Chapter Text
Mob hadn’t really wanted to come to this school. He was perfectly fine at his perfectly average old school, even if he didn’t really have any friends or get especially good grades. To be fair, Mob’s parents hadn’t particularly wanted him to go either — it was Ritsu who was destined for Eden College, with his stellar academic record. But he’d refused to go unless Mob got in, too. Mob was touched that his younger brother wanted to stay in the same school as him, but the entrance exam had been a nerve wracking nightmare. Mob was astonished to discover he’d managed to achieve the minimum passing score. Ritsu, of course, passed with flying colors.
Which was why Mob had been waitlisted, and Ritsu hadn’t. Mob had been beaten out by the numerous and glamorous competition by a landslide. But it was enough to convince Ritsu to enroll, and being on the waitlist would probably never actually amount to anything, so it was fine as far as Mob was concerned. Ritsu got to start the seventh grade at Eden College, and Mob got to go back to his old school, with his old uniform and his old routine. No one even seemed to notice that he’d been sorted into a different class this year. Halfway into the semester, Mob had forgotten all about the waitlist.
Mob didn’t really want to transfer schools in the middle of the semester. He didn’t really want to transfer to Eden College in particular. But Ritsu wanted him there, and his parents didn’t dare let him turn down an opportunity to follow Ritsu’s example like this, so…
So. Here he was, standing at the edge of campus on the first day at his new school, dressed in his new uniform, trying to remember which way the eighth grade hall was. In stark contrast to Eden College’s extravagant architecture, his old school had been a public school of a reasonable size with a rather humble single building. Three other students jostled past him on the laid-brick walkway without saying a word before he started moving forward with halting steps. Maybe he should have gotten up earlier to walk to school together with Ritsu. But Mob didn’t want to rely on his brother too much here, not when Ritsu had such a promising academic career ahead of him — halfway into his first year at Eden College, and he’d already accumulated three Stella Stars for outstanding academic achievement. Mob was so proud of him, although Ritsu never seemed to want to wear them.
Mob had never been a transfer student before, and he wasn’t particularly relishing the experience. The subjects were harder here, and Mob was sweating under his collar by the time they broke for lunch. Lunch, too, was kind of overwhelming — the school boasted a full menu prepared by world-class chefs, but all Mob really wanted was a glass of milk and a sandwich he could take outside.
He walked away with a panini with more ingredients than he really wanted in a sandwich, but he got his milk, at least. There was a shaded spot outside that looked like it could provide a nice breather from an overwhelming day, but Mob didn’t make it ten paces before he tripped over his own still-unfamiliar loafers, and the crystal glass of milk went flying.
No one was looking when the glass came to a gentle halt a few inches above the ground, spilled milk pouring back into it as it returned to his hand. Mob let out a little breath. He’d have to be more careful. He was pretty sure that any broken school cutlery would be added to his tuition, and at any rate, he couldn’t afford to let anyone here know he had psychic powers. The war might have been over for a while now, but Ostania-Westalis relations still hadn’t progressed beyond tense at best, and people were reported for suspicious activity all the time. If the wrong person saw him and reported him…at best, he’d run into the secret police, and at worst, his family might be placed under suspicion of espionage.
Mob pressed those thoughts aside and sat down on the bench, this time with a careful grasp on both glass and plate, and let out a small sigh. Even lunch at Eden College was challenging…
I managed to catch it before it broke, but still…I shouldn’t use my psychic powers at school…
Anya sat up straight, immediately tuning out Becky’s recap of last night’s Berlint in Love, which was getting really, really long by now. Anya had already forgotten the main characters’ names. She whipped her head around the lunch hall, searching with wide eyes. Where had that thought come from? There was another esper here at school??
“—and that’s when he looked her straight in the eyes, and said — Anya! Aren’t you listening? This is important stuff, the series finale is next week!”
“Gotta pee!” Anya declared with passion, jumping to her feet. It didn’t sound like the thought had come from inside, so…maybe the thinker was outside? She made a beeline for the massive doors that opened out into the school gardens and blew past a small cluster of upperclassmen so fast they nearly dropped their school bags. The thought was gone now, but Anya was pretty sure it must have come from right…around…here…
She rounded a corner to a shaded bench, out of breath but with a look of triumph. Seated on the bench was an older boy with a glass of milk, staring back at her with a look of vacant surprise. Anya grinned at him, fully taking in the face of the guy who was gonna be the school hero.
Now that she was taking it in, though, she was less sure this was the person she’d overheard. Anya had never seen a more boring-looking person in her life. She didn’t think she’d even have noticed him if he hadn’t moved. And…the only thing he was thinking about right now was how much he liked milk.
Anya’s expression froze and withered. The upperclassman, still staring back, started to look nervous. Anya slitted her eyes, said nothing, and turned on her heel to march confidently away.
There was no way it was that guy. He looked like he had all the psychic powers of a dried leaf. The new esper at Eden College had to be someone super cool! And they had to be a good guy, because the only other esper here besides her was a huge jerk. A real bully, even if he did a really good job of covering it up! He was all twinkling smiles around the teachers, and for some reason he was super popular, but there were plenty of psychic mutterings about his behind-the-scenes cruelty. Louder than any of those, though, were the guy’s own thoughts about himself, the first time Anya got close enough to hear them. Did all cool kids really act like they were the center of the universe? In that case, Anya wasn’t sure she really wanted to be a cool kid.
He was the kind of jerk who was mean to kids from other schools, too, just because they didn’t go to Eden College. Anya had watched from a distance, once, as he’d gotten in a confrontation with a couple of kids in unfamiliar uniforms, being his usual jerk self, and then once one of the other kids tried to lay a hand on him — that was when she’d discovered the real him. The real Sparkly.
Anya had forgotten his name as soon as she’d heard it, but she didn’t need it. She knew Sparkly’s true nature after seeing that fight: that he wasn’t just a bully, he was a psychic bully. And a really strong one. A real bad guy! How come her school had a bad guy and not a hero? As far as she knew, they were the only two espers in the whole school. She couldn’t pick people up and throw them around with her mind, and all the self-defense training with Mama wouldn’t put her in a league with that guy. Eden College…needed a hero.
And the hero was definitely not the guy drinking milk when no grownups were even around to make him.
“You shouldn’t use them against other people,” Mob said, coughing a little as the dust cleared. He hadn’t meant to get caught up in this intermural gang showdown — taking the route home through the park had been a mistake, that was all — but it felt wrong not to say anything at all after watching another esper in an Eden uniform obliterate three competing schools’ worth of delinquents without breaking a sweat. He was sweating now, though, staring at Mob in white-faced shock.
“What?”
“Your powers,” Mob said, brushing a few blades of grass from his sleeve. “You shouldn’t use them against other people. It’s dangerous. And if someone saw you, you could get reported for—”
“Wait, are you—” The other boy’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. “I can’t believe this. I thought I was the only one.” His eyes narrowed then, his chin raised. “What school are you from? How long have you been biding your time?”
Mob looked down at his sweater. He’d stopped wearing his uniform outside of school after Master Reigen had told him it made him look like a target for kidnapping.
“I go to the same school as you,” he said. The other boy’s eyes snapped open wide again, and then, after a moment, he barked out a laugh.
“You’re an Eden College student? Then you know what a mistake you’re making right now, challenging me. You must know who I am.”
“Actually, we’ve never met,” Mob said.
“But you’ve heard of me,” the other boy said, throwing out a haughty hand. The air seemed to crackle around him. He was smiling with too many teeth. “Teruki Hanazawa. Although you might better know me as Teru.”
Mob thought for a moment. “No,” he said. Teru looked as Mob had punched him in the stomach. Helpfully, Mob said, “I’m Shigeo Kageyama, from Malcom Hall. It’s nice to meet—”
Teru rushed him at lightning speed with a snarl, and after that point, talking didn’t get Mob much of anywhere.
Mob’s eyes still stung hot with tears even as the rain started coming down, little drops pinking on the ground. It became a wash of sound as the clouds opened up over the park, and before long the rain was soaking into his hair, his bangs sticking to his brow. He couldn’t quite bring himself to move just yet, his hands and knees sunk into the ground, even as the autumn chill seeped in through his sweater. He could feel the dirt under his nails quickly turn to mud. His eyes still felt hot.
The park was restored now, and all the fallen delinquents had come back gently to earth. In the end, no one was seriously hurt. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing short of undoing it all would be enough — and even that much might still not be.
There was movement in his peripheral vision. He caught a glimpse of bare legs, white in the rain, receding from him unevenly.
“Hanazawa…”
He couldn’t tell how far his voice made it. It felt stuck in his throat, hot like his tears. He tried to push himself to his feet and found legs unsteady. He was tired, exhausted, but mostly on the inside. Very little sensation seemed to be making it clearly from his brain to his body, his limbs vague and fuzzy, like foreign objects tacked haphazardly onto his torso. But Teru was still backing away, his hands held out in front of him, and it was only then that Mob became fully cognizant of the fact that Teru was completely naked. That, too, must have been his doing.
Mob tried to get to his feet and pitched forward unsteadily, a bad false start that left his palms hitting the mud hard. Teru stumbled back a few steps, blind terror written all over his face.
“Ah, Kageyama — that’s enough, I’m already—”
“Your clothes,” Mob tried to say, reaching out a hand, but despite this battered attempt at an olive branch, Teru turned and fled at lightning speed. Mob watched him with bleary eyes, his hand falling back to the ground.
The people around him were starting to stir. The rain was coming down heavier now, thick drops leaving brief divots in the mud. He had to get going, too. Everyone here had been unconscious for the duration of the conflict, but that didn’t mean it hadn't caught anyone’s attention. Mob felt something awful and heavy sink in his stomach along with the implications. It was bad enough that he couldn’t control himself, even despite his best efforts; it was even worse that the result had been such a glaring spectacle. If he didn’t leave now, there was more than a ghost of a chance that he’d run afoul of the Ostanian secret police.
Once he finally got to his feet, a lurching momentum took over, and he stumbled into a run, putting as much distance between him and the park as he could before anyone could fully register his face. He felt hollowed out, turned inside out, the sadness replaced with a monochrome exhaustion.
He was glad he hadn’t been wearing his uniform; it was no big deal if he came home in wet and scuffed clothing as long as he wouldn’t have to take a hefty drycleaning fee out of his allowance. But that was about the only plus to the evening, after what he’d done to Teru. Putting the park back together after wasn’t a net good, only barely breaking even. Ritsu had given him a worried look, but he’d only asked if Mob was okay, nothing else. That was fine. Mob didn’t have a good answer for anything else right now.
He didn’t have the appetite for dinner; his stomach was still heavy with regret, anchoring him to his bed as soon as he lay down. Nothing had been gained by winning that fight, not really. He’d still have to see Teru at school tomorrow — there would still be consequences, there would still be tension. There would still be math class. What if Teru decided they needed a rematch, that last time was a fluke and this time he’d prove his superiority? What if he picked a fight in a place with more people this time, just to force Mob’s hand? What if—
Mob pulled the covers over his head and shut his eyes.
Teru didn’t stop running until he’d made it back to his dorm, as though he were still fleeing, as though the specter of the power that dwelled inside Mob were snapping at his heels. The blind terror in his stomach had curdled into disgust by the time he climbed into his room through the back window. He was trembling all over as soon as his feet touched the polished floor, having run naked through the autumn chill, but it wasn’t from the cold alone. Every bone in his body still felt like it was rattling from psychic impact, making the room lurch slightly from side to side. He passed his reflection in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall, jerked his head away immediately, then stopped himself.
Teru turned back to the mirror with a look of grim resignation. He ran a hand over the bare patch on the top of his head, stubble scraping his palm, and his reflection stared back at him so pitifully it made his lip curl back in disgust. That was the face of dishonor — not because he’d lost, but because he’d fled like a coward instead of accepting his defeat with grace.
He knew he couldn’t have stood a chance against the thing he’d awoken in Mob. That was what made it so shameful. His defeat had been so absolute that he had no choice but to accept it; there had been no reason at all to run. In hindsight, what his panicked brain had clocked as lingering hostility from Mob had probably been nothing more than a gaunt weariness. Mob, despite Teru’s best efforts, had stayed true to his principles for as long as he’d remained conscious. Teru didn’t think Mob would have raised a hand in violence against him after all that. He wouldn’t have even needed to. There had been nothing but shame in running away.
Which was why this wasn’t over. Mob was on another level entirely, but Teru had survived to tell the tale, and that meant he was worthy, too. Teru couldn’t let things simply end with that fight — Mob had turned his entire world on its head in a matter of hours. That wasn’t something you just walked away from. And Teru wasn’t going to let Mob just walk away from this.
He paced his room restlessly. He hadn’t even bothered with clothes despite the chills that were setting in. He had class in the morning, but the idea of school seemed so distant, so trivial in comparison to the humiliation burning him up from the inside out. It would disappear once Mob acknowledged him as a rival, he was sure, and he would have to prove himself. He’d proven nothing at all to Mob tonight except his cowardice. He just had to show Mob that he was worthy in other arenas, because a proper rivalry went beyond the realm of mere fighting. And he, in turn, would learn more about Mob — what made him happy, vulnerable, determined, because how could Teru be the rival Mob deserved if he didn’t know all those things?
His train of thought looped fervent tracks in his mind, etching deeper grooves with every circuit, and he could only endure so many revolutions before he began to grow dizzy. When he sat down on his bed, still unclothed and covered in a cold sweat, he felt suddenly heavy, though his head felt suspiciously light. He buried his face in his hands. He needed a shower. No, he needed a long soak in a hot bath. And pajamas. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to get back up from his bed. There was a muffled whoosh as Teru fell back onto the covers, and he squinted up at the ceiling with no particular focus. Tomorrow he’d confront Mob, fully acknowledge his defeat, and seal the rivalry between them. He was prepared for Mob to lord it over him at least a little bit — he’d earned it. But for now, Teru was fading alarmingly fast, and his eyes fluttered closed before he managed to crawl under the covers.
EARLIER THAT EVENING…
There was a slight tremor as Loid set the dinner dishes down on the table, and they met its surface with an unintended double clink. The window rattled with a sound that sounded like a distant impact. Yor gave a startled glance at the fluttering curtains.
“That sound just now—”
Loid was already at the window, peering through the blinds. A bomb, perhaps — or a small missile? A terrorist plot WISE hadn’t intercepted in time? Or maybe it was some kind of experimental aerospace technology. There had been rumors for some time now that Ostania’s military was developing a new fleet of fighter jets, and it had almost sounded like a sonic boom. Except…the neighborhood beyond the window was still and quiet under a curtain of rain. No trace of smoke or flames anywhere in this direction, nor sirens. A false alarm?
No, he couldn’t be too cautious. He’d ask his handler about it at their next meeting if it was conspicuously absent from the morning paper.
He was already smiling when he turned back, letting out a little laugh. “Must have been some naughty kids setting off some fireworks. I think I saw a little flash of light before — Anya?”
Yor was already out of her seat, hovering over Anya, who had suddenly slumped over facedown onto the table. When Yor gently rolled her over, there was drool trailing from the corner of her mouth, her eyes glazed over. “Oh, no, Anya! Are you alright?” She propped Anya upright in her seat, but Anya slumped back over immediately. Yor tried again, to similar effect. “This usually only happens when we’re near crowds…”
Loid sat Anya up, keeping her upright with a hand on her back this time, as a dozen possible scenarios playing out in his mind. Poison? Allergic reaction? No, he hadn’t even served dinner yet. Was it exhaustion? She hadn’t mentioned anything particularly strenuous at school today, and she’d seemed fine when she’d gotten home—
A tiny hand landed heavily on his arm. “Papa,” Anya gurgled, “I’m fine.”
As fine as she could be after feeling like her brain had been rattled violently around in her skull, anyway. What the heck had been that sound? There had been a much bigger boom inside her head. Anya usually couldn’t hear people’s thoughts from that far away, and it hadn’t even really sounded like thoughts. It had just sounded like…noise. Really, really loud noise.
She slumped back over, eyelids fluttering. “Just need…a nap…”
“Anya? You haven’t even eaten — h-hey, don’t just pass out at the dinner table!”
Anya was still rubbing her eyes when she blearily tottered into class the next morning and dropped herself into the seat next Becky. Whatever had made all that racket in her head had messed with her sleep and left her with a headache that made it feel like her ears were all stopped up.
Becky nudged her with an elbow as roll call began. “What’s with you? Did you not sleep?” She gasped. “Is it because you stayed up late to watch the season finale of Berlint in Love, too? Wasn’t it totally—”
“Who even cares about that,” Anya mumbled, just as Master Henderson reprimanded them for inelegant pre-class chitchat. Becky made a scandalized face, but Anya’s attention was elsewhere.
Papa…I don’t think that was a regular bomb.
Scanning a bunch of people’s thoughts instead of paying attention in class while she was already a little fried didn’t do her any favors, and it didn’t get her anywhere, either. No one whose thoughts she could grab in passing knew of anything weird going on last night. Maybe the problem was that she was stuck reading the minds of a bunch of babies who didn’t know anything. She’d have to find some older kids to get the scoop, so at lunch she told Becky she needed to pee and sneaked away to badly conceal herself behind a table full of upperclassmen, smiling to herself at her genius. These kids were all over the age of ten! They had to know something!
Hmm…last night’s season finale wasn’t the strongest, but…wait — !
Ugh, they burned my frittata again? And they call this world-class — oh my gosh!
I wonder if it’s true that you can get a Tonitrus Bolt for being turned down after a love confession? It sounds fake, but with this school, you never — hold on, is that — ?!
Anya followed the dazzled stares and nearly toppled backwards on the spot. Striding into the dining hall with all the easy confidence of a movie star, cape slung casually over one shoulder…it was him! It was Sparkly!
And his hair was huge.
The chorus of thoughts that ran through her brain was a miniature cacophony of squealing and excitement. Anya stood stock still among the adoring crowd, staring at Sparkly’s incredibly tall hair. That was new. It had to be. She gasped inwardly.
Is this what happens if you level up as an esper? Is my hair gonna get huge one day too??
She tried to picture it at the same time she raked through Sparkly’s thoughts for answers, but it was kind of a jumbled mess in there. He didn’t look like he was doing so hot. Well, the opposite actually — he seemed like he was burning up. Wait, that was a wig? His head wasn’t extra huge? He was actually…half-bald under that wig???
Anya burst into wheezing laughter right next to the older kids’ table, tears already in her eyes as she dropped to her knees on the floor. The kids seated at the table next to her were starting to get annoyed, and others were just staring, although Sparkly seemed to register none of it as he passed through the dining hall. For a moment, he was close enough for her to tell that his face was flushed, covered in a sheen of cold sweat. He wasn’t walking very steadily, either, his hair wavering from side to side whenever he took a little lurching step. Wait, was Sparkly sick? He’d seemed fine yesterday.
Reading his thoughts was like peering through a heatwave or watching an unreliable broadcast — it shimmered and stuttered, but the frames came together to make a prime-time comedy in Sparkly’s head, and it was — kind of loud, actually?
Her laughter died away as she heard the sound from last night again, but louder — but at the same time, more distant too, coming to her secondhand from Sparkly’s memories. Was he the source of the big boom? Some kind of psychic bomb? But he was already moving out of range, and the kids at the table she was lying on the floor next to were starting to get really impatient.
“Ugh, can someone please get this first-grader out of here? Come on, brat, you’re in the way!”
The last thought Anya caught just before Sparkly’s station crackled out of range was completely at odds with the pasted-on smile, feverish and practically trembling.
I can’t believe I lost to him and he’s just acting like nothing even happened. Does he really find me that disgraceful?
Anya watched Sparkly go with wide eyes and an open mouth, even as a sixth-grader picked her up by the back of her uniform and deposited her away from their table. So there really was another esper at her school…and he was a hero esper??
She had to know more.
She’d learned from Papa by now that you needed a good tack-ticks to clear a mission safely and successfully. She wasn’t totally clear on what a tack-ticks was, but it sounded kind of like a plan. And yeah, she had a plan: read Sparkly’s mind at every available opportunity and figure out his schedule so she could witness the moment Sparkly confronted his new nemesis. She had to find out the school hero’s identity. Sure, in cartoons they always kept it a carefully guarded secret, but she felt that as one of Eden’s three (three!) espers, she had a right to know.
She could only get so much of the story just passing him in the hall, and he had to be thinking about it at that exact moment. Luckily for her, Sparkly seemed to be thinking about last night exclusively. Wow, talk about a one-track mind, huh, thought Anya while she relentlessly stalked an upperclassman whose name she had not and would never bother to learn.
Sparkly failed to get close to his nemesis all day — he couldn’t even find the guy after lunch, and Sparkly’s fevered mind was so scrambled that Anya couldn’t get a clear picture of what he looked like. The only impression she got was “scary.”
But her persistence paid off at the end of the day, when she overheard Sparkly’s plan to track his new rival down now that they were free from class. Yes!!! With a silent apology Anya ditched Becky at the speed of light and covertly trailed after Sparkly, hoping fervently that this would come to a thrilling conclusion before her bus arrived.
This was so exciting…!
She had the perfect spot to watch them from, too. Eden College was covered in artful topiary, and while Anya might not have been able to accurately identify any of the animal shapes, it was the perfect camouflage. Sparkly was unsteadily walking up to the guy he wanted to talk to now, and she could glean from his thoughts the last few major details of the story: that he’d unexpectedly discovered another esper among his fellow Eden students, that they’d fought hard and Sparkly had lost, badly, when the other guy had gone totally bonkers. She still didn’t really understand that part, except for the terror that had been etched in Sparkly’s mind and that it had been the source of the loud boom last night.
And despite all that, Sparkly just wouldn’t let it lie even when it was clear this guy could still kick his butt. Honestly, there was a whole lot going on in Sparkly’s mind right now, and Anya was having a hard time unraveling it all. One thing was clear, though: Sparkly was totally obsessed with him.
Which was to her advantage, because it meant that she was about to learn the identity of the school’s psychic hero! With a smug little grin, Anya leaned forward as Sparkly caught up to someone, calling out to him. The other student turned, and—
“Huh?”
The single sound of disappointment dropped from Anya’s mouth of its own accord. The guy Sparkly was burning with rival-y rage and passion about, the guy who had kicked his butt so badly he’d given Sparkly advanced male-pattern baldness…it was the super boring milk boy??
No way! No way. This wasn’t exciting at all. Anya stared in indignant disappointment, willing the scene to change, but no, according to Sparkly’s increasingly weird and heated thoughts, this was the guy. He had a name, Sparkly had just thought it, but every time Anya saw him around school, the only thing people called him in their heads — when they noticed him at all — was Mob.
Climbing the topiary for a better angle, Anya focused the whole of her attention on the exchange. Huh, going just by the way Mob responded to Sparkly, she wouldn’t have thought Mob had beaten him in a fight. Hoo hoo hoo…the plot thickens.
“Kageyama,” Sparkly said, his voice coming out a hoarse rasp and not a cool drawl like he’d intended. He didn’t seem to notice. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all day.”
Sparkly was taking lurching steps towards Mob, but Mob didn’t seem scared, just kinda…what was it? Anya squinted from a distance. His face was just so boring it was hard to read. Mob blinked at Sparkly, then his brow knit slightly.
“Um, Hanazawa — are you feeling okay? You don’t look so good…”
The second Anya heard his voice she felt her disappointment reach a new level. Not only did he look uncool, he totally sounded uncool! Wasn’t this the part where he was supposed to be like, heh, I beat you pretty good, didn’t I, because I’m the good guy and you’re the bad guy, right? But he was so quiet, and nice, and…boring.
Sparkly let out a laugh that came out as more of a huff. He tried to toss his hair, but his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat. Anya cringed.
“Merciful even in your victory…I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any less from you. But I’m fine — never felt better, actually.”
Mob was starting to look a little uncomfortable — nervous, maybe. “Hanazawa, if this is about last night…”
“I did flee in disgrace, after all,” Sparkly conceded with a sigh, as though he hadn’t heard Mob at all, because he hadn’t. “I brought nothing but shame on myself last night. So it’s only natural you might harbor some pity for me.”
“I’m really sorry,” Mob said.
“But I assure you, despite that embarrassing first impression, I’m much better than — what?”
“I’m really sorry,” Mob said, more clearly this time, as though he were concerned that Sparkly didn’t understand him the first time.
Anya’s mouth fell open.
What. What was that!! What kind of hero gives the bad guy an action movie-level beatdown and then apologizes to him like he just stepped on the bad guy’s foot? But Sparkly just let out a laugh that came out a little too loud.
“Don’t trouble yourself over it. It might have been a painful lesson, but you certainly taught me something valuable, Kageyama.”
Mob opened his mouth, but Sparkly just kept going on, apparently locked into soliloquy mode.
“You taught me that there was a higher power — someone who was actually a match for me.”
“Oh,” Mob said in obvious confusion. “Like…God?”
Sparkly’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head from sheer disbelief. He clapped both hands to his face and stared, his woozy and questionable cool quickly melting away in favor of agitation and exasperation. He looked a little like he wanted to shake Mob. “No! I’m talking about you!”
“Oh,” Mob said, not really sure how to respond. Sparkly pressed his hands to his head, staring at Mob with look of feverish disbelief.
“Honestly, I don’t understand you,” he said hotly, and Anya leaned back involuntarily, shivering. She didn’t need telepathy to feel the intensity rolling off this guy in waves. “You defeated the shadow leader of Eden College. You’re the only other esper I’ve ever fought, and you absolutely destroyed me. So why do you insist on acting like nothing happened?”
“I didn’t mean for anything to happen,” Mob said, keeping his voice low. He looked nervous now, and Anya became abruptly aware of something rising in him, too, a faint sound with a powerful echo. “Hanazawa, I really am sorry—”
“Oh my god,” Sparkly said with unintentional heat, and Mob took a half-step back away from him. “Will you stop apologizing already? I’m trying to explain how you changed my whole life!”
Honestly, Sparkly was finding it infuriating. Anya was mostly finding it confusing. That didn’t seem like a bad guy line at all.
“Oh, uh…” Mob looked caught between shyness and nerves, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I don’t think I really…”
“Don’t you get it?” Sparkly stared at him, his eyes wide and a little red-rimmed. Mob did not look at all like he got it. “You’re the only one in the world I could call my rival! And I’m the only one you can call a rival! We’re the only two espers here at Eden College. We can’t just walk away from each other.”
Ohhh, so it was this kind of story. Anya leaned forward, little hands curled into fists. This was finally getting exciting again.
But Mob looked less than excited; he looked a little alarmed, actually, glancing over his shoulder at the students streaming out of campus buildings on their way home or to their club activities. Sparkly’s voice was starting to carry, and Mob took a step closer, holding out a tempering hand.
“Hanazawa, someone might hear you,” he said, his brain oscillating between nerves and increasingly desperate confusion, because he thought an apology would have smoothed this over by now. That faint buzzing sound was getting just a little louder now. Anya squinted at Mob with renewed curiosity. It was true that Mob and Sparkly were the only other espers she’d ever met (spying on them from a distance counted), but she could sense something in Mob that she’d never encountered before, not even remotely like Sparkly’s powers. “And I don’t want to fight you again. It’s dangerous. Someone could get hurt, or see us—”
“Oh, I think I see what’s happening here.” Sparkly let out another laugh, but it came out as a half-wheeze. He seemed to be a little short of breath now, sweat collecting under his collar. “I left a truly terrible first impression, and you think you’re too good to be my rival — is that it?”
Mob was starting to look really thrown now, sweating almost as much as Sparkly and wondering just how the conversation had gotten so out of control. Anya slumped against the topiary with a sigh. Me too, Mob.
“No, I’d just rather be friends—”
“Well, I’ll just have to prove you wrong,” Sparkly said heatedly, steamrolling right over Mob, who closed his mouth in resignation. “I am better than that, and I’ll prove it to you. I might not be a match for you in a fight, but as an Eden student — as a commoner, even — I’m every bit your equal.”
He’d show Mob that he was the best commoner. He’d come at Mob with everything he had. Mob really had no idea what was in store for him.
“Okay,” Mob said in bewilderment, fumbling for a way to move on from this topic, because it was making less sense by the second and also because he was getting kind of worried about Sparkly. Well, Sparkly was right about one thing, Anya decided — Mob seemed to be a pretty okay guy. But mercifully, the four o’clock bell tolled, and Mob looked down at his watch.
“Oh, if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late to my part-time job, but…” He looked Sparkly over. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the—”
“I’m just fine,” Sparkly said firmly, just as he swayed violently to the left. He reached out to catch the stone wall to steady himself but his sweat-slick palm slipped, and he lurched forward unevenly, the side of his head knocking into the stone wall. Mob winced. On his second attempt, Teru pulled himself half-upright and steadied himself with a smile. “You really don’t need to worry so much about me, Kageyama.”
Mob looked at him for a moment, gauging, but seemed to take his answer at face value and nodded.
“Okay,” he said, half-turning to leave, but he stopped and gave Sparkly a blank but earnest look, dead-on. “I’m really glad we can be friends after all, Hanazawa.”
He was pretty sure this meant they could be friends. Sparkly had a dozen lines ready for whatever response Mob might deliver, but Anya heard them all dissolve into static in realtime as a small smile touched Mob’s face. Anya stared at Sparkly, who looked really dumb with his mouth hanging open like that. He was sweating even more all of a sudden. Man…for someone so popular, he was super lame.
Sparkly failed to get a word out as Mob waved and turned to leave, and kept on failing as Mob receded into the distance and disappeared around a corner. Anya was still staring at Sparkly, itchy all over with secondhand embarrassment. Sparkly was just standing there — well, more like leaning there, because he didn’t seem able to push himself back upright. He didn’t seem to be trying.
“So he has a part-time job,” Sparkly said to himself, his voice cracking with an uneven laugh, and suddenly his muggy thoughts were a wall of text where every third word was Mob’s name, hitting Anya like a brick to the head. She recoiled with a choked little gurgle. Sparkly’s weird fever was only getting worse, and the hotter his brain got, the harder it was to read his thoughts. They were quickly melting into a jumble, like trying to wade through a hot, sticky summer day. Anya tried to reel her mind back away from the swampy whirlpool that was Sparkly’s mind right now.
She kind of felt bad for Mob. She had a feeling that that kid was gonna get bullied so hard and he wasn’t even going to see it coming. Maybe she should keep an eye on him, just in case. At any rate, Anya was finding the drama weirdly compelling, even though it looked like whatever this was, it was headed for disaster.
Her soul nearly left her body when she heard the beep signaling the school bus’s arrival. Oh no! She was so absorbed in the school psychic drama that she totally forgot all about the bus! She started to scoot back down the topiary and tumbled to the ground, springing to her feet with a somersault, and took off at light speed. She was gone before Sparkly could ever even know she was there.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop wearing that uniform to work?” Reigen said as soon as Mob closed the door behind him. “People are gonna start thinking I’ve got money if I’ve got an Eden student working for me. Don’t get too cozy, we’re about to head out for a client.”
“Sorry,” Mob said, glancing down at his school uniform. Obligingly, he stayed standing at the door while Reigen grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “I got held up at school and didn’t have time to go home and change.”
“Oh? What, somebody confess to you behind the gym?” Reigen let out a snort to himself as he locked the office door behind them. Mob just smiled a little.
“Actually, I made a friend at school today,” he said. Reigen glanced down at him, registered the smile, and grinned back.
“Good for you, Mob. You know, I’ve always said it’s important to make connections with your peers, especially when you have the whole of Eden College at your fingertips…and it obviously enriches your personal and spiritual growth, too! Just remember that an upstanding member of society always puts their job first, so if anyone tries to get you to join a club again, you can tell them, no thank you, sir, I’m already meaningfully contributing to society!” Reigen dug around in his pocket for bus fare as they approached the corner. “So, does your new friend have rich parents?”
Mob gazed up at the massive, glass-walled building as they got off the bus, the words BERLINT GENERAL HOSPITAL emblazoned over the entry pavilion. The place was teeming with people, small clusters and crowds writhing through the medical complex.
“A hospital?”
“Yeah, the client’s a patient here,” Reigen said, stopping to check his reflection in the glass. He tugged his tie into place and waved Mob along. “She’s convinced there’s a spirit haunting her floor, scratching at everyone’s doors all night long. Thought we ought to make a house call.”
“You don’t sound very convinced,” Mob noted. He tried to stick close enough to Reigen as they passed through the front doors that no one would knock into him, but someone obliviously buffeted him in the back of the head with their purse, and he stumbled to catch back up. Reigen stopped in the center of the pavilion to scan the directory.
“Yeah, well, she’s in the psych ward,” Reigen said. One corner of his mouth tugged down as he lifted a finger to point out their destination: Psychiatric Ward, South Pavilion, third floor. “So I’m not totally sure this is for real. But she was pretty insistent over the phone, and I figured if I didn’t take on the job she’d keep calling until she found someone else, so I thought we’d at least check it out.”
“If you’re not sure there’s a spirit, are you sure you need me here? Even if there was one, you could probably take care of it yourself, Master.”
“I mean — yeah, of course I could,” Reigen said, flapping a hand. “But — this is good practice for you, too, Mob! Learning to tell when there is and isn’t a spirit causing a problem…that’s a valuable life skill.”
“It’s easy,” Mob said, perplexed. “You just look.”
“Easy to learn, difficult to master,” Reigen said, tapping two fingers to his forehead. Mob had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he followed Reigen to their destination, mulling it over.
“Master, I’ve been thinking…should we really have taken this client? If there isn’t a spirit, she might not believe us even if we told her.”
Reigen glanced down at Mob, who looked, uncannily, a little more like he was contemplating homicide than work ethics. After another moment, Mob looked up at him, blinking dimly. “Would that really be helping her?”
Alright, so he wasn’t mad about Reigen potentially scamming a client, he was just feeling…thoughtful today, apparently. Mob didn’t usually think too hard about the clients, focusing more on the practical aspect of his job. Reigen shrugged.
“Like I said, I couldn’t get her off the phone until I agreed to do it. We’ll take the photos and do our job, and if she doesn’t believe us — well, you can lead a horse to water, you know?”
“The spirit is a horse?” Mob said. Reigen pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Excuse me,” came a cool voice from just behind them, “do you work here?”
Mob froze, his mind immediately going blank. Reigen, though, just spun on his heel and stabbed a finger at the tall blonde guy in the lab coat who’d just decided to stick his nose into their business.
“Do I look like I work here?” he said, and Mob turned around slowly to see Reigen wearing a look of pure indignation. “Of course I don’t work here. I’m a lawyer, Doctor, uh…”
He leaned forward to squint at the other man’s ID badge. “Dr. Forger. I represent a patient on this floor, and any information beyond that is a matter of client confidentiality.”
Mob stared at Reigen in wide-eyed wonderment. His master really knew how to think on his feet — no one ever seemed to trip him up or leave him speechless. Dr. Forger, on the other hand, looked less impressed. He glanced down at Reigen’s shoes — scuffed brown leather, fraying shoelaces — then to Mob, who immediately averted his gaze. Dr. Forger glanced back at Reigen.
“You are not a lawyer,” he said coolly. Mob felt his palms grow sweaty, a look of panic stealing over him. Reigen really wished he’d never turned around; he was blowing the whole con with his face alone. “So you’ll tell me what you’re doing here, or I’ll call security.”
Reigen glared at him for another moment, finger still outstretched — then he let out an explosive sigh, his whole upper body sagging with a sudden release of tension. His arm dropped to his side like his strings had been suddenly cut.
“Alright, alright,” he said, rubbing his forehead, “you got me. I’m not a lawyer. But I really do have a client on this floor.”
He offered Dr. Forger an awkward smile, scratching the back of his head. “I’m…look, this is kind of embarrassing, but Mrs. Baxter reached out to me because she thinks this floor is haunted by ghosts or something. I know, I know, there’s no such thing,” he went on before Dr. Forger could interject, waving a hand quickly, “and I’m not going to take her money, alright? I’m just here to check so I can tell her I did and give her some peace of mind, that’s all.”
Dr. Forger’s face was stonelike. Mob realized he was holding his breath.
“Which Mrs. Baxter?” Dr. Forger asked. “There are two in this ward.”
“Mrs. Angela Baxter,” Reigen said without so much as a blink, and fished around in his suit jacket for a business card. “Like I said, I’m not actually going to take any money from her. Most of what I do just involves counseling and a little massage therapy. I’m just here to take a quick look around — then I’m gone, I swear.”
Dr. Forger’s eyes narrowed slightly, gauging, and unnervingly enough, not blinking. “Mrs. Baxter has mentioned these suspicions,” he said slowly, taking Reigen’s business card, and Mob dared to let out a slow breath. “If this will put them to rest…then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you complete your work.” He smiled, then, just slightly, but with warmth. “And if you are able to help Mrs. Baxter in any way — well, I can’t say I wouldn’t be grateful.”
“Glad to know the doctors of our city’s greatest hospital look after its patients with such care,” Reigen replied glibly, and waited for Dr. Forger to leave. Dr. Forger started to turn, then paused to look down at Mob, who tensed immediately.
“Are you a student at Eden College?” he asked, his tone perfectly cordial.
“Uh? Um — yes.”
Dr. Forger’s gaze slid back to Reigen briefly, then he smiled again. “My daughter is a student there, too,” he said. “It makes me proud as an Eden parent to see her upperclassmen setting such a stand-up example. I’m sure the school looks favorably on your choice of community service.”
“Oh, um, thank you,” Mob said, trying discreetly to direct his gaze at Reigen, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to do. Mercifully, Dr. Forger just smiled in response and walked past them, his steps receding until they heard the ward doors swing closed. Reigen let out a whoosh of breath and slumped back against the wall. Mob wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve and considered keeping a change of clothes at school.
“Hooo, that was close. I really thought he was gonna call security for a second there. Did you see the way he was looking at me, Mob? I can’t stand dealing with guys like that. Wet blankets, every one of ’em.”
“Master,” Mob said, “why did you lie to him? Doesn’t it just make us seem more suspicious?”
“No, actually,” Reigen said, rubbing the heels of his hands against his temples. After a moment, he swung back to his feet and flapped a hand. “Guys like that are always expecting you to lie, so you might as well give them a good one. Then they get the suspicion out of their system and they’re more likely to believe your ‘real’ answer — the more embarrassing, the better. People love to lie to save their pride.”
Hmm. That was some really contradictory logic, but then again, Mob had just witnessed it expertly wielded. He thought for a moment.
“Is that why you let him believe you’re not a real psychic, too?”
“Yeah, well, the guy’s clearly a skeptic, so.” Reigen rubbed his jaw, then puffed out a breath and gave Mob a confidential smile. “You know how it is these days, Mob. Paranoia’s at an all-time high. People start to think their neighbors are spies just because they keep the curtains closed. For the clients, we’re the real deal — but better not to attract too much attention from anyone else, right?”
Mob nodded. It was the same reason Reigen only ever had him perform exorcisms when no one was around to see him; evil spirits had to be exorcised, but Reigen always stressed the importance of never being seen. Reigen stretched his arms over his head with a grunt, then adjusted his jacket.
“Alright, now that we know there’s no spirit, let’s get out of here. There’s a kebab stand I want to hit on the way back — six-for-five deal. I’ll let you have the freebie.”
“There is a spirit, though,” Mob said, looking down the length of the hallway. It was covered in eyes, a many-segmented thing that looked like a giant, fleshy insect, its bulk pressed against the wide windows. A fan of fat, slithering cilia reached and fluttered and dragged across the patient rooms’ doors as it moved. “I’m looking at it right now.”
Reigen leaned in and squinted. “Oh, that,” he said finally, and waved a hand. “Barely even noticed it. Melt that thing, Mob. I’m starving.”
“Yes, Master,” Mob said, and raised a hand to blast apart the ghoulish specter taking up the entire width of the hospital corridor.
PROGRESS TOWARDS MOB’S EXPLOSION: 32%