Chapter Text
It’s a long night.
But then again, Reigen supposes that was guaranteed from the beginning of this whole debacle.
He somehow, someway, manages to make it to his apartment, manages to open the damned door with a wrist twisted just a couple degrees past reasonable and a bent key, and manages to transfer Mob to his bed, without tripping and falling flat on his face.
It’s a challenge.
The entire time, Reigen is wary of possibly jostling Mob, and waking him. He isn’t sure what being forcibly awoken while drugged might feel like, but he imagines it’d be unpleasant.
As it turns out, Reigen has nothing to worry about- drugged sleep is not natural.
When Reigen begins trying to maneuver Mob off of his back and onto his bed, he realizes that there isn’t a thing in the world he could have done to wake the kid.
Mob does not stir in the slightest, even as Reigen cannot lower him as gently as he’d like, and Mob’s head bounces slightly against the old mattress. And when Reigen slips his student’s shoes off, and slowly pulls the top sheet out from under Mob’s body to cover him, there isn’t the slightest bit of resistance, allowing him to manipulate his student’s limbs with ease.
It makes Reigen’s skin crawl.
(He pushes any of the more sinister implications of that to the back of his mind for the time being.)
He leaves the door to his bedroom open when he moves into the living area and collapses against his dining table, his legs finally giving out on him after carrying a ninety pound kid for well over ten blocks.
Bile is rising in the back of his throat, and his knees are shaking as Reigen sags in the chair, and sets his forehead against the cool, cheap wood of the table, letting his eyes squeeze shut for a moment.
The night flashes before his eyes- Mob, small and childlike, the traffickers, the fight, the bartender, the red and blue lights flashing in the distance.
There are undoubtedly bruises forming across his knuckles.
Reigen feels exhausted.
But he cannot imagine sleeping.
Finally, after a few minutes, he manages to pull himself to his feet and sets to work making a cup of tea.
While it’s brewing, he wanders out onto the small, Juliet balcony of his apartment, and lights up a cigarette.
He tries not to smoke as often nowadays; tries to keep the smell of nicotine off his wallpaper. But at times he’ll still indulge in a morning smoke, or strike up after a particularly long night.
The chemical burn of the smoke in his lungs clears his head, and calms his jumping nerves to a degree. The feeling of ash on his tongue is a bitter relief- it tastes like disappointment, but cleans his pallet nonetheless.
By the time the tea has finished steeping the cigarette is down to little more than a nub, and Reigen tosses it out the window. He doesn’t want the smell lingering around the apartment when Mob wakes up.
The tea washes away the ash, and leaves the rest.
His suit smells like smoke.
After the tea has also helped him unwind a bit, Reigen jumps into the shower, tossing his clothes off to the side to dump into a hamper later.
He checks on Mob after he redresses.
His student has not woken up. Reigen honestly isn’t sure how long drugs like this are supposed to last, or if they will even work on Mob the same way they would on most.
Reigen takes the next hour or so to research.
It’s mostly unhelpful, given that he hasn’t a clue what Mob was actually drugged with. Was it GHB? Rohypnol? Some other tranquilizer, or just a run-of-the-mill sleeping pill ground up into powder? Was it a mix of different substances?
At the very least, Reigen can probably rule out Ketamine, given that Mob could actually move, and didn’t appear to be hallucinating.
But he still has no way of knowing the severity of the drug, or when Mob will wake up, or if he really should take him to a hospital, or if-
Mob is still unconscious.
Reigen decides that for the time being he won’t freak out. It won’t do either of them any good. So long as Mob is still breathing, and his heart rate is still regular, then it should just be a waiting game.
Besides, he can at least hope that experienced traffickers would know how to drug someone without kill them.
Reigen decides that it’s best if he simply resigns himself to keeping watch tonight, and turns on the television in the living room, laying down on the couch, and setting an alarm for an hour.
That’s how he spends the night- sleeping on the couch, and waking up intermittently to check on Mob, who is still unconscious, and has not moved so much as a millimeter from where Reigen placed him.
Reigen hopes dearly that Mob does not wake up with a crick in his neck.
(Reigen hopes dearly that Mob actually wakes up.)
Reigen is woken up for the fourth time by his alarm, at three thirty in the morning.
This time however, whenever he walks into his bedroom, he finds that Mob has shifted, and is curled into a tight ball on the bed.
Reigen pauses in the doorway, blinking blearily.
Ah.
He isn’t sure what this means. Is the drug wearing off, and the kid simply shifted in his sleep? Or is he awake now?
If so, he hopes Mob hasn’t been awake for too long.
Reigen approaches the bed cautiously, but lets the floorboards creak under his weight, and keeps himself in Mob’s possible line of vision as to not startle him.
Mob’s eyes are open, and he is staring out blankly at the opposite wall.
He looks… well he looks more like himself than he did at the bar, but Reigen likes to think he’s gotten rather good at reading his apprentice’s more nuanced expressions over the years.
And well- Mob looks kind of freaked out.
“Hey, Mob,” Reigen calls softly, as he reaches his student.
Mob doesn’t seem to focus in on him.
Reigen wonders if the drug has really worn off or not. A few websites did list general unawareness as a possible side effect.
“Mob,” he repeats, a bit louder this time, and reaches out a hand.
He stops just short of laying a hand on Mob’s head. He doesn’t know if Mob really wants to be touched right now, after everything that just happened.
Instead, he finds himself crouching down, coming eye level with his apprentice.
“Hey,” he says, “you with me, kiddo?”
Mob blinks, slowly, and his eyes slide towards Reigen.
Well, it’s progress.
“Okay, do you think you could answer a few questions for me real quick?” Reigen asks. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
It’s probably not necessary, sources only listed temporary short term memory as a possible side effect, but still, Reigen wants to be sure there are no long term repercussions. Not to mention, given the general disorientation Mob is likely feeling, it might help to ground him a bit more in reality.
Mob nods slowly. It looks like it takes tremendous effort, but Reigen sighs in relief.
“Okay- okay… Can you tell me your name?” Reigen asks, starting simple.
Mob stares at him, mouth moving subtly, trying to form words for a moment, before he croaks out, “Mob.”
Reigen gives a breathy laugh at that. “Yeah, but I mean your real name, okay?”
Mob’s lips purse, and it takes him a second, but finally he says, “Kageyama… Kageyama Shigeo.”
Reigen nods. “Okay, good job. Can you tell me how old you are?”
The answer is a bit quicker this time. “Fourteen.”
“Can you tell me the names of your family?”
“Ritsu, H-Hiroka, and Toichi,” Mob manages to stutter out.
“Good,” Reigen says, and he doesn’t realize that he’s ruffling Mob’s hair until a moment too late.
But Mob does not tense under his touch, so Reigen takes that as a sign that this is alright.
“Do you remember what happened?” Reigen finally dares to ask.
Mob’s eyes roam back to the blank wall over Reigen’s shoulder, and his hands twine around each other over and over again, in a pattern Reigen can’t discern.
It takes him a second, but eventually, Mob begins, saying, “We were on an exorcism job. And we split up to look for the ghost. I… I found it in a place called the Bear’s Tooth. It was throwing bottles at some people, and I exorcised it. Then they-the people- came up to me and were saying thank you, and asking me how I did it, and they seemed really nice. They gave me a glass of milk, and… and everything feels kind of fuzzy after that. I felt weird, but not in a bad way. They were nice, and I was having fun. And then you were there, Master, and told me to wait outside, and I started feeling wrong.”
Mob’s brow is furrowed, and Reigen doesn’t interrupt him, just listens.
Mob meets his gaze then, and there’s something in his expression that Reigen can’t quite read.
“I think… I think they did something that wasn’t nice,” Mob says, and his voice is quiet, and fragile around the edges, and Reigen feels something in his chest twist.
Reigen pull his hand back, propping it against his knee, and looks away for a moment, closing his eyes.
He hates this.
But Mob deserves an answer.
“Yeah, Mob,” Reigen says with a sigh. “They did something that wasn’t very nice.”
Mob doesn’t say anything.
Reigen rolls his shoulders, and shifts, his knee going numb from having stayed crouched like this.
“Are you tired?” Reigen asks.
It seems like a silly question, but Reigen doesn’t really know if artificial sleep really feels all the restful. The one and only time he had to be put under for a minor surgery, Reigen primarily remembers being incredibly groggy and miserable after waking up.
“No,” Mob says.
“Have you been awake for long?”
For all he knows, Mob has been lying here, curled in on himself, for nearly an hour.
“I don’t know,” Mob replies. “I don’t think so. But I’m not sure. When I woke up I couldn’t move.”
Reigen blinks in surprise at that, mouth curling downwards.
“I’m not sure if I was really awake though,” Mob continues, “because when I opened my eyes, I thought I saw the man who took Ritsu that day in the alley.”
Reigen’s breath stutters in his throat.
“There’s no one else here, Mob,” Reigen says. “I promise, if there was I would know. I’d sense them.”
It’s a lie, but- damn it- the last thing he wants right now is for Mob to doubt that he’s safe here.
“I know, Master,” Mob says. “I… It felt kind of like I woke up again, after that. Except I was already awake. But I could move, and Koyama was gone.”
Koyama. That was the name Mob had given when he’d described how Ritsu had been kidnapped by Claw a couple weeks back. Reigen can’t recall having seen anyone fitting his description that night at the seventh division lab.
Reigen’s very certain that he would not want to meet the man.
It sounds like sleep paralysis. Reigen’s not sure if it was a side effect of the drug, or if perhaps Mob is simply more susceptible to that sort of thing.
“Do you want something to drink?” Reigen asks, changing the subject.
Mob pauses, his mind taking a moment to adjust to the shift in topic, before he says, “Yes, please.”
“Okay.” Reigen stands, his knees creaking from the movement, and he offers a hand down to Mob. “There’s tea, milk, I think I have hot chocolate somewhere, and coffee, but that may not be the best idea…”
Mob takes his hand, and unfurls from himself, finding his feet slowly. His mouth opens for a moment, and it looks like he is about to say something, when he closes it again, and looks down at the floor.
He wavers only slightly when he’s finally on his feet, and Reigen takes that as a good sign that whatever the traffickers had given him is well and truly wearing off.
“Tea is fine,” Mob says finally, arms wrapping around himself. He sounds small, and a bit reluctant.
Reigen frowns, but doesn’t press.
Instead he just says, “Alright then,” and leads Mob into the living area, keeping on hand on his student’s back, and helping him into a chair at the dining table.
As Reigen begins fluttering about the kitchen, making a new pot of tea, his mind is abuzz with all the questions he wants to ask, all the things he wants to say. How is he supposed to explain this to a kid, to Mob? How can he make him understand without making him afraid?
And besides that, he needs to be able to ask Mob what exactly happened before he arrived, and a conversation like that isn’t exactly easy to start.
As Reigen waits for the water to boil he begins gathering fixings for their tea, and pauses, when he opens up his fridge to grab cream.
Milk.
That’s right. In his frenzy Reigen had nearly forgotten. Mob usually prefers milk. Especially as a comfort drink of sorts. Reigen’s a bit surprised he didn’t request it.
Then he feels like an idiot.
Because of course- of course Mob might not be eager to request milk right now.
Reigen feels the yawning gap in his chest widen.
He pulls out the milk as well, and sets to warming it.
When he finally finishes, he sets down two cups of tea, one for Mob, one for himself, and a glass of warm milk.
Mob eyes the milk warily as it’s set on the table.
“I wanted some milk,” Reigen explains with a shrug. “It helps soothe the nerves a bit. I figured we could share it if you wanted.”
Mob’s gaze does not leave the glass, and he seems a bit shaky when he reaches for his tea. He doesn’t comment.
It saddens Reigen a bit, but he’s not surprised.
He sits across from his student and takes a sip of his own tea- only to have it scald the roof of his mouth. He just barely manages to not spit it out, and coughs putting a hand to his throat.
He reaches for the milk and takes quick swig. It’s warm, but not hot, and the cream soothes his throat.
Mob watches him closely, his eyes never leaving the glass of milk.
Reigen sighs with relief, setting the glass back down.
“That’s better,” he says, sinking back into his chair.
Perhaps it wasn’t how he intended, but he hopes the message is still clear to Mob.
It’s probably silly to care so much if his student is bothered by a glass of milk, but Reigen doesn’t want Mob to be afraid of things. Especially not things he likes. And especially not because some asshole used it as a way to hurt him.
So this is the best solution Reigen has. Extend the offer, don’t pressure, and show that it’s safe. There’s no guarantee that it’ll work, but he hopes.
They sit there, for another few or so minutes, in relative silence, Mob sipping his tea dutifully, and Reigen waiting for his to cool.
Eventually though, Mob sets down his tea, and eyes the milk, considering. He glances up at Reigen.
Reigen just makes a dismissive ‘go ahead’ gesture, and begins sipping at his tea again. But he watches over the rim of his cup as Mob carefully picks up the glass, tentative, as if he believes it might shatter in his hands or come to life and bite him, before slowly taking a sip.
It’s small, and Mob sets the glass back down immediately, but when nothing negative seems to occur, he’s encouraged.
“Good?” Reigen asks, and he tries to keep his tone light.
Mob nods. “Mm-hmm.”
“Good.” Reigen smiles, satisfied.
There is a lull, and Mob picks up the milk again, still uncertain, but less afraid. Reigen waits until he seems mostly comfortable to talk again. He rolls the question around in his head, trying to figure out the best way to broach the topic.
“Mob,” Reigen begins, catching his apprentice’s attention. Mob looks up, eyes wide. “I- when you were in the bar-” Reigen hesitates. “After you drank the milk. Did those guys do anything… weird?”
He cringes internally at the question. He doesn’t know how to ask this properly, doesn’t know how to be clear without being blunt or insensitive.
Some part of him wants to just curl away from the awful thought, to dismiss it entirely. It makes him wish that he had enough in his stomach to actually throw up.
But making sure Mob is okay, really and truly okay, is far more important than his own discomfort.
Mob’s nose scrunches up at the question in confusion, and he meets Reigen’s eyes. “I don’t know what you mean. Weird how?”
Reigen tries to hold back a flinch. “Just- weird things. Did they do anything- to you or around you- that made you feel wrong. Or bad. Anything that you didn’t understand, or don’t remember that well maybe?”
Reigen considers just shoving his head into his toilet bowl and leaving it there.
Mob looks even more lost and uncomfortable now, his fingers curling and uncurling around the glass of milk.
“Do anything to me?” Mob asks. “Like what?”
Reigen grits his teeth. “Like- touching. Did any of them try to grab you, or-”
“Oh,” Mob says, expression clearing slightly. “You mean did they do anything sexual?”
Reigen chokes at his student’s bluntness. He’s glad he doesn’t have a mouthful of tea this time at least.
“No,” Mob continues. “They weren’t… I don’t think they were like that. I’m pretty sure I would have realized if they were. Our parents taught me and Ritsu how to know if someone is being creepy.”
Reigen kind of wants to slam his head into the table, repeatedly, but that catches his attention. “Really?”
He hadn’t figured- given how naive Mob tends to be, he sort of just figured talks like that had been largely skipped over in the Kageyama household.
“Yeah,” Mob says, tilting his head to the side, and his tone seems to ask, ‘wouldn’t that be obvious?’ “I mean, they wanted us to know how to avoid people like that. That’s why they were okay with me working for you- they trusted me to know if something wasn’t right.”
Reigen feels like he might sink through his chair, into the floor, and all the way into the piping of his apartment building, his face burning hot.
Technically, ‘I figured you probably weren’t a pedophile’ isn’t a bad thing to hear, and it makes sense for Mob’s parents to be concerned about their son visiting a strange man. But still, it’s not exactly something you want to have to be screened for either.
“Well,” Reigen says, voice strained, “I guess I’m glad to hear that. On both accounts.”
That bit of information suddenly casts Ritsu’s behavior towards most adults in a new light.
(Reigen supposes everyone interprets life lessons differently.)
Reigen clears his throat, taking a big gulp of his tea to try to organize his thoughts.
“You’re sure though,” Reigen presses as he sets the cup down, “that they didn’t do anything?”
Mob frowns and considers the question more carefully this time. “I’m pretty sure, yes. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything. It’s fuzzy, and a lot of details are unclear. But I still mostly know what happened. They mainly told jokes and played games. I don’t remember them doing anything that made me uncomfortable. And the man, the one who was sitting next to me, I think he only ever grabbed my arm.”
Reigen nods slowly, taking that in. It’s hard to be sure how accurate Mob’s account of the situation is. He was drugged, and he didn’t notice when the trafficker’s insistence and behavior turned suspicious. But still, it seems unlikely that the bar members would have done anything to begin with- given that they probably weren’t too interested in anything besides selling him off. And Reigen imagines that anything more overtly nefarious on their part would be memorable enough for Mob, especially if he really does know what to watch out for.
So.
“Alright then,” Reigen says, and he drains the last of his tea.
It feels as if a huge weight has lifted off his chest.
“Why do you ask, Master?” Mob asks, and the question seems tentative. “Were they…”
Reigen sighs.
Right. He still needs to explain all of… this, to Mob.
Better to do it now than put it off.
“They slipped something in your drink,” Reigen says.
Mob looks down at the milk in his hands. “Like… like a drug?”
Reigen grimaces. “Yes. It’s… it’s usually a tactic used in assaults. So I just. I wanted to be sure.”
Mob’s shoulders hunch, and he seems to curl in on himself. “Why would they do something like that?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that makes Reigen wish he could barge back into that bar and beat the people responsible for it into the ground a second time.
Instead Reigen lets his eyes close, and ignores the pressing itch for a cigarette. “It disorients people,” he says. “Makes them easy to manipulate or take advantage of. They were trying to knock you out without actually attacking you.”
“But why?” Mob asks again, and there’s a twinge of desperation there.
Reigen sighs, and sets his elbows on the table, his foot tapping incessantly. “They were traffickers. Human traffickers. They kidnap and then sell people on the black market. But with your powers they couldn’t just nab you like they would most other kids.”
Mob’s brow furrows at that, and he fidgets with the edge of his shirt. “Human traffickers… I thought the black market was for things like drugs.”
Reigen’s mouth tastes like ash. He might as well have smoked another cigarette.
He doesn’t know how to explain something like this. Doesn’t know how to explain children forced to work in dangerous factories throughout other parts of Asia. Doesn’t know how to discuss services advertising young girls, girls Mob’s age, in school uniforms to sleazy business men.
Perhaps Mob deserves to know, but damn it all, that doesn’t mean Reigen wants to be the one to tell him.
So he tries to stick to the basics.
“Human trafficking is,” he pauses, eyes roaming to the ceiling as he hums in thought. “You know how slavery worked right? Back when it was legal?”
Mob nods hesitantly.
“It’s basically that,” Reigen explains. “They just do it illegally now.”
Mob is shaking, and his head is bowed so that Reigen can no longer see his eyes.
He hates this.
“They-the people at the bar-were traffickers,” Reigen continues, and he tries to shake the hoarse sound from his voice. “They had a base of some kind set up there. Probably meant to lure in women, children, and the poor. I think when they saw your powers… they figured if they kidnapped you then they could sell you off to someone who would want to use them for a lot of money.
The breath Mob draws is ragged and raw, and for a terrible moment, Reigen thinks he might actually sob.
“That’s a horrible thing to want to do,” Mob chokes out.
Reigen stands up from his chair, and it squeaks across the tile floor, causing both of them to flinch at the unexpected noise. But he crosses to Mob quickly, and drops down in the chair beside him, pulling it closer so that he can set a hand on his student’s shoulder.
“It is,” Reigen agrees softly.
There really isn’t any other way to put it.
“I thought they were nice,” Mob says. He sounds so lost.
“I know,” Reigen says, squeezing Mob’s shoulder. “But sometimes people aren’t always what they pretend to be.”
He tries to ignore the vicious little voice in his head that spits out, You would know.
Mob does not look at him. Reigen gently presses at his shoulder, turning Mob’s body towards him just slightly, and his student finally raises his eyes to meet Reigen’s.
“Mob,” Reigen starts, and he keeps his expression serious, but open, “I need you to know- this isn’t your fault, alright?” Mob’s breath catches. “It may sound silly, but I need you to know that. This isn’t your fault. The only ones at fault are those people back at the bar.”
Mob’s breathing still seems a bit too shallow, a bit too wet, but he nods, swallowing thickly.
“Are-” Mob glances down at the table, “what if they try- try to-”
“They won’t,” Reigen says bluntly. “They’re going to jail for what they’ve done. They won’t be able to hurt you, or anyone else, again.”
Mob’s eyes flick back to Reigen’s for only a moment, before they are glued to the table again. A frown tugs at his lips.
Reigen lets his hand drop, and he sits in the chair, his forearms slung across his knees as he watches Mob carefully, not pressing, but hoping to provide a kind of reassuring presence. He likes to think he’s gotten rather good at this over the years.
“Would it have worked?” Mob asks, seemingly out of the blue. Reigen blinks dumbly, but before he can ask, Mob continues, “Their plan I mean. Would… would they have been able to stop me from using my powers. Like the people at Claw did?”
Ah.
To be completely honest Reigen hadn’t even considered that in the heat of the moment. He supposes it’s entirely possible that the traffickers would have had no way to contain Mob, and his student would have gotten himself out of the situation somewhere down the line.
“I don’t know,” Reigen replies honestly. “Maybe not. But I have no way of knowing. I don’t know what they might have done once you fell unconscious. Or what they might have had on hand. But still. There was no reason for it to have to come to that. It’s better that they were stopped before they could have the chance to do anything.”
Mob nods. “Thank you, Master,” he says, his voice quiet.
Reigen ruffles his hair, before leaning back in the chair. “Nothing to thank me for, kiddo. It’s my responsibility as your mentor to make sure you’re safe,” he says. “I’m just doing my job.”
The look Mob gives him at those words is so familiar, so shining with gratitude and admiration, that it makes something in Reigen’s throat catch and something in his chest twist, and he has to look away.
He clears his throat, and tries to steer the conversation to something less vulnerable. “Still,” Reigen continues, and he switches his tone to something sterner, slipping into the role of studious mentor easily, “it’s important that you learn how to be careful in situations like this, Mob.”
Mob’s brow crinkles at that, and he turns back to his glass of milk, only to frown at finding it empty. “What do you mean, Master?”
Reigen scratches the back of his neck. “You’re young, so I don’t expect you to know already. But there’s… safety protocol of a sort. For whenever you’re in a social situation kind of like that.”
Mob sits up a bit straighter. “There is?”
Reigen nods. “Yeah. So!” He leans forward suddenly, causing the back legs of the chair to rock off of the ground and then clatter back down. “Rule number one-,” he holds up a finger, “if you’re ever at a party, never drink from an open punch bowl of any kind. Always have your own drink that has been sealed before you opened it.” Mob cocks his head at that. “People sometimes, a lot of the time, spike punch bowls. Usually just with alcohol, but sometimes it can be more sinister.” There’s a reason ‘Don’t drink the Kool Aid’ is an idiom after all. “It’s popular at events with teenagers in particular.”
Mob’s arms slowly wrap around his body again. “Oh- Okay…”
“Two-” Reigen holds up a second figure, “Never leave an open drink anywhere or let it out of your site. A can of coke, a bottle of water-doesn’t matter. You don’t want anyone to possibly slip something into it when you aren’t looking. And people can be fast, so be aware. If you go to the bathroom- take it with you.” Mob looks uneasy, but he nods anyway. “It’s mostly social gatherings, like clubs, or bars, or parties in general, where stuff like that happens. But it’s a good thing to keep in mind in general. If someone is trying something when you might not expect it, then it could feasibly happen anywhere.”
Reigen sees Mob’s hands tremble slightly, but he presses on. “And finally- make sure to never accept an open drink from a stranger. You don’t know what they might have done to it. ” He gives Mob a sympathetic look. “I know it’s a bit different here- the bartender was a part of the plan. He was the one that gave you the drink, right?” Mob nods. “Yeah. Usually bartenders and the like are trust worthy, but you still need to be careful. Bars aren’t open just for aesthetics. You’re supposed to be able to see what the tender’s doing as they make your drink. It’s for transparency’s sake- so you can be sure they didn’t do anything weird to your order. If they’re trying to hide something then don’t trust it.”
Mob seems a bit overwhelmed.
Reigen sighs, and touches Mob’s shoulder, but only briefly this time, to draw his attention and meet his gaze. “I know that’s… a lot. And I know it makes people sound scary. But it’s all precautionary. Stuff like that isn’t the norm. But unfortunately it can and does happen.” He tries to give a reassuring smile. “Rules like that are there to protect people. And trust me- you had no obligation or reason to know them, especially at your age. But sometimes things aren’t always as they should be. And it’s good to be prepared.”
“Why?” Mob asks, voice soft. “Why do people… why do they do stuff like that?”
Reigen has to bite his tongue to keep from answering, ‘Because some people are just sick fucks.’ He gets the impression that that response wouldn’t be helpful here.
“You know how the people at Claw were kind of delusional?” Reigen tries instead. “How they were adults that never really grew up?”
Mob frowns. “Yes?”
“It’s kind of like that. Only without the psychic powers,” Reigen’s eyes slide to the table where their tea is now going cold. “People like that… They do that stuff because they find it easier to take what they want. They never learned how to work for it, or just preferred not to. And they just don’t care who they hurt along the way.”
Mob’s hands squeeze into fists where they have settled against his legs, then slowly unfurl.
“But they’re wrong,” Mob says, and it’s not a question.
Reigen can’t help but feel a bit proud. “They’re wrong,” he confirms. “Nothing’s really worth it if you don’t work for it. At the end of the day, all it gets them is money or a moment’s satisfaction. And then it’ll leave them empty.”
Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite, his mind screams at him.
“Okay,” Mob says, and he seems satisfied with that answer. He looks back up at Reigen, and his eyes seem tired and a bit wet. “I-I appreciate you explaining all of this to me, Master.”
Reigen gives a sad smile. “I’m just sorry that I’m having to give this lesson. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
Mob’s hand comes up to grip at the edge of Reigen’s sleeve, curling around the material slowly.
“Don’t be sorry,” Mob says, and his gaze is imploring. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Reigen feels something warm spread through him, and he can’t stop his smile from becoming something more genuine.
“Still. It’s the principle of the thing,” Reigen says, playing it off. And as Mob lets go of his shirt, he stands. “But enough of that now. It’s been a long day, and it’s still the middle of the night. What do you say we relax, maybe put on a movie?”
Mob stands as well, his hands reaching down to fidget with the edge of his shirt again. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Reigen takes a moment to stretch, yawning wide as he pulls his hands above his head and lets his spine curve back slowly. “Sounds like a plan, then. You like action, right?”
Mob nods.
“Good deal,” Reigen says, dropping his arms, and Mob follows him dutifully as he makes his way into the living room, over to his DVD collection.
Reigen hums to himself, and Mob hovers behind him as he looks through what to pick. Things like this used to bother Reigen when Mob first came to him, but he’d gotten used to it over the years. It’s actually kind of comforting now.
Reigen’s collection of movies isn’t large, and few were worth much of anything. He much prefers awful B movies to anything particularly cinematic- they’re fun to laugh at.
He considers choosing one of the few more serious films for a moment, then dismisses the idea. Light and mindless would probably be preferable right now.
He picks out some movie he’s only seen two or three times. It’s simple, action packed, and only mildly cringe worthy.
“This work?” Reigen asks, showing the cover to Mob.
His apprentice nods, barely glancing at the case. He doubts Mob would have objected to anything he picked.
Reigen sighs, and shoos him off to the couch, crouching down to place the DVD in the player, and start up the system.
There’s a crackle and pop from his old TV set before the movie comes to life, and Reigen plops down next to his student.
It’s… Reigen can’t call it relaxing exactly, but it’s a nice distraction.
Reigen is comforted to feel Mob’s presence at his shoulder. He talks as the movie plays, making fun of lines and plot points, and a smile tugs at his student’s lips, and Mob slowly, slowly relaxes, and sinks further into the couch, and, eventually, into Reigen’s side.
Mob hums in agreement at points as Reigen speaks, and slowly his eyes start to drift close.
It takes Reigen a while to realize that Mob has fallen asleep about an hour into the movie. He glances down, about to comment on the absolutely atrocious romantic subplot, when he sees Mob, who is tucked against his side, has his eyes closed, and is breathing steadily.
Reigen stops, hand still raised from the half gesture he had begun making, and just stares for a long moment. Then, slowly, he lets the hand drop to Mob’s hair and smiles.
It’s only right that the kid get some rest, real rest, after everything that had happened.
If Reigen’s honest there are still a million things running through his head. Anger towards the people who had tried to hurt Mob, sadness, because he knows that a glass of milk and dumb movie are not nearly enough to fix what had happened, and fear, for the future, for the times when Reigen might not be there, or might not make it in time.
But for right now, Mob is here, safe, and Reigen had made it in time. For now… it’s enough.
And so gradually, as the movie begins to wrap up, Reigen lets his own eyes slide shut and slowly drifts off, ignoring his stiff shoulder and tingling leg.
He does not stay awake long enough to watch the credits.