Chapter Text
When Teru sees him, he doesn't realize it. At least, not right away.
But Mob knows. With one arm pulling back the short curtain into the oden stall, he pauses on the figure sitting in front of him.
“Hanazawa?”
Only after that look of recognition do the cogs in Teru’s head begin to turn.
“K—Kageyama?!”
Mob’s shoulder’s soften with mute relief. He sits down beside him.
Teru blinks like he’s seen a ghost. How many years has it been? Five? Ten?
Mob orders a bowl and Teru catches the tail end of it to add 2 beers, followed by a handful of cash enough to cover the whole thing.
Mob protests but Teru cuts him off with a good natured smile. Mob lets him.
“I—“ Teru starts, “it’s been forever. How are you?”
The stand owner places their drinks.
“Good. And you?”
“Good, yeah, uh,” Teru laughs, just a little, at how unexpected this is, “How many years has it been since I saw you, Kageyama? What have you— what have you been up to?” He takes a long pull of his beer.
“I’ve been living in Q city.”
“And you’re back… visiting?”
Mob takes his own sip and shakes his head, wiping his mouth on the skin of his wrist, “We just moved back.”
“We?”
“Ritsu and I.”
It is strange. Seeing Mob here, just like that. Talking in that same monotone way Teru remembers from a lifetime ago. A disconnected connection that feels all too familiar and much too foreign.
It’s no one’s fault that they fell out of touch. Teru lost most connections with anyone from Seasoning after high school. He had very little control of his life back then.
Coriander High School is prestigious and within budget.
“Well, that’s… amazing! We should reconnect!”
Mob nods.
“I moved back pretty recently, too. Have you seen anyone since you’ve moved?”
"No. We just got in yesterday.”
Teru laughs conversationally, “Hey, what are the chances you’d run into me first thing! Must be visiting Reigen soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
The stand owner places Mob's food down.
Teru leans back in his seat and hums. “I haven't seen him in a while. Tell him I say hi."
You’re going.
The curt message his parents parted him with rings in the back of his head, a faded wound. He’d argued, of course. Coriander was far. Two towns away. An island in the middle of a bustling county with very little transit, no way of seeing Mob, Reigen, or any of his friends from Black Vinegar without great effort. He’d had to move apartments too, of course. A spark of leftover anger ignites in his chest at the memory— his parents, totally absent from his life, but still entitled enough to uproot everything, school, housing and all, just because they felt like it.
Their number is still in his phone. He still sends them unread birthday messages.
In high school, visits had started out frequent enough. He met with Mob maybe once a week, then once a month, then by the time he’d packed up for college, it had been nearly a year since Teru had seen him. It was no one’s fault— that’s important to remember. Teru had many friendships fade away, and considering their circumstances, theirs lasted longer than most would. And when he boarded the plane to America, Teru hadn’t sent a goodbye message.
The dull ache of it slowly faded with time. He continued living his life. It seems Mob had too.
It’s only melancholy now, seeing him here, with a whole life lived that Teru wasn’t a part of.
“So… " he clears his throat.
I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch. So much was happening with me. I wanted to.
"What do you do for work?"
Mob smiles, and it feels so nostalgic in its unique quietness.
"Speech therapy. I have a joint business with Ritsu."
"Oh?" Teru polishes off his drink and gestures for another round for the two of them.
"Mm. Well maybe that’s misleading. Mostly we work in the same office. He has a law practice."
"Well, if you're into perjury, those two things go hand in hand."
Mob laughs, very quiet and short. It’s a blink and you miss it moment, but it takes Teru by surprise at how easily earned it is. A laugh from Kageyama, that’s about as rare as it gets.
Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe not anymore.
"So you," Teru starts, "like. Coach people who have stutters?"
Mob’s first beer is still half full so he finishes it like he doesn’t want to be left behind, "Among other things."
"And you like it?"
“It’s very rewarding.”
"That's awesome,” Teru reaches into his pocket for his lanyard, picture and title emblazoned on the laminated card dangling from the end, “Civil servant. Esper division.”
“Not fashion design?”
Teru is struck.
“Y-you remember…?” His gaze softens as he looks down and away from Mob, a bashful sadness in his voice, “I— no. It uh… didn’t make sense for me. I wanted to be independent, you know? And there’s just not enough money in design.” He thumbs his glass, tracing a clear line through foggy condensation. He realizes quickly that he’s trailing down a depressing road, and perks up, facing Mob again, “but I still do it as a hobby! And you know, it’s nice to have something creative that’s disconnected from work.”
Mob looks down at Teru’s outfit like a question. He’s dressed in a pink and purple grid suit, navy shirt, and orange tie, “Oh, this? Pssh, this is just—“ he grins, “this gets me through the day.”
Mob smiles.
“So I’m assuming you’re opening up your new office around here?”
Mob shifts the curtain and points, “Just down the street.”
“No way!” Teru leans back and points the opposite direction, “I’m just a few blocks that way. We should get lunch once you’re set up.”
“That would be nice.”
“I know some good places,” Teru adds, and it’s clear the drinks are beginning to hit him, “we’re in a good spot for that…” he adds quietly, thoughts beginning to leak out. He turns back to Mob, “And you. Not back at work yet but dressed so professional."
Mob wears a simple turtleneck and blazer combo, both black.
“I met with our leasing agent today.”
The conversation lulls then, and Teru is not nearly drunk or familiar enough with this new Mob to brush the discomfort of it away. He almost dips into the bad habit of filling the space with his own monologue, talking about himself just to keep the silence at bay. That was one of the better lessons Reigen instilled in him on the occasion that he’d visited Spirits and Such as a teen: ask questions.
Mob still hasn’t learned that lesson, it seems— never one to start a dialogue. But it isn’t a bad thing. Teru always carried their conversations when they were younger. The familiarity of it amongst all the new and unknown is nice. But there is the unfortunate addition in his self aware adulthood, which is that regardless of how much he asks, he still talks far more than anyone he knows. With Mob, it’s even more noticeable.
He grips just a little tighter on his drink. Hopefully his first impression in 10 years isn’t ‘even more annoying’.
“So… I have to ask,” He finally says, “married?”
Mob shakes his head.
“Relationship?”
Another shake.
“Really? Hm.”
“And you?”
“Me? Ah, no,” Teru waves, “I had one that lasted probably… a year or so but he and I just weren’t—”
He stops dead mid-sentence, the shock of his slip crashing in and pouring over him in a wave of nauseous anxiety.
It seems Mob doesn’t notice or doesn't care that Teru suddenly came out to him. “…compatible?”
Teru forces his stiff locked joints to loosen up and chokes out a half-relieved laugh that Mob didn't catch it. “Uhm, yeah. Compatible.”
Another lull, more nerve wracking than the first.
“So, how’s the little brother?” That’s a question that should keep them going. Unless things have truly flipped on their head, Mob loves talking about Ritsu.
Mob brightens up instantly, just like Teru expects, and it makes him smile in turn.
“He’s well. He’s good at what he does, even though he’s so young. It’s amazing to see him work so hard after spending so much time at school and studying for the bar.” There's a pause then, and Mob looks down at his drink, “Ritsu never had a moment of doubt once he decided what he wanted to do in life. And he’s still giving it everything. Even though being a lawyer is so hard. It’s admirable.”
“Not a moment of doubt, huh…?”
Mob looks lost in thought for a minute, then takes another drink suddenly, long. He finishes his glass. “Ritsu knew what he wanted from the start and went for it. But I spent a long time wandering around trying to figure out what I wanted.”
“But you’ve found it?”
“I think so. I’m not sure. I enjoy my work.”
“You’re doing better than me then.”
How ironic. That I'm trailing behind you even now.
“You’ll figure everything out, Hanazawa. You’re very capable.”
Teru wants to argue, that no, he isn’t. That in his struggle to live an adult life without reliance on psychic powers, he's found a very incapable, very unremarkable man in himself.
Psychic powers don’t make a man special.
But he doesn’t argue. There is no point in wallowing.
“Thanks, Kageyama. You will too.” and the last part, he means.
Mob looks happy to hear it, and Teru is glad to lift the mood a bit. Adulthood hasn’t ripped away all his charm.
But it's time to nip this in the bud. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Mob, and he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome. Not when he'll surely see him again soon.
“It’s been really nice talking, Kageyama, but I should probably head out,” Teru stands up and playfully adds, “if I have a third drink I’m gonna be here all night.”
“Do you work early tomorrow?” Mob asks.
Teru blinks. “Uhm… I— no?”
Mob taps the counter to grab the owner’s attention.
“Then have another.”
Two hours later they're on the curb outside of a nearby convenience store, a Strong Zero in each of their hands with a few empty ones scattered around them. Teru has never seen Mob drunk before, and he holds himself infuriatingly well. No slurred words or wobbly constitution. The only giveaway are his pink cheeks and willingness to talk.
“Does being drunk affect your powers?” Teru asks, holding up a finger, yellow aura wrapping around it, “Mine basically stop working.”
“I don't think so,” Mob replies, “I've never been so drunk it's been an issue. Though I was nervous the first time. I thought I might…”
“Lose control?”
Mob nods.
Teru waves a confident hand, “You know, we’ve got a whole division now. Psychic damage prevention.” He points a thumb at himself, “feel free to explode anytime.”
“I don’t explode anymore, Hanazawa.”
Teru giggles, “I know, I'm just messing around. I was there, remember? I know.”
Mob looks down, away from Teru. His smile fades into something somber at the memory.
“You’re not still hung up on that, are you? It was years ago, Kageyama. Hair grows back. Even if you cut it twice.”
“I know but—” he glances at Teru, then back down, “I’m still sorry.”
Teru lays back on the sidewalk with a sigh. He stares at the inky, starless sky, “I’m the one who should be apologizing, considering everything. I almost killed you.”
“I almost killed you. ”
“Yeah but it was an accident for you,” Teru argues, face flushed from the liquor. He can feel his lips loosening by the second, “I was such a fucked up kid. I don’t know why you were friends with me.”
They shouldn’t be talking about this stuff, not this soon after reconnecting. Not this long since speaking.
Don’t ruin the mood.
“I forgave you a long time ago. You were young. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Pot kettle black, Kageyama,” Teru says, though it’s more playful than critical.
Mob turns to him and there’s no more tension in his gaze. Teru smiles back, then sighs.
“A kid with limitless power,” He spins his can in small circles, “I don’t think it’s possible to grow up normal like that.”
“Mmhmm.”
“If only all of us had a Reigen,” Teru grins, and Mob glances at him, “Er, I mean— I guess… you needed him more than the rest of us.”
“You should have had someone there for you.”
Teru hoists himself up to sitting, “Maybe. But we’re not all so lucky.”
“That’s sort of why— That’s part of why I do my job.”
“Your speech therapy?”
Mob nods, “I don’t have the capacity Reigen does to help emotionally but… I know what it’s like to struggle with communicating. I want to give people a way to advocate for themselves. A voice is a very powerful thing.”
Teru stares at the back of his head, silhouetted by the light of the city.
He's still awe inspiring.
“God.” He lays back down on the sidewalk, hands over his face. “ten years later and you’re still so— so… No wonder I looked up to you so much as a kid.”
Mob looks confused.
Teru lifts his open hands from his face, “Don’t act so shocked.”
His expression doesn’t change.
“You seriously never noticed? I was like, obsessed with you. You were the coolest person ever. I was like a— a Kageyama fanboy.”
Mob doesn’t look any less surprised.
“Wow,” Teru sits up, “I would almost be annoyed if I wasn’t so relieved that you don’t remember how embarrassing I was.”
“I always thought you were cool,” Mob finally says, and he has the good graces to look bashful about it, “I’m surprised hearing this.”
Teru giggles, with a lilt of disbelief, “I can’t believe you didn’t see it. I was not subtle back then. At all.”
Mob smiles, “I’m a little better about it now.”
Teru falls back down on the sidewalk. He stares up at that night sky, devoid of stars swallowed by the bright lights of the city, then closes his eyes.
“Reigen is—”
“Can I tell you—”
They both stop. Teru sits up on an elbow, “You go first. Reigen is what.”
Mob shakes his head with a hand over his mouth, “No, it’s good you stopped me. I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”
“Huh?” Teru leans forward, “You can’t say that. Now I want to know. Reigen is what?”
Mob adds another hand and shakes his head, “I can’t.”
Teru shakes Mob’s knee, careful not to knock over his nearby drink, laughing, “Reigen is what! You have to tell me!”
Mob’s smile threatens to break into a laugh, but it stays at the threshold without tipping over. He shakes his head again.
“If I guess it, you tell me if I’m right,” Teru barters, and Mob looks at him with silent humor, which he takes as a yes. “Reigen is… oh god,” Teru’s smile suddenly drops, “he’s not dying is he?”
“No!” Mob waves his hands.
“OK! ok. Reigen is… selling the business?” He knows that's wrong before it even leaves his mouth. Mob shakes his head, then lifts his hands back to his mouth.
“Reigen is… relocating?”
Another shake. Teru probably isn't gonna get it.
“Reigen is… looking for new workers,” he drops back onto the pavement with a thud, “well, too bad. I’ve already got a dead end psychic job and I don’t need another one.” He says it bitterly, sighs and finishes off the rest of his drink.
Mob doesn’t reply this time, just drops his hands to his knees and looks back at him.
Teru stares at the starless sky, so empty it could swallow him whole.
“Kageyama… can I tell you something kind of embarrassing.” Teru speaks quietly to that sky.
Mob just listens, a silent yes.
“I’m… really happy you’re back in town.” Teru swallows, “I’ve been having trouble making friends.”
That surprises Mob. “Oh… you’re usually very social.”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I can’t do it, it’s just—” He pauses. “I don’t know. I get along with my coworkers just fine but… they’re all espers and they’re all so… self important . I can’t connect with them. My college friends are great but they’re all in America. Sure I can go out and spend an evening with some strangers at a bar, but…”
There's just no connection.
“Sorry,” Teru adds, dragging a hand down his face, “I don’t mean to talk so much about myself. I know it’s annoying.”
“It isn’t.”
Mob‘s words cut through like a spark of light.
"I've always enjoyed listening to you."
Despite the subject at hand, Mob's words render Teru a little bit speechless.
"R— really?"
Mob nods.
It is a warm night in Seasoning City, and the stars look beautiful.
Mob stands at the glass doors of the government building. With his jet black hair and dark suit, one might mistake him for a shadow, save for a pair of bright novelty socks– frogs on lilies, peering out underneath black slacks.
He holds a receipt with an address scribbled haphazardly onto the blank side, a star and a smiley face just underneath it. There’s a matching address on the facade of the building, but no one outside to greet him. A few passersby offer an open door, and after three polite declines, Mob finally concedes and stands at the edge of the lobby.
It has a posh, but fairly plain interior, awash with whites, beiges and greys. When Teru finally steps out from one of the connecting halls, he looks like a centerpiece. His suit is a deep rich indigo with golden embroidery etched into the fabric. Upon closer inspection, Mob sees the contrasting texture of golden thread upon soft velvet suiting. No tie today, only a black dress shirt beneath.
“Sorry! I got held up in a meeting, I should have messaged you.” Teru fiddles with his watch, pauses on Mob’s feet, then up at him with a smile, “I like your socks.”
“Good afternoon, Hanazawa. Thank you.”
The sudden formality takes Teru by surprise but he doesn’t lose his good humor.
“Um. Good afternoon, Kageyama. Welcome to my, uh, work.” He gestures to the bland lobby and his grin turns self aware, “Shall we?”
The cafeteria is professional and clean, with wide open windows and a buffet style selection on one side. Middling groups of employees and straggling loners line a few of the long, high tables on the other side. Teru has never loved it— boring and utilitarian as it is— but any money saved on food can be spent on clothes, so here he finds himself daily.
“It’s not the best food in the city, but it’s probably the cheapest,” Teru grabs them both trays, “You know how it is. They want to keep us here so we can get back to work faster.”
Mob takes his tray and stays close to Teru as they trail along the serving area.
“This is very fancy.”
“You think so?” It catches Teru by surprise. He’s always been embarrassed by it.
Mob nods in response, and Teru smiles to himself with his head held just a bit higher.
They grab their lunches. Teru gets a salad with so many toppings and decadent dressings that it cancels out its health benefits. Mob gets a basic sandwich and a bottle of water.
The two find seats across from each other at an empty table by a window.
Their ensuing conversation is not as open as the night prior, but it’s clear that some kind of invisible social hurdle between them has been jumped and the words flow unforced.
Only a few minutes in, a coworker spots Teru in the crowd and sits with the two of them.
“So you two know each other from the Awakening Lab?” She, Akemi, asks after introductions.
“We met at school, sort of.” Teru replies.
“And you have psychic powers too?” She asks Mob.
“Yes.”
“Nice! Well, we’re happy to have you.”
Mob glances at Teru who says, “Oh, um, Kageyama doesn’t work here.”
“But… you have psychic powers?”
“Yes.”
“You must work in the industry.”
“I used to.”
“Used– Then what do you do now?”
“Speech therapy.”
Akemi snorts and raises her eyebrows with a skeptical grin, “Wow. Guess some of us just don't make the cut.”
Teru flushes with embarrassment and indignation. They’re the pathetic ones having to rely on these powers for their livelihoods, “Kageyama is strong. Even stronger than me. By a lot.”
She doesn’t even try to look convinced, “OK.”
Of all the people to have his holier than thou coworkers posture to... A thick cinder block of embarrassment sits unpleasantly in Teru's stomach.
“What do you do here?” Mob asks it to Teru, but Akemi answers faster.
“We’re basically superheroes,” she says. Teru wants to smash his head into a wall. “We keep this city safe, tracking down and apprehending terrorists and malevolent spirits. Like psychic peacekeepers.”
“Is that what you do—”
“No,” Teru can’t distance himself fast enough. “I’m really more back-end so— you know, I’m not fighting anyone. I do… research. Essentially.”
“He’s their little guinea pig,” Akemi replies with playful rudeness. Her description makes the embarrassment in his stomach curdle.
Mob looks concerned and Teru waves his hands in defense, “No, no! I don’t— I’m not being experimented on or anything. My role is mostly giving advice and doing research. I’m… like a consultant.”
“Like Master Reigen.” Mob says with a light in his eyes that cuts through the thick tar of Teru’s negative feelings.
“…Reigen? Like the meme guy?” Akemi asks, mid-chew.
“The m—…” Mob trails off, confused. Teru bristles.
Akemi looks between them, “You know, from the TV special. Er, the Joto one? I guess it’s pretty old. You’d probably know it if you saw it.” She swallows, “I feel like that’s always gonna be my image of him no matter what people say. I bet the guy he always comes in with does all the real psychic work. He’s nicer too.”
Mob blinks. “... Reigen comes here?”
“Yeah, shows up a few times a year to bitch about us stealing his clients or whatever.”
Teru had spotted him once, Serizawa with him as he poked and prodded the bulletproof glass barrier, chewing out the customer service rep on the other side.
“Have you seen him?” Mob asks Teru.
“Ah, I seem to only hear about it after he leaves,” Teru lies. Mob doesn’t need to know that he ducked behind his computer to avoid the painful awkwardness that would surely emerge if he struck up a chat with his former best friend’s former mentor who worked at a competing business.
Mob nods in response. “I’ll let him know you say hi when I see him next.”
“Wait, you know him?” Akemi asks.
“He is my mentor. I used to work at his business.”
“ That was your old psychic job?” The shock erases the skepticism from her mind and she asks, with genuine curiosity, “Well… was it. Legit?”
“Yes. Reigen and Serizawa help many people.”
She eats a fry. “Huh.”
When they make it to the entrance of his work building, Teru already has an apology on the tip of his tongue.
Mob beats him to the punch. “This was fun.” The apology dies on Teru’s lips, and for another gorgeous moment, his worries and embarrassment are quashed by Mob's earnest kindness. “Let’s do it again soon.”
Teru can’t agree more, “Yes! Just message me. Whenever. I don’t know your schedule.”
“It changes every day. I’ll let you know.”
“OK, yes! Yes, ok great! I’ll see you around then?”
“You will.” Mob smiles, and then he’s gone.
Mob’s words replay in Teru’s head, and the miserable pitter patter of his workplace fades into the background.
I have a friend again.