The whole shadow leader thing is still kind of uncomfortable, but other than Onigawara hardly anyone at Salt Middle really bothers him with it. Mob is pretty sure most delinquents at his own school simply don't know about this sort-of-misunderstanding-but-actually-not-really, since they weren't there to see him fight.

So Mob actually kind of forgot about his awkward title, until he hears a ridiculously awed whisper of "White T Poison!" as he walks along the streets of the neighboring district. He keeps his eyes on the sky, both out of habit and to purposely avoid checking if people are looking at him or not. Neither being ignored nor receiving too much attention is doing pleasant things to his stomach lately, which is a little scary because at least the former never bothered him before.

He didn't think this through, he realizes, when he comes to a stop by the gates to Black Vinegar Middle School and feels his insides squeeze up at the sight of the building; whole and unharmed as if it was never smashed to pieces by a boy who'd failed to change.

Mob is not sure if it's coincidence or if someone actually ran to alert their own shadow leader to his presence, but it only takes a few minutes for Hanazawa to find him.

"Kageyama," he greets him from a few steps away, walking up to him with a little wave before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "What a surprise. How did you end up here?"

Mob tears his eyes away from the building. "I walked. The bus was gone already."

The smile on Teru's face is almost familiar now, even though the owner himself occasionally appears as if he still has to get used to it himself. "Ah, I see," he says with a nod, though Mob doesn't really know what kind of relevant insight he could have possibly taken from that information. "It's been a while. How are you?"

Only then does it strike Mob how odd this is. They haven't seen each other at all since infiltrating Claw together, which was really only a temporary alliance based on situational necessity.

That whole shadow leader thing is coming back to him again and he feels a bead of sweat running down his temple. Will Hanazawa have to throw him out of his school? Surely being a delinquent gang leader goes hand in hand with a certain territorial behaviour?

Mob isn't sure if the other even still is his school's shadow leader after deciding to change, but he takes a small step back anyway so he's definitely standing in front of the gate and not even an inch beyond it. Then he glances up quickly to meet Teru's eyes.

There is probably no point at all in trying to read the expression on his face. It's still the same smile. It doesn't seem aggressive at least. Even though Mob didn't really think he would attack him, he's still a little relieved.

Though he seems to be expecting something.

An answer to his question, probably.

Mob forgot the question.

"Uh," he says.

And after a second of thought, leaves it at that.

There is a short silence and Teru's smile does not waver even for a moment. He nods again. "Okay. I'm going home right now. You can walk with me, if you like?"

The way he steps around him, making sure to keep a little distance between them but also upholding his open expression, is very reminiscent of the way Ritsu treats him when he doesn't want to stress him out. But while it makes Mob downright nauseous by now to see his brother acting that way around him, it's a lot less distressing coming from Hanazawa.

Probably because they don't know each other that well. This is likely just a sign of some general awkwardness instead of a desperate coping mechanism.

Hopefully.

He wouldn't hold it against him if it was, Mob thinks. He glances once again at the school he doesn't remember destroying and then tries very hard not to end up staring at the top of Hanazawa's head. Is that still a wig or did his hair grow back by now? Mob doesn't want to ask, even though he kind of really wants to.

Before he can get lost in his own head and forget the question again, he quickly shakes himself and nods, turning to trail along behind Teru who makes a little inviting hand motion and takes the lead.

They stop again just around the corner where Teru parked his bicycle and Mob watches thoughtfully as he undoes the chains. "Are you very fast?" he asks. "I might take a while to catch up then."

Teru startles and looks at him over his shoulder, a purple helmet with bright green stars now tucked away under his arm. "I'm not making you run along," he protests with an almost offended tone. "I'll push it, don't worry."

More sweat quickly collects on Mob's forehead. "I don't want to be a bother. Also, I've been training. I can run pretty far now without passing out."

"Don't worry," Teru repeats a little more insistently and starts to push the bike along the path. "It's not far anyways, we can both walk."

Mob hunches his shoulders a little, staring at the ground as he follows. "Sorry for the trouble," he mumbles. A small sigh is his only answer, then they both start walking in silence.

For a moment, the silence is scary, simply because Mob has sort of gotten used to being set off by a lack of noises and voices around him. But when the pure instinct of being scared fizzles out after a few steps, he realizes that it's different.

The path is an unfamiliar one, one that he never walked before in that other world. Or in this one, actually. Mob is walking on the right and Teru on the left, the green bike between them. Its wheels are squeaking ever so slightly, the metal basket in front rattles loudly with every little bump in the road. A fluffy keychain with a little stuffed monkey at the end dangles from the right handle and Mob watches as it swings along from side to side.

The sound of another's footsteps consistently next to him is more grounding than he would have thought, and Teru's uniform is different enough from Salt Middle School's that catching sight of it out of the corner of his eye doesn't bother Mob at all. Unlike when students from his own school pass by him on his usual way. He may not flinch anymore every time that happens, but he can't quite keep himself from looking after them, watching them ‒ steeling himself for something bad to happen.

So this... this is good. Different. He thinks maybe this is what it should have been like, coming back after not even really being gone at all, and just proceeding as before. It's selfish, maybe, because surely Hanazawa has other things to do, but Mob feels himself inadvertently slowing down. The other's apartment really isn't that far anymore, if Mob remembers correctly, and the thought of this small, unexpected bubble of peacefulness dissolving already makes him a bit fretful.

Teru adjusts his own speed without comment.

It's impossible to tell how much time has passed, for Mob at least. When they get to a street going slightly uphill, they slow down even more. Halfway up the hill, Teru takes a small, audible breath as he apparently decides to finally break the silence.

"I'm not troubled." Mob cannot even begin to understand what this almost reluctant, careful tone of voice even means. "But you seem to be."

Teru is very deliberately not looking at him, one hand nearly unnoticeably fidgeting with the bike's handlebar as he looks ahead at nothing. Mob stares at the other's fingers that are picking at the screw of the bike's bell. He kind of wants to pretend that he doesn't even know himself why he came to Black Vinegar of all places, but he isn't cunning enough to fool himself like that.

"I forgive you, you know," he says. "For that one time. When we met."

The finger he's been watching twitches. A small clinging sound from the nail hitting the bell marks their sudden grind to a halt right on top of the hill. The little monkey dances hectically at the end of the keychain.

It's a very simple leap that Mob's mind made there. From choking it jumped straight to Hanazawa, which is probably doing the other boy a grave injustice. He realizes now, as they stand frozen just a few steps away from their goal, that he maybe ended up being unwittingly cruel again.

"In case you cared," he tries to backpedal a little. "It's not that I think you should worry about that. You said you aren't troubled. I'm glad."

The hand flexes around the handlebar for a moment, right before suddenly going slack. When Mob lifts his head, Teru is looking at him with that smile again, though something about his eyes is different now. They don't quite manage to meet his.

"I missed the moment, didn't I?" Teru says quietly. "To apologize for that."

Mob would understand Hanazawa looking maybe a bit sheepish about that whole thing, which was sort of his fault after all, even if Mob was the one who caused it to escalate. But he did not expect the topic to upset him as much as it apparently does. When Teru lifts his eyes again to look straight at him, his smile is replaced by something serious and maybe a little hurt.

"I am sorry. I ‒ didn't really know how to say that earlier, or rather, when."

There is nervous apprehension swirling in Mob's stomach now, the sort that appears when he knows he's reading something wrong, or said the wrong thing, or ignored the sort of unspoken agreement not to talk about something that other people seem to understand instinctively and that always goes right over his head by several miles. He also thinks of how he never said thank you to Master Reigen. "You miss moments too?" he asks, strangely relieved to find he's not the only one.

A sort of helpless chuckle and a shrug is his answer. "I do now, apparently."

"I didn't want you to apologize," Mob adds quickly. Then takes a second to pick his own words apart and starts again. "I mean. I'm not upset that you did. But you didn't have to."

Another chuckle follows, maybe a bit more sincere this time. "I know what you meant, it's alright." Teru clamps both his hands around the handle of the bike and shifts his weight to the side, fingertips poking the monkey keychain as if by themselves, making it swing lazily again. He seems somewhat undecided, the way his eyes wander over the pavement for a moment before settling back on Mob. "I have some leftover yakisoba," he says, pointing over his shoulder towards his apartment just at the next corner. "If you want any. We could watch the game or something?"

Mob blinks. "A ‒ game show?"

Teru's smile deepens. "Right, yes. I'm sure there's one on somewhere."

"I don't really like game shows." It takes a second, during which Teru's expression twitches with something that might be as close to desperation as it is to genuine amusement, for Mob to realize what he sounds like. "But. We can still watch one. And yakisoba sounds nice."

The breath tumbling out of Teru's mouth is almost a laugh, but not really.

The apprehension in Mob's stomach doesn't quite manage to go away and that's alright. It's a constant companion during any kind of interaction that he isn't used to yet. In a way, that's even somewhat comforting right now, because none of that has changed between before and after. The way Teru occasionally looks at him with his carefully reassuring smile while they climb the stairs to his apartment in silence remains the same as well.

At least by now, Mob is significantly more confident in his theory that it's just born from awkwardness and not fear.