Chapter Text
Fingers trembling just as they used to, Serizawa brought up a hand to comb through his hair, and was surprised to be greeted with those strangely familiar soft brown curls - overgrown, slightly damp from sweat, and, apparently, quite tangled.
He winced as his fingers accidentally rammed through a knot, leaving a patch of his scalp momentarily sore.
Funny.
For some reason, he couldn’t remember the last time his hair gave him trouble.
Looking down, he observed through sore and squinting eyes that the fabric of his clothes had been worn thin - so much so, that it was a wonder the stitching hadn’t yet fallen apart. Upon further inspection, he discovered that much of the clothing he had on was riddled with lint, and what appeared to be old staining that either hadn’t come out in the wash, or hadn’t even been tended to in the first place.
Tentatively lifting a sleeve up to his nose to examine the scent, one sharp whiff was enough to sustain his curiosity as his nostrils were immediately hit with the scent of self-neglect.
He could barely place a single note, the smell of several years’ worth of apathy and disgust stacked high enough to intoxicate.
It smelt sour, putrid even - but most sickeningly of all, it radiated the aura of a man who had given up a long, long time ago, much to his alarm.
No - why was he alarmed? He’d been like this for as long as he could remember. Why question things now?
As pathetic as it felt to admit to it, this trashy excuse of a room was undoubtedly his own, wasn’t it?
These walls, his self-serving safety net?
He’d always been like this.
He couldn’t quite place it yet, but Serizawa felt as though he wasn’t really home.
He belonged here - of course he did.
Just not right now.
Right now he needed to get out.
And that was when it hit him.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Everything hurt.
Not in a painful way, but a numb one. It was the kind of pain that would consume you quietly whilst you lay waiting for something, or someone, that you knew deep down wasn't really going to arrive.
Serizawa knew that such things, or people, even, didn't exist, just the same way he knew that miracles were synonymous with fairytales - yet for reasons unknown continued to play the naive game of waiting.
It wasn't comforting. It didn't give him hope. It was just something to cling onto - an excuse not to go.
He wouldn’t call it hope, though, he decided, because it didn't make him optimistic. In fact it didn't encourage him to achieve anything at all.
It didn't help him to see the fabled ‘light at the end of the tunnel’.
Sometimes, he didn't see anything at all - just sparks of consciousness flashing violently before his raw and weary eyes as his head would spin in directions he couldn't even name.
It ached, but it didn't burn.
It didn't stab, or slice or bite, no, it felt calmer, slower, like a soothing suffocation, like the inevitable enveloping of fate’s palms around his neck.
It'd feel warm once it was all over, he decided.
His powers would claim him where and when they chose, eventually.
And it would feel right, or so he tried to tell himself.
Eventually, he tried to tell himself.
The confinement of his room wasn’t as comforting as it had once been.
He’d felt the heaving burden of his psychic powers constantly hanging in the air, some days more so than others.
Today, however, it remained a thick and dense fog that thrashed about, shaking the walls and causing the ceiling to crumble inwards.
Before long, fluttering flakes of plaster had soon turned to larger, heavier chunks of debris, now seemingly launching themselves at Serizawa whilst it rained horizontally, glass shards shooting across the room from the window which had apparently long been shattered.
The lights flickered and swung frantically, leaving Serizawa unable to tell which blinks were his own, as harsh piercing rays began to forcefully strike the more familiar darkness.
Serizawa liked the dark; it was easier on his eyes.
He could only stand the light when it was just a few relentless streaks of gentle white sun slipping in, politely interrupting the dim greyness of the room.
Filtered, through the gaps in the blinds.
Natural. Peaceful.
Familiar.
It was the vibrant, lively type, the type that that invited itself in, that rendered him nauseous - the type that he was seeing now, glaring back at him in shapes and colours that didn’t even exist.
The type that came along disguised as hope, only to shine down on him intensely and leave in disgust.
The type of light that was forced on him, the type that came accompanied with a sharp and invasive knocking of another person claiming to “help”.
Knocking, like the agitating sound he could just about tune out right now if only he focussed hard enough…
But the knocking quickly grew into a vicious pounding that blasted the door straight off its hinges, sent straight into the whirlwind of dust that crawled up his walls like vermin.
His walls, which began to merge into one another, getting closer, closer, piles of something he couldn’t quite name growing, catching up to him, crawling higher and higher until they stood towering over him.
The dust was filling the back of his throat now, as Serizawa was gagged with the taste of years of neglected responsibility, each particle a missed opportunity, choking him with the burden of regret that he had been attempting to outrun for years.
It sickened him to the core.
Holding up a shaky palm, he attempted to mitigate the destruction that was happening before his very eyes.
“Focus…”
He held his eyes squeezed shut and concentrated all his energy into slowing the storm, or at least calming it as much as he could, but his efforts seemed to be in vain as his powers were completely deaf to his authority. This, Serizawa knew, more than anyone, wasn’t supposed to happen.
His aura grew, stronger, harsher, blinding him, so definitely his own, yet so pathetically beyond his control. This was not supposed to happen.
His knees began to sink into the floorboards beneath him - cold wooden slabs that used to ground him now swung back and forth as Serizawa grew seasick with the weight of his own untameable energy.
“Get… up…” he urged himself, his voice rendered nearly unrecognisable with the dryness of his lungs.
He swallowed.
“Get up. Get up. Get up.” he began pleading to himself - to his body - to cooperate with the will of his mind for once, begging for a shift in the tides, an opening, a break in all this mess, an opportunity - a chance to save himself.
An escape.
Heart pounding, throbbing, aching, he scrambled for something, anything-
“...Get up,”
Huh.
The scent of hot coffee was enough to wake Serizawa - or perhaps it was the soft thud of the mug against his table that pulled him back into consciousness, eyelids fluttering reluctantly open as he flinched and hissed slightly through his nostrils at the abrupt change in lighting. After blinking away the initial haziness of his mid afternoon sleep, he was greeted with piles of arbitrary paperwork that he swore he was going to complete, half stacked beneath his head as, apparently, a makeshift pillow, (when did that happen?), the other half sprawled out across his desk in a state of partial completeness.
The moment he was hit with the realisation that he had dozed off on the job, Serizawa jolted awake, before he was then hit with immediate regret as he recoiled at the painful stiffness in the back of his neck.
“Jeez. Talk about unprofessional,” he thought to himself, rubbing at the ache whilst trying and failing to stifle a yawn.
Luckily, it seemed he hadn’t particularly tarnished the reputation of Spirits and Such just yet, the customer in the room far too preoccupied with bargaining with Reigen to be concerned about Serizawa’s disorientation.
Grateful for the distraction, he scrambled to retrieve the random few documents that had scattered themselves along the carpet and whipped a spare pen out of the pocket of his suit jacket, scribbling away just as he had been doing prior to his unforeseen nap.
It was pretty much standard procedure by this point, and so Serizawa’s fingers moved like clockwork - he already knew all too well what boxes to tick, which sections to ignore, and word for word how to respond to each prompt.
This kind of work wasn’t short of excruciating. Not because it was difficult, but rather because it was so repetitive it became difficult to stay on track.
The nonsensical exchanges between his boss and the customers soon became his entertainment, eyes darting up from his page every so often in order to take in the situation a little more, their endless back-and-forth chatter filling the room like fireflies.
If there was one thing Serizawa admired about his boss, it was his determination.
Reigen simply radiated it - matter of fact, he embodied it. It shone straight through to his core.
And right now, he seemed as determined as ever, the glint in his eye not fading for a moment as he argued his way through why a 20% returning customer discount was more than generous.
“I hear you! Really! I do… but thirty’s just pushing it, is it not?” Reigen proclaimed from behind an unfaltering customer service smile. He’ll have to work on his own at some point, Serizawa pointed out to himself in a silent reminder - Reigen did always say that presentation was key.
The customer, however - a woman seemingly in her late thirties - absolutely wasn’t buying it. She seemed to know the exorcism business quite well, or at least, well enough to know that Reigen was absolutely guilty of overcharging. She eyed him suspiciously before responding through a clenched jaw, “Well! Not necessari-”
“Listen,” Reigen cut her off.
Yikes. Not a good move, boss… But then again, he was known for being a peoples’ person. Any bad move he made, he probably knew exactly what he was doing; it was one of those things about him that fascinated Serizawa, and one of the skills that he was eager to learn. It was also one of the main reasons why he made a point of tuning into these conversations in the first place.
“I wasn’t done.”
Now how, on god’s green earth, was he planning on getting himself out of this one…? This had to be some kind of stunt - after all, Reigen had the patience of a saint when it came to most people!
“How aboooout.. twenty-five - and you keep it a secret between the both of us? Twenty-five percent off, take it or leave it - we really, really aren’t able to go any higher than that though, I’m afraid. You do want to support the local small businesses of Seasoning City, don’t you?”
There it was again, that natural charm that you simply couldn’t compete with.
Reigen sure is suited for this job, Serizawa noted, turning over a page.
The lady opposite Reigen sighed, entirely unamused, in defeat, giving him a cold stare as she fumbled around in her handbag for a few moments, counting out the agreed, twenty-five percent discounted fee before slamming the bills onto the desk, sliding them over to Reigen on the other side, all the while not breaking that intimidating eye contact.
“Keep the change. You seem like you need it,” she commented passive-aggressively.
“Wow. Way to treat someone you didn’t even know a couple of hours ago,” Reigen muttered almost silently into his fist, disguised as a half-choke, half-cough.
Out loud, however, he opted for, “How kind! I’ll make sure it goes towards a bonus for my valuable student! You know what they say - always pay it forward! It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, might I add,” stacking the bills neatly into the cash register before tucking it away back into his desk drawer.
He really did have a comeback for everything, Serizawa observed between sips of coffee. He shuddered at the bittersweetness of the warm liquid sliding down his throat.
Reigen knew exactly how Serizawa liked his coffee, of course - it was one of those things you just had to know about your coworkers. Still, it didn’t change the fact that Serizawa never really took much of a liking to the drink anyway, only really forced into picking up the habit after the demands of exam season at night school.
The woman gave Reigen one final glare before storming out of the office building as calmly as possible, making sure to slam the door as she went, softly enough that it couldn’t be blamed on ill intentions, but loudly enough that it was noticeable. The sound echoed within the room’s walls before the two were then submerged into a comfortable, albeit short-lived silence.
“Ah, Mob! Just the kid I’ve been waiting for!” Reigen exclaimed, springing out of his office chair in an enthusiastic rush to welcome the middle schooler who had just walked through the door.
“I’m here too,” Dimple spat, following shortly behind Shigeo whilst giving Reigen a disapproving eyeroll.
The vibrant green cloud was floating about in the air as per usual whilst bobbing up and down like a fish who forgot how to swim.
Mostly having learned by now to avoid the antagonistic spirit, Reigen paid him no mind, so as not to make the grave mistake of allowing himself to come across as provoked, instead turning to greet his student.
Judging by his sports wear, Shigeo must’ve headed straight over from his club, cheeks slightly tinged pink from running laps around the track with the body improvement club, his typically tidy, well-kept bowl cut now disheveled and frizzy.
In fact, he looked almost about ready to pass out right in the doorway, which Reigen picked up on instantly, peeling his heavy gym bag out of his grasp and guiding him steadily over to one of the couches on the other side of the room.
It was rare to see an esper as powerful as Shigeo so tired out, he noted. He supposed it was simply one of those things that united all human beings alike, psychic powers or not.
Serizawa glanced up at the clock in mild disbelief - it really was that late in the day already, it seemed.
“How’s my favourite apprentice doing?” Reigen asked, retrieving a bottle of water from a cabinet behind him, chucking it in Shigeo’s direction.
“Good- but - aren't I your only apprentice -?” he replied, genuinely puzzled.
“Mob, mob, mob… you really believe that a genius psychic such as yours truly, hasn’t had experience in training other pupils before? I’ve had many like you in the past, actually, matter of fact, they all went down as some of the greatest psychics in modern history,” Reigen announced arrogantly, his bold statements accompanied with animated hand gestures in an attempt to illustrate his point more clearly.
It seemed to work, though, as his disciple was quickly left nodding his head seriously, even narrowing his eyes in deep consideration.
“Aaaand!” Reigen added, beaming with pride, “I have absolutely no doubt you’ll end up succeeding them all. Take my word for it.”
He placed a reassuring hand onto the child’s shoulder, giving him a firm nod before eventually turning to Serizawa, who tried his best to look as though he wasn’t already staring. Having been informed by numerous different people that he had a tendency to intimidate at times, and now being in charge of customer service, he made it his personal mission to craft as friendly a persona as he possibly could - it was the least he could contribute to Spirits and Such, after all.
And so as difficult as it was at times, he stopped staring, and snatched his gaze back whenever he had to.
And so instead, he began absentmindedly clicking his pen whilst sifting through forms which had already been filled out a hundred times over.
“Oh, uh, Serizawa, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Reigen interrupted from across the room, snapping his fingers all of a sudden, “are those papers done with yet? No rush, of course.”
Serizawa blinked at the pile on his desk, mind going blank for a beat.
“Ah… Yep - all right here, everything’s been checked and it should all be up to date now, ” he responded to the other man, hedging his sentences for the underlying fear of having missed something, somewhere, despite his double and even triple checking, until he grew nauseous with the current of paper, swishing in and swashing out, making his head spin.
“Excellent! That’s all that needs doing for today - sorry Mob - I didn’t mean to drag you in without a job, but, you know how things go…” he turned to Shigeo apologetically, whilst elaborating his reasoning.
“...A couple of clients booked in for an afternoon slot which should’ve technically been happening riiiiight about now, but, well, let’s just say the evil spirit had other ideas, it seems. Needless to say, I took care of it all. Not to worry!”
It was true - Serizawa had witnessed fragments of that situation in between elongated blinks whilst trying to stay awake that morning. It definitely wasn’t the first time that last-minute demands were made pretty much on the spot.
“Running a business like this sure is unpredictable work,” Shigeo remarked, seeming more fascinated than disappointed. The apparent futility of his current presence wasn’t discouraging him in any way, to Reigen’s relief.
Though, he did still feel an ounce of guilt for making the poor kid walk all the way out to the office on a school evening when he could’ve easily been home by now.
“Sure is,” confirmed the man with a soft grin, ruffling the child’s short black hair affectionately, making it stick up in all directions, “Anywho… how does ramen sound - courtesy of your benevolent mentor, of course?”
Shigeo perked up at the mention of food, nodding in approval. He didn’t want to admit to it, but his stomach had been rumbling all throughout his final period at school, and so the proposal filled him with relief.
Reigen turned to his remaining employee, who was currently occupied with filing away the final few bits of work from the day into the small office cabinet. He raised an eyebrow.
“You coming along too?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure. I’d quite like that actually,” replied Serizawa, grateful for the invitation, (and honestly, in dire need of the fuel), his lips forming a faint smile.
“Thank you,” he added, shyly.