Chapter Text
Mob is not answering his phone.
It’s possible, Reigen supposes, that Mob has simply gotten caught up working, that he has fallen asleep somewhere inconvenient, or been trapped into conversation, or-
It is rare that Mob does not answer his phone.
Reigen has been calling for a little over an hour now. He has left no less than three voice messages, which perhaps are not as calm as he would like them to be.
Usually, an hour off the mark would not be any reason to panic. But it is when they had been in the middle of a job, and Reigen is technically responsible for him right now.
It isn’t often they split up for an exorcism. Usually the ghost is where the ghost is, and Reigen can instruct Mob as to where to point his powers and be done with it.
But this time around, the problem isn’t quite so simple.
The ghost, if that’s what it really is, that they are supposedly chasing is surprisingly mobile. People recollect seeing it throughout much of the downtown area, around the Saffron neighborhood. While technically only a few blocks in total, the neighborhood is densely packed, full of old, decrepit, and admittedly dreary buildings. Finding one spirit in an array of buildings, especially ones so primed for haunting, was going to be difficult.
The owner of a local restaurant had called up Spirits and Such, asking that they take a look into the recent ghost sightings, as it seemed they were driving away business and fucking up the electrical wiring of the building. They offered a very good pay, but by this point, Reigen’s not really sure it’s worth it. The only thing they had to go off of were a select few stories- and none were helpful. They all described different encounters, different happenings, all within different places.
Reigen had set out with Mob to do a bit of research almost as soon as his apprentice had made it back from school.
They had managed to acquire a few more personal stories- speculation regarding the spirit’s possible identity, the extent of the spirit’s supposed berth, and a few choice guesses as to where it could be.
“Do you feel anything?” Reigen had asked Mob after the restaurant owner finished their tale.
Mob paused, cocking his head and considering the question. Eventually he shook his head.
“Not here. It… it feels like there might be something out there, but it’s kind of faint and fuzzy. It’s difficult to pin down.”
Reigen had nodded. That wasn’t much to go off of, but at the very least that meant this shouldn’t be a wild goose chase.
But a wild goose chase it was.
They had walked a block, weaving through buildings and back alleys, and had both grown progressively more frustrated (though more visibly so in Reigen’s case) as Mob’s powers were not able to catch a solid trail on the ghost.
Finally, Reigen had become fed up, and simply said, “Alright, trying to feel this thing out isn’t working. We’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Think you can take the south side of the neighborhood while I take the north?”
Reigen didn’t like the idea of splitting up from Mob, especially given that the kid would more or less be wondering about an admittedly dodgy neighborhood as the sun was going down to chase something that could potentially be dangerous.
But Mob is more than capable of handling himself, and it’s not as if he’s any stranger to walking home from work or school by himself. This really wasn’t all that different.
Besides, Reigen was always a phone call away.
Mob had simply nodded.
“Call me if you find anything, okay?” Reigen said. “If we don’t sniff it out within the next two hours, we’ll meet back here and call it quits.”
And so they had parted ways.
Reigen had not had much luck. He called to check in on Mob after the first thirty minutes, and his apprentice had picked up, and let him know that while he seemed to have found a trail of some sort to follow, he still hadn’t found any kind of destination. Reigen had simply sighed and instructed Mob to keep him updated.
After another hour of searching, and asking around, there was still nothing.
Reigen sent off a quick text to Mob, just to check in.
It went unanswered.
He didn’t worry too much about it.
But eventually, two hours had passed without any luck, and Reigen found himself wandering back to where they had first split.
Mob was not there.
He didn’t think much of it, just sent off another text, asking if Mob had found something.
There wasn’t a reply.
Ten minutes passed.
Reigen, starting to become a bit worried, decided to try calling.
Mob did not pick up.
“Hey, Mob, I told you to keep me updated,” Reigen said in his voicemail. “Did you find something? Call me back.”
He waited another twenty minutes, and he sent off another text that goes unanswered.
There was no call from Mob, and Reigen was starting to edge past worried, straight into frustrated.
He called again. There was no answer.
“Mob,” he grit out into the recorder, “I gave you this phone for a reason, now pick up, damn it!”
Five minutes later, he was starting to really feel frazzled. Should he go looking for Mob?
But it hadn’t really even been an hour yet. Mob knows how to handle himself.
Reigen weighed his options. If he showed up, wherever Mob had wandered off to, and it turns out that he was never in danger, and had simply let his phone die, or something of the like, then it would look like Reigen didn’t trust him. But then again, if Mob really was in trouble…
Reigen decided to wait it out a bit longer.
Another twenty minutes later, he called again.
“Look, it’s getting late, Mob,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “Your parents and brother are going to start getting worried soon. You’re starting to worry me. Just let me know what’s going on. Where you’re at.”
It is nearly an hour after they were supposed to have met, and Mob is not answering his phone, and Reigen caves.
There is no reason for Mob to have lost track of time this badly, or to be going this long without answering him.
Reigen has rarely ever used the tracking feature on Mob’s phone, but at times like this, he’s glad he made the decision to get it installed.
“I put tracking software on it as well,” Reigen had said, when he handed the phone over to Mob. “It technically goes both ways, meaning you could find where my phone is as well if you wanted. But I figured that if you were ever in any trouble, or I needed to find you, it would be useful to have.”
Mob nodded, eyeing the new phone in awe.
“Will that bother you?” Reigen asked.
The tracking had been a bit of an afterthought on his part. He actually didn’t like the idea too much- it made him feel like one of those controlling parents that self-help and child guidance books warn you about.
But in their line of work, and with Mob’s powers, it was possible for real danger to be present. He promised himself that he would not abuse the feature.
“No, it’s fine,” Mob had replied easily, and Reigen had been relieved.
Reigen is glad for his foresight now.
When he pulls up the tracker, it places Mob’s phone towards the center of the south side of Saffron’s neighborhood.
He tries to let that ease his mind somewhat, tries to tell himself that if Mob is still in the area then that means it shouldn’t be anything too serious.
(Assuming Mob had not dropped the phone, that is, in a struggle of some sort.
Reigen tries not to consider that.)
Reigen tries to take measured breaths as he walks along the crisscrossing roads and darkened alleys, tries not to let the worry and anxiety get caught in his throat and choke him.
He’s not sure whether it makes it better or worse when he approaches the building where mob’s phone is located and sees a run-down dive bar.
Reigen’s brow crinkles. “What the hell?” he murmurs.
What’s Mob doing in a place like this? Had the ghost really been here?
Well, I guess some people like to party even in the afterlife, Reigen thinks wryly as he moves towards the front entrance.
Because really- Reigen can think of no other reason why his student would be in a bar of all places.
It really is a hole in the wall, but then again, so are most of the places around here. The side of the building is practically deteriorating, and the metal shingles of the roof are rusted and rotting away.
There is no one manning the door.
Reigen steps out of the nightly chill into a dimly hallway. The interior of the place is more intact, but somehow still looks no less run down. There are darkened rooms to the left and right of him, perhaps extra space for when the bar is busy or hosting an event. At the end of the hall light and noise spill from behind a swinging door.
Reigen moves forward cautiously, far too aware of the tap tap tap of his own shoes echoing in the concrete hall. As he gets closer to the door, the lights in the hallway suddenly flare, bright and flickering, and that’s when Reigen hears it-
Giggling.
Reigen stops short.
That’s- that sounds like-
The lights flare again, and there’s no mistake.
Mob is definitely here.
And he’s… laughing?
Reigen feels a rush of bewilderment and unease.
Over the years, Reigen has only ever heard Mob laugh twice.
Once, when he was younger and still new to being Reigen’s apprentice, Reigen had done, or said, something that had suddenly caused his student to light up with laughter. It had startled Reigen, originally, because he had never seen Mob laugh before (he hadn’t even been sure it was something the kid could do), and then because all of the furniture in the office was suddenly floating, and Mob’s hair was standing on end, and the lights starting flickering something awful before the power cut out altogether.
Mob had accidently caused a power outage in their entire grid sector.
Reigen’s heart had gone out to his young student, who had hung his head in shame as soon as he realized what had happened and began apologizing for losing control. Reigen couldn’t imagine how awful it must have felt for Mob to feel the need to apologize simply for laughing. He did his best to comfort his new student, to tell him that there was no lasting damage done, that electricity could be fixed, and that laughing was alright, healthy, even.
But it hadn’t mattered- Mob still retreated in on himself, and Reigen has not heard him laugh like that since.
(Reigen gets the impression that this had not been the first time this had happened- that whatever lesson Mob thought this held had been internalized long before Reigen had met him.)
The second time, and the closest Reigen had gotten to seeing Mob laugh again, was around Mob’s twelfth birthday. Reigen had gotten him a gag gift of sorts (a keychain that had a small character’s face that contorted and made an awful attempt at words when you squeezed it), and Mob had been absolutely delighted by it. He had spent those few hours in the office, giggling like mad every time he squeezed the small toy. The lights, luckily, did not go out this time. However several small knickknacks did float at intermittent times throughout the room. Mob would look vaguely embarrassed at that and stop abruptly, before Reigen would just wave him off, and encourage him to enjoy himself. Reigen had spent most of that afternoon with a fond smile and a warmth over his heart that he could not bother to put a name to.
It’s such a rare occurrence to hear his student laugh, yet, here he is, hearing Mob’s unmistakable giggling in some run-down bar.
It- it honestly doesn’t make any sense to Reigen.
And things that do not make sense, don’t sit well with him.
For once, Reigen badly wishes that Dimple would come with them more on exorcism jobs. At least then Reigen could have him to scope out the situation. Or better yet, he could have stayed with Mob and kept him out of any possible trouble to begin with.
Reigen approaches the door with caution. It’s open just a sliver, letting light pour out through the crack, and there’s a large, jagged crater torn into its front, half the paneling ripped off until only rough wood chips and cheap plywood remained, like a gaping wound.
Reigen pauses at the door. He doesn’t want to just go blindly charging in there. Not when he doesn’t know what’s happening that’s held up his student for so long. Doesn’t know if anything might truly be wrong. So he just squints through the crack, and watches.
There are several glasses and bottles floating about the room, which is a bit odd, given that Mob rarely causes that particular phenomena anymore since gaining more control over his powers.
There don’t appear to be many people. Maybe four or five total, but Reigen can’t tell very well from this angle. And-
“It’s getting late,” a voice says, and Reigen’s eyes are drawn to the bar, where there is a broad-shouldered man, sitting sideways on a bar stool, curling his hand around Mob’s upper arm.
Mob.
Reigen can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out.
Mob is safe.
His student is sitting on a stool at the counter, facing away from the bar itself, presumably watching the game of pool that appears to be happening towards the corner of the room that Reigen can see.
He seems… small.
Well- smaller.
Mob’s feet swing freely, kicking back and forth, like a grade schooler stuck in a chair a bit too tall. His clothing is rather rumpled, and his hair is in slight disarray.
But he doesn’t look to be hurt, and he’s safe, and-
He’s smiling.
His expression is more open and lax than Reigen can really ever recall seeing it.
He looks almost like he’s enjoying himself.
Warmth does not settle over Reigen’s heart.
There’s a tinge of confusion to Mob’s expression, something Reigen can’t quite describe. Something lost and drifting.
The smile seems almost dazed.
Reigen does not push open the door.
“You must be getting tired,” the man from before suggests.
Mob just inclines his head slightly, and then wobbles on the stool precariously.
“Maybe a bit,” Mob says. “But I’m having fun!”
There are some cheers near the pool table.
The man shoots a glare their way, but quickly schools his expression once again before Mob looks back up at him.
Reigen’s eyes narrow.
What have you gotten yourself into this time, Mob?
He supposes that these could be some genuinely good hearted people- looking after a kid, making him laugh.
But this is Mob. That’s a feat nearly impossible to accomplish, and these people do not appear to be anything special.
And Reigen is not liking the vibes he is getting from this place.
“I understand,” the man says, sounding almost gentle, as he slowly slides closer to Mob, “but you really are looking rather exhausted, especially after all the work you did just a bit ago.”
Mob does not look exhausted, Reigen notes. He blinks a little blearily, but he is thrumming with energy, the floating glasses around them a testament to such.
Besides, despite everything that they had heard about the ghost, it did not seem to be particularly powerful. Mob most likely could have exorcised it with the ease of crushing a spider.
Mob frowns, his brow scrunching up, and it looks as if he might protest that statement.
The man does not let him.
“There’s a room in the back,” the man continues, steamrolling over whatever Mob might have said next. “It’s not much- just an old futon. But we’d be happy to let you use it for the night. It’s too late to be walking home.”
Mob nods along slowly, but as soon as the man has finished speaking he’s shaking his head again. “Oh, thank you for the offer, but my master can take me home,” Mob says, and starts to reach into his pocket, “I just have to call him-”
He’s stopped by the man grabbing his wrist.
“Your master already called, remember,” the man says, as if he’s kindly reminding Mob of something obvious.
Reigen feels himself stiffen at the words.
What.
The.
Hell?
Mob’s brow furrows. “H-he did?”
The man is nodding, as are the few people lingering around the pool table.
“Yeah,” a woman says, speaking up from her place at the billiard, leaning against the cue for support, “don’t you remember? He said he had a customer back at the office. Told you to have fun for the night.”
Something furious roars in Reigen’s chest and now he knows- knows that these people are up to no good.
They’re lying to Mob. Manipulating him. It makes his blood boil.
Mob looks even more confused, and his laughter has stopped, and things are still floating, but they no longer drift freely in the air. They linger, frozen, suspended.
It feels unnatural.
Mob shakes his head slowly. “No I- I don’t- He called?”
Something about his speech sounds unnatural, like the words are running into each other a bit too easily, or can’t form on his tongue quite right.
“Of course, honey,” she says, before turning back to her game.
“Oh, I- I guess he must have,” Mob mumbles.
And for the first time, Reigen sees that Mob’s eyes seem hazy, unfocused. Almost a bit glassy. Almost a bit like-
Is he… drunk?
The idea startles Reigen so much that he forgets his fury for a moment.
Why and how could Mob be drunk?
But that seems like the clearest explanation… the lack of coordination, the loose expression, the lack of control, the confused acceptance-
And then the fury is back.
Because Mob would not, under any circumstances, just start drinking at a random bar.
That means that these assholes, whoever they are, somehow, for some reason, convinced a fourteen year old kid to get completely wasted.
Why?
Generally speaking, Mob is perhaps a bit too trusting for his own good. He tends to take people at their word, believing that they have good intentions. (Reigen, after all, would know better than anyone.)
It seems that these assholes were abusing that, trying to manipulate Mob into…
Reigen pauses in his thoughts.
Doing what exactly?
Lying down in a back room?
Why?
Are they just a bunch of creeps?
No… no, this almost seems like a kidnapping ploy.
But kidnappers don’t usually calmly wait for a target to fall unconscious before doing anything- assuming they don’t just knock a kid out cold from the get go. So why…
Then it hits him.
Mob’s powers.
Most of the time kidnappers could simply lure kids into a false sense of security, and attack when their guard is lowered. Their victims are typically too small and inexperienced to fight back adequately against a full grown adult.
But with Mob’s powers any attempts at a surprise attack would be nullified in less than a second.
Even inebriated, Mob could still blow them away. They have to know it, had to have seen it when Mob finally found and exorcised the ghost.
Reigen only gives half a second to wonder why they would bother with a kid like Mob anyway, if he might be more trouble than he’s worth.
But no, clearly that isn’t be correct.
Mob is powerful, objectively so. Espers are valuable, their abilities sought after. Either for personal power or gain, or for some kind of profit.
He supposes they could be gang members, but they certainly don’t look the part. They don’t look or act like bruisers. Even the broad shouldered man, with his hand on Mob, doesn’t fit the typical profile of a gangster.
No tattoos, no piercings, no holding themselves larger than life.
No, these people look and act the part of civilians who want to seem reliable- trustworthy. They look like the kind of people who could lure in kids and young women.
Not to mention that most gangs wouldn’t bother to be this meticulous in a kidnapping. No, this kind of planning belongs to another type of criminality altogether.
Reigen has always known that human trafficking is an issue throughout Japan, but he had never really thought it touched Seasoning City. But that seems to be the most likely possibility here.
And Mob would be a prime target for people like that.
After all, if you had a way to control or contain them, then a psychic would be pretty valuable in the human trafficking ring.
Reigen feels nauseous.
They couldn’t go about kidnapping Mob the same way they could most children. So this had been their solution. Gain his trust, goad him into vulnerability somehow, and lure him into a state where he could not fight back.
Reigen’s expression hardens, and fury rolls off his shoulders.
Like. Hell.
He has half a mind to call the police.
But no- he needs to get his student out of any possible harm’s way first.
The man is already pulling Mob off of the bar stool, saying, “There you go, now why don’t we go-”
“What about my brother?” Mob asks as he stumbles from his seat, and Reigen can see the man’s mouth twitch. “I should-he’ll be worried- I have to-”
“You can try to call him,” someone from the pool table suggests.
“Right, right, right,” Mob is saying, he tries to dig into his pockets again, but he comes up empty handed.
He looks panicked.
“Wait, but I- I- where- where is it- I can’t- It shouldn’t be- I was just-” Mob’s saying, frantic, as he pulls at the lining of his clothes, trying to find the phone.
“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it,” the man says, clearly trying to placate the esper’s distress. “If you remember the number we can give him a call for you and let him know you’re staying here. We can search for the phone tomorrow.”
So that was it, huh?
One of these jackasses had pickpocketed Mob, probably put the phone on silent or something.
Mob, in his confused, dazed state, stares up at the man in awe, and nods along. “Oh- okay, yes I can- I can do that. Ritsu will be- that’s okay.”
The man, clearly reaching the end of his patience, starts to lead Mob more insistently away from the bar.
Reigen won’t stand for it.
He knows he may very well be walking into a lion’s den, but he’s not going to let these people just take his student.
He squares his shoulders, and pushes open the door, doing his best to keep his expression neutral as he flips the phone in his hand closed, and calls out, “Oi, Mob. There you are.”
Everyone in the room startles, turning to him in surprise.
Mob looks over the arm of the man who is ushering him away, and stares at Reigen blankly for a few moments, before his entire expression suddenly lights up.
“Master Reigen!” he cries, and pulls away from the man’s grip, stumbling forward a bit.
Mob beams up at him, and Reigen feels something ache in his chest, but he ignores it.
“Master Reigen, I found the spirit!” Mob says excitedly as he trips towards Reigen, coming to a stuttering halt a few feet away. The floating bottles and knickknacks have begun drifting about the room again. “I exorcised it!”
Reigen inclines his head in acknowledgement, trying to keep his expression schooled as he says, “Good job, Mob. But you were supposed to call me when you found the ghost, remember?”
Mob blinks a bit blearily at that, clearly trying to processes the disjointed memories of the past few hours.
“Oh… oh, you’re right, I- I’m sorry, Master. I meant to, really. I- I don’t know why I-,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
The people in the bar are watching them, their posture stiff. Reigen eyes the lot of them, sizing them up.
What are you going to do?
Reigen sets a firm hand on Mob’s shoulder. “Mob… have you been drinking?” he asks with an air of incredulity.
Mob’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head emphatically. Reigen has to tighten his hold to keep the kid from falling over.
“No, Master! I promise, I didn’t!” Mob says.
Reigen raises a brow. “Really?”
Mob continues to shake his head, and Reigen’s pretty sure the kid’s making himself dizzy by this point.
“I only had milk,” Mob says with certainty.
Reigen has to restrain himself, stopping short of digging his fingers into Mob’s shoulder. “Milk,” he repeats, tone flat.
Mob nods. “Yeah! They were really nice and gave me a glass after I helped them.”
Reigen raises his eyes to the men and woman in the bar, knowing that the fury in his gaze has to be clear as day.
The entire room shifts uneasily, and the bartender in particular seems frozen.
“That so,” he says through gritted teeth.
They didn’t get him drunk, Reigen realizes. They drugged him.
Fury roils within him.
He scans the faces of the crowd.
There’s five in total, counting the bartender.
Only the man from before meets his gaze, his expression unreadable.
Reigen looks back down at Mob.
“Mob, go wait outside please,” he says, trying to keep his voice controlled. The last thing he wants is for Mob to think Reigen is angry with him.
Mob blinks in surprise, glancing behind him.
“Oh, but- I thought…”
“Mob,” Reigen repeats, firmer this time. “Go. Outside. Please. And don’t talk to anyone or let anyone near you until I join you. Put up a barrier or something, understand?”
Mob is frowning, but he nods slightly. “I, yes, but- why-”
“It’s dangerous this time of night,” Reigen says, trying to reign himself in. “I just have some business to finish up here, alright?”
Mob relaxes slightly at that, and smiles again, and Reigen really, really hates this, because it looks vacant, and feels twisted and wrong.
“Okay, Master, I’ll wait for you outside.”
And with that he leaves the room.
The people in the bar do not make an attempt to stop him.
Good.
There is a voice in his head, the voice that is reasonable, that consistently tells him running away is the best option, that starting a fight is never a good idea, and for a moment Reigen considers listening to it, considers following Mob out the door and leaving this behind.
But every bone in his body feels like it’s rattling in rage.
These people had likely hurt a lot of kids.
They would likely hurt a lot more.
Reigen waits until Mob has left, and his back is tense, waiting for attack as the glass and knickknacks floating around the room crash to the floor.
There’s silence in its wake.
Finally, the man from before clears his throat.
“We’re glad you found him,” the man says, sounding cool and convincing. It’s a tone Reigen often tries to strike as well, when he’s attempting to gain the trust of those who are more skeptical of his practice. “We were getting a bit worried.”
“Were you now,” Reigen says, and he finally turns to look at them.
They haven’t really moved.
The three at the pool table keep exchanging glances, and furtively trying to catch the eye of the man, presumably their de facto leader.
The man is still standing where Mob had left him, facing Reigen.
Reigen has to give him credit- if he didn’t known what he did, he’d almost believe that this guy actually is relieved.
The man behind the bar looks like he’s ready to bolt.
Reigen should leave.
He doesn’t.
Instead Reigen begins to tug at his tie, loosening it, as he makes his way to one of the empty tables across from the billiard.
“Yeah,” the man is saying. “We were grateful when he got rid of that spirit that had been hanging around here- it kept throwing the booze- but he seemed kind of out of it afterwards. Tired maybe? We didn’t really know what to do.”
Reigen isn’t listening.
He uses the time crossing the room to try and think through his next move.
The tie unwinds around his neck, and he considers what he knows.
Mob had come here, managed to find and exorcise the spirit. He had not called Reigen before doing so. Perhaps the spirit had been up to some mischief when Mob had arrived.
These people, whoever they were, had realized what Mob was, and had taken an interest in him. They had probably commanded his attention, pickpocketed him, taking his phone, and had offered him a drink.
Maybe they had tried to give him liquor at first. Or maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe they would have spiked whatever he asked for.
And so Mob asked for milk, and they drugged him.
And Mob had not suspected a thing.
Reigen assumes however, that whatever it was they had given him backfired. From what he has seen, they were most likely attempting to drug him into unconsciousness. They wanted him out and unable to protect himself.
Instead Mob had become more riled up than usual. More relaxed yes, but also more energetic. Almost as if he really had been drinking.
Which most likely means that the bartender either fucked up when spiking the drink, or drugs reacted differently to Mob.
Both seemed equally likely, given how much the bartender was shaking, and how much of an anomaly Mob generally was.
And so they had tried to drug Mob in order to incapacitate him, capture him, and then, most likely, sell him.
The thought makes Reigen’s stomach churn again.
He can’t stop the images it calls to mind- can’t stop picturing Mob, sweet, innocent, pacifist Mob, being forced into being some rich asshole’s lackey- their property. Being forced to use his powers against other people, to fight.
It would destroy him.
And not just Mob- Saffron is a largely unexamined neighborhood. If a trafficking ring exists, then this would be the place for it.
How long had they been here? How long had they been luring in kids, or young women, or, hell, organs from those too poor to support their families with anything else?
Reigen rolls his shoulders, and finally pulls his tie off.
So.
He’s most likely dealing with human traffickers, who had drugged, and tried to kidnap his student.
(His kid.)
He should walk out now, and call the police. Leave it to them.
But these traffickers are skittish now, on edge. So they’d probably run. And who knew if they’d be found?
Who knew if they’d find Mob again.
(After all. It’s not like most people come across espers every day.)
And Reigen does not want to walk away.
These people had tried to turn people, kids, Mob, into cattle, up for slaughter.
When Reigen had fought those from Claw’s 7th division, he had known he was up against adults who had never grown up, who had never realized the world was not theirs to take. He had been angry, yes. But at the end of the day, their entire scheme was ridiculous and empty.
People like this are different though- they had grown up, they knew the world did not owe them. But they took anyway. Usually for no other reason than a lust for money.
It was an adult corruption.
And it was far more, terrifyingly, realistic.
(To think people like this had targeted Mob.)
Reigen pulls out a chair from the table, setting down his tie, and begins to shrug out of his suit coat.
“Sir?” the man from before asks, after Reigen has been silent for too long (that, or perhaps Reigen stripping had seemed a bit too odd). “Did you need something from us?”
They want to play this off, want to get off scot free, convince Reigen that they had simply been the Good Samaritans in this story, so that he would drop his suspicions.
It makes sense.
After all, they have a pretty good set up here. They’d have to flee the neighborhood, and most likely the town if they’re found out now.
“I guess that depends,” Reigen says tightly, and he keeps his back to the others in the bar as he drapes his coat over the back of the chair.
“Hey, buddy,” the man says, and he sounds like he’s closer than before. “We should be closing up shop for the night. Maybe go take care of the kid out there, yeah?”
“What kind of bar closes at seven in the evening?” Reigen replies easily.
Reigen waits, and does not turn around.
The man is closer now, his footsteps echoing in the room as he approaches Reigen. His presence at Reigen’s back feels oppressive.
Reigen can hear the annoyance in the man’s tone more clearly now, as he says, “Look, I don’t know what you’re problem is-” the man is now standing directly behind him, and sets a hand on Reigen’s shoulder, “but I really don’t think you should be-”
Reigen whirls around, and slams his elbow into the man’s face without warning.
The sudden attack catches the larger man off guard, and sends him reeling, sputtering as his hands fly up to his face.
Reigen doesn’t give him a chance to recover, and immediately brings both of his hands, clasped together, down on the back of the man’s neck, forcing him to stagger down, and Reigen’s knee connects with his stomach.
The man slumps to the floor with a groan.
A green belt in Shaolin boxing may not be much, but between that and the brawls he had been involved with in his younger years, Reigen has enough experience to know how to knock out an opponent quick and clean.
So long as they aren’t expecting it, that is.
The rest of the bar might be an issue.
“What the hell, man?!” One of the men leaning against the pool table cries, straightening out.
“So,” Reigen says conversationally, faking confidence as he strolls towards the three still lingering at the table, even as his mind races, “mind telling me just what the hell you were planning on doing to my student after whatever you slipped into his drink took affect?”
The woman from before has straightened as well, and he can tell from the look in her eye that she’s going to be the real problem.
“I think you’ve got the wrong idea here,” she says through grit teeth.
“Because honestly,” Reien continues as if she hadn’t even spoken, calculating his next move as the billiard draws closer and closer, “I can only hope that you’re the kind of bastards who drug people for money. And not the kind that do it for their own sick pleasure.”
He taps his finger along the green felt as he finally reaches them. He flicks his eyes between the two men on his left and the woman on his right, watching for who will attack first.
“We didn’t do anything to the kid,” one of the men says, and Reigen lets the muscles in his body coil like a spring and his hand curl around a blank pool ball, as he sees the other shift. “Like we said, he was out of it after-”
The man closest to him lunges.
Reigen expects it, and turns- away from the man entirely, slamming the pool ball into the jaw of the woman diving in for the attack on his other side.
Even as he feels the impact, snapping her head to the side, he ducks down, just enough to dodge the attack from the man on the left, and send him careening into Reigen’s body.
Reigen doesn’t stop to see if his blow fell the woman or not, and as the man loses his balance, Reigen uses his disorientation, and grabs his arms, using the man’s own momentum to flip him over his back, onto the cold, concrete ground.
The man lands somewhat on top of the woman, and neither rise.
Reigen whirls around just in time to dodge the pool cue headed straight for his head.
The last man’s expression is wild but determined as he swipes at Reigen once again, forcing him to stumble backwards. The next time he lunges however, Reigen simply ducks around the cue, and gets close enough to kick it out of the man’s hand.
The lackey, or whatever he was, barely has a moment to gather his bearings, before Reigen socks him in the jaw, and sends him tumbling down with another hit to the back of the neck, much like he had done with the first man.
Useful, that Shaolin puts focus on being able to take opponents out of a fight as efficiently as possible.
If this had been a test of brute force, there was no question that Reigen would have lost.
The woman and man from before have not gotten up yet. He doesn’t think they’re fully out, but they’re definitely not going far anytime soon.
That leaves only one loose end.
Reigen turns to where the bartender still stood with his back pressed against the liquor cabinets, practically quaking.
“So,” Reigen starts, taking a step towards the bar.
The man doesn’t let him get any further before crying out, “I didn’t-I didn’t have anything to do with it! I swear. I-I was just-”
“Really now,” Reigen says lightly, as he flips open his phone, “You gave him the drink, didn’t you? Or are you saying you just watched them roofie a kid, and didn’t say anything?”
“I-They told me to-!”
“And that makes it right?” Reigen demands.
The man looks like he might bolt.
Reigen narrows his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“M-Mie Hideaki,” the man stammers out.
“Hideaki,” Reigen repeats, tapping at the keypad of his phone. “What did these jackals want my student for? What kind of business are you running here?”
The man shrinks in on himself further.
“It’s- they just tell me what to do- I don’t ask questions,” the man repeats.
Reigen glances over his shoulder. “These guys weren’t so tough. You could have told them to screw off and called the police.”
Hideaki shakes his head. “They’re-it’s not them. They’re not enforcers they’re just… gatherers. The people they work for though-please, they could have destroyed my life, please understand.”
Gatherers, huh. So Reigen’s assumption was right after all. These are traffickers- the lackeys meant to collect victims, and make sure it stays on the down low.
“You mean like the lives of the people you’ve helped steal and their families?” Reigen replies flatly, and he’s already typing 110 into his phone.
“I-”
“Well here’s a chance to redeem yourself,” Reigen says simply, holding up the phone. “You’re going to talk to the police, and tell them everything that went on here. The kidnappings, the trafficking, whoever the hell these idiots are, all of it.”
The operator picks up on the first ring.
“Yes, I’d like to report an attempted kidnapping,” Reigen says. “I’m in the Saffron neighborhood, where Peppercorn and 4th meet, at a bar. There are individuals here involved in a human trafficking ring. The man housing them is the bartender, called Mie Hideaki. The rest are unconscious at the moment.”
“We’re sending someone your way now, sir,” the woman says. “There’s someone not far; the estimated time of arrival is less than five minutes. Please stay on the-”
Reigen disconnects the call.
“When they get here,” Reigen says, locking eyes with the bartender, “you’re going to tell them everything. Not just from tonight, but everything you know.” The man whimpers. “And if you don’t,” Reigen begins harshly, “then know that there isn’t a place on this Earth where you can hide from me, Mie Hideaki.”
Hideaki gulps, nodding.
Reigen simply gives the man a shark’s smile. “Great. I’ll be on my way then,” he says, turning away and sauntering back towards the chair that still held his suit jacket and tie.
Reigen considers for .2 seconds whether or not he should stay to speak with the police. But no. In the end, he’s not sure it would be for the best. As it is Mob’s night is going to be miserable enough; they don’t need to drag things like statements, and calling Mob’s family, into this.
Besides. Mob isn’t really in any position to be hiding his powers right now. And while Reigen doesn’t necessarily think their discovery would cause anything bad per se, he still feels it’s best kept on the down-low.
The man’s eyes widen, and his jaw goes slack. “W-wait. What?”
Reigen pauses in collecting his things, turning to look over his shoulder and raising a brow. “I’ve got a kid to take care of. And I trust you’ll do your part.”
He slings his tie around his neck, folds his jacket over his arm, and starts to walk away.
But he pauses as he’s slipping his phone back into his pants pocket.
“Oh, that’s right,” Reigen mutters to himself.
Mob’s phone.
Mob didn’t have it on him, but GPS showed it was still here. Which means that, most likely, one of these idiots have it on them.
Reigen glances down at the larger man from before. He’s still down, lying unconscious at Reigen’s feet.
He bends down and does a quick pat of the man’s pockets.
And sure enough, tucked away in the back of the man’s waist band (ew) is Mob’s phone.
Reigen grins, triumphant, and takes a moment to take in the room.
The bartender is still trembling behind the bar counter, handsy-man and the last grunt are out cold, and the woman and man from the pool table still have not risen. Perhaps Reigen had hit those two harder than he thought.
Or perhaps they really are useless when it comes to fighting.
He supposes they could take on most women and children, and really, if they could do that, then they could do their job just fine.
(Especially if most of their victims were drugged.)
Reigen’s not surprised the other two are still down though- a good hit to the back of the neck could take a while to recover from. So long as he hasn’t gotten too sloppy, it shouldn’t have caused any major damage. But it should be more than enough to keep them down until the police arrive.
And so, without another glance backwards, Reigen leaves the bar.
He finds Mob standing outside, his barrier glowing around him as he shivers against the chilly night air. It had been warm out this afternoon, and without need for his school uniform, Mob is dressed in nothing but a short-sleeved shirt. He has to be cold now.
Mob no longer looks as bubbly as he had back in the bar.
In fact, he seems almost kind of drained, his eyes half-lidded, and slumping against the wall.
Whatever they had given him must finally be hitting, then.
Reigen grimaces, unbunching his coat from his arms, and calling softly, “Hey, Mob.”
It takes Mob a second to react, but when he does he looks up at Reigen, blinking slowly.
Even though he clearly doesn’t have the buzz he did before, he still gives an uncharacteristic and dazed smile. “Master Reigen, you’re back. Did something happen?”
Reigen shakes his head. “No, I just had a talk with the lovely patrons. Told them to be more careful when a kid wanders into their midst.”
Mob sways on his feet as he tries to keep staring up at Reigen, blinking hazily. “They were nice people, Master.”
Reigen’s smile is tight. “I’m sure they were. Here,” he says, draping his jacket around Mob’s shoulders. “It’s cold out here. And we still have a ways to walk.”
In the distance Reigen can just make out the faint sounds of sirens.
Good, that means they’re close. So long as Hideaki keeps his promise there shouldn’t be any issue, and these guys should be put away by the morning.
If he doesn’t- well Reigen would cross that bridge when-if- they get there.
He glances down at Mob, who is clutching at the coat, pulling it tight around him, and feels something in his chest ache.
“Come on,” he says gently, pulling Mob close to his side, just to be sure he doesn’t topple over, “let’s get going.”
Mob just nods drowsily and stumbles along beside him.
Reigen’s original plan is to bring Mob back to his own home, but it’s late, and Reigen does not know the bus schedule here, and his apartment is technically closer.
Eventually, Mob can no longer feasibly stay on his feet, and Reigen manages to hoist him up onto his back.
“Oof!” he grunts as he feels Mob’s weight settle against his back. “You’re not as light as you used to be, kid.”
Not that that’s saying much.
Mob has always been a small for his age. Even now, Reigen should technically not be capable of doing this with someone of Mob’s height and age. But the kid is much lighter than he perhaps should be.
Even if he isn’t as light as he was at, say, ten.
He hears something mumbled that sounds vaguely like, ‘Sorry, Master.’
He calls Mob’s parents on Mob’s phone when he finally decides that heading to his place might be the better idea.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama? This is Reigen, Mob’s boss. Yes, yes I’m very sorry, we had a few complications with a job. It ran longer than we thought. We’re a bit far out right now, and Mob’s pretty exhausted. I was going to take him back to my place for the night, since it’s still a weekend. Would that be alright? Yes. Yes, absolutely. Okay. Thank you, I’m sorry we worried you. I promise, I’ll have him call you first thing in the morning. Yes, goodbye.”
Reigen will just have to make do with sleeping on his couch for the night. That’s fine. As it is, he’ll need to be waking up every few hours to check on Mob, to be sure that the drug isn’t having any negative or long lasting effects, and that the kid isn’t too scared when he finally wakes.
Reigen knows how disorienting and even anxiety inducing it can be to wake up somewhere unfamiliar after getting blackout drunk. He can’t imagine what it might be like waking up after being drugged.
Tomorrow morning he’ll have to have a conversation with Mob about accepting drinks from strangers.
Until then, for right now…
He can just keep him safe.