how the hell has it been four months since the last update what is time


It was a regular, completely normal house: Hardwood floors, pale colors and earth tones, professional and childhood art hanging on the walls, an open room split into a kitchen and a living room by a simple four-person dining table…. The house of a normal family. How did the world's most powerful psychic come from this place? It seemed wholly anticlimactic, if you asked him.

Peeking around the corner, Reigen saw Ritsu pulling out a chair from the table across from a man sipping a beer. Mob's father, he realized. He had only briefly met him once a few years back and knew next to nothing about him. Couldn't even remember his name. Well. Guess he should learn a bit more about this little family in his current situation.

A woman—Mob's mother—set two more plates at the table in front of the remaining chairs. She cast a curious look at Reigen before he remembered he was still standing in the hallway. With a start, quickly—but not too quickly, he reminded himself—he took the last seat, unfortunately less than two feet from the most overprotective and spiteful middle schooler there was.

He swallowed. Never was he more glad that Mob wasn't the type to begin conversations.

Curry was on the menu tonight. It actually looked pretty good. Ritsu was already eating, so he scooped up a spoonful, from right where sauce met rice, and popped it in his mouth. Mmmm… he almost moaned from the bliss of it. Sweet curry sauce with just a noticeable kick, tender chicken, warm rice; he couldn't remember the last time he had a classic home-cooked meal like this. How dare his student not invite his beloved teacher over for dinner.

The taste was gone all too soon. He took a second spoonful, then a third, until a chuckle made him freeze. "Got a hot date to get to, Shigeo?" the boy's father joked.

"Uh." Honest but soft-spoken, right? "It's just really good," he admitted, dropping his gaze to his plate.

Reigen intentionally avoided looking at them and couldn't gauge their reactions, but Mob's mom laughed, admiring how "someone seems to appreciate this household's cooking" and inciting a round of friendly bickering between the couple. Ritsu said nothing. Reigen hoped the eyes he felt watching him were just a product of his paranoia. He couldn't have been in this house for more than five minutes; there's no way this kid could already be suspicious.

At least he wouldn't do anything in front of his parents. Probably. Plus Reigen still had curry to finish. He chewed his next bite more slowly, savoring the warm flavor.

It was still pretty warm. In fact, it was so warm that there could've been steam coming off it not too long ago, yet he could eat it just fine. Didn't burn his mouth at all. Huh. Maybe he really did have a cat's tongue….

Not at the moment, I don't, he thought, allowing himself a hint of a smile before his next bite. Delicious. Some kids really don't know how good they have it.

It was gone all too soon. Ritsu talked about his day and student council affairs for much of the meal, so the most Reigen had to do was nod every now and then. He should at least feel lucky he was masquerading as a quiet and reserved kid instead of some loudmouth. A quiet, reserved, incredibly powerful psychic kid.

Okay. Okay. This was terrible. Reigen knew that. He unintentionally body-snatched his student and was stuck in the throes of puberty. Mob was probably more awkward and uncomfortable than ever. But it would only be more awkward if word of this got out, so all they could do now was sit and wait. And if that meant the fraud had to put up with having real, convenient, awesome psychic powers, then that would be his cross to bear.

He sighed. If only psychic powers could make curry out of thin air…. He almost set his now-useless spoon down, but then he remembered: He was holding a spoon. He'd seen the Matrix. Spoons were like a rite of passage.

It looked just a touch large in his hand, the proportions of both being askew from what he was used to, and the blurred, distorted reflection in its surface lacked the bright glow of blond hair. He tightened his grip, pushing his thumb into its stem, but the metal wouldn't bend from such a meager attempt. Good. He focused on his hand, just like earlier, imagining that orange glow around him, making the spoon bend itself, using energy to move energy as there really was no spoon, or whatever.

A light washed over the utensil. Or maybe it was just the glare from the overhead light. Nothing happened as seconds passed. Damn. Reigen frowned. This worked earlier…. On something lighter but still.

He shivered. Over the white noise of the family's conversation, something seemed…off. There was…actual white noise, or some kind of static, and once he noticed it, it tickled his ears. Another chill ran down his spine. What was that, poor reception? This wasn't a phone call. Sandpaper? Sugar in a sifter?

At that last thought, the grating feedback cleared, sharpening into the course sifting sound he had imagined, and like striking flint in a lighter that sunset hue sparked around his hand. The sound increased to almost a sizzle as the light hit the spoon, flipping it once, twice, behind and over itself.

Reigen jerked away, biting back whatever uncharacteristically-Mob noise would've sprung out. Simultaneously a sigh and a laugh came from across the table. "Another one from your allowance, Shigeo?" Mrs. Kageyama commented, exasperated.

"I—" He let out a short breath. Initiation passed. He really was the One. His lips twitched, but he shot the grin down before it could fully form. "No, that's fair," he agreed. It was his fault; the least he could do was pay Mob extra as compensation for the silverware after all this.

He looked up as Mob's mother shook her head yet said nothing more. Her husband chuckled again, using what sounded like the tried and true excuse of "boys will be boys". In general, though, they were uninterested. Even to this quaint little family, spoon-bending superpowers at dinner were that commonplace? …Well, he reasoned, replaying that last line in his head. This was Mob they were talking about. And didn't the brother have powers, too?

Reigen spared a glance at Ritsu—and immediately regretted it.

The boy stared at him, eyes a touch wide to be normal and harmless. Spoon stuck over his plate, lips pressed into a thin line, he stared, and Reigen was caught like a deer in headlights. Did I blow my cover already? But the parents didn't notice anything since the mother said 'another' like this was a recurrence, and this kid wasn't even paying attention to me, talking about grades or school shit! Please, God, whoever's out there, I don't need this angsty teen on my ass any more than he already is, just—

"Ritsu?" the mother asked.

"I got it." And just like that, Ritsu plucked the deformed spoon from his hands, expression neutral. His hand shimmered in fragmented plates of cyan and cobalt, and the spoon neatly twisted itself back into a functional utensil.

That's not good, if his paranoia was already getting a hold on him. Taking a moment to steady his voice, Reigen asked, "May I be excused? I have a test tomorrow I should study for."

Her eyebrows raised, but the woman didn't object. "You can leave your plate at the table. If that's what's got you stressed, Shige, I don't want you breaking anything more by accident."

Her fake son hummed in agreement before attempting to look like he wasn't fleeing the scene of a crime. He pace only broke when he was in the hallway, almost swinging on the banister as he rounded the corner and took the steps in pairs, the clatter of metal against ceramic continuing until he was out of earshot. Sliding into the bedroom and all but slamming the door, he leaned his back against it with a breath of relief. Day one: Success.

Reigen wiped his forehead with his sleeve as he took in the room; the student seemed to perspire almost as much as the master. Neat bed, stocked bookcase, well-kept desk, uniform draped over the back of—oh. This must be Ritsu's room, he realized, tension returning. Good thing he left early, or else that could've been bad. After checking that the coast was still clear through the keyhole, he opened the door—hopefully as wide as it had been a minute ago—and sidled along the wall to the next doorway. Open, uncluttered, rolled-up futon, fewer books…. Yep. Looked like a Mob Room to him.

The door closed with a soft click. Now the day's a success.

He sighed, letting himself relax for real this time, tugging at his collar to loosen his tie…which wasn't going to work because this wasn't his suit. Right.

His fingers fumbled to unbutton his uniform jacket. How long has it been since he last did that, twelve years? Thirteen? After wearing suits for so long with their smooth plastic buttons, the engraved metal of the gakuran felt foreign. Slipping it off his arms and throwing it onto the desk with grace, he caught himself before he once again tried to undo his tie. "Mother of…," he mumbled, flipping the futon open with his foot. "Damn force of habit."

He fell face-first into the pillow and wrapped his arms around it. To his at-this-point-nonexistent surprise, it didn't smell like his pillow at home. The hair around his eyes was too dark; his arms were too short to grab his forearms; his back didn't stubbornly hold onto the tension knotting his muscles. It seemed routine, but the more he payed attention, the more alien everything felt.

Reigen rolled onto his back. He was good at reading body language, but he never did it to himself. Now, though, the differences were striking, like when he folded his hands over his stomach and again marveled at how smooth they were.

There was something else to it, though…. He patted his stomach. Mob had always been slim, with not much to him at all, but it felt like he was starting to build some muscle. Looks like all that training is actually paying off, he thought with a twinge of pride.

The ache from earlier was still there. He poked his abs, then his chest, feeling the renewed dulled pain of sore muscles. It felt like he—well, Mob—had worked out for hours yesterday, but the boy had seemed skeptical when he had mentioned it. He probably just fell wrong on the concrete at the café. Yeah. Not sure if there's a right way to fall on concrete, after all.

"Nii-san?"

Bolting upright with a squeak, Reigen threw his arms up towards the sound, flailing his hands in a vague semblance of martial arts. One of his hands had a pale, flickering aura around it.

Another knock at the door. "You left your bag downstairs. Is everything alright?"

Ah. It's fine. Just play it cool. "Oh, yes, I'm good," he announced, pushing himself to his feet. He paused just a second to appreciate how lithe and easy the action was. "Just wondering where I put that now. Thanks, Rit—" slam!

The door snapped open into his shoulder, throwing him backwards into the desk. A fist, balled in his shirt, held him there as Ritsu fumed above him. Mob's schoolbag hovered in the background, encased in a bubble of blue, and the door swung silently shut. How's this kid taller than me? was the lone thought he had before his face was hit by a damp cloth.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Ritsu furiously scrubbed at his cheeks, his protests coming out as choppy monosyllabic discontent. It wasn't long, though, before it slowed. Reigen heard the boy say under his breath, "Not Dimple…?"

When Reigen blinked open his eyes, he was shoved against the desk again. "Where's my brother?" demanded Ritsu, low and dangerous.

He swallowed. Could he still save this? "Ah, Ri-Ritsu? What— uhh, I am your brother?"

"Don't fuck with me," he hissed. "Who are you and where's Shigeo?"

Reigen looked away, breaking the death stare. "Jeez, kid, watch your language," he muttered on reflex.

He paused, expression losing some of its ferocity. "Reigen…?" He leaned back. "Reigen Arataka, is that you?"

"Ah…." A drop of sweat traced his jawline. "Now Ritsu, let's not do anything rash—"

He was yanked to his feet, two hands twisting his shirt, their noses almost touching. "My brother. Now."

"He's fine, he's fine! Ritsu, it's— He's probably having some ramen, watching a movie, watching TV, chillin' at my apartment— He's perfectly fine!" He laughed nervously, holding his hands up.

An aquamarine light burned around the boy, illuminating his eyes and further spiking his hair. The unique chiming psychic white noise that accompanied it was at the edge of Reigen's hearing. "What do you mean 'probably'? Why do you look like him?"

"Ah hah, ah, now Ritsu, don't— don't get mad—urk!" He choked, throat constricted. Psychic powers? Just his shirt collar? He couldn't tell. "Ack, Rits—! Not— not me, real—his body—!"

He was dropped back onto the desk, gasping for air. "Oh, thank god," he breathed. His head fell back; his bangs barely parted, stuck to his forehead. "This is exactly what I thought would happen. I don't know why I thought I could avoid this. Jeez, my back's sore again. So there's that. Wonderful."

Ritsu was staring at him, mouth agape. His aura didn't dim. Slowly, he asked, "This isn't a disguise…? You're…possessing him?"

"No, I'm… well. Well, maybe. Technically. I guess. His body, at least. Mob's not in here. Bit of a quid pro quo situation here. A Vice Versa. A Freaky Friday, if you will. But on a Wednesday."

"You…." Ritsu shook his head. "You abandoned your student and your body, just to come to dinner?"

"Hey, it was Mob's idea, you know. Didn't want his family to worry, although—" he looked at the increasingly judgmental teen, "guess that's one fewer we have to worry about. I kinda thought it would've taken a bit longer, though. How'd you figure it out so fast?"

Ritsu scoffed. "Are you kidding? You're nothing like Nii-san. Your aura's a completely different color, even. And anyway, here I was thinking you were a complete fraud. Turns out you're just incredibly stupid with your powers."

Reigen straightened up. "I resent that, you know," he said. Along with the fact that you can look down at me.

"I don't care." He cracked his knuckles, an action that was made a lot less nonchalant when he said, "Now how about you tell me what happened this afternoon so I don't have to force it out of you?"

He nodded and opened his mouth before he hesitated. "But you wouldn't want to hurt your brother's body just to get to me, would you?"

The boy's expression darkened. "Espers don't need to use physical forces. You should know this, Mr. World's Greatest Psychic."

"Eh heh…."

A knock sounded at the door. When Mrs. Kageyama opened it, her son's aura had disappeared, and Mob's bag fell onto the futon. She barely considered it. "Ritsu, what are you doing? Your brother has to study."

"Yes, Mom." His stare didn't waver. "I guess we can talk tomorrow. On the way to school." When their mother was out of view, Ritsu pointed from his eyes to Reigen's, then spun on his heel and left, pulling the door closed with a shock of cyan.

…okay. Reigen let out the breath he'd been holding. Alright, not bad. Could've been worse. Thank you, motherly instinct. The muscles in his torso and arms were sore again from getting thrown around, but nothing a little rest won't fix.

He lay down on the futon. Maybe having Ritsu in the loop would be helpful: another set of eyes to look for the missing spirit; more powers at their disposal for whatever; plus the kid could be clever, more so than his brother. If he could just be a bit more rational about his brother complex, then he could be a good ally.

Staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, he wondered for not the first time what kinds of karmic turns his life had to take to end up as a fourteen-year-old esper worrying about middle schoolers beating him up.

He wondered if Mob was alright.

He could always text him. Would that seem overprotective, though? He wasn't that worried; he was sure his student could protect himself better than most adults, and he had the added advantage now of being an adult to boot.

It was still relatively early. Before Reigen could doze off, he sat up and grabbed Mob's jacket, finding the cellphone in the second pocket he checked. Selecting 'Reigen-shishou' from 'Recent Contacts', he shot off a quick message asking if he found his apartment without much trouble. He sat for a moment, watching the screen, then he sent another text asking for what homework he still had left to do. While waiting for a response, Reigen dug through the bag that fell nearby, looking for a notebook, pencil, and a reference from which he could forge Mob's handwriting.


Not really feeling this ending, so have an alternative:

Ritsu: you gonna pay you jesus goddamn son of a whore
Reigen: Uh, Ritsu? You're not going to hurt your brother's body, now are you?
Ritsu: Sorry Dude Tough Break