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mobpsychoheadcanons · 7 years

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Some thoughts on Shou

-Shou has many many scars on him all from his father. he sometimes just sits shirtless in front of a mirror and traces over them remembering what happened. Reminding himself that this is not normal. That this is not okay.

-Shou once saw Ritsu's father pat his head and Shou almost blasted him across the room before he realizes that it was actually an affectionate gesture.

-Shou has a very nervous habit of biting on his sleeves. The ends of his jacket are frayed and wet and disgusting and he doesn't remember the last time he washed it but he doesn't want to lose it. So he never does.

-Shou has received affection once, just once, from his father after his mother left. He was eight and he was in horrible burning pain and his father picked him up and carried him to the med room and wrapped up his injuries. It never happened again and Shou is almost sure that he dreamed it...but it's also a massive reason he sometimes doubts the abuse.

-Ritsu cries very easily. Shou laughs instead of crying. Ritsu wants to punch Shou in the face for making fun of his crying but then gets a massive pit of dread in his stomach when he sees Shou laughing off a stab wound or a broken bone.

-One time Shou did cry in front of Ritsu though...it started off as laughter that then turned hysterical and caused him to collapse on the ground shaking as he started sobbing between laughs and he couldn't breathe and he wanted to die because he broke down and...He kept saying that he was sorry for crying....Ritsu held him tight and tried to be comforting but all he could really do in his state of shock was to rock him and try his best to soothe him

-One time Reign tried to pat Shou on the Shoulder and Shou nearly threw him into a wall. Mob stopped him but Shou was so embarrassed he didn't come back for a month

-Shou uses memes as a way to cover for his emotional shortcomings and trauma

- Shou...knows how to dance...he learned...as part of his training???

-Shou is simultaneously afraid of touch and completely touch deprived so it ends up in this odd situation of "i can touch you but for the love of god please don't touch me.”

-Shou batterdick cucumber memes his father's name. He has over one hundred and twenty seven ways of saying ‘touch your toes sucky key.’

-Shou attempted to live with his mother....but....she kept trying to do things he wasn't okay with...but by that i mean...giving him rules and curfews and things Shou has never done in his life and he gets angry and he calls bullshit and he runs away from home to hide for a few days and she panics because she lost her baby again but Shou....is not okay...with being controlled...

-Shows mom still doesn't like seeing his power and everytime he uses it she makes a small uncomfortable expression and Shou begins to dislike them a little bit more...

-Shous hamsters are very well treated but at the same time...Shou is terrified to interact with them because he might hurt them

-Shou has a fully documented file on every injury, every scar, and every trauma his father has given him...he doesn't really know what to do with it...

-Shou just wants to hug somebody for hours on end. To feel another person's warmth encompassing him and keeping him safe...but he feels childish whenever he does because....who would even want to hug him??? he Should just get over it??? grow up???

-One time his mother dropped a pan and Shou nearly started crying....he hates...loud noises....he doesn't mind if they are natural like thunder...but...the sound of a pan banging against a floor...a door slamming...hands slamming on the table....it terrifies him.

-Shou hugs his pillow when he sleeps.

-Shou used to have a stuffed animal collection but his father destroyed them..calling them childish.

-Shou has a shit ton of money coming his way because of his father but....he doesn't really want it....it feels dirty and he doesn't want any help...from anyone

-Shou has exactly 0 social skills. He never learned how tf to deal with people. He just tried to make himself seem as big as possible and hopes things will go his way.

-Shou uses comics, manga, books and tv shows as a way of escapism. He surrounds himself in the stories so much that he used to call his father DR. Robotnick. (Sonic sat am ref lol.)

-Shou hates taking showers or baths. He feels entirely too vulnerable and sometimes he’ll push it off for a solid month before taking one.

-Shou has never had a good night's sleep. Ever.

-Shou has freckles. hundreds of freckles. they're all from his mom

-Shou wants to go to school with Ritsu but at the same time he's terrified to try.

-He's not good with people. his schooling did not keep up 100% with academics, he hates being told what to do ect ect...

-One time he hung around reigen and did a dumb doodle on a sticky note and reigen praised it and said it looked really good and Shou started crying....he doesn't know why. maybe it's because he's never been praised on his art before..

-Shou sometimes breaks into Reigen’s office to sleep on his couch. Reigen is mildly concerned but lets him do it anyway

-Shou is that person who always, c o n s t a n t l y, has to show somebody up. You ran a mile?? I ran two!! You're feeling depressed?? well my father ran a cult and tried to take over the world and constantly abused me!! He does not mean to be mean by it...but he's so used to his thoughts and feelings being completely invalidated that...he h a s to...you know???

-Shous relationship with his mother....hmm....It's kinda rocky. Like they love each other but they don’t really know much about each other anymore and she doesn't really like his powers but they still do try and they really do care for each other but there will always be this…...unspoken...gap....between them.

Why he never talks about his father...why she never wants to hear.

they hug and kiss and would do anything for each other...but at the same time...something unspeakable happened here and neither of them are willing to acknowledge it

[i say kiss because familiar kisses are a thing but i'm not 100% sure they happen out of the south so like;;]

-anyway if Teru and Shou ever start talking about their feelings they would get...so frustrated with each other. constantly trying to say who had the shittier experience because i feel like this shouuppance [pardon the pun] is a core part of their characters and honestly it would reach a point where they would fucking f i g h t.

But in the end it turns out being good for them because they had the chance to let off some of the steam that they’ve been building up and lets them relax a bit and they eventually realize they won't win against each other. They’re both too stubborn. and instead they start comparing stories and laughing their ass off about how fucked up they are.

ex:

Shou: And then he left me locked in that room for three days without any food lol!!!

Teru: Oh god, do i feel that!! I don’t have anybody to take care of me so It's just constant isolation and if I get sick, well then! I’m not eating till I recover!

[Anyway this post is 1000ish words long so i’ll cut it here lol, I have more Shou hcs that I’ll probably upload later~~ Thanks for reading!]

#mob psycho 100 #mob psycho manga #mob psycho headcanon #tw; abuse #shou suzuki #i love him so much i just want to protect him please #;w;

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phantomrose96 · 7 years

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A Breach of Trust: Chapter 12

(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )

(Act 2: Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 15.5 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18)

(Act 3 Chapter 19+)

When Mob woke up, it was to the soft peach color of sunlight filtering through his sheets. It was no different from waking up any other day, which he always timed just so that he’d never have to open his eyes to darkness. He shifted, ran his palm around the sheets to a silkiness that felt entirely out of place. He balled his fists in it, feeling a light shiver at the way it melted to the shape of his palms. Mob wondered why it all felt so soft.

Then Mob opened his eyes.

What he saw was not the faint wash of light through the little storm window, not the thin slit of sun that brushed his sheets at the right hour of day. What he saw was not thin triangles of light, brimmed by shadows.

No, what he saw was bright. What he saw was everywhere at once.

He threw the sheet off his body, eyes wide, drinking in the window near floor-to-ceiling that exposed not a swath of dirt and grass, but the whole world. The world. Large and stretching on forever, bathed in light and color, where the horizon spilled over the edge to a red-set sky.

Mob looked up to the source of the light, something bright and warm against his face and blindingly white. Mob couldn’t look directly at it, but he tried, because it was mesmerizing, because he couldn’t remember the sun ever being so large, so bright, so warm. It had shrunk in his memory to the thin slit through the basement window. This was so much grander, though. And it drenched him in warmth that prickled his skin, like the trailing touch of Reigen’s hand. Mob wrapped his hands to his shoulders, as though he could touch it back.

Then he looked lower, to a fuzzy horizon of tall buildings and roads which caught the light in triangular cuts on their sides. Cars vanished out of sight or appeared through the gaps of buildings, small people moved slower and hugged close to the sidewalk, all filtered through a thin covering of trees that rimmed the small patch of lawn two floors lower. People, dozens of them, moved through the streets. And Mob startled to realize they were actual people—not television characters—people with lives, and names, and jobs, whose clothes made for colorful patches and swinging shapes. Mob thought he had remembered people, but not like this.

He looked at the trees, dew-kissed where they reflected the sunlight and shifted, shimmered, their gnarled textured bark dipping down and spreading roots beneath grass blades. Their leaf edges were dipped in red and orange, curling, less wet but more beautiful. And every shift of shade became brilliantly visible in the pouring down of light, the overwhelming brightness like the kitchen lit with every light on, but more, a hundred times more.

The world was colorful, and it was bright.

Some part of Mob remembered.

He pulled back, and tried to remember how he’d gotten here. He searched through his memories of the night before, when he’d stood near the bedroom door, toes confined in the thin cut of light from the hall, while Reigen pulled and yanked and fumbled with the linens.

Reigen had finished—better yet, he’d given up—with the fitted sheet bunched up and sideways on the bed, strained lengthwise and flopping loose along the bed’s width. The sheets had made a frumpy mold of its shape, and the comforter had been haphazardly tucked, two unmatching pillows propped at the head. “Is this—just—okay for now? Can we—if you—just please? I don’t wanna get blood on—you know it—please?”

And Mob had nodded, and walked forward, and patted his hands down onto the sheets silky to the touch, and he’d crawled into the bed better-made than any he’d seen since Ritsu’s.

That had been last night.

But something had happened before.

Something slow to register in his mind, something quiet beneath the assault of color, and warmth, and green bright trees and soft okay sheets, and the gentle twitter outside of early morning birds,

Birds like robins, outside.

Birds alive and warbling a song in the branches while Mob listened, before they—before they--

Shishou.

Dead and hanging, creaking with the strain of the wooden beam forced to support it. Neck snapped and face desiccated, empty eyes staring at Mob, saying something, accusing, flash-igniting Mob’s anxiety into horror, panic, guilt, fear…

Mob let out a small horrified noise, a deflation of his lungs, and he curled in on himself. He hugged the comforter closer, and he was afraid it would shred as he did so.

The horror eased. His rapid breathing evened out, loosened, dropped off. The grief welled like a soap bubble and popped, gone. Mob pressed a hand to his chest, investigating his own feelings, looking for sorrow or grief for the man who cared for him over the last four years.

He couldn’t reach it.

It was there, buried, but it wasn’t something he could pull to the surface and feel. And it wasn’t love for his Shishou that tightened his chest so much as it was fear of what was yet to come. Mob lowered his hand, and stared instead at the window, and tried not to think much more of it. The thoughts were too muddy, the emotions too raw or else too numbed—they only confused him. He’d gotten too good at locking away his feelings for the family he’d already lost.

Mob shifted, dropped his feet to the carpet below. It was gritty against the soles of his feet, but not like the dirt and grime that roughed the cellar floor at home. It was sturdy, wooly, another sensation that sent warm shivers down his spine. Mob scrunched his toes, and the feeling pulled something almost like a smile to his face.

At the doorway, Mob looked both ways before entering the hall. He’d gotten into the habit of knowing that any misstep could be someone’s death, and it filled him with a strange wonder to think that maybe he no longer needed to. He held his hand in front of his face for good measure, squinting, flipping it palm-up then palm-down. Nothing shimmered in the air around it. None of the prickling electricity nicked his fingers, none of the charge in the air.

The reality hit him like a wall: the barrier was gone.

He raised his hand, shaking now, and rubbed his palm to the corner of his eyes, turned misty. He smiled through it and looked to the kitchen. The kind man still had milk in the fridge, and Mob felt an excited hunger he hadn’t felt in years.

The thought of food thrilled him, but he had no concept of what was in the house beside milk—he would be happy with milk, for now. So he padded down the hall, swept up again in the slanted flood of sunlight, a warm radiation, falling through the sliding glass door in back. Mob passed through the living room and into the kitchen where he pulled a mug from the same cabinet Reigen had last night, and the milk from the fridge, and stuck the half-filled mug in the microwave for 20…15…10…

He grabbed it before it beeped and hugged it close, warm, against his chest. Then he set his sights on the puffy beige couch of the living room. There was no real partition between living room and kitchen, a simple shifting in the floor from tiling to carpet. He rounded the table and climbed up on the couch, nestled into it, soft like his bed at home wasn’t, and he looked at the television.

It was a dark thing, dust covered, with the finger streaks of a few half-hearted wipes across the front. Mob considered putting the milk down for a moment and turning it on, settling in, losing himself like he always did to the mindless chatter of the television characters that were his closest thing to family.

Somehow, the urge didn’t strike. He left the television off, and stared outside instead. He set the mug close to his mouth and drank, all warm shivers, basking in the cut of sunlight that drenched the couch. He listened to the muted twitter of birdsong through the closed glass.

The slamming cacophony of feet down the hallway shattered his quiet ten minutes later.

Mob glanced over his shoulder to see Reigen, shirt half-buttoned and one shoe in hand, explode out of the hall. He froze the instant he saw Mob, suspended shoe raised like some kind of torch.

“Oh thank god kid you’re still here.” He gestured toward the hall, fingers twitching in a manner that suggested broken joints. “Your door was open and you weren’t in there and I couldn’t see you on the couch in here so—thought maybe—is it, you’re just gonna sit on that couch now for a while, right?”

Mob glanced down at the couch, at his milk cup mostly drained. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, perfectly good. No more running around in traffic. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment—had one—I’m late. Very late. Where’s my shoe? Dammit where--” Reigen quieted, eyes flitting to his hand and the torch-like shoe. Silently, he lowered it to his socked foot and slipped it on. He cleared his throat. “Can you just…stay in the house for a little bit? Few hours. Then we’ll figure out—something. Jun Isari already left like four voicemails. Where’s my phone now?”

Reigen’s pocket buzzed.

“I think it’s in your pocket.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Reigen dropped his hand into his pocket, wincing when his fingers wrapped tight around the body of the phone. He thought better and reached for it instead with his left hand, dragging it out diagonally and flipping it open, clumsy. “Hello? Yes I—I said already—yes I texted! Yes I know. I overslept I-- Two minutes—no 90 seconds—I’ll be out the door then it’s—yeah that address—yeah I know the address—I worked a case for the neighbor I know the clinic. Ten minute drive. Just—relax, a second, okay? I’m your PI not your son, I—“ Reigen startled, then held the phone at a distance to investigate it. “She hung up on me.”

Mob watched Reigen’s empty twitching hand at his side. The bandages were stained and oily, crusty brown. The tips of his fingers were whiter than the rest of his hand, pruned in their appearance.

Reigen stuffed his phone back into his pocket and muttered, mockingly, "’I hire you to tail my husband and you can’t even tail him to your own doctor's appointment.’ Well gee sorry I wonder whose fault it is I overslept wonder what I was up to last night wonder why I was awake until goddamn 4 in the morning I wonder hmmm."

Mob felt the lash from Reigen’s comment. He’d grown used to being an inconvenience to Mogami. It hurt more to be a nuisance to the colorful man.

“…Oh,” Mob whispered. “Sorry, about that. I didn’t mean to…”

Reigen stared back, bleary confusion in his eyes. They opened just a bit wider. “Oh. No I—her husband—I’m a PI—the possession—the knife—the house—that whole, I meant that. You were after. Not…you.”

Mob didn’t know what to make of the comment. He stared back until the eye contact strained him, then he dropped his eyes to the empty mug in his grip. “Sorry,” he muttered again, and the apology was a precaution. The thought scared him—having Reigen angry with him. What would that be like? He had already feared Mogami’s anger. And Reigen was someone even stronger.

And he no longer had the barrier up to protect him.

Mob looked up again, and it wasn’t anger on Reigen’s face. It was the same expression he’d worn after setting his hand to Mob’s shoulder on the sidewalk, and the same expression he’d worn after Mob thanked him for the milk. Mob had very little practice reading other’s faces, but he thought it was something like concern, or sadness, or devastation.

“I think Tetsuo and Jun can…hold my spot…for a few more minutes. They can wait. Find a seat at the table you like. You probably—I shouldn’t run out on you just yet—not before breakfast. I’ll pour us some cereal and…with milk. Do you like cereal with milk?”

Mob dropped his attention back to the mug, thinking. He couldn’t remember what cereal tasted like, but he’d used to like it. “I think so.”

“Good, I’ll pour us both a bowl.”

Ritsu had liked it more.

Reigen grabbed the milk carton from the fridge, half-empty since last night. He pulled a cardboard box from the pantry, two plastic bowls with thin painted flowers along the rim, and he filled each about halfway with cereal flakes that clinked against the bowls like pouring sand. He filled his own bowl with just enough milk to coat the bottom layer of flakes, and he filled Mob’s with more. Mob slid from the couch to the nearest kitchen seat.

“Here,” Reigen slid Mob his bowl, gingerly careful like he’s been with the milk last night, and reached across again with a silver spoon. Mob took it. He at least knew spoons well.

Mob struggled at first. His soup was only ever liquid; the flakes needed to be scooped under and balanced. He took a bite, and startled against the crunch on his teeth. It was another sensation of warm shivers—something he almost remembered. He savored it, drawing it out, chewing so slowly he almost forgot to breathe. The flakes were sweet—something soup never was. He took another bite, and another, eating quickly because the cereal tasted good, and he felt hungry for the first time he could remember.

Reigen hadn’t touched his bowl. He investigated Mob, and the expression on his face was worse.

“Did your Shishou not even have cereal?”

Mob shook his head, and he took another bite. That didn’t matter now, and it wasn’t what he wanted to think about now anyway.

“Is there…maybe more you want to tell me now, about this Shishou? About where he took you? Your parents? Family?”

Mom. Dad. Ritsu. Mob paused mid-chew. Mogami had long since stopped mentioning them. Mob had long since stopped asking about them. It made forgetting easier. It made remembering worse.

Mob swallowed, and the sweetness of the cereal felt suddenly far away. “They’re safe.”

“They need to know where you are.”

“From me. They’re safe…from me.”

“From the barrier?” Reigen almost spat the word, some kind of mockery. A hint of anger poisoned his voice. And it was like flipping a switch.

Mob’s stomach tightened. He shrunk in, spoon dropped in the bowl, cereal forgotten as his shoulders hunched just a fraction to protect the parts of him that the barrier no longer could. Tight, tense, prepared. The hint of anger—that was how Mogami’s rages started.

Nothing immediate followed. No response from Reigen. No flash of his aura.

Just a quiet exhale.

“Sorry.”

Mob’s shoulders loosened. He looked up, finding Reigen slumped just a bit forward, elbows pressed to the table. Reigen continued. “I don’t really know where you’re coming from. I don’t know what any of this is. Don’t exactly know what I’m doing, either, sorry.” He pulled back, straightening, and set his eyes to Mob. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on, but I can’t. Not when you won’t tell me.

Mob sat through the silence, unsure if he was meant to respond.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Mob muttered.

“I know, kid.”

And silence fell back over them, a gentle blanket.

Reigen jumped, and Mob jumped higher when the shrill ring of Reigen’s phone split the air. Reigen yanked it from his pocket, blinking until his expression soured. “Right. Dammit.” He declined the call, stowed it back in his pocket and stood from the table. “You can…have my cereal, I guess. I have to leave.”

Mob watched as Reigen bounced room to room, grabbing his coat, his keys, his wallet. When Reigen set a hand to the front doorknob, Mob shoved his chair back.

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Doctor’s appointment, I have to. You—you’re fine here, aren’t you? Just, a few hours.”

“You can’t leave,” Mob whispered, and fear permeated his voice.

That expression was back, the crease above Reigen’s eyes, that lost indecision. “I have nowhere to bring you.”

“The barrier.”

“You’ll—you’ll be okay here, Mob, okay? I promise. Please just—wait for me—a few hours—that’s all. I have to go. I have to.”

“Please don’t…”

Reigen’s hand twitched on the door. Then he opened it, and slipped through, and looked Mob in the eyes as he shut it slowly. “I’m sorry. You’ll be okay. You’ll be fine.”

Mob flinched at the click-shut of the door. He heard the deadbolt lock, and listened to the clunk of footsteps descending the stairs, lower, one by one.

A car started, and its engine revved, and huffing beat of the muffler receded until the world was silent all-together.

The barrier swept back around Mob, like the curtain drawn at the close of a play.

…

This early October morning, nothing was different in Ritsu Kageyama’s life. He packed and zipped his bag, filled only with a sparse few notebooks and pencils, and buttoned the last few buttons on his shirt one-handed as he left his room. Ritsu shut his door, and he walked past the open room beside him. With a trained eye, he didn’t see it.

The main floor was empty. Both his parents worked early, and both had left half an hour before Ritsu did. Ritsu bothered only with the lights in the front hall, where he slipped his shoes back on and tightened them. The rest of the house sat in a quiet and cold slumber, lit by only a few bleak rays of dawn that seeped through the cloud-cover. The clouds would all clear in an hour or two, like they did every morning, and the blazing sun would light the house on its own. Ritsu would be gone by then.

He passed by the kitchen, which kept its four seats out of habit, with hardly a glance. Ritsu didn’t bother making breakfast, as he didn’t most mornings. He’d fallen out of the habit when it stopped being a family thing. The cereal boxes in the cabinet had gone stale some months ago.

He only went to the front door, and laced his shoes, and grabbed his bag, and stepped out into the wet frosty air alone. He shut the door and locked it behind him, like a last shuddering gasp from the house. Ritsu’s breath condensed, a trail of smoke from his mouth, a calming presence in the bleak predawn. He shivered, and kept forward. He enjoyed the cold.

It was a twelve minute walk to Salt Middle School. Ritsu had memorized the path. He had to; he’d only ever walked it alone.

Some kids walked ahead of him, in groups of two or three usually, chatting so that Ritsu could see their breath curl in front of their faces too. Sometimes they would see him and lag, let him catch up out of friendliness or a transparent desire to check their homework with his. Ritsu never checked homework with them, and he spoke very little when looped in on their conversations. They didn’t interest him. It was better that they didn’t.

Today, the kids walking ahead of him were too far along the path to hear him. That was better; that meant they wouldn’t disturb him. No calls of “Kageyama!” with a sweeping wave of the arm. Just quiet, just time to breathe in the cold.

The minutes passed, until he hit the midway point six minutes in.

He shut his eyes. He kept forward. Six of twelve, only six more before he could no longer be alone. But it was still six more minutes of pure solitude he could bask in, and use to loosen the tension in his chest, and breathe, before

“Oi! Esper!”

Ritsu’s eyes snapped open. He stopped walking, eyes set to the gaggle of students ahead of him. None of them were looking back. They had gotten farther away in fact, pin-pricks on the horizon, well out of earshot. Ritsu shivered.

He took another step forward.

“Wait! Hang on wait up! Esper kiddo.”

Another step, Ritsu kept walking. His heart beat in his throat. Because he was not “esper kid”, not with how well he hid his powers. No one had ever seen him use them, not since the first day. No one could possibly know. It couldn’t be him—

“Hey, am I invisible? Esper kid!”

A blue-green blob shot through his line of sight, and Ritsu jumped. He bit down a yelp building in his throat, arms pinwheeling through a single half-rotation as he stumbled one step back. His heart slammed, and his eyes focused on the thing now dancing in his vision. It remained permanently blurry, existing somewhere that he couldn’t quite see. A strange stain against the bleak gray sky, the muted desaturated foggy backdrop of houses in the passing neighborhoods.

“Heh, that was a joke. Because I’m a ghost. Of course I’m invisible.” The little thing winked. “But not to you, Esper Boy.”

Ritsu blinked, forcing his eyes to focus. It built a throbbing headache just behind his eyes, but he did it anyway. The spirit was the size of a baseball, perhaps a bit less, its tail a flickering blue fire. Its eyes were red. It split a grin filled with teeth.

“Nice to meet you,” the spirit said.

Ritsu angled himself slightly to the left. He stepped around the spirit, and kept walking.

“Hey! Hey hey hey c’mon rude. You could at least say hi back.”

Ritsu kept walking. The spirit kept pace, gliding effortlessly through the air.

“Leave before I exorcise you,” Ritsu answered. He’d lost another minute; he’d be at school in less than five. He quickened his step; the spirit kept up.

“Snarky. Is that the attitude you espers take to spirits in these parts? You’re all rude, you and what’s-his-name.”

“Leave.”

“You haven’t let me say anything yet.”

“Leave now.”

“Look. Look look look just—stop walking.” The spirit swung around, in front of Ritsu again, and put its hands out. Ritsu stopped. The spirit smiled—all teeth and no gums. “Thanks. See? This is easier. I’ll keep it short I promise.” It raised its little shimmering fist to its mouth and cleared its throat, smile back and plastered. “I don’t know if you’ve met many spirits before, maybe I’m the first humble little dude to cross your path. This place was a no-go zone until last night, so it wouldn’t surprise me. Big ol’ head-honcho spirit in charge of this area until someone iced him yesterday—you see, when you’re a spirit, and you’re tiny, and there’s a big powerful spirit nearby, you don’t touch his property. Not unless you wanna be gobbled up. Spirits are dog-eat-dog, literally (another good spirit pun) as in we literally eat each other. And us little guys get eaten fast.”

Ritsu looked over his shoulder. A group of three girls in his class rounded the street. He recognized them by their coats, though he could not remember their names. They would catch up to him in a few minutes. “Get to your point.”

“Yikes okay.” The spirit made some motion, something Ritsu could only assume was meant to pass for straightening a tie. “Spirits need energy to survive. That’s why we eat each other—survival. And the rule is big spirits eat little spirits. That presents us with a pretty big problem, you know? What happens when you’re the little spirit? How are you gonna survive?”

Ritsu’s lip twitched. The girls were getting closer, almost within earshot. Ritsu slung his bag over his shoulder and kept walking.

“Okay okay I’ll get to the point. I’m the little spirit. I can’t eat anybody! Everybody wants to eat me! I’m what you kids might call ‘totally fucked’.” It swooped in closer, an inch away from Ritsu’s ear. “But then there’s people like you. Naturally churning out all this energy on your own—loads of it. You could feed a spirit family for years on just the aura you throw away each day. And look, I’m not the kinda guy to ask for handouts willy-nilly. I got pride. But I’m in a pinch. And you’re…you’re not using any of this, are you? None. It’s gotta hurt, I’d think, all bottled up like that? It’s gotta burn.”

Ritsu’s chest tightened. He did not break pace.

“You won’t even feel it. It won’t even hurt. Just—if you’re kind enough—to let me skim a little off the top. Just enough to keep going, just for a little while.”

Ritsu finally stopped. He turned on his heel, eye to eye with the spirit. Silently, unblinking, Ritsu shot his free hand out. He grabbed the spirit by its tail, a vice-grip, and wondered if exorcising a spirit was something he would know how to do innately. He could try, and he could find out.

“NO! NO NO NO HANG ON HANG ON KID COME ON I WAS JOKING. I WAS JOKING! LET ME GO HOLY FUCK.” It wriggled free, its aura now a frenzy of electrical arcs. The visual reminded Ritsu of a bristling cat. “Can’t take a joke? No joking here alright good got it WOW you sure go 0-100 fast don’tcha? No hand outs! I can work for it! I’ll work for it I—an honest spirit—work for my reward. All my friends are in the same business.”

Ritsu looked back. The girls were too close—he couldn’t exorcise the spirit now without making a scene. So he returned to his first strategy, and he ignored it.

“My friends and I we all just—I mean, a spirit doing your bidding? That’s a sweet deal for a human. Us spirits can do so much you just can’t, and ordering me around? Hell that’s like you’ve got all the powers of a spirit too. I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Anything I ask?”

“Anything.”

“I’m asking you to go away.”

“Come on, come on kid not like that. I mean real favors. I mean spying on people through shut doors. I mean haunting that dude in class that pisses you off. I mean possessing that one girl you’ve always wanted to go on one little date with.”

“Go. Away.”

“You’re pissy, just like the other one.” The spirit’s expression soured. It fell back a few paces. “You must be related.”

Ritsu lost his step. He stopped, wide eyes staring forward as his throat tightened. He heard the chatter of the girls creeping up behind him, lost then in a flood of static in his ears. “Wait. What other one?”

“Blondie. That guy. At least he likes asking for favors.”

Blond. So that meant it couldn’t have been…

Ritsu fell back into walking pace. The spirit swooped closer, agitated now, its fiery tail wrapping around the back of Ritsu’s head. “You two know each other? I can get messages to him. Getting messages from esper-to-esper is another specialty of mine, totally secretive mail system! Normal people can’t hear spirits, so any message I deliver is 100% confidential, for other esper ears only. My buddies have been running mail for those—what’s it—those Claw guys for months.”

Ritsu’s dark eyes twitched to the spirit, brow narrowed. “Esper-to-esper? How? How do you find the recipient?”

The spirit shrugged. “I mean, most people got an address. Psychic powers or not most people still gotta live somewhere. Why?” Its tail twitched, interest piqued. “You got a message?”

“And how do you find the esper if there isn’t an address to go by?” Ritsu prompted. He turned entirely to the spirit, stepping off-path to get in its face. The girls behind him could see him. He didn’t care.

The spirit grimaced, then smiled. “Well, that costs extra.”

“How?”

“Description of their aura, usually. I’ve got a nose like a bloodhound—not to brag. I sniffed you out didn’t I?”

“What if I…” Ritsu took another step toward the spirit, frosted grass crinkling beneath his feet. His palms were sweaty, slipping around the leather of his bag. “What if I don’t know his aura?”

“Ooooh, that’ll cost triple.”

“So you can do it?”

The spirit jumped again, frightened by the intensity. It cleared its throat. “Well I mean, if you can guess at what the aura feels like. Give me a good description of the dude. Worst case, I sweep through everyone in a some-mile radius area, and check every esper I find. Just, like I said, be prepared to pay.”

“How?”

“How what?”

“Do I pay?” Ritsu dropped his bag. He undid the cuffs at his wrist, folding the fabric down. The girls passed on the sidewalk behind him, offering a few sideways glances to Ritsu and no more as he stood in the grass, right near the cobblestone edge of the road. When they had passed entirely, Ritsu flash-ignited a violet crystal of energy in his palm. “Is this what you want?”

The spirit’s eyes widened, balking for a second. It composed itself almost instantly and flashed a smile. “Yyyyeaahh, that’s roughly my rate. I could always charge you more but, I’m an honest guy.”

The spirit whipped its tail out, and its body gleamed a harsh violet as the crystal energy vanished from Ritsu’s palm. An extra wisp of purple yanked from his wrist along with it, something just a bit extra torn away, and it bled out a small trail of smoke in its wake. Like breath frozen in the air.

The sensation hit Ritsu instantly. A hollow jolt in the space between Ritsu’s ribs, like his heart stuttering through a beat, like the air being knocked from his lung for a split moment. It caught him off guard, but it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.

“Your friends too,” Ritsu prompted.

“Hmm?”

“Your messenger friends. I want them here too. I want everyone you know searching. I have plenty of energy. I have plenty to give away. I don’t care about it.

The spirit looked on with something like suspicion, then a mirthful smile cracked its lips. “You’re not joking, are you kiddo?”

“Not at all,” Ritsu answered, and there was a fire in his gut where the energy had been carved out. An excitement, an adrenaline rush of possibility. It was a heat he could enjoy, the first kind in four years. Espers were rare. Espers were the needle in the haystack. And if Mob was somewhere, anywhere, he could take just a metal detector to find. Something that could scan thousands and find the single esper among them.

It was a sensation Ritsu hadn’t felt in a long time: it was purpose.

“Oh I’ve got a lot of starving friends who’d love to meet you.” The spirit summoned the wispy replica of a notepad from the energy of its tail, a fake pen it clicked in its hand. The spirit was twice as big now, a pulsing brightness, dyed purple, and its slimy cracked grin returned. “So tell me a bit about this guy we’re looking for, his aura. Whatever you can guess.”

“His name is Shigeo Kageyama.” Ritsu breathed in deep, shut his eyes, shivering at the name that had not left his lips in years. When he opened them again, their black depths were blazing. “And his aura would be powerful. Incredibly powerful. The strongest of any esper you’ve ever met.”

(Chapter 13)

#A Breach of Trust #Mob Psycho 100 #mp100 fanfiction #JUST YELLS #JUST YELLS A LOT #the delay on this was due to a ton of IRL commitments cropping up #ive been dying for weeks to get this out there is #a lot of stuff i like happening now #gosh #GO SH

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technicolorheart9801 · 7 years

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All It Does Is Take: Chapter 2

Ritsu had been oddly subdued thus far, gazing at the complicated transmutation circle with a furrowed brow.

“Do you see something wrong with it?” Mob asked. “I’ve triple checked all of my calculations, but I could have missed something.”Ritsu stayed silent for a moment, seeming to hesitate, before saying, “N-no. I was… just wondering about her soul. What do we have to offer that could possibly be equivalent?”

To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. And on that day, they lost more than their fair share. Now the Kageyama Brothers are on a mission. A mission that might cost them everything they have left.

This is a pretty short chapter, but it dives into Ritsu’s point of view a little bit. Next chaper is a Reigen chapter, so look forward to that!

Ritsu couldn’t remember much of their father. He had left when they were really young, though Nii-san said that he was a good father while he was there. Nii-san always was too forgiving. All Ritsu could remember of the man was the back of his broad shoulders as he walked out of their lives. And someone that turned their back on family was not someone Ritsu would ever consider a father.

But his mother never lost hope that her husband would come back to them, and Nii-san never lost hope that his father would care enough to return once he learned that their mother was sick. So they wrote to all the addresses that were on the return stamp of letters their father had sent them, explaining that his wife was sick (dying) and his kids needed him and he should come home right away. But he never showed. And when he realized that the man didn’t even care enough to come to his wife’s funeral, Ritsu decided that he didn’t have a father and he would never turn away when his family needed him.

Then, after their mother had wasted away waiting for the man that never came, Ritsu only had his brother. And when his brother said that their was a way to bring her back - to cheat death and commit a taboo among alchemists, human transmutation - Ritsu agreed. Because his family needed him.

It wasn’t until Ritsu was there, right in front of the transmutation circle that could bring their mother back, that he admitted to himself that something didn’t feel right.

“Do you see something wrong with it? I’ve triple checked all of my calculations, but I could have missed something.” It seemed Nii-san had noticed his troubled look. Ritsu must appear really nervous if his well-meaning-but-slightly-oblivious older brother had noticed something was up with him.

And while Ritsu was not one to ignore gut feelings, he had also spent years with Nii-san checking over every calculation and theorem, and he trusted his own and his brother’s skills enough to do this transmutation right. He had nothing to be afraid of. This would work.

“N-no,” Ritsu hoped Nii-san hadn’t noticed the stutter. “No. Your alchemy is as amazing as ever. I was… just wondering about her soul. What do we have to offer that could possibly be equivalent?”

Shigeo seemed satisfied with his answer, his slightly worried look transforming into something more excited. Ritsu almost wished his brother would push the issue.

“Oh, right.” It seemed Nii-san had almost forgotten about the soul. Well, that was okay, because reminding his brother of the little things that might have slipped his mind while he worried about the big picture was practically Ritsu’s job. “Well, since we got our blood from her’s, I figured a few drops would be enough. A fair trade.”

Ritsu’s brother pulled out a small knife and cut his finger with it. Ritsu couldn’t help but flinch at how readily Shigeo hurt himself for what he thought was a worthy cause. It might have been a small thing now, but Ritsu would have to keep an eye on that. It might manifest into something bigger - and more harmful - later.

But even though Nii-san was perfectly fine hurting himself, he seemed extremely uncomfortable with the fact that Ritsu had to do the same. Ritsu was just as willing to sacrifice as his older brother, so he reassured Shigeo with, “It’s okay, Nii-san. It’s only a papercut. We get those all the time.”

Ritsu forced a smile, and Nii-san smiled back, and Ritsu couldn’t help being slightly disappointed at the fact that his brother didn’t notice anything wrong.

Then, once the time actually came to place his hands on the circle and perform the transmutation, something made him hesitate again. Something wasn’t right. Maybe… maybe he should tell Nii-san. Nii-san always listened to what Ritsu - or anyone else - had to say, it was something Ritsu admired most about him. Ritsu could tell him and they could take a few days to make sure… But no, he was with his older brother, the most talented alchemist he had ever met, and they were doing this for their mother. This would work. It would work now or never.

So Ritsu closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed the feeling of wrongness to the very back of his mind. Because this would work.

But then there was alchemy sparking through the air and the bad feeling increased tenfold just before Nii-san started screaming from where he was crouched down beside him. Ritsu only had time to be worried about his brother for a moment before he started feeling a pain like he had never felt before and he lifted his hand only to see that it wasn’t there. It was already completely dissolved by the same things that were beginning to drag him towards… something.

He was screaming for his brother, reaching out for him, because he couldn’t feel anything anymore, and the image of Nii-san reaching out for him was slowly eaten away before their was nothing but white left.

And that image of his brother was the last thing Ritsu remembered before waking up. Well, if Ritsu could even call it “waking up”, because, for him, abruptly awakening from sleep was usually accompanied by a dazed feeling for a few seconds, followed by a slow accounting of all of your senses, like how soft what he was lying on was or the smell of what his mother was making for breakfast. But Ritsu was completely alert the moment he was able to “see” again, the feeling more like "turning on" than “waking up”, which should have worried Ritsu more than it did. But it didn’t, because at that moment, all he could think about was the fact that he could only use a total of two senses - sight and hearing - and that the other three that were supposed to be there were mysteriously absent. He couldn’t feel the surface beneath him, he couldn’t smell the alchemy in the air, he couldn’t - maybe didn’t have to? - breathe. There was just… nothing.

Ritsu was stricken with a complete, mind-numbing panic of the likes he had never experienced before. The fear was oddly comforting, because at least he could still feel emotions, which was something. At least he knew he was still human in that aspect. But even that only lasted for a second before he heard a voice right in front of him whisper out, “Ritsu?”

The panic wasn’t entirely replaced, but it was pushed aside slightly in favor of an overwhelming concern (and fear) for his brother that felt like an undertow he could drown in. Because Nii-san was crying and holding onto his shoulder where his arm was supposed to be and this was not good because Ritsu had read enough books on human anatomy to know that an 11 year old boy was not supposed to be losing that much blood.

“Nii-san! What… what happened to you… and me? What is this?” Ritsu forced his arms to reach out to his older brother, who he realized was missing a leg too, and… Ritsu took a little too long to realize that those metal gauntlets outstretched towards his (little) big brother were his own arms. Ritsu’s brain helpfully supplied that he was probably in shock, but Ritsu wasn’t the one bleeding too much (way too much), so he put his brain on the more helpful task of figuring out where he could take his brother to get him taken care of.

“I’m sorry… there wasn’t much time… I used my arm as material in a transmutation… but all I could manage was attaching your soul to the suit of armor in the corner…” Ritsu remembered the armor, almost 7 feet tall and always looming over their shoulders as they studied. They had jokingly called it their mother’s spy, because it always seemed to be watching and judging them, like she would. Wait-

“What… about mom?” After seeing what his brother had sacrificed, Ritsu thought the transmutation must have worked. And that meant mom was back and would know what to do. She always did.

“No… you shouldn’t look… what we made… it wasn’t human…”

And the monstrosity in the middle of the transmutation circle was definitely not human. It was ugly and grotesque, with a single arm outstretched like a scraggly tree branch and bones and blood on the outside that should have been inside. Ritsu took a moment to feel a crippling sense of guilt for the fact that they had made such an abomination. But it was also obviously dead, and Ritsu decided that his big brother was the priority right now over getting answers on why their alchemy didn’t work.

But as Ritsu got up to move his brother - he wouldn’t last a long trip, so the neighbors might be their only hope - and saw (not felt, he wouldn’t feel again for a long time) that Nii-san’s body could now fit in his own huge, new hands, and all that he could think to himself was he’s so small.

Then, as Ritsu looked around the basement one last time - the haze that his shock had cast over his mind receding slightly - all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly came together with the force of tectonic plates colliding, collapsing Ritsu’s world, because he realized - with his tiny big brother bleeding out in his unfeeling arms, the horrible thing that they had created dead in front of him, and the gap in his memories where something important should be - that in keeping his mouth shut, he had made a huge mistake.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemsit brotherhood #fma #fma:b #shigeo #ritsu #my writing #cass' post #crossover #fanfiction #fma au

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