of an action. It would have taken a miracle otherwise to get him out, although he’s sure he would have only curled up more if the world had been ending.

Now, it didn’t matter how queasy his stomach felt over talking to other people, how badly he might get rejected and thrown out—he didn’t have a choice to run away anymore, because his legs were already moving up the stairs for him.

His hand was already reaching for the handle.

The door was already squealing open.

58%


“Hello, welcome in to Paranormals n’ Stuff C–”

“I told you he would come!”

With a gasp, a kid lazing around on the couch suddenly springs up onto his feet, a determined shine sparkling in his eyes as he sprints over to Shigeo. Actually—that must’ve been the kid from yesterday, wasn’t it? The style he kept his hair in was different, but that signature strawberry-blonde color was undeniable.

The moment... Reigen, he thinks? Stops in his tracks, Shigeo is already being dragged by his sleeve into the more open area of the office. “Tome-San, look! It’s the psychic guy you thought was kidnapping me yesterday!”

The lady at the desk—Tome-San—nearly chokes on her cup of tea at the reminder, going into a fit of coughs and wheezes while hunched over in her chair.

It was no wonder she looked a bit familiar, now remembering how she mistakenly swung a bag at his head as Reigen attempted to lead him back to the office. It was certainly a bit jarring in the moment, but understandable after a bit more thought. They were halfway down an alleyway when it happened, despite the shortcut in question being the kid’s idea—and this didn’t even take into account how shady that trench coat must have made him look. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Um–” A few more coughs invade her sentence, “I’m really, really sorry about that, again..” She clumsily gets up from her chair, moving to a more visible area to give an awkward bow to him in earnest.

A few seconds pass by of silence. He felt like he.. should be talking, but Dimple wasn’t saying anything. This was worrying. He needs to attempt to speak before the silence begins to draw on for an uncomfortable amount of time—as if it already weren’t. Here’s to hoping the two are able to successfully form a sentence without interrupting the other, despite Shigeo promising to stay quiet.

“Uh– I-I.. you were.. justified. It’s fine.” God. God that sounded atrocious. He can feel the way the spirit attempts to twitch his expression into one of disappointment in himself, the two mutually cringing at the delivery of that sentence. It was probably for the better if Shigeo stayed absolutely silent after this.

“...So.. Reigen, why is he.. here, again?” A nervous smile creeps onto her face as she eyes the kid standing next to him.

“Did you not hear me? He’s a psychic. An actual esper—I swear!”

“Mhm..” She shifts her gaze back over to the taller man, squinting.

65%

He isn’t exactly able to name the emotion he feels in the moment. Shigeo knows his face feels like it’s burning up, but in a queasy and bad way. His skin is ickily sweaty against his clothes. He feels the urge to curl up and hide, but the spirit locks his body in place.

Actually—he feels like a failure. This was the first place that had even thought of taking him in, by whatever divine luck it was, and he was barely able to speak, or defend himself, or... he should leave. He should just leave and wait for something else to come, he wasn’t fit for this kind of thing. It was inevitable he’d only humiliate himself more the longer he stayed here, it was a consultation office after all. When was the last time he actually held a conversation with someone before he met Reigen? Maybe he should just move back in with his parents after all, because there sure as hell wasn’t a chance of him having a future with a job in it. He feels useless.

“Tome-San, seriously—I’m telling the truth this time! Just– Here!” Reigen goes to grab a pillow from the nearby couch, shoving it into Shigeo’s arms before continuing. “Levitate that or something! ...Come on, show–”

“Wait.”

Tome-San interrupts him, arms crossed with an inquisitive look on her face as she stares down Shigeo. It only makes him more nervous as she begins to approach the man, arms unfurling the closer she got. The squint never leaves her eyes as she reaches up to.. move his... bangs?

She undos the part that Dimple had made either, the two inhabitants of the body overwhelmed by utter confusion as she takes a step back to view the bowl-cut in it’s full glory.

Now he was having trouble naming the emotions she was feeling—her face switching from disbelief to doubt to questioning all in a moment. And then, something clicked.

“Mob?!”

Oh. That’s why she looked familiar.

“Waitwaitwait– you know this guy?” Reigen looks up at her, jaw slack.

“Of course I do! He– I was like– obsessed with–” She takes a quick moment to breathe, before firmly planting her hands onto his shoulders and looking him dead in the eye.

“Can you talk to aliens?”

“...Huh-?” “What?”

The two inhabitants of Shigeo’s body were so confused, they couldn’t help but both question what the hell she just asked at the same time. Aliens? What did aliens have to do with this?

“Wha–.. I thought you told me you didn’t believe in aliens?” Reigen chimes in, a bit of a surprising fact in spite of her wearing alien themed earrings along with a matching brooch.

“Well– I used to, and then things happened, and then I got older, and—kid, don’t get old—but.. he’s like the entire reason I got so into searching for aliens!” As her talking picks up, so does a free hand waving through the air.

“Of course I always wanted to before– but like.. psychics can read minds and stuff! And send messages out to people with like,, brainwaves! And do all kinds of things like that!” She turns the both of them towards Reigen, using her remaining hand on Shigeo to shake him back and fourth. “He was my ticket to success! I thought the guy had like... I don’t know, gotten kidnapped by the government or something in the past,, whatever-or-so years it’s been since I last saw him. You never know!”

Everyone in that room looked at her like she was insane.

Tome clears her throat. “Okay, tough crowd. Whatever—I’ll hire you as long as you can promise me aliens! And– also.. maybe help around with exorcising actual ghosts and whatever, but mostly for the aliens! Deal?” She outstretches her hand to Shigeo, a determined look in her eye and a grin on her face.

...He couldn’t take this job offer.

He had never even tried to read someone’s mind before, nevertheless send any brainwaves out or–

“Deal.”

Their hands shook.

He had a job now.

He didn’t do that.

Shigeo didn’t..

72%

“Alright! Welcome to the team then, Mob!” She pats his shoulder, Reigen grinning and doing a small applause off to the side. The kid seems proud of his work.

“You’re honestly pretty lucky you got here when you did, Tome-San looked like she was about ready to kick me out herself if I made her wait any longer..” He chuckles, strolling over to the couch to collect his bag.

Tome makes her way over to her own desk in the same time, powering-down her boxy computer and gathering up her own belongings. “Oh, you didn’t see how he begged me for just ten more minutes of waiting. And then another ten. And then– Reigen, you’re not allowed to do that again, okay?”

“Fine. ...Can we at least go get some ramen, though-?”

“Reigen.”

“To celebrate a new employee!” The kid throws his hands up. “What, are you just gonna send him home hungry on his first day...working?”

Tome-San stares at him.

“...You’re not allowed to do that again either. Come on, let’s go.” She waves her hand along as she heads towards the front door, a defeated look on her face. Reigen is practically beaming as he follows his boss, giving a quick “C’mon!” to Shigeo before disappearing behind the corner.

...

Just barely above a whisper, Shigeo speaks.

“Why?”

“You wanted a job, and I got you one.” Dimple sighs, forcing his host to finally replace the pillow to it’s original spot and begin his walk to the exit as well. “It’ll at least give me a reason to get you out of bed in the mornings, yeah?”

77%

He doesn’t respond.

The two leave the office, allowing Tome to flip the lights and lock everything up.

Reigen elbows him as they stand in the hall. “You can put your hair back into that part again, y’know. I think if I stare at your goofy bowl-cut any longer I’m gonna rip my eyes out.”

Dimple suppresses a snicker. “Sure, kid.” Now descending the stairs, the spirit reaches a hand up to ruffle his hair and tidy up the bangs, stopping once the view looked similar enough to before.

“It looks like you took my advice about your middle part, too.” This time, it was Shigeo who spoke up. Despite having an arguably much worse haircut than Reigen, he couldn’t help but point it out yesterday when the middle schooler had been poking fun at him.

“Yeah,, my mom just.. it’s whatever.”

“Mm, I was wondering why you came in with your hair all messed up today. You should keep it so you don’t have to look like the worst goody-two-shoes ever anymore.” She giggles, walking out onto the pavement. Reigen huffs and crosses his arms.

“By the way, Mob, since when were you like... how did you get so tall-? I swear I had a couple of inches on you back at Salt!” Tome-San looks behind her to give a quick glare at Shigeo.

He shrugs.


There’s only a quick moment of peace before Reigen decides to get back on his antics again.

“Sooo...” He tilts his head up towards Shigeo. “Have you changed your mind yet? About teaching me to become an esper?”

“..You were serious about that?”

“Wha– Of course I was! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Shigeo could think of a million reasons as to why you wouldn’t want psychic powers. Dimple couldn’t think of one.

“Y’know, for a guy that can read minds, you sure are clueless,” Reigen teases.

...

“You can’t actually.. read minds, can you?” A look of worry spreads across his face not a second later.

“I–” “Hmm?” Dimple interjects, a sly grin suddenly crawling across Shigeo’s features. “What, you got somethin’ to hide? Course—not like it would matter, anyways..” He shrugs.

“What do you mean it wouldn’t.. wait– seriously?! You can seriously do stuff like that?”

“What, you think I’m lying? You’re really accusing the guy you want to train under of lying?” The spirit leans over, putting on a pitiful act in an attempt to mess with the kid even more.

“No– Ah,, tell me what animal I’m thinking of right now if you really can read minds! You’ll never guess it!”

“...It’s not a dog, is it?” The spirit raises an eyebrow, tilting his head.

Reigen’s expression turns into one of utter, genuine horror.

Shigeo decides that Dimple has had enough fun taunting children for today.

“..Can you leave me out of it? Please-? Or at least... not tell anyone?” Reigen turns to stare at the ground, scratching his hand as he walks. There’s a hint of sincere worry in his tone that makes Mob uneasy.

“I promise I won’t read your mind, Reigen-Kun–”

“Reigen.”

“..But–”

Tome-San groans, resting a hand on her forehead. “Just go with it, Mob. That kid is gonna correct you to your damn grave if you even think about using an honorific with him. It’s probably some new trend going around or something, he’ll grow out of it eventually..”

“It’s not my fault it’s a total mouthful to say! I’m saving you a syllable every time you need to speak to me—it’s just more efficient!”

His boss scoffs. “With the amount of times I have to tell you to stop playing snake, your argument actually makes a little sense..”

“Didn’t our club used to eat snacks and play on your NES all day, Tome-San?”

Reigen lets out a long and taunting “Ooooooooooo.....”, grinning as he strolls up next to her. “Looks like someone has no room to speak, huh?”

“That was an after-school club, not a job! You’d be lucky if a normal place even let you get away with that once.”

“What, are you speaking from experience?”

“Oh, you little–” Tome-San scowls, ruffling the blonde’s hair in a sassy acceptance of defeat. Reigen doesn’t seem too bothered, laughing playfully alongside her. “Curse you for wearing your hair like a normal person this time! I can’t annoy you with that anymore..”

“I think we’re here.” Shigeo taps her shoulder, motioning over to his right at a couple of labelled banners. The place exudes a cozy orange warmth, some soft yet intoxicating smell lingering around the edges of the sidewalk. His mouth waters at the mere thought of some good food, his stomach aching in agreement.

The three (technically four) of them find a place to sit, Reigen ending up comfortably in the middle with his two coworkers on either side.

“Um.. I can–”

“Don’t worry about paying, Mob. ..This time, at least. According to this greedy little guy–” She lightly shoves Reigens head, “–we’re here to welcome you! Not because you just wanted free food, right Reigen?”

“Sure is!” Sure wasn’t.

83%

After telling the chef their orders, Shigeo originally trying to keep his to a minimum before Dimple cut in to add way too many toppings, Reigen makes it his goal to once again annoy Mob about becoming an esper in the meantime.

“..So how did you figure out that you could like... do things with your mind? What age did it happen?” He rests his chin on his hands, looking to the man with wide eyes—kind of like a desperate puppy.

“Um.. My parents say that when I was really little, my toys would go flying around the room whenever I got upset. That was only the case for me though, nobody else in my family ever.. had abilities like that.”

“Really? ...If the rest of your family aren’t espers like you, then that means I still have a chance, right? Maybe I’m just a late bloomer!”

“Mm.. Maybe.” Shigeo absently picks at his nails. “Why are you so fixated on having them, anyways? I thought I told you yesterday that all they’re good for is being destructive. All psychic powers ever do is hurt–”

“Oh stop it with that already! I know they can hurt people, but it’s not like that’s their main purpose! Like– hold on, look at the chef cutting green onions over there. He has a knife, but he’s not using it to harm anyone, is he?”

A slight grimace comes to Mob’s expression. “..No–”

“Exactly!”

“Psychic abilities aren’t the same, Reigen. It doesn’t matter how much control you think you have over them, they can still get out of hand—a knife isn’t just gonna hurl itself towards the nearest person for no reason, is it?”

“Then.. it’s like a dog!” Reigen’s hands begin to absent-mindedly move as he speaks. “If someone provokes it, of course it’ll suddenly act different and hurt someone. People still own them as pets all the time despite that, don’t they? And—a dog being dangerous is still useful, too! Think of guard dogs, hunting dogs–”

“Ahem.” Tome-San clears her throat, throwing a side-eye over to the two. “Boys. Your food. Before it gets cold.”

87%

Shigeo looks down in front of him. It seems that they had, in fact, been served their ramen in the middle of.. arguing? Debating... Whatever it was. The specifics didn’t matter anymore, the remembrance of the fact that he was practically starving now overshadowing any of his further gripes on the topic. Eat first, talk later.


They all say their honors for the food before digging in, Reigen practically scarfing down his bowl as Tome indulges in hers at a more respectable pace.

Shigeo instead stares at his for a moment, admiring the way the bubbles of oil glisten along the surface of the broth.

He hadn’t had a meal like this in a long time, come to think of it. He had only ever eaten microwaved leftovers from whatever his parents had made for quite a while, too busy curled up in his futon to get it fresh. Nowadays, he barely has enough money for anything more than water bills and cheap convenience store snacks.

It might be the last time he has something like this for a while, depending on however long it takes for Tome-San to realize that he isn’t of any use. He should enjoy it while he could.

93%

Shigeo slurps up his first bite of ramen slowly and carefully, the noodles scorching his tongue as he ate. Still, he swallows it with a content look on his face. He had nearly completely forgotten the taste it had been so long, but the flavors still found themself to be so homey and familiar in his mouth. Shigeo can’t help but take another bite as soon as he swallows. It felt like a crime to allow the taste to leave his mind again, toughing through their piping hot nature just to experience it one more time.

96%

Eventually, he was going at the same pace Reigen was—shoving bite after bite into his mouth so fast, Dimple had to manually hold his hand back to make sure he didn’t choke to death on his first day working. Shigeo looked like he hadn’t seen a drop of sustenance for years on end with how quickly he was eating. He can feel a slight mist in his eyes, either due to the fact he hadn’t let it cool down or because it was probably the best meal he had ever consumed in the past decade.

99%

Maybe it was because it felt like someone cared for him.

For the first time in almost two years, he had left the house for something other than groceries or taking out the trash.

It was a weird feeling to be staring down at, what was effectively to him, proof. Proof that he could make his parents proud, get a job, meet new people, be someone. He had never known what to do or where to go after high school, wasting years of his life holed up in his childhood room. Sometimes he thought he’d be stuck in that home forever.

Of course, Shigeo would have never dreamed of being here if it weren’t for Dimple possessing him, or Reigen talking to him, or Tome-San actually deciding to hire someone like him.

He feels...

100% Gratitude

Shigeo suddenly chokes out a pathetic sob, unable to stop his face from contorting into a bittersweet frown as he quickly slurps down another mouthful of ramen. The two to his side suddenly dart their eyes over, a sense of worry between them as they watch tears gloss over his vision.

Tome speaks up first. “Are you..?”

“I-I’m fine. I’m sorry,,”

He does a terrible job at trying to maintain a sense of normalcy, a shaky breath in only giving him away more as he attempts to ignore it. He tenses up and tries to keep his eyes on the bowl, focusing on keeping his powers down as he sniffles. Shigeo doesn’t let the first few tears run down his face, instead using the palms of his hands to smear them over his cheeks instead. More sobs escape his throat in retaliation as he hunches in on himself, unable to stop himself from crying.

“Uh– hey, Mob, if the food here is that bad we can go somewhere else next time! ..Do you want a handkerchief or something?”

“No,, please. Thank you.”

He can feel his cheeks get even redder with embarrassment, refusing to avert his gaze from the nearly empty bowl in front of him. He could begin to feel a few locks of hair lifting up on their own, his own warbling aura of energy making itself apparent to his eyes. As much as he wanted to stay, the people around him weren’t safe when he was like this. Shigeo couldn’t risk hurting the people he cares about again. He can thoroughly apologize tomorrow, but right now he had to–

“Um..” He can hear the mumbled voice of Reigen. “I think you’re.. making my bowl float.”

Shigeo’s eyes go wide and he suddenly whips his head around to face the others. Sure enough, the kid was staring in an awkward yet excited awe at the bowl currently hovering a foot above the table. He glances back over to Shigeo, in a way to confirm that they were both seeing the same thing.

Unfortunately that sight was short lived, Shigeo panicking and slamming it back down onto the table by force once it had finally registered in his brain.

“I’m sorry– I need to go. Um– thank you. ..For the meal.”

He shakily stands up from the table, looking a little lost on everything he was doing. He isn’t sure why Dimple hadn’t already halted this disaster to a stop the second it started, because it was far too late to take anything back now. The only thing Shigeo could do was quickly excuse himself and hide somewhere down the street, preferably somewhere with no people. He wasn’t sure what his powers would do now that his emotions were acting up, and he wasn’t going to risk them being suspiciously composed this time to think that everyone else would be safe.

Shigeo gives Tome-San a quick bow before hastily darting behind the nearest corner. It had gotten much darker, the sky above him now a dimly illuminated navy. Dimple still hadn’t seemed to be taking the reigns yet, so goes to fumble around in his pocket for the only thing that might help: a pack of smokes and a lighter.

He had picked up the habit after moving out, mostly because it was the only thing that made him feel like his emotions weren’t about to burst from his skull—it was honestly a miracle he had gone so long in the day without one. Flicking open the cap and striking the ignition, he raises a trembling hand to light the cigarette and take a drag. After a few moments of walking, he finds a desolate alleyway to isolate himself in for the time being.


Shigeo still had a wavering sheen of cyans prickling at his fingers, but this time he was almost.. glad to see it. Normally, moments like this ended in a vicious detonation of power. These occurrences only seemed to get worse the older he got, but thankfully less frequent.

After the incident, Shigeo had made the decision to remove himself from all situations he deemed stressful—he had felt like a genius when he first thought of the idea. The easiest way to do this was to hole up in his room for most of the day, and only come out during the dead hours of the night. Still, this wasn’t the perfect solution he had expected—once going a full year without any outbursts only to completely explode the walls that once made up the outer corner of his room.

All that to say—leaving home to make his life more stressful on purpose seemed to be working wonders. The only thing that happened this time was a bowl flying into the air! It was practically a miracle–

“It was me.”

“..Dimple?”

Shigeo had almost forgotten how jarring it was to speak words he never decided on. Still—he was more than relieved to know the spirit was back. He had felt like a stranded baby deer trying to handle another public fit of emotion on his own.

“Whenever your powers kinda,, started going haywire, I was able to make you direct them inwards towards myself. Actually—first I tried to stop you from completely humiliating yourself by controlling your crying, but that was.. pretty much impossible with how much energy had built up.”

He shrugs with a sigh before continuing.

“At least I’m feeling good as new, now! I can’t say the same for your own body, because you still look and feel like a total mess.” He grimaces, studying the cigarette in front of him. “Wipe the tears off your face, they feel gross.”

“Sorry.”

Shigeo sniffles and attempts to freshen himself up a little bit, straightening his hair and smoothing down his clothes as well. He isn’t sure why Dimple didn’t just do it himself, but it’s not like Mob really had any reason not to comply. The ghost had already done so much just to get him to this point.

“Um.. thank you for making sure I didn’t hurt anyone. ...R-Really, thank you, Dimple. For everything today, actually.” He wipes his eyes one more time, just to make sure he didn’t start crying again.

“Oh, hush!” The spirit groans, making his host look away somewhat bashfully. “It’s my job to make you act like a normal and healthy person again so that we can rule the world together, right? Nobody would want to worship a pathetic loser that sleeps all day.” ..Harsh, but undeniably true.

“..We should probably start heading h–”

“Kageyama-San..?”

A timid Reigen peeks around the corner of the building.

Shit.

Shigeo quickly drops the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it with his shoe. He’s gonna need to cut that out soon if he’s gonna be hanging around a kid more often—if he even manages to keep his job for that long. With how he acted tonight, it was about a 50/50 that he got fired the moment he stepped through that door tomorrow.

“Um.. did you need something? ...I’m sorry about earlier.” Shigeo averts his eyes to the concrete.

“No—no! You’re fine, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Tome-San is looking for you a bit further down the street, but I backtracked to make sure we didn’t miss anything. ...I’m.. glad I did.”

Reigen lets out a little chuckle while looking away as well, only adding to the awkward tension. He looks like he isn’t sure whether to stay near the end of the alley or move closer to Shigeo, taking one nervous step forwards before halting.

It reminds Mob of something that makes him panic a bit.

It makes him think of his family. How scared they were to approach him whenever his powers acted out of turn. How their soft smiles and expressions were laced with uncertainty. How that fear affected his brother.

Reigen had effectively labelled Shigeo as an unpredictable and dangerous animal earlier, something he particularly felt like Ritsu had treated him as after the first incident. It was poorly hidden, if not made unsubtle at all.

He constantly asked Shigeo if he was okay after every little thing, made absolutely sure that nothing was able to upset him, kept assuring him that he wasn’t shaking at least a little bit whenever psychic powers were used, kept trying to bend spoons when he thought nobody was looking, dreamed of the day he would become as strong as Shigeo was so he didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

Maybe he was jumping the gun with assumptions. Still, he would rather cut his own arms off than know he could’ve prevented someone being hurt like that for a third time. He needed Reigen to feel safe, like an equal.

“...You said you wanted me to teach you to unlock your psychic powers, right?”

...

“What? ..Wait– really?”

Shigeo nods.

“That was.. out of nowhere. ...I-I mean, are you sure?”

Shigeo nods again. “I’m sure.”

“Really?!”

He could never in a million years accurately describe the way Reigen’s face slowly lit up with a twinkle in his eye and a wide, open smile. Shigeo had never seen a person more thankful in his entire life.

The only thing that was more surprising was when the kid suddenly came sprinting at him, locking Shigeo into a tight hug without a second thought.

He freezes like a deer in headlights, suddenly all sweaty and nervous to have anyone, nevertheless someone he met for the first time yesterday, attempting to make any sort of affectionate physical contact with him. Is this a normal thing for people to do? Had it been so long of rarely ever going outside that he had missed an update in the social memo? Should he have been doing this instead of saying thank you?

Thankfully, Dimple is there to save his ass from a world of embarrassment, gently lifting his arms up and patting the kids back a few times. Reigen seems to jump a bit at that, suddenly pulling away looking like he had just realized how weird that must’ve been. Maybe the kid was just as inherently awkward and bad at socializing as he was. That seemed like the more realistic conclusion.

“Ahem– From now on, you will be my Shishou!” He gives a thumbs up and a confident grin.

“Shishou..?” Dimple cocks Shigeo’s head, holding back a snort.

“..Yeah! You are teaching me, right? It fits!”

“Um.. I wouldn’t say I’m a master at controlling my powers, but...” Shigeo shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Reigen rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning on his heel. “I’ll tell Tome-San that you were fine and went home. We open at 7:00 tomorrow, so I’ll see you then, Shishou!” He waves before making his way down the street, a smile still plastered across his face.

...

“Look at you, doing things on your own!” Dimple punches Shigeo’s arm, unfortunately also punching himself in the process due to the shared body. The spirit tenses up in a mildly annoyed regret before rubbing the area to lessen the immediate pain.

“We should.. definitely head to some of those stores before they close,” Dimple grumbles. “How much money ya’ got?”

“...2000 Yen?”

The ghost lets out a long, exhausted groan. “We’ll make it work..”

.
.
.

Shigeo fumbles with the lock to his door, only finally getting it open after Dimple had seen enough. He shuffles into his apartment before swinging the door shut with his foot, going over to his sad excuse of a kitchen immediately after and depositing his bags.

They had managed to stockpile a couple of really cheap ramen packets, some eggs, and milk (much to Dimple’s dismay). (He had asked the man what kind of treat he might want to try and get some morale up, and the motherfucker said milk. Milk, of all things).

The only other two items they were able to snag were a scraggly pink turtleneck, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a sufficient enough alarm clock. God only knows Shigeo would pass out until the sun was overhead without something blaring in his ears.

He keeps the sweater folded up in a considerably neater area, and sets the clock next to his bed. He isn’t sure where to store the rest, so he just dumps it in the sink for now.

Shigeo goes to change his clothes for bed, already halfway into his pajamas before his body suddenly freezes.

“Shower and brush your teeth before I have to force you to do it myself-!” Dimple exits from his head, maneuvering to hover vaguely in front of the other while stretching his body. “I thought you’d remember when you went to put the toothbrush n’ stuff away, but apparently not..”

Shigeo grumbles tiredly and practically drags himself over to the bathroom. He’s at least thankful for the privacy.

.
.
.

He took a warm bath.

Shigeo felt good enough about himself today to indulge in the things that occasionally made him happy, sitting in there long enough to nearly fall asleep. He was only jolted awake when Dimple had shouted at him from the other room, questioning if the man had drowned yet or not.

Brushing his teeth was simple enough, even if it made his gums bleed a bit. Something he wasn’t particularly happy with was how the lingering taste of ramen in his mouth got replaced by an overload of mint. He had never thought to put a cup in here before, so it ended up being a bit of a struggle to try and rince his mouth out. He managed eventually.


Walking out of the bathroom, all clean and ready for bed, he finds that his clothes have been re-arranged. The piles are at least more neat now, considering he has nowhere to store them. It was divided into shirts, pants, and.. anything else seemed to be tossed in a far corner. Dimple sat perched on the futon, looking bored out of his mind.

“..How did you move all of my clothes?”

“Simple! Ya’ just possess em’. ..Also– jesus, you took forever in there! Were you waiting for the bathwater to turn to ice or something?” The spirit floats over, inspecting Mob. “It’s been like.. an hour. You gonna make me have to start setting that alarm right outside the door to make sure you don’t doze off mid-bath?”

“No, it’s.. usually faster.” Cold water was not particularly fun to bathe in. “Thank you for sorting my clothes.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get too dependent on me. I had nothing else to do, and I didn’t just wanna leave you stranded out of nowhere. Now seriously—get the hell to bed! It’s nearly midnight.”

Shigeo squints, shuffling over to his futon to try and catch a glimpse of the clock. It was in fact sometime around 11:50. ...He should probably get some rest. No—make that a definitely. He feels exhausted.

Shigeo flips the lights and crawls into bed, embracing the warm covers and bringing them up to his mouth. The spirit simply observes.

“Well, I’ll be out wandering the town for the night! You wouldn’t believe all the boring things I get to snoop in on as a ghost. I’ll probably just find some random guy to watch play a game in the meantime.. Cya, Shige!” He does a swift half-wave before floating over to the doors leading to the balcony, turning around to make his lea–

“W-Wait. ..Dimple.”

The spirit pauses, then glides back over. “What, y’gonna miss me? I’ll be here in the morning in case you can’t get up again, so don’t worry about a thing.”

“..Come here.” Shigeo creeps a hand out from under the comforter, a small gesture to reach out for the other. Although skeptical, Dimple lowers himself close enough for the other to reach.

Shigeo pulls the ghost in for a hug, almost acting as if he were some poor, lifeless stuffed-animal. He tugs the blankets over his head and snuggles into the futon, seeming particularly content from the barest of smiles tickling the edges of his lips as he curls up.

“I noticed that the more energy a spirit has, the warmer they are. ...I think it’s because most of them are made up of souls. It feels cozy.”

...Well, it wasn’t like Dimple was just gonna leave him to freeze to death in his own apartment. He had a pawn to make into a god someday, and he had to make sure that happened as quickly as possible! If being a glorified plushie pushed this goal along, then so be it—He’ll do it.

...

“..I don’t know if I can ever repay you for today.”

“...You could make me into a god. I’m just saying, it’s still on the table.”

“Mm.. maybe. I’m tired right now, ask me tomorrow..” Shigeo yawns, rubbing his eyes before settling into his final sleeping position.

...

“Thank you.. Dimple...”

“Don’t count on it.”