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Reigen stopped to catch his breath. He was only halfway up the hill and he had already shrugged his jacket off. It was steep, but taking this staircase was faster than going all the way around and up the road. The late summer sun was already dipping down to the horizon. By the time he and Mob had left the client’s apartment they had missed the last bus. At that point it was faster just to walk back even though it would take almost an hour. Reigen rubbed his stinging cheek where the evil spirit had grabbed him. They were lucky, he told himself. Things could have gone much worse. Mob had gotten the worst of it anyway. Reigen was surprised he could still walk after being thrown through two walls. Speaking of…
Regien looked back down the stairs. A quarter the way up, Mob was crouching on the steps with his head down and his arms wrapped around his stomach.
“Oi, Mob!” Reigen called as he scrambled down the precarious steps. What idiot decided not to add a railing? “What’s wrong?” His heel slipped and he fell painfully against the stone. He slid down half a dozen steps before he was able to grab the edge so he wouldn’t bowl over his student. Mob looked up at the noise.
“Master? Are you-“
“Fine,” Reigen said through his teeth. He winced as he eased himself into a sitting position. “What about you?”
Mob dropped his head again. “I feel sick,” he said weakly.
“From the spirit?” asked Reigen. Could ghosts do that?
Mob shook his head.
“Well, at least sit down,” Reigen offered before scooting to the side of the stairs. Mob turned, very slowly, and used both arms to steady himself as he sat. He hugged his stomach again.
“Think you’re gonna throw up?”
Mob groaned and dropped his head onto his knees. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Reigen hesitated, then reached over and rubbed the space between Mob’s shoulders sympathetically. Like the kid hadn’t been through enough today. He looked out over the darkening streets and buildings. It was getting late, and he had an unspoken policy about having Mob home before dark. Today was a mess.
“Can you walk?” he asked slowly.
In response Mob put his hands on the steps again, then pushed himself up until he was standing. He swayed and Reigen caught his elbow.
“Okay, okay, hold on.”
Reigen stood and passed his jacket to Mob, who gave him a questioning look until the discomfort made him wince again. Reigen went down a step and crouched.
“Alright, get on.”
“…Huh?” replied Mob after a pause.
“I’ll take you up the stairs. Come on.”
“Is that okay?”
Reigen just waved his hands in a motion for him to move. Mob hung the jacket over one of his arms and tried to climb on. As he was putting his full weight forward his hands slipped and he face-planted onto Reigen’s back. His master was thrown off balance and had to claw at the edge of the steps to keep from flying head-first down the stairs.
“Sorry!” said Mob as he clung to Reigen’s shirt.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” said Reigen breathlessly. He pulled himself back upright and clasped his hands behind him, forming a seat for Mob. He lifted him onto his back as he got to his feet.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Mmhm,” said Mob.
“Good.” He turned and began marching back up the steps. “Just warn me if you’re going to puke.”
As small as he was, Mob was still extra weight. Reigen had to resist taking the stairs at a faster pace to get it over with. That would only worsen the nausea. Plus they still had no railing and he couldn’t afford a misstep. Traffic was slowing down at this time of day so it was quiet, and neither of them spoke much as they traveled up. Reigen focused on his feet to make sure each step was safe. Mob, apart from being naturally quiet, just felt lousy. Finally they stepped onto flat ground again and Reigen stopped.
“How’re you doing?” he asked his passenger between breaths.
Mob’s response was a quiet groan. Dang.
“That good, eh?”
“Sorry,” came the next mumble.
Reigen sighed lightly. “It’s alright. You just relax up there.” He adjusted his grip and kept walking.
He had only been to Mob’s house, or near it, a handful of times but he remembered the address. They had a ways to go before reaching it, but Reigen didn’t mention this as he began talking to his student. He talked about the case they had just finished and how they had never been in any real danger. Reigen was there after all, but Mob had handled the situation well given that and that he was sure to get even better with experience and guidance. Then he talked about more inconsequential things, like the weather and traffic and what he would have to do for dinner tonight. Mob answered with sounds that he was listening at first but soon stopped responding. It wasn’t unusual. He was always a better listener than a talker. Reigen thought nothing of it until he felt something heavy fall against his neck. His walking slowed.
“Mob?” he asked.
The weight shifted and he felt the small body on his back let out a long, relaxed breath. When he craned his head back, Reigen could just make out the edge of Mob’s sleeping face resting against his back. He grinned.
Reigen leaned forward and tried to adjust the boy’s position in case he slipped in his slumber. It wasn’t necessary, as his hands were determined to cling to Reigen’s shirt. Mob slid forward so his head was now balanced more comfortably on his mentor’s shoulder and Reigen continued walking. He was tired by this point and his arms were aching, but if his boy wanted to sleep all the way home, he’d let him.
Reigen stopped. ‘His boy’? Where did that come from? True, Mob was his student. That had been decided rather quickly. But it wasn’t like he was his legal guardian or anything. Was…was that a weird thing to think?
Briefly, Reigen remembered the sight of Mob after the spirit had been exorcised that day. Still and white as he lay on the ground, surrounded by destruction. Reigen’s stomach twisted at the thought.
He turned his head to try to see the child he was carrying. He could only see half of his face still, but there it was, peaceful and resting. He exhaled a sleepy breath and Reigen could feel it brush his face. Reigen let his gaze drop back to the sidewalk. His chest was warm and aching at the same time. He wouldn’t admit it, but he actually felt like crying. Screw legality. Yes, it was his boy. His student. His Mob. And he swore, as he started moving again, that he’d never let that happen to him again.