Archive of Our Own

“What’re you doing?”

Reigen startles in his chair. He hastily minimizes his tab and looks up from his laptop to glare at the interloper in his office. She’s somehow managed to sneak around him, peering over his shoulder at his screen.

“You’re back,” he says, allowing just the slightest lack of enthusiasm to colour his voice. “Mob’s out training with his club today. Like he does every Tuesday.”

“No, I know,” Tome says, leaning back. “I'm a customer right now, I have a job for you. And you didn't answer my question.”

"I don't know, kid. I'm a busy guy," Reigen says, blatantly ignoring the question.

Tome gives his laptop a pointed glance. "It really looks like you're not."

Reigen holds back a sigh.

“Can you not stand behind me? Customers go on the other side of the desk.”

Tome scrambles for a chair. Reigen glances at his clock; it’s far too early to pretend it’s closing time. Damn.

Tome slides a chair over to the desk and sits down.

“So. Are you really a psychic?” she asks without preamble.

“Did you really come all the way here to ask me that? I have an actual job, with actual clients.” He makes a show of looking at his watch. “In fact, I have a house call coming up in—”

“No you don’t,” Tome says with confidence. “You don’t do house calls on Tuesday nights. Mob said.”

“Now you’ve memorized my schedule,” Reigen deadpans. “Should I be worried about stalking?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tome huffs. “I told you, I'm here with a job. You can’t blow me off this time." She leans forward, hands on her knees. "Okay, so if you really are a psychic—are you a telepath?”

“No,” Reigen says. Whatever gets her out of the room fastest. “I mostly work with spirits and auras. I don’t read minds.”

“Do you know any telepaths?” Tome presses. Her eyes are shining with enthusiasm.

“No,” Reigen says.

“Okay, but do you meet other psychics? Would they know any telepaths?”

“Sure, maybe. Why do you want to know about telepaths?”

Tome nearly bounces in her seat. “I need someone to contact aliens for me!”

Reigen pinches the bridge of his nose. “Aliens,” he repeats.

“Yes! Contacting extraterrestrial life has always been my dream, but now I really want to ask about the broccoli! Who sprouts a giant broccoli in the middle of the city and then makes it disappear less than a month later? It has to be aliens! Maybe they needed a really big vegetable garden—”

Reigen bites his tongue. He wants to tell her what really happened to the broccoli, but—

He has a feeling it might be cruel. Like—like telling a little kid that Santa isn’t real.

Reigen stares at a point halfway between Tome and the wall behind her. It would, wouldn’t it? It would be cruel. He’d be crushing some kid’s weird little alien dreams—

“Are you even listening? I’m a paying customer here!”

Tome knocks on his desk, drawing Reigen’s attention back with a scowl.

“You haven’t actually offered to pay me yet,” Reigen points out.

Tome shifts a little in her seat. “Actually. Uh, about that—”

“Oh my god. I have real work to do, kid.”

“No wait, listen! If Mob can’t work Tuesdays, let me work here in his place! I’d be a really good secretary, I practically already know your schedule from Mob. You won’t even need to pay me, just help me find a telepath!”

“I’m pretty sure that’d be illegal,” Reigen says. “Look, Miss Kurata—”

“Call me Tome.”

“—Tome. I don’t need a secretary. I can take care of my own schedule. I can’t think of anything for you to do here. Wouldn’t you rather go out and play with your friends?”

“I’m not twelve,” Tome shoots back, half rolling her eyes before she catches herself. She leans forward again, hands clasped in entreaty. “Just give me a chance to prove myself. I can help you find that gift you were looking for!"

Reigen gives her a measured look, which Tome seems to take as encouragement.

"I saw you looking at gift ideas on your laptop—it’s the end of the year, of course you’d be looking for gifts. Secretaries can take care of that, you know. Come on! I’m the best at picking out gifts, everyone says! Just ask Mob, I’ve helped him before, he’ll vouch for me!”

She makes a decent go at puppy dog eyes, and Reigen feels his resolve waver. Maybe if he humours her once, she’ll go away.

“Fine. Hypothetically. If you needed to find an oseibo gift for a new employee you're indebted to. What would you choose?”

“Oh you mean Serizawa, right? Tall, short hair, a bit nervous-looking? He seems nice.”

“You’ve met him?” Reigen asks, a little more engaged.

“Yeah, he was here last time I came by. And Mob’s talked about him too.” Tome shrugs. “So how long have you known each other?”

Reigen thinks for a minute. “About a month. Five weeks, give or take.”

It feels like longer. Serizawa has made some pretty impressive progress in that time. Going back to school has done wonders for his confidence levels.

“Okay, so really new. That doesn’t seem like it’d be too hard.”

“Well,” Reigen says, and then stops. Why is he actually telling her about this? She could recommend some chocolates or something, and he could send her packing.

“Weeell…?” Tome draws out, a bit of a smile on her face. “Come on, I’m great at this. Whatever it is, I’ll think of something good.”

Reigen sighs. He might as well get a second opinion. “He saved my life when we met. So it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Ooh,” Tome says, and Reigen glares at her. “No, that’s really cool! Was it during that terrorist attack? Did he save you from a collapsing building or something?”

“Or something,” Reigen says.

“Wow,” Tome replies. “Okay. So, this is more of a ‘thanks for saving my life’ kind of appreciation gift.”

“Right,” Reigen says. “It’s complicated.”

“Hm.” Tome taps her chin. “You know, I could always ask him what he likes.” Her expression brightens. “Right! He won’t have any way of knowing that I’m asking for you! I’ll come by when he’s working, and he won’t suspect a thing. You can listen in and decide what you want to get him. In exchange, you let me work here until we meet a telepath!”

Reigen gives her a long look.

“Tuesdays?” she adds hopefully.

“Fine. Tuesdays,” Reigen says. “But only if there’s work for you to do at the office. This isn't a playground."

Tome grins. “Yes, thank you! I can do lots of stuff. You won’t regret it!”

Reigen is regretting it already.

"So, Serizawa. What are you into?"

Serizawa blinks, looking up from the math homework he and Shigeo have piled on top of his desk.

Mob's friend is back. She has her backpack hanging carelessly from one hand—it's a bright, eye-searing shade of green with a UFO on the front. It looks like a hand-sewn patch.

"Hi Tome," Shigeo greets her with easy familiarity.

"Mob," Tome acknowledges with a friendly nod. Then her focus swings back to Serizawa like a laser beam. "Seriously though. What is it? Anime? Model planes? What do you like?"

From his desk across the room, Reigen makes an incredulous sound.

"Um," Serizawa says, glancing over at Reigen. "I'm sorry?"

Reigen doesn't cut in like he usually does, for some reason; he looks a little red. He mouths something that looks like 'tact', burying his face in his hands.

"I think she means hobbies," Shigeo adds helpfully.

Serizawa blinks at her. "I like video games," he offers after a moment.

Tome grins. "Awesome, me too! What kind? Do you play Fantasy Hell?"

"A little," Serizawa says. "Not as much as I used to."

Shigeo gives him a small, quiet smile, and goes back to his math homework.

They talk about the game for a few minutes. Tome pulls out her phone and shows him her character build.

"We tend to play in a group, so I've specialized in DPS," Tome explains, scrolling through her inventory. "But look, last week I rolled a rare item and got a new—"

Reigen clears his throat. "Don't some of you have work to do?"

He says it very pointedly, and Serizawa sits up straight in response. Did Reigen ask him to do something? He didn't think they had anything scheduled—

"Oh, yeah, speaking of work," Tome says, "I'm the new secretary here. Kurata Tome, but call me Tome. I look forward to working with you!"

"On Tuesdays," Reigen interjects.

"On Tuesdays," Tome admits. "For now, anyway. I wanted to get to know my future coworkers a little better. And it's getting closer to the end of the year, so I wanted to get something for everyone in the office. You know, as a pre-emptive thank you for helping me learn the ropes. I wasn't sure what you'd like."

"That's very nice of you," Shigeo says.

"Isn't it?" Tome agrees cheerfully. "What do you like to eat, Serizawa? Do you have any allergies?"

"O-Oh," Serizawa says, feeling faint and a little panicky.

Is that a thing? Is that something people do at work? Now that he thinks about it, he maybe remembers reading something about oseibo in his workplace etiquette book.

Oh no. This is something he should have known. He should have bought Reigen something at the very least. It's already mid-December. And if he doesn't give something no one will say anything but they'll think he’s rude or ungrateful or—

"I need a minute," Serizawa says, a little strangled.

He feels the weight of their attention as he stands up from his chair, walks unsteadily across the room, and heads down the narrow hallway to the office washroom. As soon as he reaches it, he locks himself inside.

He breathes slowly and evenly, holding onto the sides of the sink with sweat-slick hands. The soap wobbles in its dispenser, but he manages to keep his powers in check.

It's fine, he knows now. It's only the tenth. There's still time to get something.

A quiet knock makes him jump, and the plastic side of the soap dispenser cracks.

He shoots it an embarrassed look, and dabs at the sweat on his face with his handkerchief. Then he takes one last steadying breath, and goes to open the door.

Reigen is leaning against the wall in the hallway, hands in his pockets.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"I—yes," Serizawa says. "Sorry. I'm fine."

Reigen gives him a smile. "Glad to hear it. I was just about to make some tea, if you wanted some."

"Oh, I can do that," Serizawa offers. As the newest employee—apart from Tome, now—he's pretty sure that's his job.

Reigen waves him off. "I needed a break anyway. But if you want to help, I won't say no."

Serizawa follows him over to the kitchenette. It's a little cramped, but Reigen moves like he's used to navigating small living spaces.

"Can you pull the cups down?" Reigen asks, putting on the kettle. Serizawa flicks open the cabinet from a distance and pulls out the teacups, carefully floating them onto a carrying tray. Reigen already has the other tea things ready.

Serizawa watches Reigen's hands as he works, movements fluid and confident as he measures and pours.

"Look, you really don't need to worry about gifts," Reigen says without looking up. "It's not a big thing. Mob and I don't really fuss about it, and I'm not expecting anything."

"I want to," Serizawa decides. "I'm—I’m really grateful you gave me a chance with this job."

Reigen's hands pause for a moment, hovering over the teacups. Then they resume.

"Well, I won't stop you. Just don't feel like you have to," Reigen says. He settles the last teacup on the tray and turns. "Do you want to carry these out?"

Serizawa takes the tray from him, feeling a little unsure. Under his friendly smile Reigen seems almost uncomfortable, and Serizawa doesn't quite dare to ask.

They head back into the main room together, Serizawa carrying the tea tray. When they get there Tome is gone.

"She said she had to leave," Shigeo says. He accepts the teacup Serizawa offers him. "She said sorry for 'putting her foot in it'." He says that last part carefully. "She'll be back again on Tuesday. It was nice of you to hire her, shishou. She's been asking about it a lot."

Reigen heaves a sigh. He looks almost resigned.

"Um, Shigeo," Serizawa starts.

They're standing on the sidewalk outside of a newly spirit-free construction site. It’s late afternoon, and the air feels heavy and grey with the promise of new snow. "Do you know what Reigen likes?"

"What do you mean?" Shigeo asks. They watch Reigen sweet talk their client a few meters away, hands fluttering around his head like birds.

"For gifts," Serizawa admits. "I've never done this before, and I'm not sure what to get."

Reigen laughs at something the client says; loud and showy. The sound carries, amplified by the wide-open space.

"He doesn't really like gifts," Shigeo says.

"Really?"

Shigeo hums. "I asked him about it a few years ago, and he said not to waste my wages."

That doesn't sound like Reigen. He seems like the kind of person who would enjoy receiving presents. But then, he said nearly the same thing to Serizawa back at the office.

"Then what do you do? For Christmas, or, or birthdays?"

"It's easier if you don't call it a gift," Shigeo explains. They watch as Reigen wraps up the conversation. "My mom and Ritsu and I make sweets every year, and I bring some of them into the office. We don’t make a big deal out of it."

Oh, that sounds nice.

"Does he get you anything?"

Shigeo nods. "Last year he gave me a book of coupons on Christmas day," he says very seriously.

Serizawa gapes at him.

"My mom liked them. She got 40% off beef at the grocery store."

Serizawa can't tell if he's joking.

Reigen comes striding over to them, chafing his palms together. "Well that's settled. Whew, it's cold! You two wanna go for ramen or something?"

"Sure," Shigeo says.

“You did a good job today,” Reigen says, patting Shigeo on the shoulder. “If you want to add on chashu pork, you can get three this time.” He says this with an air of great generosity.

"Okay," Shigeo says. His smile is almost fond.

Reigen glances over at Serizawa. “Are you coming?”

“Sorry—I'm going to visit my mother tonight,” Serizawa says.

The flash of disappointment is brief. “Ah, well, maybe next time,” Reigen says easily. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Thanks for the good work.”

Serizawa splits off from the others, and turns to watch them leave. Reigen is already talking, Shigeo leaning out of range of his waving hands.

He has an idea for a gift, but it's going to take a little time. And he'll need his mother's help. But if he works hard at it through the weekend, he thinks he can pull it together.

Knowing what he wants to do takes away a lot of the anxiety. Serizawa thinks it over while he waits for the train, and by the time he gets to his mother's house, he has a solid plan.

Now all he needs is to start.

"You need to work on your subtlety," Reigen grouses.

Tome looks a little abashed. "Yeah, okay, I didn't mean to freak him out. I didn't realize it would be a big deal."

"Why would you even ask about hobbies? I'm not going to buy him a video game," Reigen says.

Tome shrugs one shoulder. "I wanted to work up to it. And what's wrong with video games?"

"Nothing's wrong with them. It just wouldn't be right," Reigen insists. "It's not that kind of gift."

"Fine. Get him some nice booze or something, and call it a day."

"I don't even know if he drinks."

"Then he can give it to someone who does. I really think you're overthinking this," Tome says, raising her eyebrows. "Why are you making such a big deal out of it? It's one gift. He's a nice guy. Whatever you get, he's probably not going to hate it."

Reigen gives her an irritated look. "And you should go home. You're not working here until Tuesday."

"This time I actually am waiting for Mob," Tome counters. "You don't mind if I sit here, right? It's pretty cold out."

Reigen glances over at the window. Snow is falling in lazy spirals on the other side of the glass.

"Fine," Reigen says with a sigh.

It's another ten minutes before Mob gets in. He stops when he sees Tome.

"Oh. Are you working today?"

Tome hops off the chair she was sitting in. "Nope! But I need to talk to you about something important. Do you have time after work?"

Mob looks over at Reigen.

Reigen sighs. "There isn't much to do tonight anyway," he admits. "You might as well head out, Mob."

Tome grins. "Great! Come on, let's walk," she grabs onto Mob's arm and pulls him back toward the door.

"Thank you, shishou," Mob says as he goes.

"Yeah, yeah. See you Monday," Reigen says with a short wave. He watches Tome half-drag Mob back through the door.

Maybe he can go home early too. Or he can swing by a department store, see if anything catches his eye. He won't know until he looks.

Serizawa holds up his work-in-progress, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, it's coming along very well!" his mother praises.

They're sitting together at the kotatsu, surrounded by brightly-coloured yarn.

Serizawa starts up again, and they work in companionable silence. The only sound is the gentle clack of knitting needles, and the quiet hum of the heater. It feels very comfortable.

"I'm so happy you wanted to learn," his mother says a little later. "It's a wonderful idea, Katsuya. I'm sure he'll be pleased."

Serizawa smiles a little. He starts a new row, fingers fumbling over the yarn.

"Thank you for helping me with this," he says, a little tentative.

Their relationship is still a bit complicated. There's a lot of old guilt and disappointment in their history.

She has a small scar above her right eyebrow. Whenever he thinks about the outburst that caused it—his powers exploding out uncontrollably, throwing her back against the dining room table—he feels sick to his stomach.

When he first returned to his mother’s home after Claw, he was half-expecting her to throw him out on his ear. Or worse—to invite him in out of fear, too uncomfortable to say no.

But it went well. He told her about his new path in life: his job, and finding his own apartment, and going back to school in the evenings. She told him she was happy for him.

He's not sure what things will look like in the end. But they're both making an effort. He doesn't want to let her down again.

"Oh! You've got a snarl there," his mother says, touching the other side of his project. Serizawa looks where she's pointing, and holds in a sigh; it's far from his first mistake, in the past couple of hours.

"It's alright, it's not too far back," she says, setting her own knitting aside. "Do you remember how to undo it?"

"I think so," he says. He concentrates as he unravels the last row of work until he reaches the right spot.

He untangles it carefully, until the yarn is smooth and ready for working again.

"All good," she says.

When he looks up his mother is smiling at him.

"Be patient," she says. "It's not easy trying something new. It can take a little time to get used to."

He swallows, feeling inexplicably raw.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "That—that it took me this long."

His vision goes blurry, and after a moment he has to put the knitting down. His throat has gone tight and painful.

"Katsuya," his mother says.

He looks up, and then holds still as she touches the side of his face.

"You're doing very well," she tells him. "And working very hard. I'm proud of you."

"Ah," he says. "I—"

He looks away, blinking hard to hold back tears.

His mother hums, fingers running through his hair. Then she pulls back.

"I'll make us some snacks," she says, standing up. "It's about time we took a little break."

"Thank you," he manages finally, as she's moving through the doorway to the kitchen.

She beams at him. "You're welcome, darling. I'll be back in a few minutes."

She vanishes through the doorway. And Serizawa takes the time to compose himself, wiping at his eyes.

Without Shigeo, or Reigen—Serizawa wouldn’t get to have this. He doesn’t know where he would be without them, but it wouldn’t be in his mother’s living room, under the kotatsu, tangled up in red yarn.

He wants to show them his gratitude. Even if it isn’t much—he wants to give them his best work.

Reigen hunches over in front of his computer, staring blearily at the screen.

He told himself he would have the present by Monday, and he will. It’s still technically the weekend.

He scrolls through the website, a little despondent. Colourful liquor bottles scroll past, increasing in price the further down he goes.

It’s stupid. He doesn’t know if Serizawa even drinks.

It feels like the wrong gift. But he honestly can’t think of anything that would be right, that would properly express what he wants to say, and Tome’s suggestion is as good as anything he’s come up with himself.

He reaches absently for his mug of tea, and almost spits it out again—it’s stone cold. He checks the time, and groans; it’s almost an hour later than he thought. He has to wake up early tomorrow.

“Fine,” Reigen says, scrolling back up to something he can actually afford. “You know what—you’ll do.” He clicks on one of the bottles.

The store will wrap and ship the present directly; he doesn’t need to do anything else. It should arrive at Serizawa’s address by the end of the week.

He checks his inbox out of habit, but there’s nothing unexpected. Just the usual work-related emails, and a handful of spam messages that made it through the filter. Usually his mom sends the Christmas invites out by the first week of December.

He’s not sure why he’s disappointed. Sometimes nothing is better than something. It’ll be better than his birthday, getting his hopes up just enough to crush them back down.

Across the room, his radiator starts banging again.

Reigen glares at it. His landlord has been ignoring his messages since November. He’s been meaning to get that replacement part and fix it himself, but he still hasn’t found the time.

Maybe tomorrow. He can swing by the store on his way home from work.

Tome shows up exactly on time, expression bright and enthusiastic.

“Hey boss!” she says, throwing her backpack in behind Mob’s desk. “I’m ready for work. What are we doing today? Any curses, or evil spirits? Possessed furniture?” She gives the couch a suspicious look.

“No,” Reigen says.

There’s a short pause as Tome realizes that Reigen isn’t going to elaborate.

“Oh.” Tome rallies quickly. “Well, that’s okay. Next week you should schedule in something fun, I want to see how you bust curses!” She pounds her fist into her other hand.

"Well, there really isn't anything for you to do today," Reigen says. "No one’s come in, and I don’t have any appointments. We're supposed to get a few centimeters of snow tonight. You should head on home for today."

"You're still here," Tome points out. "There has to be something to do."

"I'll be doing filing," Reigen invents wildly, "I'm digitizing all of our files. If you're going to stay, you're going to have to help."

"I don't mind," Tome says, effectively calling his bluff. "I'll show you how fast I can work!"

"Ah, okay," Reigen says, a little deflated. He might as well digitize their files; he's been meaning to for a while now.

They work for nearly an hour. To her credit, Tome doesn't complain at all, methodically sorting and scanning files. For some of them she has to dig through the cabinet to find missing pages; when Reigen has a full schedule, he’s gotten into the bad habit of just stuffing the papers into the first folder in the drawer. He always means to sort them out later.

Tome doesn’t complain, but Reigen starts to feel a little guilty about making her do this on what is technically her first day on the job.

He's about to suggest a break when the lights flicker. They both look up, and then look at each other.

“Bad wiring?” Tome suggests.

Reigen opens his mouth to answer, and the lights go out.

The only illumination comes from his laptop screen, now running on battery, and the faded grey light coming in through the gaps in the blinds.

A few seconds later, a narrow beam of light illuminates the office, along with Tome’s unimpressed face. She’s holding her phone up, pointed at the windows.

Reigen walks over and pulls up the blinds. The snow is falling so thick and fast, he can’t see the buildings across the street. The road below is already blanketed a thick white.

“Oh,” he says. “Huh.”

“A few centimeters of snow,” Tome says, completely deadpan. She’s joined him next to the window.

Despite himself, Reigen has to laugh. The wind is howling past the window panes like an angry ghost in a tunnel.

“How are you getting home?” Reigen asks Tome.

“The trains aren’t running,” Tome says, tapping away at her phone. Her expression is a little strained.

“Do you live far?”

“Forty minutes. By train,” Tome says.

“Well, you’re not walking that far in this weather,” Reigen says firmly. “You should call your parents. I’ll see if we can get you a taxi.”

Reigen has some very frustrating conversations with two different taxi companies while Tome (presumably) calls her parents. She spends several minutes alternating between dialing and holding the phone to her ear, looking increasingly aggravated.

Eventually she seems to get through.

"Mom!" she says. "...Yeah. Have you seen the snow?"

Reigen’s been on hold for nearly ten minutes. The soul-crushing music playing through his phone speaker comes to a sudden halt, and a voice comes on. Reigen re-engages with his newest adversary.

The answer is the same—no taxis are running. The ones that were out in the storm are stuck on the road, with no way to complete their fares.

Tome’s voice grows louder, and Reigen looks up again. He sees her face fall, and wraps up the conversation. He wasn’t getting anywhere anyway.

“Everything okay?” he asks as Tome ends the call, staring down at her phone.

"It's fine," she says. "But no one's home right now. My mom asked if I could go home with one of my friends. She thinks I'm at school."

"You didn't tell her you weren't?"

Tome shakes her head, eyes shuttered. "What was that going to change?"

Right. "Well, the taxis aren't taking on customers. So it looks like we'll be stuck here a while," he says, deliberately cheerful. "Go put on your coat, and we'll see what we can rustle up."

With the heat shut off, he can already feel the chill creeping in. If they have to wait until the storm subsides, the temperature's going to be a problem.

He heads over to the storage closet.

"Here are some towels," he says, handing Tome a stack of them. "Make sure all the doors are closed, and wedge a towel across the gap underneath. We'll meet back up in the mas—the uh, exorcism room."

Reigen pulls on his coat, and goes in search of supplies.

They gather around the little cluster of candles Reigen sets up on the coffee table, dragged into the centre of the smaller massage room.

"You have a lot of candles," Tome observes as he lights them.

"I do a lot of séances," Reigen retorts. He shakes the match out and tosses it onto the table.

An awkward silence settles over them.

It would be one thing to be stuck with Mob or Serizawa, but he barely knows Tome. She fidgets with one of the toggles on her coat, and then starts typing on her phone.

Well. No need for this to be more uncomfortable than it has to be.

"So," Reigen says. "Why do you want to contact aliens, anyway?"

Tome's face lights up.

She talks for nearly half an hour. The way she's moving around, she's not going to have any trouble keeping warm. Reigen shivers in his coat, making appropriate listening noises at the right intervals, and lets her talk.

He gets a text a little while later.

There’s a lot of snow. My class was cancelled. Everything okay at the office?

Tome trails off, looking over at his phone. "Who's that?"

"Serizawa," Reigen says, punching in a reply.

Power's out. You might as well head straight home if you can, we won't get any customers in this weather.

Serizawa’s reply comes almost immediately.

Are you still there?

"Oh. So did you give him his gift yet?" Tome asks.

Reigen’s shoulders tense. “Yeah. I did.”

“What did you get? What’d he think?” she asks.

Yeah, me and Tome. She lives too far to walk. I’ll let you know by tonight if there’s work tomorrow.

“I got him the alcohol,” Reigen admits. “It’s being sent over this week.”

Tome raises her eyebrows. “You’re sending it? You don’t want to give it to him yourself?”

“It was faster.”

Tome whistles. “You’re pretty bad at this, huh.”

“No I’m not,” Reigen denies immediately, bristling. “It’s convenient. People appreciate practicality, Tome. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“People appreciate it when you’ve put an effort into it,” Tome counters. “Usually that includes human contact. Unless you don’t live close, but you literally work in the same office.”

“What would you know? I bet your parents buy all your gifts for you,” Reigen says in what is definitely not devolving into petty bickering.

“Sure, they pay for them,” Tome says, unconcerned. “But I pick them out. They never have time to find anything, so I buy everything myself. I’m really good at judging people’s tastes.”

Reigen stops. “Wait, you—seriously? You buy your own gift too?”

“Yeah. It’s great. It means I always get exactly what I want,” Tome says. “I don’t even have to wait if I want to break it out early.”

“Right,” Reigen says. So much for human contact.

There’s a short silence. Reigen clears his throat, glancing down at where the candles are dripping wax onto the table.

“Well, there’s no point in us starving to death here,” Reigen says after a moment.

He gets up and rummages behind the cabinet, pulling out his stash of chocopies.

“Why are they behind the cabinet?” Tome asks, watching.

“So no one asks for any,” Reigen retorts. “Here.”

He tosses two onto the table, and takes one himself. The rest go back into their hiding place.

They eat in relative silence, making a small pile of wrappers on one side of the table.

“You should call your friends,” Reigen says after. “Do any of them live close?”

“Mob does,” Tome answers dryly. “I’ve already talked to him. I’ll head over when the snow stops.”

“That might be a while,” Reigen points out.

Tome shrugs. “Probably. I think we have enough candles to last us a month, if it comes to that.”

“They’re important,” Reigen says, happy to be back on more neutral ground. “Sometimes you need to set the stage to get the most out of an exorcism. The ghosts really respond to ambiance—it shows them you know what you’re doing.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Tome says. “What was your last exorcism? Did anyone start throwing up everywhere, or climbing up the walls?”

“Not exactly,” Reigen says. He thinks back to his last massage session—Mrs. Umeboshi is about ninety years old, and bears a striking resemblance to her namesake. He’d be surprised if she climbed anything more than the front steps into the building. “But I can tell you about a time last winter, when the spirit was almost too strong for Mob and my powers combined…”

Tome is an enthusiastic but impatient listener, asking rapid-fire questions that Reigen tries to ignore as he doggedly makes it through to the end of the story. It’s getting a little colder now, and they’re wrapped in all the spare towels. Neither of them mention it. There’s not much they can do to change it.

He’s halfway through a second story when he hears a knock at the door.

They both freeze, breath forming clouds of steam in the air. Reigen was just getting to the best part, embellishing a rather good description of an evil spirit—full of eyes and teeth and clawed arms.

Tome laughs a little nervously. “Ghosts don’t knock, right?”

“Not usually,” Reigen answers. And they hear the knock again.

He shivers when he hears a creak—that definitely sounded like the front door.

Then he hears, “Shishou? Tome?”

Oh thank god. “Mob,” Reigen calls, relief making his shoulders sag. “We’re in the back room.”

A few seconds later, the door opens.

Mob’s face is red-cheeked from the cold; he’s wearing a short, knobbly blue scarf and a thick woolen coat, carrying his bookbag in both hands. There’s a cheerful blue-purple glow around him, lighting up the room.

“Mob!” Tome says. “You didn’t have to come here—I’m surprised you didn’t get buried in a snowdrift!”

“No,” Mob says. “My mom said it would get pretty cold here with the power out.” He opens up his bookbag, and pulls out a large thermos. “We have a fireplace at home. So we made hot chocolate.”

“Mob,” Tome says, dramatic tears in her eyes. “You are my absolute most favourite person in the world.”

Mob smiles.

Another shape looms behind him, looking almost embarrassed.

“Um,” Serizawa says. “Hi. I thought—I was wondering if you or Tome needed help getting home?”

Reigen is, despite his best efforts, a little moved.

“Well, come in,” he says. “No need to hover in the doorway.”

“Right, sorry!” Serizawa replies.

Serizawa goes and brings back teacups from the kitchenette, and they sit around the table. Mob pours out the hot chocolate.

It’s rich and creamy; and still hot. Reigen burns his tongue on the first go, and Mob catches his cup with the ease of long practice, lowering it back down to the table with the contents still inside.

“This is pretty good,” Reigen says, once he’s managed to taste it without scalding himself.

“It really is,” Serizawa says. “Thank you for sharing it with us, Shigeo.”

Mob looks a little pink from the praise. “I’m glad you like it.”

Tome knocks her shoulder amicably against his, and then takes another long slurp from her cup.

They don’t linger too long after the drinks are finished. Reigen extinguishes the candles, and they leave everything on the table—he can come in early to clean it up, whenever he gets back to the office.

The front door to the building is a challenge to force open; Reigen puts his shoulder into it, straining until Serizawa touches the door near his head. Then it swings open.

The snow is still driving hard and fast, and for a second Reigen balks; then a purple dome surrounds them, expanding wide enough to cover a transport truck.

There’s already a bit of a path away from the building, rapidly filling over. It’s still cold and hard to see, but without being pelted with snow, Reigen thinks he can make it back okay. He doesn’t actually live that far.

They say goodbye to Mob and Tome at the door.

“Thanks,” Tome tells him. “For not being a jerk.” She smiles, a little crooked. “I’ll see you next Tuesday, assuming we haven’t all become snowmen.” She turns to Mob. “Have you ever seen any snow spirits?”

“Some,” Mob answers. “Bye shishou, Serizawa.”

“Yeah, bye,” Tome echoes. “So are you still on for Christmas, or what?”

“I think so,” Mob says.

Reigen waves them off. A second bubble separates from the first and moves away, comfortably the width of the street.

“Good, because everything else is ready for the surprise. His first time celebrating Christmas—Saruta’s never going to know what hit him—”

Snow clears out of their way as they walk, piling up to each side.

“Do you—is it okay if I walk with you?” Serizawa asks. “I think we’re going in the same direction.”

“Sure, might as well,” Reigen says, relieved. “I wouldn’t want to use my powers on snow, I might end up melting the whole block.”

Serizawa smiles a little awkwardly. “Okay. You’ll have to lead,” he says.

Reigen points them in the right direction, and they start forward. The effect of the purple light on the snow is rather nice.

It belatedly occurs to him that if Serizawa needed directions, there’s no way he could know they were going the same way. He wanted to walk with him.

Reigen doesn’t say anything. Beyond the occasional course correction, they don’t speak much on the way to Reigen’s apartment. With the noise from the wind beyond their bubble of psychic powers, it doesn’t feel awkward.

“Well, this is me,” Reigen says when they reach his building.

They linger in front of the door. There’s a hint of tension that’s making Reigen a little tongue-tied. He wonders if he should invite Serizawa inside; then he remembers the state he left his apartment in this morning. He can’t inflict that on Serizawa. Plus it’ll be cold as hell—

“I, um. I have something for you,” Serizawa says.

“Hah?” Reigen says, as Serizawa pulls off the backpack he wears to school. “Oh, you—oh. Okay.”

Serizawa puts down his backpack so he can offer the gift with both hands.

It’s professionally wrapped in white, a package about the size of a toaster. Reigen takes it, and blames the cold for the slight tremor in his hands.

Serizawa looks so painfully earnest. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me,” he says. “It’s—it’s not much. But I hope it suits you.”

“I’m sure it will,” Reigen says on automatic. “Thank you.”

The wind whistles past the outside of the bubble.

“Will you be warm enough?” Serizawa asks. Then he flushes pink. “I mean—with the power out. Will you be okay here?”

Reigen hesitates. Honestly, it’ll be miserable; but the alternative—seems to be going to Serizawa’s, if Reigen is reading this right. And that’s—

That feels like a lot.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ve got a big space heater with a good battery. It’s really very good, I use it every winter. And of course I have plenty to eat—” he’s rambling. He clears his throat. “I’m, ah, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Serizawa says. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He waits until Reigen bullies his door open, and makes it inside. Reigen shuts the door behind him, and the glow subsides.

He pulls out his phone and flips it open. The place is ice-cold, and he shivers in his entryway.

He spends the next hour insulating his apartment, taping plastic bags over his windows and stuffing towels under his doors. He pulls out all his blankets and all his spare bedding and makes a nest on his futon. Then he breaks out his old camping heater.

It’s ancient, and a bit grotty, and it doesn’t want to turn on. Reigen wrestles with it for several frustrating minutes before it finally whirrs to life.

He’s wearing three sweaters, shivering with a pair of socks on his hands and two layered on his feet, before he remembers Serizawa’s gift.

He wraps himself in the blankets like a cocoon and goes to get it.

He pulls the wrapping off carefully, setting it aside; the box inside is thin cartonboard, and inside that—

Reigen pulls out a scarf. It’s a thick, dark red, and a little shorter than might be expected of a scarf. Reigen runs his hand over it, and finds a few knots and imperfections in the stitches.

When he picks it up, he finds a note underneath.

Dear Reigen,

It’s a little messy, but I hope you can accept it. I wanted to make mittens too, but I think I need more practice first. Maybe by next winter I can manage more than one colour.

I’m very happy to be working with you. It’s nothing like it was with Claw. I really look forward to coming to the office every day. I hope you will continue to forgive any mistakes in the future.

Sincerely,

Serizawa Katsuya

Reigen just stares at it for a minute. Then he looks back down at the scarf.

Serizawa made it himself.

He puts it on. It’s nicely soft, thick and warm.

He didn’t know Serizawa knitted. He still doesn’t really know much about him.

They should spend more time together outside of work. He’ll—he’ll invite Serizawa out for drinks; that would be good. Next week. Or maybe New Year’s.

His own gift feels very impersonal in comparison.

He turns on his phone again, and writes out a text.

Hi, it’s me. Thank you for—

He swallows, staring down at the keys.

Thank you for taking the time to make me something yourself. Thank you for saving my life, thank you for coming back to the office in a blizzard to make sure I was okay—

It takes him a couple of minutes before he can continue.

Thank you for the scarf. I appreciate the hard work you’ve been doing. I look forward to—

He pauses again.

—I look forward to working with you in the future. I hope you’re keeping warm. -R

He hits send before he can think better of it. Then he settles back in his nest of blankets.

Reigen waits out the blizzard in the dark of his apartment. Every so often he’ll reach up to brush at the scarf, feeling at the wool. He’s going to make more of an effort.

Just as soon as the storm ends.