A/N: Everyone's favorite shows up: Dimple!

.

Being in the business he was, and who he was, Mob was no stranger to evil spirits.

On the rare occasion that one of his and Reigen's clients had problems with a real spirit, Mob would do away with them, Reigen almost always insisting that it was good practice for Mob to exorcise the 'small fry'. Actually, if he thought about it, he had never seen Reigen use the psychic powers he claimed to have. (Was it simply… restraint?) But, anyway:

Spirits not native to the graveyard began to come around the area. They were usually wispy little bits of malice that even Tome-san could get rid of; the land she rested in was hers in life, and that held some power to it. Mob figured they had noticed his releasing of psychic powers and came to investigate. He really did not appreciate that, and he began to keep a thin barrier around the house and graveyard to discourage them. If Reigen noticed the barrier, or the foreign spirits, he did not mention it. Then again, they were probably too weak for him to detect in the first place.

.

"Can Tome-san watch the movie with us?"

Reigen raised an eyebrow. Mob hugged the bowl of popcorn with both arms, excitement briefly crossing his eyes.

"She said it's one of her favorites because of how silly it is. But, she did not want to intrude because it's your house now."

That sounded like his grandma: snooping around while not seeming like it. Reigen heaved a small sigh and shook his head in exasperation.

"I don't see why not."

Or: it's not like he could say no to that face.

The only reason he did not like it was because of how awkward it was. Mob could see his grandmother on the other end of the couch, while Reigen, ah, could not (but he couldn't let Mob know that). It was unnerving that he knew she was there, and she could see and hear him, yet not him her.

Why, even after death, did she have to cause him trouble?

During the previews, Mob craned his head over like she was whispering to him. Then, he smiled, conspiratorial like she probably was.

"Is that true, Shishou?"

Reigen almost jolted from his seat. He tried to play it suave: coughed, cleared his throat, and wore the image of innocence.

"What was that? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

No harm done. "Did you not like popcorn when you were younger?"

"Oh—no, I didn't," Reigen said with a little laugh. "I didn't like the way it stuck to my teeth."

"Tome-san said you didn't like it because you thought the kernels were cockroach eggs."

"Maybe when I was three!" Reigen defended immediately. "I grew out of that!"

Reigen scowled in the direction of his grandmother. Mob looked between the two, unbiased about the whole thing.

"Tome-san, I don't think Shishou appreciates you sticking your tongue out at him."

It was going to be a fun night for sure.

.

Mob did not know who Banshoumaru Shinra was, but Reigen did not like him at all.

His usually calm, cool, and collected guardian absolutely lost his wits when they got to the client's house and he was there. Shinra had apparently taken up the psychic consultation business as well, and he got into it with Reigen almost faster than he recognized him.

"I'm sorry!" the client apologized, caught between the two warring parties. "I didn't know who was better, so I hired both of you!"

"He's not even a psychic!" Shinra pointed out quite aggressively. "He is just trying to con you out of your money!"

"Wearing a string of prayer beads doesn't make you a psychic," Reigen retorted, ever quick with his tongue. "You probably don't even know how to use those!"

"Wearing a suit that looks like you bought it at the convenience store doesn't make you a psychic either!"

"Please, I just want the spirit out of my house!"

Mob watched the display, distant in both body and understanding. A green, slime-like spirit slipped out of the hallway closet, but everyone was too engrossed in the conflict to notice.

Mob raised his hand and called out gently, "Ah, Shishou— "

"I have a kid to take care of, and you got me fired!"

Mob wilted. The spirit stopped on the carpet, looking to Mob with its one round eye in puzzlement. It was just as confused as he was.

Mob almost felt sorry for the thing. He dissipated it with the wave of his hand, leaving his guardian all the freedom to challenge what he saw as a bigger issue: his past grudges.

.

Danger.

Fear.

And anger.

All these feelings rattled around Mob as he awoken in the night, so intensely that he could almost hear them grating the walls like chalk on concrete. He shot upright faster than a launched ping-pong ball, his heart alight with panic and skin shivering. What-?

Tome-san.

Her terror hummed like piano wires from the graveyard. Shreds of his energy barrier dissolved in the air about him like leaves blown in the wind, and Mob knew there wasn't time.

Mob flipped off his blanket and shoved open his bedroom window. The wet darkness brushed him as he dropped softly to the ground, his bare toes crushing the grass as he landed and ran. Mob was never one for athletics, and his terribly frightened heart and choppy breathing hindered his already difficult break for the graveyard gate.

There was a… man, who was not a man; a person not wholly a person. Sure, he wore the skin of a human: an aged individual, with face and hair almost too perfectly smoothed, and a dark overcoat hiding the trunk and legs. But inside, evident to Mob past the pretense, there was nothing—no warmth of life or sense of belonging in that body. He was dead; or at least something like it.

Tome-san floated before him—a tiny fierceness protecting the graveyard gate. She held herself with arms crossed in an intimidating manner, yet her aura hung agitated and uncertain about her. Her voice was arctic.

"There is no sense for you to be here. The graveyard does not have what you are looking for."

"I would rather look myself," the man said, snarky and not ashamed of it. "If you don't mind."

"Be reasonable," Tome-san scowled. "If the graveyard had it, wouldn't I or one of the other inhabitants have taken it already?"

"I am being reasonable," the man disagreed with a mischievous grin. "I am reasoning that you would lie to me."

The man took a step towards her as a coercion tactic, and Tome-san went rigid. He was a threat—she saw that, and it wasn't unclear she did—but she wasn't moving; she wasn't turning tail and running. She was making a stance, and it didn't matter how much the man frightened her. She was going to protect her graveyard.

"Don't."

The man jumped at the sudden word. Mob had blended into the dark and placidity of the night so well that neither the man nor Tome-san had noticed him, and he moved out of the shadows without a challenge. A brief expression of motherly concern crossed Tome-san's eyes, but she just as quickly covered it, tucking away her emotions for the sake of the situation. She spoke with the movement of her eyes.

Go back.

"Don't what?" the man asked, acting confused like a normal person would have seeing a child in his pajamas out at night. "Are you lost, kid?"

Mob did not answer right away: moon-faced and cold amongst the blackness and clouded sky.

"No."

The man hesitated. He sighed and leaned on his hip, gesturing with his hand to urge the conversation along.

"What are you doing out here all alone, then? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

No response came. The man shivered in disgust.

"What a nasty expression… What's the matter with you?"

"You shouldn't bully Tome-san."

Again, that swift flicker of unrest rippled Tome-san's composure. The man looked between Mob and her before breaking out into another smirk, slinking into an even more relaxed pose.

"Ah, I get it," he said, taunting the very sweetness. "You got a little of the sight, don't you? Just enough to see the dead?"

Mob's fists seized up. He was serious, and the man wasn't going to see him that way.

"Dear, go back to the house," Tome-san spoke to Mob for the first time. "I can handle this."

"Don't worry, Grandma." The man waved his hand once more, effectively deriding them. "I wouldn't waste my time on a child."

He craned his neck over, mocking Mob by viewing him sidelong.

"Though, with an attitude like that I don't know if I would consider him a child."

"Whatever conflict you have is with me," Tome-san practically spat acid. "I own this graveyard, not him."

The man sneered at her. "Can't I have a little fun?"

Mob wasn't playing.

Mob wasn't joking.

Mob didn't think it was 'fun'.

Here the man had come, tossing around the safety of Mob's home like it was all some game; like a cat with a ball of yarn. Whatever he wanted he saw no drastic mission to obtain, for he thought no matter the circumstance he would get it. Teasing Tome-san with the threat of force was marvelous fun to him. Others being scared of him was entertaining.

Mob understood this, bitterly, and felt the reaction of ridicule: anger.

The ground shuttered. The man felt the vibration and broke into an even grander arrogant smile, turning fully towards Mob.

"So you have a little more than the ability to see spirits!" he crowed. "Not that it matters. It's not like you would be a challenge to put in your place."

"Dear, please go back to the house!" Tome-san begged for the last time. "I don't want you to get hurt!"

"Do what Grandma says," the man dismissed him altogether. "Don't pretend to be angry just to impress her."

… Pretend?

Pretend?

He saw so little of Mob that his feelings were pretend?

All the streetlights shattered at once. Like the eclipse of the sun, everything fell into ethereal darkness. The shadows tinged turquoise as a spasm of energy circled Mob like alchemist's fire, and the colors reflected in the man's eyes as they filled with excitement.

"You're going to take it as far as you can, aren't you? You want to start something!"

The man reached up his arms, and the peach and black colors of his form stretched up into a violent green shape. What was once almost a man showed itself to be an evil spirit, with a terrific grin and height like a god's statue. His great fist elongated into something wicked and sharp. He raised it to strike.

"I'm not opposed to going along with that!"

"Mob!"

The collision was like a canon. Dirt from the fence flew up as the metal bent inwards, and the movement of wind frazzled Mob's hair. The hot malice from his power drew inwards suddenly like the ocean, his dark eyes meeting the pale horror of Tome-san's. Her body flickered as the long, green, knife-like appendage protruded out her back, but she grasped onto Mob for support, just enough for her hands to hold his face.

"Run away," she pleaded with him, her voice fading like chimes on a breeze. "Please, I don't want you to die—It's okay to run away."

Her arms slipped through his body. She crumpled—a falling star, vanishing and dying its last death. Mob felt every horrible, aching moment as she passed through his body, parts of her disappearing piece by piece until there was nothing.

By the time she reached the ground, she was gone.

.

A/N: I apologize for any grief I have caused.