A/N: Midterms are coming, so things are going to be a little slow!
.
Guilt.
Green and dark and sharp. It eats at the heart, like worms in a rotting apple, and it persists, plaguing the mind throughout the day and well into sleep.
For Mob, the feeling was new and awful.
As his fever finally dropped and his senses returned, he began to remember bits and pieces of what he had done. He remembered how Ritsu had cried out before everything went black, and how in the middle of the dark he recognized blood on the grass, and how his next cognitive memory was of when Reigen's mother cooled him. He did not remember felling the tree or throwing the high schoolers or hurting Ritsu, but apparently all that had happened as well.
Now it was known that he could not always contain his powers. And he felt terrible about it.
He felt terrible about how he could not stop himself from ripping up part of the graveyard he so loved and breaking the window of his ever-kind and ever-patient guardian. Reigen had to call people to cut up the tree and people to replace the window, and although he said it was not a big deal, Mob knew that was money he did not want to spend. However sympathetic he was to Mob's reaction to being cornered, in the end it did not change anything. The window was still broken, and Ritsu had been hurt despite all his efforts.
Reasonably, Mob felt the worst about that. Ritsu, in vulgar irony, had been hurt by the one he had cried out to for protection, and that principle sickened Mob more than anything ever had. No matter how much he wanted it, what he had done could not be reversed. Mob was left to the consequences of something he could not control.
Ritsu had not shown up to the graveyard since the incident, and honestly, Mob did not blame him. He was scared of himself, and he could only imagine how Ritsu—one who had faced the full unleashing—felt. If he were Ritsu, he would hate him too.
Reigen did not watch the emotional aftermath of Mob's awakening idly. He saw how Mob hurt and tried to hide his powers, like his very heart were sick and he thought ignoring his wound would heal it. That would not do at all, and Reigen had to find reign over the situation with his adult (parental) knowledge.
"Why don't we go and see Ritsu? Then, you can tell him you're sorry yourself."
.
"Please, come in."
Ritsu's mother parted from the doorway, but despite the invitation Mob clung to the back of Reigen's leg. His own legs shook like little water ripples, and if he let go he felt he would fall. Something very known to him stung in his chest.
Nervousness.
Reigen took the initiative to enter, and Mob inched forward with every step. Ritsu's mother offered him a warm smile, and that gesture eased him a little.
"I am sure Ritsu will be happy to see you," she said gently, indicating the staircase just visible from the doorway. "His room is the first one on the left upstairs."
Mob's fingers threaded deeper into Reigen's pants. He gazed up to his guardian warily, but was met with only the smallest softness to his eyes.
Ritsu was Mob's friend. Reigen knew Ritsu was not going to harm him, at least forevermore, and Mob had to realize that. Of course, there was the chance that Ritsu was upset with him, or even afraid of him, but if that were the case Mob had to stop circling around the uncertainty of that possibly. The ignorance of Ritsu's true feelings were what hurt him more than anything. Whatever the truth turned out to be, Mob had to sort that out himself and understand it could be better (or worse) than turning over the prickly reality of ambiguity again and again. It was part of growing up.
Reigen motioned with his head. "Go on, Mob."
The comfort Mob wanted would not come from Reigen. Mob understood the reason for Reigen's coldness with a little heartbreak. Reigen was telling him the peace he sought would come from Ritsu and Ritsu alone, and that was something he had to face without help from his dear mentor.
Mob unfurled from Reigen's proximity. He gave the ever slightest nod, to show he knew what he needed to do, and approached the stairs alone.
It was like this had all happened before, maybe in a dream he had or a movie he saw. The way the table sat in the kitchen and the stark contrast of the dark stairs and white walls was familiar in a phantom-like way: eerie, and haunting. Smooth edges of emotions long since passed and long since experienced rubbed in his mind and almost scared him.
This place wasn't home, but it felt like it.
Whatever conflict he had with his intuition ceased when he reached the top of the stairs. The nearest left-hand door was cracked open, and he saw a sliver of the wooden floor and wall. The suddenness of the tangible room almost stunned him stiff right there, so close but too afraid to complete the action. He knew deep within his marrow if he did not move then, he never would.
Mob forced his frozen limbs towards the door. He nudged the opening wider, just enough to not be intrusive.
The room was remarkably—well—unremarkable. Everything seemed brown in color; there was a desk and a shelf with thick books; and any messiness of childhood was absent entirely.
And there sat Ritsu, propped up in his desk chair and a pencil in his hand.
All evidence of injury was left to the single gauze that protected the cut on his forehead. The twirl of the pencil in his hand halted when he noticed the creak of the door, and he looked up to see Mob leaning his head in.
A sheepish moment hung in the air. Mob downcast his eyes, and bright color came to his cheeks as a result. He fumbled with words, and when he spoke it was pathetically quiet.
"Hi, Ritsu."
"Niisan!"
Next he knew, Ritsu had spring-boarded from the chair and muscled his way around the door to embrace him. He accidentally squeezed so hard it made his fractured ribs hurt, and he eased off as Mob coughed from the sudden pressure. Ritsu made due by burrowing his cheek into Mob's chest.
"It's been so long, Niisan!" he cheered as if the event that had separated them was not so hideously tragic. "I've missed you!"
Fleetingly, Mob could only stare at the boy who he was sure would hate him after all he had done. But, the affection got to him, and his little frightened heart became soft and melted.
"Yes," he said and put a hand onto Ritsu's head. "I suppose it has been some time."
Ritsu pulled back, and he looked up to Mob with his dark eyes glowing like pearls.
"You came all the way here to see me, Niisan?"
Inevitability reared in his question. Mob's candle-wax heart hardened a bit as his delight chilled, and his gaze once again fell to the planks of the floor.
"I… I wanted to apologize for that one time. For how I hurt you."
Ritsu appeared a little puzzled. Then, he brushed it off and laughed, and Mob found the courage to look at him.
"For the time with the high schoolers? You didn't hurt me, Niisan. The high schoolers did, and you chased them away."
Shameful! It hadn't happened the way Mob thought at all. His spine perked and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment, half-apologies fluttering from his mouth.
"O-Oh, sorry, I thought I did…"
"Don't worry," Ritsu assured him. "You saved me! You're my hero!"
Mob flushed deeper. A stray finger picked at his cheek, and a self-conscious smile played at his mouth.
"I am? Oh…"
"C'mon, let me show you my book on pirates!" Ritsu changed the subject. "It has parts that move when you open it."
Mob agreed to see it with wholehearted nods. Ritsu turned around, and when he did his expression fell in a way he would not let Mob see.
What he saw that day… It wasn't Mob.
It was something that had crawled up from the most primitive part of his being: so unalike, so distant from Mob himself that the two halves had never met. It was something ancient and animalistic that had lashed out as soon as it saw it was cornered; something that had no rationality except that of survival and death. It was what Mob would be if he wasn't Mob. It was senseless. It was a monster. It was raw power.
Ritsu shook the thoughts from his head before Mob could see them on his face. He pulled out the book, the joy returned to his expression.
He had to believe Mob was the better of the two parts. Otherwise, it would not have to wait for Mob to be unconscious to come.
.
Ritsu's mother lowered the teacup from her mouth.
"Ritsu does talk about him sometimes, but I never paid much mind to it. He talks about bending spoons and making water float."
She shrugged one shoulder. "He isn't usually that imaginative, but I suppose it is typical of his age."
The tiniest sweat drop rolled under Reigen's collar. He let the silence answer for him, nursing his tea with a thoughtful expression.
"Shishou."
Mob spared Reigen from having to pretend like Mob didn't make spoons bend and water float. Ritsu's mother turned in her seat, addressing the boy standing in his characteristic polite fashion.
"Did it go alright? Was Ritsu happy to see you?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. He just wasn't very enthusiastic about anything, was he?
Maybe that was the part reminding her of her own child. She could not quite put her finger on it, but there was something familiar about the way he moved and spoke and looked. It was like she was looking at a snapshot of something she thought Ritsu could have been, but was never quite.
"Good," Reigen said in a matter-of-fact tone that showed he knew it would turn out as such. "Are you ready to go, then?"
Mob nodded and repeated, "Yeah."
Reigen placed his teacup back on the tray, and he extended the pleasantry of Ritsu (and his mother and father) visiting his home if Ritsu ever grew bored of running around the graveyard. She promised to keep that in mind and walked them to the door.
"It was nice chatting with you, Reigen-san," she attended his farewell. "And it was nice to meet you… Shigeo, was it?"
Mob stared up at her in utter confusion. He hesitated, like he didn't want to correct her, but he knew by the look in her eyes that she already saw her mistake.
"… It's Mob."
Embarrassment heated her face, and she felt like she was going to cry—although, that part was strange to her. Some odd and misplaced sadness came over her when he admitted his name was not what she thought: and, she realized, she had no idea why, or why she had even thought his name was Shigeo. She laughed softly at her mistake and shook her head.
"Mob, yes, of course, how foolish of me. That doesn't sound similar at all."
They departed after that, and Mob watched her curiously as she said her final goodbyes and shut the door. For one reason or another, the parting was particularly painful. She felt as if she was losing something: something precious she could never get back again. The feeling had only started when Mob was there—with Reigen, she felt nothing. Letting him leave was like she was tearing her own heart out, and she nearly choked on all the foreign and naked emotions clogging her chest.
The mother in her was trying to tell her something, but what?
.
The man stood on the edge of a building.
Wind tussled his jacket. He stood at the edge long enough for the wind to finally die, and the grass outlining the long scar in the graveyard stilled. Two figures worked within it: one big, and one small.
The man found the phone in his pocket. He dialed and waited for the ringing to stop, speaking when the one on the opposite end answered.
"You know that kid we lost a couple years ago? I think I found him."
.
A/N: Will Mrs. Kageyama's motherly instincts win out in the end? Stay tuned to find out!
