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I can smell the smoke the moment I walk in. It’s like incense. It clung to the office no matter how much Shishou tried to air it out. He always tried to hide his bad habit, but it was always apparent when he’d taken a cigarette break. I’ve never asked him why he smoked when I knew for sure he’d scold me if I ever tried. It was fine though, it didn’t change the way I thought of him. He’s a good person.
“Good afternoon, Shishou,” I say, raising my voice, because he’s not at the desk like usual. Strange. But he’s here. I know that because of the way the half spent cigarette in the ashtray is still leaving thin trails in the air. I count nine butts in the dish, frowning. I don’t remember Reigen ever having more than three or four. He usually dumps it out often. I watch the smoke draw lazy patterns for a moment before going off to find Reigen. My footsteps seem too loud in the dead silence.
“Shishou?” I find him sitting on the couch, chin resting on a fist. The cushions were out of sorts and his blazer was draped like a blanket. Like he’d been sleeping here. He holds a can in his limp hand. He’s stripped to his slacks and undershirt. His reddened eyes have circles the color of bruises underneath them. Butterfly bandages hold together a healing wound just north of his brow. I can’t recall how he got that, but it seems fairly recent. He doesn’t look up, instead staring straight through the opposing wall. It’s a striking contrast to the confidence he usually emanates. It’s disturbing. He doesn’t seem to have noticed my presence yet. I call out again softly, “Shishou?” Anxiety twists in my chest. “What’s wrong?”
There’s a delay, like he doesn’t want to answer before he closes his eyes and slowly inhales through his nose. “Go home, Mob, “ He croaks. There’s a heavy weight in his words but the message is lost to me.
“Why? What about the customers?” My voice dies a little when I see how much my words seem to hurt him. It’s confusing me. It wasn’t a holiday (was it?), and he rarely took days off. He puts his drink down and supports his head in his hands, clasped as if in prayer.
“Please Mob. You can’t keep coming back here. It’s too painful.” His voice is gentle and tired, but patient. It’s so full of raw emotions but I can’t really grasp them all. Even so, I still get enough to make me feel the gravity of the situation. Somehow everything is falling to pieces. Static fills my ears and my throat feels tight. I try to think back, but I can’t remember doing something that would upset him like this. The taste of pennies rises in the back of my mouth.
“I-I don’t… I don’t really get it. Please explain…” I stutter nervously. I raise my hand - to reach for him? To hold my chest? I’m not so sure - when my skin catches the light. It glimmers dark red. I look down at myself. My breath hitches in my throat.
There’s so much red. It bleeds right through the gakuran, visible even in the black material. It’s running in rivulets down my legs and pooling at my feet.
“Sh-Shishou…!” I step towards him in my panic and he flinches hard. The rejection feels like a slap to the face. I freeze, my legs trembling.
“Help me, Shishou… What’s happening? What’s going on!?”
The heels of his palms move to dig into his eyes. Tears flow around them anyways. “I can’t. I couldn’t stop it. I tried so damn hard.”
“Shishou…! Shishou!?” I collapse to my knees like a puppet with the strings cut. The red pours endlessly from me like a broken faucet, staining everything it touches. There’s no pain, but my head is pounding with building pressure. “Help! Shishou!” Was he going to leave me like this? The walls around me blur in and out of focus. I’m vaguely aware of the way the building is quaking. I cry out, nails clawing at the ground.
Reigen chokes a sob. “I’m sorry, Mob. God, please, forgive me. I did everyth-thing that I could.” He stares at me with pity and hopelessness, making no move towards me.
“I-I think I’m… I’m gonna… Please, help me!”
I wish I hadn’t come.
His apologies fade away into white noise. The suffocating room I’m trapped in dissolves into nothingness.
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
I don’t understand.
I can smell the smoke the moment I walk in. It smells oddly like home.
“Good afternoon, Shishou.” He’s not at his desk. Where is he?
Seventeen cigarette butts are in the ashtray.
“Shishou?”
Eight smashed cans litter the floor, along with other nameless garbage.
His fingers are clutching his arms like he’s hugging himself. He looks so sad. I’m not used to seeing him so vulnerable. A dark scab stands out on his pale face. Since when did he have that?
“Shishou?… What’s wrong?”
“Go home, Mob.” His broken voice pierces right through me.
“Why? What about-“
“Please Mob… I’m begging you. I can’t live like this.”
“I-I don’t-“
Red on my hands.
“Shishou…! Help me, Shishou!”
Red all over.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Help! Help!”
I don’t understand.
I can smell the smoke the moment I walk in. It brings me back to when I first met Reigen.
“Good afternoon, Shishou.”
A mound of cigarette butts.
“Shishou?”
Cans and trash everywhere.
“Shishou?… What’s wrong?”
A pink scar on a haggard face. Was that always there?
“Why are you punishing me like this!?” He roars. I’m so scared.
“I-I don’t-“
“Haven’t I suffered enough?!”
Red everywhere.
"Shishou…! Help me, Shishou!”
“Stop it! No more! I’ve paid the price already! This has gone on for too long!”
He howls in anguish and I fall to my knees. He refuses to look at me. Why won’t he look at me? Can’t he see what’s happening?
“You can’t want this for either of us! It’s hell!” He weeps.
I don’t understand.
I can smell the stale air the moment I walk in.
The office is sterile.
“Shishou?”
He’s not here.
“Shishou…?”
I check my phone. I find a text Reigen had sent this morning.
I read it.
I don’t really understand. But it’s fine, I’m used to that.
I go home.
Mob. There’s no more work to be done.
-sent at 9:04 AM