Mob Valentine 2017 Sign Ups!It's time for the newest event!! MOB VALENTINE 2017!!
I'm certain this was probably predictable, but let's get started anyways! This will be similar to Secret Santa, in that this is a Secret Valentine event! Show some love to your fellow MP100 fans!
Here are the ground rules to sign up (we've learned from the Mob Santa event, so this will go a little more smoothly, I think!)! Please review each bullet point carefully, and contact me or the admins if you need clarification, or have any other questions/concerns:
To sign up, please create a journal entry with your top 3 favorite characters from Mob Psycho 100.
Your journal entry must include a link to this announcement journal and/or a link to this group.
When you receive your valentine partner and list, you must keep it a secret!
SIGN UP BY JANUARY 24th!!
[Bullet; Yellow] If we have gone beyond th
“Aww, such a caring Mini-Detective! You make a great crutch too, by the way.”
“Don't think I won't let you fall, Kid. Better shut your damn mouth.”
Mere minutes away from the crime scene, and they still weren't far away enough to be considered safe. This much Conan knew, and he could only ruefully consider their current options as they slowly trudged further into the small wooded area nearby. For all that he could assess from the newly dangerous situation, they were probably still being chased by whoever had shot at him.
Per the norm, the detective had been at the site of a murder with a team of investigators. He'd been there for less than 15 minutes before a gunshot rang out from somewhere very close by. The bullet apparently never hit its mark, however, and as the team scattered to find the source of the sound, a second gunshot was heard much closer this time. Conan found himself suddenly being scooped up and swiftly carried away, and he struggled briefly against his kidnapper before recognizing the all-white garb with a startled “Kaitou Kid?!”
“And a good evening to you too, Detective!” Kid responded in turn with a glance and a shaky smile in his direction. For just a second, Conan spotted the Card Gun in the thief’s other hand before it disappeared with a flick of his wrist.
Who or what was he shooting at just now?
His mind raced to figure out what had just happened, but his eyes alit with confusion when, after about 2 or 3 minutes of sprinting, Kid’s breathing labored and he hastily slowed to a stop, pulling them behind a large tree as he did. Conan was dropped to the ground a little more roughly than he would've liked, and turned to voice his complaint. He froze when Kid himself slid down the length of the tree, groaning and slumping forward slightly when he reached the ground in what looked to be an uncomfortable sitting position.
It wasn't this action that caught the shrunken detective’s words in his throat, but rather it was the large spot of blood that was rapidly blooming just above Kid’s left knee that did. It was a wonder the guy could run at all, let alone even stand! Was he insane?
“W-what the hell…” he stammered before regaining his composure, “What happened to you?” Kid lifted his head and smirked, igniting the tiniest flame of irritation in Conan’s belly.
“Worried about me? I'll be fine, just let me catch my breath-”
“Suck up your goddamn pride for a second! What happened??” he demanded again. If they were in danger, he needed to know immediately to start formulating a plan. Instead of information, the only thing he was getting so far was a headache. Kid shook his head, the smirk still gracing his lips.
“We've got a lot of common enemies, Detective. You do the math,” he shrugged slightly, shifting in his seat before relaxing again. “For all I know, it might’ve been someone you’re familiar with.”
His offhanded comment gave Conan pause, and he was struck with a deep-seated fear for a moment that perhaps, perhaps the Black Organization had finally figured him out and targeted him-
“Or not. Actually, you've probably got a lot more people on your tail than mine. Ha ha...”
“...I beg to differ, but you're as incorrigible as ever, it seems.” A 17-turned-7-year old boy shouldn't have worries about his blood pressure, but the thief had a way of raising his through the roof sometimes. That lackadaisical attitude, in this dire of a situation, could use a swift kick in the rear, he mused.
It didn't take a genius to realize that Kid had taken a bullet for him and saved him from what could've been a double-murder scene. He hadn't even had the chance to hear all of the details about the case that had been at hand, hence no suspects, no motives, nothing. A sickening thought ran through his head, that maybe the victim had been killed by his would-be assailant as a way to draw him to the scene; it would be the perfect chance to assassinate him quickly.
Except the plan clearly didn't work out, considering Kid’s unexpected intervention. Something coiled in Conan’s gut, that Kid - criminal that he was - never lashed out or intentionally put anyone in harm’s way, yet not for the first time, he had risked his life to save him once again.
“...And if you pay reeeal close attention, you can almost see the steam pouring out of his ears from overthinking,” the magician muttered with amusement in a mock-tour guide tone. Conan would've slapped him silly right there if he wasn't already wrought with concern at his current condition.
“Have you no sense of urgency?! Make yourself useful and produce a bandage, or a tourniquet- or something!”
Kid, thoughtful for a second, rubbed his hands together and pulled a thin rope seemingly from thin air, hanging loosely between his fingertips. He gave him a skeptical look that questioned if it would be a good enough, but Conan snatched it from his hands and quickly set himself to work tying it around Kid’s upper thigh.
Funny how strong of a color red is against pristine white… like murderous paint on a clean canvas, or blood-red roses that magically pop into existence with a sleight of hand…
...Was this some bizarre method of keeping his mind distracted from going absolutely mad with whatever had just happened? Conan liked to think so; waxing poetic was Kaitou Kid’s job, not his.
“You're doing it again. Whatcha thinking about?”
Conan huffed, tying off the rope with a little more force than necessary before glaring back.
“Oh, you know. Just about the migraine I'm going to have in the morning due to your incredible lack of self-concern.”
“Ouch. I'm absolutely devastated,” Kid drawled dramatically, complete with a hand over his heart. Note to self, hit him with a soccer ball extra hard next time. Conan took a step back to observe his work. It wasn't perfect by any means, but at the very least, the blood flow was somewhat stemmed and they could now focus on putting some more distance between themselves and the crime scene, at least until they were sure the area was safe.
“We're gonna need to start moving. Can you stand?”
Kid braced himself against the tree and slowly lifted himself to standing on his right leg. Good so far, but he winced when he put too much weight on his left.
“I think I can probably power through it, but it'll be slow-going,” he grinned sheepishly.
“You can't make… I don't know, a walking stick appear magically?”
“And where exactly would I get one of those right now? I don't just keep random objects on my person, you know.”
“Yet you're able to keep a fully functioning hang glider under that cape of yours…” Conan scoffed. Magicians.
If Conan were alone, he could simply turn around and hightail it out of there. As it were, though, he wouldn't leave the thief behind after everything that had happened. Kid was no stranger when it came to adrenaline - it would definitely explain how he was able to carry him and run at the same time with a bullet lodged in his quadricep - but surely even that would start working against them very soon. A quick look around revealed that no branches or sticks lying around would be strong enough to support him, so he resigned himself to do what he could for the time being.
“Well, I’m pretty short, but let's see if we can't make this work out,” Conan suggested and stepped closer, offering a hand to Kid.
“Why, Detective, I'm touched!”
“I can and will change my mind if we don't get going right now.”
After a few minutes of trial and error, they finally settled on having Kid lean down to brace himself with a hand on Conan’s shoulder, while Conan kept an arm against his lower back. At the very least, they were moving somewhat faster than if they walked separately. It was not the greatest for their situation, but they were making progress - slow as it was - and that was all that mattered at the moment.
“Hey… how much farther do you think we should go...?” Kid asked after some of their usual banter had died off. Evidenced by the disguised weariness in his voice, it seemed the adrenaline from before was beginning to lose momentum.
“Not sure. Your outfit doesn't exactly scream ‘inconspicuous’, so it wouldn't hurt to go a little farther.”
“That's the point...” Kid started again, but trailed off after checking behind them. “...Oh, that's not good.”
Conan whipped his head in the direction they had just come from and was horrified to find a small but visible blood trail. He was correct in guessing that the crude fix he’d made before wouldn’t last, and cursed himself for being too hasty.
“Crap. I'll backtrack over this when I can,” Conan murmured under his breath. He should have foreseen this, but he was under the assumption that neither of them had any bandaging material, and he doubted Kid was willing to tear apart his cape, given its true technical function. He had hoped they could keep walking, but due to their current predicament, it would be both cruel and useless to continue. They found a place to stop, and Conan activated the scanning sensor on his glasses while Kid leaned against a tree and waited for a decision to be made. From what he could tell, any activity from before had quieted down significantly, leading him to believe that the perpetrator may have been caught already. Hopefully.
“I’m going back to check things out. If this whole ordeal is finally over with, I’ll come back to get you,” the detective stated firmly as he deactivated his glasses.
“Surely, you’d come back just to slap a pair of cuffs on me though, right?” Kid chuckled slightly at the remark. Conan, with all sincerity and seriousness, turned to meet his gaze.
“Just who do you think I am? I have a little more honor than that,” Cut me some slack, why don’t you? “Besides, you didn’t even do anything wrong this time.”
...Actually, now that I think about it…
“...What were you doing here, anyways?” There had been no messages or heist notices as far as he knew, and no jewels around to speak of, so there was no real explanation as to why Kaitou Kid would show up now, of all times. Kid snickered a little before wagging a finger at him.
“You don’t need to worry about that. Just know that my heists wouldn’t be the same without my favorite little critic around.”
Kid stuffed his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes, while Conan stared on in confusion. He shook himself out of his dumbfounded reverie and began running back to the crime scene, taking an extra measure to kick dirt over the same path they had taken so as to cover the bloody trail. To his surprise, they had gone a lot further than he thought. He slowed down and hid when he was close to the woods entrance, taking a moment to listen in on what was happening at the crime scene. Upon hearing the voices of several police officers and investigators, he stepped out from his hiding place.
As he’d come to find out, the murder and crime scene in its entirety had been falsified, and while the man responsible wouldn’t admit to why he’d created it or why he’d fired his gun, it wasn’t very difficult for Conan to figure it out - the man had done a great deal of shouting at him as he was being questioned, after all. Although Conan was relieved that no one had been killed - particularly on his behalf - he still found it disturbing that all of this had been set up to lure himself out specifically. He scanned over the collection of evidence that was piled together near a police vehicle, but stopped when his eyes passed over a playing card. Closer inspection revealed an ace of clubs, complete with metal edges: undoubtedly ammunition from Kid’s Card Gun.
“If that damned thief had just helped me in the first place instead of getting in my way, none of this would be happening!!”
In that moment, the would-be murderer, who was now being settled into a police car, began shouting again. The officers spoke strictly, trying to calm him down and get him to sit, but Conan, frozen by this revelation, didn’t hear the rest of the man’s tirade.
For whatever reason, this man had some kind of grudge against him, and had tried to enlist Kaitou Kid’s help. He may have even tried convincing him with the whole “revenge” bit, seeing as Conan had been dubbed “Kid Killer” on numerous occasions due to their many face-offs. Evidently, Kid had refused, then showed up to thwart his plans when the man made it clear that he wouldn’t be giving up on this endeavor just yet.
Conan shuddered at the thought of being made to have security escort everywhere he went, and prayed that no one would go to such extremes should the man finally reveal why he went so far as to set all of this up. However, he would have to take extra precautions now - he was only lucky this time because Kid had gotten involved.
Speaking of which…
Conan quickly dismissed himself from the group, making sure to ask for a paramedic to be on standby as well, since he “thought he saw a hurt man wander into the woods a few minutes ago”. Several officers had called after him, offering to help, but he easily waved them off. As much of a help they would be in a normal circumstance, leading a group of policemen to an internationally wanted criminal would spell disaster, regardless of what he’d done for him. And as much as Conan wanted to catch the thief, he wasn’t willing to give him up so easily. Not when he didn’t have a fair chance to fight back.
Once he was out of sight, he immediately broke out into a dash back along the path they had taken before as best as he could remember. As he made his way back, Conan chided himself for possibly making a poor decision - that he, a 7-year old boy, denied assistance from grown men who’d be able to help them faster. Kaitou Kid was not an idiot, and may very well have disguised himself as someone else entirely, and now they’d have to limp all the way back on their own like before. Goddamn it.
His concerns were unfounded, he realized, when he returned to where he was certain he’d left Kid behind. The thief was nowhere in sight, and he panicked for a moment until he discovered a Kaitou Kid card that had been gently laid against the tree roots.
For the time being, I will borrow what is, and has before been, shared between us.
Upon our next meeting, mayhaps we will be as two different, free entities.
“Something that’s been shared between us… now you’re not even trying to be clever,” Conan mumbled with a smirk. At the very least, it was obvious what the thief was going to do now. He himself wasn’t too pleased with the idea of Kid borrowing his face yet again, but if it got him the help he needed, then it didn’t matter.
It was the second verse that confused him, however: Two different, free entities? He was still referring to the both of them, and a moment of consideration revealed the answer he sought. In his usual distasteful way, he was offering some kind of encouragement, that Conan might finally find the cure for his shrunken form and return to normal, and Kid would… well, he would be whoever he was when he wasn’t traipsing around the country swiping gems left and right. Kid was being awfully ambitious, though, so saying that they would have accomplished their goals by the time they saw each other again. Such an achievement was sure to be quite a ways away from his reach, anyways, the morose thought drifted through his mind. In regards to “free”, it could be a small hope that they’d be free from dangerous situations such as this one. It was a small hope, sure... but he’d been damned if that didn’t fill him with some kind of faith.
Maybe he didn’t give the thief nearly enough credit.
“Geez… if you’re going to be cheesy, at least have the decency to clean up after yourself,” Conan spoke up again, kicking dirt over a few small spots of blood that had been left behind from where Kid was standing before. There were no other blood trails leading away from there, so he assumed he must have gone up. Where on Earth did he find the energy to keep going? Conan shook his head and started back on the path to the crime scene, barely noticing the bright smile he wore on his face. Free… that was a nice thought.
A few days later, just as he’d expected, he learned that Shinichi Kudo had been admitted to the hospital the night all of this had happened, and was recovering quite well after surgery (and a blood transfusion, he remembered with a grimace). He blanched when Ran insisted that they visit him while he was there, but he could find no plausible excuse to get out of this one. He finally relented after an admirable amount of hesitation with a sigh.
He hadn’t even had the chance to thank Kid for saving his life, after all.
Magic Kaito 1412
Summary: Ginzou appreciates routine, but is thrown off-kilter with a not-so-simple request from Kaito.
Characters: Nakamori Ginzou, Kuroba Kaito, Nakamori Aoko
Ginzou looked forward to one thing at the end of a boring day at work: going home to his daughter and her friend. He appreciated routine more than anything, and coming home to those two was always a sight for sore eyes. They were like a patchwork family - missing a few pieces and people here and there, but hey, such was life.
And life can move rather quickly, as he came to find out.
“Hey, Inspector! Teach me how to drive!”
Straight to the point as usual, that Kaito. Ginzou glanced up from the newspaper he'd been well-invested in. On the other side of the table, Kaito stared back eagerly, half-risen from his seat.
“How to drive? Aren't you a little young for that? Wait, erm… how old are you now?”
“What? I'm 16, and old enough!” Kaito huffed and slumped back into his chair.
16 years old already… man, time really flew by…
“Hey, I didn't say ‘no’ yet. But why are you so eager to learn suddenly?”
Kaito appeared a little less distraught as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.
“Mom told me that Dad knew how to drive since he was 15, so it couldn't be that hard for me to learn, right?”
Ah, so he'd been talking to Chikage. She was still out of the country, wasn't she? He probably spoke to her often over the Internet - it was the best way to communicate nowadays, after all. But did she really have to mention that? Kaito could be incredibly persistent when he wanted something, and teaching him how to drive would more than likely be a death sentence waiting to happen.
Actually, now that he thought about it, Kaito didn't really have anyone else to teach him, what with Chikage constantly traveling around the world, and Touichi….
Granted, it was a good skill to have. Who knew when it would be needed later down the line? With this in mind, he decided there really wasn't a reason to say no to him. Ginzou sighed and flipped the page in his newspaper, resigning himself to what would surely be the worst decision he would ever make.
“Alright, fine. We’ll go out this weekend.”
Kaito leapt up from his chair with a cheer just as a bewildered Aoko walked into the room.
“Dad, you're going to teach him to drive first? I want to learn, too!” she pouted. Overwhelming, these kids were being overwhelming, and Ginzou’s head pounded at the thought of teaching not one, but two overly enthusiastic teenagers how to control metal death traps. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb in a sad attempt to dull the pain.
“Kaito asked first, so I'll be teaching him this weekend. Then I'll take you out after he's done,” he offered, begging whatever god would listen that this would be the end of the conversation for now.
“Ha ha! Ya hear that, Aoko? I get to learn before you!” Typical teenagers, Kaito was already holding it over her head.
“Shut your mouth! You were just lucky enough to ask him first!” Aoko stamped her foot, before relaxing slightly and responding equally in jest, “I already know you're just gonna screw it up, though, so it’s fine.”
“What?! Why you-”
“Kids, settle down,” Ginzou intervened. What a headache… but this usual banter was somewhat comforting. He only hoped he’d survive these next few weeks to continue having evenings like this.
In all honesty, Kaito wasn't bad for a first-time driver. Yet Ginzou still found himself shouting for him to stop or stomping his foot down on an imaginary brake every few seconds. Overeager was too gentle of a word to describe the kid who was currently trying to kill him.
Despite the dull ache in his chest that may or may not signify the onset of a heart attack, by the following week, Kaito had a much better grip on driving. Unsurprisingly enough, he'd caught on quickly, and had even adapted Ginzou’s driving style into his own. He had such a unique talent for learning new skills, and one could only wonder where and how far it would take him.
Only one year later, Kaito became Kaitou Kid, and mentally thanked Inspector Nakamori every time he had to mount a vehicle for a quick getaway.
When Mob came to work that afternoon, Reigen immediately noticed something wasn't right.
Telltale signs of exhaustion were evident on Mob’s face, and he looked slightly paler than usual. Even his movements, though they were never quick to begin with, were sluggish, and he appeared to be having some trouble concentrating.
“Master, is something wrong?” Mob asked quietly. Crap, he’d been caught staring. He had met his gaze a couple times earlier, but Reigen would hastily look away or pretend he was staring at something on the wall behind him. This time, though, he had actually called him out on it. No sense in covering it up now, he supposed.
“You're looking a little pale there. Are you sick?” Reigen mentally winced at the bluntness of the question, and yet it was all he could think to say at this moment. Mob seemed to hesitate before answering. Clearly, there were some nerves at play here, he noted.
“I-I’m not sick…”
At the very least, he wasn’t lying, but he definitely didn't seem to be telling the whole truth, either. Mob quickly turned back to his schoolwork, and Reigen watched him carefully. Now, it appeared as though he were trying to somehow hide himself. What could have set him so on-edge?
“...Is there something you’re not telling me?” he tried, attempting to coax an answer out of the boy.
“Huh? Ah, no… everything is fine.”
Bizarre behavior, indeed. He was definitely hiding something, but what? Why on earth would Mob feel the need to keep a secret from him? He decided pushing for a little more information couldn’t hurt.
“Mob, you do know I’m your master. That means you should definitely tell me if something isn’t right.” Reigen didn’t feel great about pulling this card against him, but if he wanted info, then this was the way to do it. Mob’s face, ever so slightly, changed into something of sadness, maybe even a touch of guilt.
“I understand, Master. Everything is fine.” He held his attention on his schoolwork, still attempting to avoid his gaze. Reigen might as well have been trying to squeeze info from the wall next to him, but determinedly, he decided that he wouldn’t be defeated this way.
It was at this point he decided to pay closer attention to his student’s strange, lethargic appearance. Mob’s hands were trembling subtly, and he was breathing heavier than normal. Not only that, but his overall appearance was just… tired. Despite wearing his usual default expression (or non-expression, if he was being honest), it was obvious he wasn’t doing too well right now, and probably hadn’t been for the past few days.
He thought back to the last work day he had seen Mob - maybe 2 days ago - and remembered that yes, he had noticed something vaguely unusual about his student that day, but disregarded it as nothing. Looking at him now, he regretting not saying anything sooner. But he would get to the bottom of this, no doubt, and he brainstormed a little more. If what Mob was saying was true, that he wasn’t sick, then that could only mean…
“Have you been taking proper care of yourself, Mob?” Mob didn’t answer, so Reigen tried pushing a bit more. “You know, like eating enough meals, or getting enough sleep. Are you doing that?” All was still before Mob finally responded, so quietly he nearly had to strain to hear him.
It definitely wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping to hear, but he was surprised by how easy it was to get him to say it. Mob was never good at lying, thankfully, and he probably knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to his master, even if he tried. Though Reigen felt some weird, protective nature start to take over, he forced himself to remain composed (and found it oddly tough to do so). Even from across the room, he could feel his disciple’s stress, and decided that adding onto it by freaking out was a bad idea.
“Well, now I’m curious. Why not?”
Mob kept his gaze trained on his schoolwork, likely pondering how to properly respond. Reigen could practically see the gears turning in his head.
“I’ve been… busy,” he replied softly. Now that he mentioned it, Mob had been studying unusually hard the last time he was in the office, too. In that moment, the pieces finally came together, and everything clicked. Reigen sighed; he knew exactly what was going on.
Overwork. It was all too common and tragic in the present-day workplace, with businessmen and students alike. Barely taking the time to eat, sleep, or properly care for themselves in general, and all for what? Just so they could get more work done, or study for tests that would never matter again for the rest of their lives?
Reigen found such an endeavor to be incredibly stupid and self-destructive, and unfortunately, he had seen at least one or two colleagues fall into this god-awful habit in his previous workplace. And while that in itself was bad, it was ten - no, a hundred times worse seeing Mob, of all people, being dragged under this terrible spell.
Again, that strange, protective nature reared its head full-force, and he found himself struggling more and more to keep it subdued. What was wrong with himself today?
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Reigen asked slowly, the question somehow harder to ask than the previous questions before it.
“I ate a little before coming here,” Mob answered earnestly.
“No no, I’m talking about an actual meal, Mob, not a small snack. When was the last time you had something filling?”
“... ...It’s been a few days.” It took a little longer for him to answer this time, and if Reigen thought keeping it together was difficult before, it was almost impossible now.
He could’ve damn-near exploded right there and then - not at Mob, of course, but just in general. How had his parents not noticed? How did Ritsu not notice?? It became increasingly obvious that Mob may have been hiding or making excuses to everyone regarding his condition. He didn’t know how often he interacted with his parents (though Reigen had stressed to him in the past that spending time with family was incredibly important), but Ritsu, surely, would’ve at least felt something wrong (if that was how reading auras worked, anyways). Maybe he had lied to him, too. And maybe Ritsu saw through the deceit and, though worried, took his word for it, since Mob’s his older brother, and should know what he’s doing.
“The finals are coming up, and my math grades aren’t so good…” he heard Mob speak again, more so to himself than to Reigen. So that really was the reason, then. Studying so hard, to the point of almost collapsing, because he feared certain failure. A valid fear, but still, he had to wonder….
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Reigen heard himself say, voice surprisingly steady despite the absolute chaos he felt swirling about as he tried to wrap his mind around all of this.
“I didn’t…” Mob started, but paused, seeming reluctant to say more.
“...Didn’t what?” Reigen prompted. Didn’t want to fail? Didn’t want anyone to find out?
“...I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
Now that hurt. For once, he found himself at a total loss for words. The metaphorical train of thought had smashed into an impenetrable brick wall called heartbreak, and Reigen had no idea where to even begin picking up the pieces.
“I’m really sorry… I'm sorry,” Mob’s voice, ashamed and even softer now than before, floated through the air. No, this absolutely was not how he wanted this to go. Gods be damned, this wasn't how it should go. Reigen took a moment to pull himself together before leaving his desk to cross the room. He crouched down next to Mob, who still hadn’t looked up from his lap.
Mob slowly turned his head to face him, his usual blank looked overshadowed by what could only be described as pure debilitation. Reigen stared for a moment, before flicking his gaze to the open book on his desk.
“This is important. But it’s not something so important that you should sacrifice your well-being over it.” He closed the book and pushed aside gently. He turned his attention back to Mob, who still hadn’t said a word. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but I need you to promise me you’ll at least try to eat and sleep each day. Even if it’s just one meal, or only a few hours of rest, it makes a world of a difference. Not just you, but your grades will also suffer if you aren’t caring for yourself first, and all of this will be for naught.”
He placed a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly and not so unlike the way he had done when they first met. “I am worried about you. I am concerned about you. But I am not disappointed in you.
You could never disappoint me.”
Mob’s eyes widened slightly, before he let out a sigh of something akin to relief. And in that moment, he suddenly appeared far more exhausted than he did when he first walked in. Reigen squeezed his shoulder and smiled lightly.
“First thing’s first, let’s get you something to eat, then you can crash on the couch, okay?”
This time, Mob only acknowledged what he’d said with a nod. Reigen coaxed him to stand, then grabbed his own coat and closed up the office. They didn’t have any appointments today, and he figured that, while his student rested up, he could search the internet for any news or rumors. It definitely wasn’t a bad idea to take a day off.
They visited their usual ramen stop and stayed for a little over 2 hours. Reigen had finished his meal in record time, but Mob ate slowly, likely not so hungry at this time. He warned Mob that, now that he’d gotten sustenance for his system, his body would probably wake up more, and he’d be hit with a wave of starvation.
“Eat in moderation. You’ll end up feeling sick if you just scarf down everything you see.”
By the end of the meal, Mob had, unsurprisingly, fallen fast asleep at the table. Reigen had expected as much, and after paying for the meal, he hoisted him up onto his back, gripping under his legs.
“...Sorry…” he heard Mob murmur quietly as he began walking back to the office. He readjusted his grip and turned his attention back to the road in front of them.
“You've got nothing to apologize for. Getting better and taking care of yourself are all I'm expecting from you.”
They made it back to the office as the sun was still setting, bright orange hues still coloring the evening sky. It was usually around this time that, on a not-so-busy day, Reigen would send Mob on his way home. As he was now, exhausted and in no mood to walk anywhere at the moment, they returned to the office instead.
He laid Mob down on the couch, noting that he was just small enough to fit on it comfortably. Now that he thought about it, his student had gotten heavier, too, if his aching arms and back were any indication. It was enough to remind him that, even though he was still young, Mob was growing up quickly, and was, unfortunately, experiencing an unnecessary part of adulthood that he’d never wish upon anyone.
Ah, there was that peculiar, nameless feeling again, this time a lot quieter than it was during their previous conversation. He shrugged off his coat and laid it over Mob, then began making his way back to his desk to start researching jobs again. Before leaving however, he paused when he heard Mob whisper a soft “thank you” as he turned over to face the couch cushions. Reigen, smiling tenderly, reached out to ruffle his hair gently.
“Have a good rest, Mob. You deserve it.”
This is KINDA based on a "true story", or a personal one for me. It's not good to skip meals kiddies! My friend told me that Reigen would be upset if he knew I wasn't properly taking care of myself, so that was enough to convince me that I was doing a bad. :'D If you're in the same predicament, just think of how your favorite characters would feel if they knew. It's weird, but it works!
Hiya! Name's Rebecca, nice to meet you! ^^
About me? Well, I can tell you a few things:
Drawing is my greatest love, and you know how they say "A girl's best friend is a diamond"? Well, my best friend is a pristine, blank sketchbook, and nothing would please me more...
...except maybe a new video game I've played video games since I was very small, so obviously I would enjoy them! XD
I like reading a lot, it's a good hobby and makes it easy to pass the time
Did I mention I love music? It plays one of the biggest roles in providing me with enough inspiration to create beautiful pictures. Yup. Music is great. :3
Art is all around us! Everyone has some artistic ability, some just have to search harder for it.
Favorite genre of music: Anything really, as long as it sounds awesome and (if it has lyrics) is not very profane.
Favorite style of art: Anime/ manga is my top fav, but I am always open to other works!
Favorite characters: Yuri Lowell (my HUSBANDO), Arataka Reigen (OTHER HUSBANDO), Karamatsu Matsuno, Edward Elric, Donatello (TMNT 2012), Kaito Kuroba (Magic Kaito 1412)
Personal Quote: "Victory is always mine."