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legendofzoodles · 2 years ago

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Remember that fic I did a while ago? Well, that was meant to be a oneshot, but someone asked that I follow through on those story notes. So yeah, here’s a Linktober special!

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Smoke Signal part 2

The camp had an air of fabricated peace; the kind built on lies and half-assed promises.

They were all watching him, closely. Each movement made was scrutinized. Every time he strayed from the cooking pot to grab a few more ingredients, at least one member shifted, as if ready to spring into action. Legend was the worst, practically glaring daggers at Wild and silently daring him to make a move.

Hyrule and Twilight weren’t as bad, but they were being irritating in another way. By being strangely attentive when they helped him prepare dinner, something they don’t normally do. Whenever they helped out they always had to asked first, but this time both just decided to help- Sky and Four even offering too, though Wild curtly rejected them.

That being said, at least Hyrule had the sense to keep quiet and only keep any sort of conversation strictly kept to what time the soup needed to be stirred, or how small to cut the carrots. Twilight however, seemed hell bent on torturing Wild by interrogating him about y/n.

“What do they look like?” “How long have you known each other?” “How do you think they got here?” Were questions he asked along with many more, but Wild didn’t give answers to any of them. After all, if Twilight really cared, he’d let him go to them. Every second spent here was another wasted getting to them.

Wild wondered about sneaking off at night. He was sure he’d be able to evade whoever was on first night watch, but it’d only be a matter of time before they noticed he was missing. And even if he was far enough away where he’d get to y/n before they could drag him back, he’d be putting the group in danger by forcing them to search for him at night. For as much as they were annoying him, for how unfair they were being, he couldn’t worry them like that.

Especially Twilight. Even if the rest were to give up, he would without question comb the woods in wolf form looking for him.

While thinking about how to work around that, Wild went back into his supplies. He was looking for another spoon when instead he pulled out sleeping serum he’d brewed himself to take whenever he had a difficult night. Although, it was addictive so he learned not to take it too often. The bottle was a pretty large size, and he needed less than a teaspoon to be knocked out for a solid 8 hours…

He paused; looking at the cooking pot, then the bottle, then the pot again.

Getting up, he eyed the camp cautiously. There brief moment when Legend and the others weren’t looking his way, Hyrule was preoccupied with getting the bowls ready and Twilight took a brief break to rebandage his ankle. Wild seized the window of opportunity and quickly poured every drop of the violet liquid into the pot.

The second the last drop fell, he tossed it in his open travel bag and stirred it into the mixture. It initially turned the orange soup an ugly and suspicious looking brown, but luckily any trace of the purple serum disappeared. Just in time for Hyrule to walk over with the bowls.

Instead of serving each member one at a time, Wild filled all the bowls and make sure they all started eating at roughly the same time. Except Hyrule, he got a head start on clean up before collecting his meal.

“A bit much don’t you think?” Hyrule asked, watching Wild scoop an abnormally large amount of soup into his bowl. He had to pull the bowl away or else Wild would fill it over the top.

“Sorry Rulie,” he said, pulling away. “It’s just that I made too much- it’s not just you I gave everyone an extra-large serving. Thought it would help replenish our strength faster.”

Hyrule was just about able to balance the heavy bowl in one hand and use the other to pat his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll find them, first thing tomorrow. Promise.”

Wild pulled a smile and watched him slowly meander over to where Four and Twilight were sitting, taking sips as he moved to make sure none of it spilled. He looked around and saw that the others were eating as normal too, as he went about cleaning up.

“Wild, aren’t you hungry?” came Time’s voice. Despite the seemingly considerate question, the tone it was delivered in didn’t convey kindness so much as inquisitiveness.

Wild kept his back to him. “Not really.”

“But, you’re always hungry!” Wind cried, earning a few laughs.

“Funny,” Wild said, smiling at them. “And don’t worry I’ll join you guys in a second.”

“Well hurry up, because if you don’t I’ll eat your share,” Sky said, scarfing down his portion with great gusto. “Seriously, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Legend added gruffly.

“Ain’t this the recipe I gave you?” Twilight asked, slurping the rest of his soup straight from the bowl. “You must have changed it up somehow, it tastes different. And the colour’s darker.”

Wild’s eyebrows furrowed for a split second. “The dark must be playing with your eyes. It looks the same to me.”

“Well it at least tastes different,” Twilight said, setting his empty bowl on the ground. “Kinda sweet?”

“Yeah, I agree,” Four remarked, rubbing his eyes. His bowl also empty. “Try it.”

“Sure,” Wild said packing the last of the cooking stuff away. He went to grab his bowl and frowned. The colour actually was darker and it even smelled sweet. How did he not notice that?

“What’s…with that face?” Warriors yawned, his head hanging.

“Nothing. I just realised that Twilight might be right,” Wild said, noticing the others slowly begin to droop. “Oh man, have you guys really eaten without me?”

“It’s your fault for waiting so long,” Legend said, stretching back against Sky. “Your soup’s definitely cold by now.”

“Yeah, it is,” Wild said, nonchalantly taking a seat. “But I don’t really mind though. Judging by what you guys said it’ll still taste good, right?”

He waited for a few seconds, ears perked and bracing for a response. When it didn’t come, he slowly got up and surveyed the camp with baited breath. Anxious to see if everyone had succumb to the potion. It was a good thing that he’d made it fast acting, because as he stalked around his unconscious teammates not one was disturbed; even when he stepped on a stray twig right next to Four’s ear. Every one of them was sleeping, and after checking, Wild was satisfied that they had eaten enough of the soup to be out for a while. Long enough for him to leave and maybe even come back.

Wild swallowed and went to his travel bag to double check his supplies. Once he was prepared with food, items and weapons he brought up his Sheikah Slate and began working out where to go, feet unconsciously moving in that direction.

“You’re actually willing to take it this far?” A stern voice broke through the silence.

Startled, Wild froze mid-step. His head swivelled back towards the campsite, eyes desperately searching for the person still awake, even drawing his sword. But the scene was still exactly the same as when he last checked. Then he realised something. Since Time had been the first to go quiet, he hadn't checked him.

“Well?”

It came from right behind him now, and there was no mistaking it. Wild turned to face the man, taking a step back to create some distance. He pointed his sword at the old man, moonlight streaming through the clouds and illuminating the chill blade.

“Sky might not forgive you,” Time said, staring down at the Master Sword. His non-bandaged arm rested on his hip, forehead creased and the extra height he had over the younger hero only serving to amplify his aura of authority.

“He never likes it when I use it anyway. This is no different,” Wild retorted, holding a firm stance. “And how are you still a awake? You should be fast asleep like the other, unless…How did you know?”

Time's lips pressed together into a thin frown. “I dare say I used similar remedies in my youth.”

“Used?” Wild, lowered the sword while processing what that statement meant. Though he didn’t really want to give it much thought. “Not anymore?”

“Not as often.”

Wild sighed, fidgeting a little. “Was it what Twilight said that alerted you?”

“I have senses of my own champion,” Time said, before looking off to the side. “But I didn’t actually need to use them since I saw you tip all that purple stuff into the pot.”

“Fuck ok,” Wild cursed. Wondering if any of the others saw him do that too, but trusted him enough to not question it. “I guess you didn’t have any of it.”

“No,” corrected Time. “I had a little- can't go the whole night on an empty stomach. In a way, you helped those boys.” He looked over at the slump of sleeping heroes, not all of the positions they were in looked particularly comfortable, like Twilight who’d fallen over onto his head. He’d surely wake up with a sore neck tomorrow, but under the lull of the potion that didn’t matter for now. “Now they can get a peaceful night’s rest without the pain of their injuries keeping them awake.”

“Oh.” This new perspective decidedly made Wild feel a lot less guilty. “Still, I won’t give it to them for a while. It’s pretty addictive.”

“That must be some powerful stuff,” Time continued, raising an eyebrow. “Not even the Captain got suspicious that he was falling asleep quickly. I thought he’d have experience detecting these sorts of things.”

Wild shrugged. “Well, it is supposed to make you feel relaxed as well as sleepy.”

“Strange,” Time observed, taking a step forward. “How is it that you can have enough self-control as to not rely on potions like that and yet you’d go so far as to endanger your team like this. All out of a selfish desire to see someone a couple hours sooner.”

Wild’s expression hardened. “We both know it not just that. And besides, just a second ago you said what I did was a good thing!”

“In one way it is,” Time said gravely. “In another way, what you’re doing is leaving them alone in unknown territory, vulnerable to any kind of attack or even just theft.”

There was a pause. The old man watched the younger hero grapple with his words, certain that he’d been so single minded that he hadn’t even thought about that until now. Still though, whether he cared about that or not, Wild wasn’t going to let it stop him. “It’s fine. You’re awake, you can protect them. Besides, the potion won’t force them to stay asleep. If you really want them to wake up just give them a good shaking. That’s always worked for me.”

“And what if I had taken it too?”

Wild almost scoffed. “Then whatever happens to them would be on you too. Since that means you would have eaten the soup willingly knowing what was really in it. What kind of question is that?”

Time gave him an inscrutable look, his face partially covered in darkness. Wild was sure he was judging him, but he wasn’t quite sure what exactly prompted him to make that face, nor what he was thinking. Unfortunately for Wild, he didn’t express even a word of his thoughts, only asking, “How’s that fair?”

This question caught Wild off guard. He did a double take, and had to hold himself back from repeating the question out of sheer confusion. After a few moments he responded with, “Do you mean I’m not being fair to you? I don’t think I’m asking too much from the guy who’s taken night shifts day after day lasting hours at a time, and asked me to duel him when he could barely stand straight.”

At that moments the clouds parted enough for the full light of the moon to shine through. The pale rays illuminated Time’s aging visage to reveal his single working eye, wide and bright…he was surprised? Was that it? It didn’t matter, Wild had clocked the position of the moon and realised that he was losing time.

“Look, I have to go,” Wild said determinedly. “Are you going to let me through or are we going to have that duel now? Bearing in mind that you still can't stand straight.”

Time sighed and closed his eye. Wordlessly he strode forwards, Wild quickly locked himself into a stiff fighting stance but only watched as the man walked right past him and back to camp. He wondered if he was going to get a sword, but thankfully he just started shifting some the others into more comfortable sleeping positions and putting blankets over them.

Wild slowly sheathed his sword while backing away. Just as Time was sitting down to get himself comfortable for another long night watch, he took off.

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

Smoke Signal part 1

Smoke Signal part 3

Smoke Signal part 4

Recovered Regrets

Story notes:

Never mentioned this but Wild is injured like the rest of the chain, he just doesn't care.

Time asks Wild if he’s hungry because he knows that if he does eat then the sleeping potion was to help everyone cope with their injuries. If not, then it meant he intended to sneak off.

Time isn't physically able to stop Wild and he knows this, Wild meanwhile only suspects this is the case. A duel between the two like this would be a long drawn out fight that neither want.

Time used to take sleeping potions a lot to cope with...well he's the forgotten hero of time, his life kind of sucks. A lot of childhood trauma and awful events from adventures would surely fuel more than a few nightmares. But stopped taking them frequently over the last couple years.

Time doesn't want Wild to go for the sake of the group, he himself would be fine with him going. So he tried to persuade Wild into not leaving while trying to go while testing his resolve/extent of his single-mindedness.

Wild actually didn't think through things, nor realise the danger he was putting the chain in. Time being awake was actually a huge relief for him.

What Wind says to Wild is a quote from Aang. I think he says it to Sokka while he’s moping about something xD

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affekte-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Reverie - Chapter 2

There’s a cactus sitting at his door.

Reigen stares at it with a blank, unblinking stare. He tries to think of how it got there, and why it’s there in the first place. He entertains the idea that it’s a gift for him and immediately finds every actual reason why that makes no sense.

He has no idea why it’s there.

He does the next logical-seeming thing and walks down the stairs to the street. There are a few people walking around, but none look familiar or seem to be in a giving-cacti-to-strangers mood.

“Excuse me?”

Reigen twitches, turning to the woman standing next to him. He decides today is just an odd day. “Yes? What is it?”

The woman fidgets with her purse strap, glancing to the stairs of his office. “I’d like to go inside, if you don’t mind.”

It takes Reigen a moment to realize the impossible fact of oh, she’s a client, and he immediately puts on the brightest smile he can muster. “Ah, of course! Please, come in, I was—I was just about to open up, actually. Just getting a bit of fresh air before starting the day.”

She blinks at him.

A little rusty I guess, Reigen thinks, turning to walk up the steps with a small shake of his head. He hears her footsteps echo his. He thinks over the fact that he actually feels a little nervous about his first client for this business.

I’ll get the hang of it soon. After this job. Right now. I’m good at dealing with people, damn it, he thinks a touch mulishly.

When he reaches his door, he shoves his hand into his pocket to fish out his keys. The lock clicks easily and, after a moment of indecision, Reigen leans down to grab the cactus sitting at his feet.

The client peers around his shoulder. “Is that yours?”

“Oh, you know, it’s—it’s a gift from a grateful client.” Reigen opens the door and leads her inside, waving his hand in the air in some vague gestures. “I’m not open seven days a week and some of my clients are busy, so they just leave gifts out here for me to find when I come in. You know. In gratitude. They’re very grateful, you know.”

He quietly acknowledges that that is the biggest load of bullshit he has spoken in a while.

Reigen leads her to his desk, placing the cactus on the corner to be a problem dealt with later. He highly doubts he has a secret admirer, and random misplaced gifts in front of working establishments are just as unlikely, but—again, later.

He sits down in his chair and interlaces his fingers with a smile. “So what seems to be the problem?”

Reigen strolls into the shop with a casual gait as the small bell on the door gives a light chime.

He glances around and sees his target at the cash register, staring wide-eyed, and makes his way over with a small wave.

“Hey! You aren’t giving your business fraud smile today … Jirou.”

The florist narrows his eyes as he self-consciously adjusts the name tag pinned to his apron. “This is an honest business.”

Reigen smiles. “Of course, of course, I run my own on the straight and narrow. What’s a bit of a business transaction between two businessmen?”

“I was scammed.”

“You’re the one that was weirdly insistent about me looking around and buying that ivy horror show,” Reigen points out simply.

The reply is a small grimace.

“Anyway, I’m actually here for something else.” Reigen swiftly places the small cactus he’d been carrying on the counter. “Do you want this?”

The florist blinks down at the cactus for a moment before picking it up, turning it in his hand. He slants an uncertain look at Reigen. “Is this an apology?”

“Again, business transaction,” Reigen says with a wave of his hand. “But if you want to see it that way then I’m not stopping you. I happened to find it, but I’m not interested in keeping a cactus. So I figured I’d bring it here.”

“... Did you steal it?”

Rude. “If you don’t want it then I’ll just take it to someone else,” he says, reaching out to take the prickly thing back. Jirou jolts back, holding the cactus closer.

“Wait, no, it’s—it’s all right, I’ll take it off of your hands if you don’t mind.”

Reigen stares at the man inches away from hugging a cactus. The response is a small, awkward smile.

It’s fine, though. A few seconds of mentally listing all of the people he could potentially go to with the cactus reminds Reigen that he doesn’t really have friends.

He back tracks over that passing thought and thinks, Well.

The florist says some things about the cactus that goes in one ear and out the other, something about how healthy it is and how it’s a hardy one. Reigen figures that he must be a cacti fanatic or something, considering he didn’t know nearly as much (or anything) about the ivy. He eventually leaves the shop, minus one cactus to bother over.

Or so he’d thought.

Reigen gives a long, hard stare at the cactus that has reappeared in front of his office. Because it’s at the bottom of the stairs this time he’d seen it several meters away, but he didn’t actually believe it had come back.

Looking at it now confirms that it has, indeed, come back.

With a tired sigh, he bends down to pick up the spiky plant. “If he didn’t want it, he should have said,” he mutters.

He pauses and turns to squint down the street. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t recall ever saying where he works.

He gives the mental equivalent of a shrug. Maybe Jirou had been passing by and saw him? Unlikely, but it isn’t like Reigen can’t just ask him if he sees the man again. How he somehow managed to reach Spirits and Such and clear out before Reigen arrived is another thing, considering he had taken the quickest route, but again. He can ask.

For now, Reigen heads to the nearest abandoned lot that he can recall on his mental map of the area. He makes it halfway there when his stomach growls, and he decides the middle of the sidewalk is just as good a location to leave an unwanted cactus as any abandoned lot. He casually kneels down, pretending to tie his (laceless) shoes, placing the plant under the shade of a tree. He straightens, adjusts his lapels as he casts a quick glance around, and about-faces in the other direction.

It’s still an hour from noon, but he’d skipped breakfast that morning on account of not feeling particularly hungry. He’s hungry now, and contemplates the merits of walking that extra mile to get takoyaki instead of the usual lunch box from the nearby mart.

He lights a cigarette to stave off the bite of hunger, and crushes the half-smoked stick underfoot when he decides that, yes, takoyaki is a good idea.

It’s back.

Only, it’s in his office, on the other side of the door.

Reigen takes about five minutes to check the door—no clear signs of a break-in, at the very least—before turning to aim a disgruntled look at the cactus.

And then he heads to the florist’s (again) to ask some questions on account of this being suspicious and downright creepy.

Jirou blinks at the inquiry. “What? I didn’t—I didn’t do that. I don’t even know where you work, though I did figure it’s nearby.” He absentmindedly rubs the underside of his chin. “I did notice it was gone, but I thought I’d just misplaced it. It’s back with you?”

When Reigen returns to his office, he double-checks the door and inspects the windows. There’s no damage or signs of a break-in. His money is where it should be, his books are in place, nothing important is lost. Everything is immaculate.

That in itself wouldn’t be concerning, would be good, had it not been for the fact that someone had apparently gotten into his office without needing to use force. Why would someone target his office, anyway? And how did they get in? A spare key? Reigen has his key in his pocket and the spare at home. He’s also fairly certain the lock he has on this building is impossible—or at least very difficult—to get through with a lock pick.

He doesn’t have the money to call someone in to change the lock. Not that it’d do any good, he thinks, not if this mystery guy has some method of opening perfectly working locks.

It’s distressing, but not too dire, considering the circumstances. It does bring into question what kind of burglar goes through the trouble of breaking in to leave a cactus. It has to be some kind of practical joke, but the motive is indiscernible. Reigen doesn’t think he’s done anything that deserves a grudge, let alone a grudge that involves leaving some paranoia and a cactus.

He closes up early on account of today just being a weird day. On the way home, he spots a quaint little park that has him consider the potted burden he’s carrying with a thoughtful look.

He places it on the corner of the sandbox and aims a pointed look down at it. “Stay.” He looks around, glaring at the surroundings as if they have done him a personal offense.

Then he turns away to head home.

The following day, he approaches his office with trepidation and a silent dare.

There is no cactus sitting at his door. A quick check reveals that there's nothing waiting for him on the other side of the door, either, and he releases a quiet breath as his shoulders relax.

But then he walks into the room to his desk and sees it sitting right next to the ivy, looking as though it belongs.

He throw his arms up in the air. “Forget it.” He walks around his desk to slump into his chair and aims a scathing look at the cactus, “Fine. Whatever. Welcome, I guess, you're stuck with me.”

It's not as though there has been any damages. Whoever it is that keeps bringing the cactus to his office apparently really wants him to have it, or at least thinks this is a funny enough joke to keep going.

Fine then. They aren't getting it back, they had their chance. And he isn't really … irritated, so much as irritatingly confused. And a little curious, but any worries he had about the perpetrator being someone destructive or dangerous have been more or less allayed (it feels almost a juvenile comfort but he at least feels confident that the consequences wouldn't be anything he can't handle).

Regardless, the cactus is now a permanent fixture in his office.

So.

Reigen leans back, his swivel chair creaking under the strain. He tilts his head as the light catches on the glazed finish of the pots both plants sit in.

They're similar. The pots, that is—he hadn't noticed before, but they’re the same, substandard shape with a glazed finish. They reflect a similar kind of purplish dark-blue color in the light, too.

“Kinda neat,” he murmurs under his breath. “But also kinda ugly.”

He leans forward to pinch a dried leaf from the ivy between two fingers, feeling the brittle texture crunch with light pressure. He carefully pulls off the dead leaf and drops it into the bin next to his desk.

He casts a slanted look at the cactus. The uniform rows of spikes almost look … fuzzy. It has to be a pretty young cactus—at least he assumes so, though he isn’t too sure about the size of cacti correlating with age—and it’s tiny compared to the ivy, looking too small even for the pot it sits in—

Reigen mutters a harsh curse under his breath as he grasps his injured hand, pointer finger aloft, and glares at the cactus.

A small bead of blood pools on the pad of his finger.

He glances between his finger and the cactus. After a moment, he shakes his hand out and pats it against his pant leg before resting his elbow on the desk.

Thoughts of selling them are immediately disregarded. He was the one that ultimately walked into that shop and negotiated the price for the ivy, and suddenly deciding to put a halt to an operation he has already invested in isn’t his style. If nothing else, they could help him pass the time in between jobs.

Besides, they’re just plants. I already have the … money tree. He blinks. Or was it called a money plant? Rubber … tree?

He shakes his head. The point is, neither of the plants he’s had in his office up until now have died yet. How hard can it be to take care of two more?

“It’s probably easy, right? Yeah, it’s just taking care of two more, smaller plants. Nothing complicated.” He nods to himself. “Easy.”

He spins around to his laptop, pulls up the search engine, and types in “how to take care of plants”.

Several seemingly-legitimate sources pop up on the first page. What he reads seems to be right for the ivy, but the cactus …

He googles “differences between leafy plants and cactuses,” rolls his eyes at the correction “cacti,” then types in “how to take care of succulents” with a quiet mutter.

Who even bothers with grammar and spelling when searching something? It doesn’t matter. He hits enter. I know my grammar.

He finds that cacti are apparently really easy to take care of in that they don’t require a lot of hands-on care, which. Obviously. It makes sense, considering they’re desert plants that thrive in arid conditions. It’s good confirmation, though.

So don’t forget about it but don’t overwater it, either.

He leans heavily onto his elbow, his other hand on the mouse tapping a disjointed rhythm. He glances to the cactus with a frown. “Well aren’t you a self-sufficient little … prickly. Thing.”

It makes this whole thing a little pointless if he really thinks about it, since part of the reason why he was partial to the idea was because it’d give him something to do in the off hours when foot traffic is slow. He supposes it doesn’t really matter though—it’s not like the cactus was actually part of the decision, more like an unanticipated addition to his office.

He jolts when the door chimes, banging his leg against the underside of his desk.

Shit ow, he thinks. “Welcome!” he says, grimacing through the brief throbbing of pain in favor of marveling at the fact that there’s a customer.

Another customer, consecutive days, even!

A slight man with hunched shoulders walks into the room, eyes darting about. “Hello. I heard that this is, uh, a spirit consultation agency?”

“Yes, it is!” Reigen leaps from his seat, striking a pose. “Spirits and Such Consultation, business of the greatest psychic of the twenty-first century: I, Reigen Arataka, at your service!”

The man stares, eyes narrowed, mouth pressed into a thin line. Reigen drops his hands back to his sides and seats himself. He coughs into a fist.

“Uh, please take a seat! Just—just grab the chair from the bookshelf over there, and we can get right to the consultation.” He flashes the man a smile and ignores the clammy feeling in his palms.

The client casts a quick glance to the door before grabbing the simple chair to sit in.

“So what seems to be the issue?” Reigen calls back memories from old movies and shows, “Is there a heavy feeling on your shoulder? A feeling of being watched? Personal belongings suddenly going missing with no culprit to be found?”

The man stares at him a bit skeptically. He casts a quick glance around the room and settles into the chair.

“I think ... I have a spirit haunting me,” the man confesses. He absentmindedly rubs at the junction between his neck and shoulder, grimacing as he speaks. “It’s hard to fall asleep at night because of the pain in my shoulders, and sometimes the pain is so severe that I feel faint.”

Reigen pulls out a notepad and grabs a pen off of the desk. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“... Because nothing else is working.”

Reigen nods once, humming in understanding.

“Incidentally, have you tried going to see a healthcare professional about this?”

The man frowns. “Why would I do that?”

The pen pauses briefly, but resumes a moment later. “... I see. Is your family, by chance, a highly spiritual one?”

“Yes, my father managed a shrine while he was still alive. What are you writing?”

“Pertinent information.” Reigen clicks the pen and sets his drawing of One Punch Egg behind the desk, where the client can’t see it.

The man blinks. “... Oh. Is there anything else you need to know?”

“Job, working hours, how you spend your free time,” Reigen lists off with a wave of his hand. “All of that could help me determine what’s ailing you.”

“I see.” The client nods. “Well, I work in the office—you know, the typical salaryman job—so I don’t actually have a lot of free time. I typically leave the office by seven.”

Reigen pinches his chin and nods. The previous (first) client had only needed someone to talk to, someone to lend an ear and nod every once in a while. That had been fine since she paid Reigen for his time and it was easy enough to listen to someone’s issues and give some advice.

But this one actually thinks he’s got a spirit haunting him …

He stands from his seat and walks around his desk towards the client. “Ah, no, just stay seated, please. I need to see up-close for myself just what it is that I’m dealing with, here.”

Need to figure out how I’m going to get out of this one, he quietly admits.

He makes a show of examining the man’s back and shoulders, making noncommittal noises and nodding as though he is any closer to understanding the issue. Which, after a few pokes and prods, isn’t necessarily false—he’s pretty sure that the client is just suffering from shoulder pains, evident by the numerous knots he finds.

“From what I see, you may need an evil spirit reduction cleansing,” he says eventually, pressing his thumb into a knot that makes the client twitch.

“A what?”

“Evil spirit reduction. Some of the more common spirits are impossible to fully exorcise, but you can get people like me to perform a reduction cleansing that will make life significantly easier to live.”

Another wince. “How much is that?”

“Thirty for a ten-percent reduction, seventy-five for fifty, and a hundred for ninety-five. It’s on the flyer in front of you, on the desk.”

“I’ll take the ninety-five reduction,” the man says. “Do I pay upfront, or … ?”

“After the procedure. We can discuss the details after.” Reigen steps back to announce emphatically, “Incidentally, I can see it now! What a malevolent spirit!”

The man whips around to stare at him, wide-eyed, but immediately doubles over in pain at the abrupt motion. “Y-you do? You can see it?”

Reigen gives him a hundred-watt smile anyway. “Of course!”

Yeah, no. It’s definitely shoulder pains.

“It’s very clear to me, the identity of the culprit: it’s an ‘overwork-and-no-exercise’ spirit! They’re quite common and it’s easy to become possessed by one. Don’t sit at your desk for such long periods of time and be sure to work out to keep these spirits away.” He waves his hands through the air in exaggerated motions. “Try to stand up every couple of hours or so. Movement is the key!”

The man side-eyes him with an uncertain look. “Are you sure? It hurts more when I move my shoulders.”

“That’s why I’m going to perform a spirit reduction!” Reigen flashes him a thumbs up and another smile. “It’s to reduce the pai—to, uh, significantly weaken the spirit so that your own actions can shake it off. It’s after that you need to act, because another spirit can come along, starting the whole process all over again.”

He fishes out a salt packet he had saved from one of his lunches and lightly sprinkles it over the client.

“... What are you—”

“I’m preparing for the spirit reduction. Spirits are warded off by salt, after all.” The words are stated with unyielding confidence as a bead of sweat trails down Reigen’s forehead.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

With a preparatory breath of air, he tries to refer back to something—anything—that could help. He isn’t a masseur, after all, and it’s very well possible that he could end up hurting the client instead of actually helping him. He strains to remember a shiatsu book he read one time on the toilet at his previous workplace, and prays the volunteer work he did as a kid comes through for him.

He cracks his knuckles. “I’m going to need you to relax your shoulders, this may take a while.”

Reigen wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and peels his collar from his neck with the other.

The client pays and leaves appearing satisfied, which means that he must’ve done a decent enough job. He still mentally notes to research and practice when he can. He thinks he has some other good massage books sitting somewhere on the shelves collecting dust, and the side room which is currently being used as storage space could be converted to something more business-oriented; a massage/spirit-expelling room of sorts.

Even if he knows full well that this isn’t exactly a morally acceptable venture, he still wants to give his clients their money’s worth—which probably isn’t the limited masseur ability he picked up from giving shoulder massages to the local old ladies in his middle school years.

Still, he lets himself feel the satisfaction of a job well done, even if it isn’t in the most clear-cut sense.

Reigen fishes the cigarette box out of the side drawer and kicks his legs up onto the desk, lighting the stick with practiced ease. A deep breath. He sinks into his chair and it creaks beneath him.

They really are kinda ugly, he thinks, frowning at the plants sitting beside his legs. He considers them both for a moment and amends, well, the cactus is.

He’s never been too fond of cacti, though they have their interesting qualities. The ivy, while ugly, is almost peaceful to look at. And what makes it ugly is his mediocre pruning job anyway.

… Though, they’re both interesting to look at. He contemplates it being the green, the knowledge that they are living, but there is something arguably nice about having them in his office.

They’re both … charming. He frowns at the word, but nods his head nonetheless. Yeah. Yeah, that’s the word. Charming. Ugly in an aesthetic sense, but they still have something that makes them not as … bad.

They serve as only a brief distraction, he knows, but that’s why he had caved in the first place. There’s nothing wrong with that.

He shifts the placement of his feet, and his gaze catches on the ashtray sitting at the corner of his desk. Three half smoked cigarettes sit in a small ash pile, one still upright from when he smothered it—he forgot to empty it the other day.

His eyes linger for a moment longer before drifting to the far wall.

The clock reads 1pm.

He distantly realizes that he hasn’t smoked for over a day.

#Reverie #MP100

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