Chapter Text
It was the week before exams, and Reigen hadn’t studied.
Well, he’d studied some. Though not nearly enough. So he relegated himself to watching from the side, nestled against the wall with Mitsuura Kenji and poking at his math notebook, with hopes that he might suddenly develop a keen interest in algebra.
Teru was running drills that day. From the center of the training chamber, which was just a modified gym with additional fire-proofing measures, Asahi Goh and Hoshino Takeshi were engaged in yet another shouting match—in the most literal sense. With each use of their “psychic powers,” they let out roar after roar, helpfully keeping Reigen from falling asleep.
He took his pen and scribbled something in the margins of his notes, jumping when Mitsuura suddenly was peering over his shoulder.
“You really think so?” Mitsuura asked.
Reigen looked to the side and pulled his lips back at the curious twinkle in Mitsuura’s eyes, then looked down at his notebook to remind himself of what he’d written. Yelling=power? Psychological effect?
“I guess?” Reigen paused. “Not to say it’ll help us develop powers, of course… I just thought, since yelling also helps lifters express their strength, maybe it’s similar for psychic powers?” He added with a smile of confidence, hopefully convincing enough that Mitsuura might leave him alone to keep poking at his equations.
Reigen was not very lucky. Mitsuura grinned and clapped his hands together. “That’s it! Physical actions can influence the mind as well! I learned about it in a psychology book, it’s called psychosomatic—somaticism…?” Mitsuura shook his head, disregarding proper terminology, and jumped to his feet, waving furiously for Teru’s attention. “Teru-sensei!”
Teru looked at them, his face flashing with relief when Asahi and Hoshino stopped yelling to listen to what Mitsuura had to say.
Mitsuura ran to them, bouncing excitedly. “Reigen-kun was taking notes on the training, and he said that Asahi-san and Hoshino-san’s yelling might be related to their power,” Mitsuura relayed, pointing to his temple. “Psychologically-speaking.”
Reigen followed along, hoping to correct any lose nuance, though Mitsuura had relayed his thought process pretty accurately. He grinned sheepishly. “It’s just some ideas I had. If psychic powers are tied directly to a psychic’s mental state, then shouldn’t altering a psychic’s mentality alter the way they expressed their powers? And physical actions have the power to alter brain chemistry.”
Teru hummed, a smile playing on his lips. “Is that so?”
“Uh, got any specific ways to do that?” Asahi piped up.
“I’m all ears!” Hoshino agreed.
Reigen’s gaze flickered back to the benches where he’d left his math notebook. It seemed like he wouldn’t be getting much studying done today—not that he had to study at the lab. It was just… His mind flashed; back to sitting at his desk with his hands outstretched, trying his hardest to summon any inkling of psychic power from within himself. All the while his parents argued downstairs over whether or not to send him to cram school.
“I…Well,” he fumbled, trying to remember what his reasoning was. “Like uhm…yelling is catharsis, right? And Asahi-san and Hoshino-san yell—a lot. Somatic sensations and mental state are connected. Maybe the two of you could try and copy the way Teru-sensei moves. Without…needing to yell…” he added, wringing his hands.
“Me?” Teru blinked, pointing at himself.
Reigen nodded. “Asahi-san leans back when he tries to use his powers, and he holds his hand out but pulls away like he’s afraid.”
“W-well, it’s fire! I could burn myself!” Asahi insisted, his cheeks flushing red.
“And Hoshino-san strains too much.” Reigen held out his hand and tensed it, without thrusting it forward or flicking his wrist the way he’d seen Teru or Mob do it. “Without any movement, like he’s holding something in his hand and squeezing it.”
Teru considered Reigen’s words. “Hoshino-san.” He picked a spoon off a tray and tossed it to Hoshino, who caught it while giving Teru a questioning look. “When you try to bend it, what do you imagine?”
“What do I imagine?” He echoed, regarding the spoon with both hands clasped around the handle. “Mainly just imagine it bending. An image of it bending.”
Teru held up a spoon for himself and spun it around between his fingers. “Reigen-kun, what do you think?” Teru grinned and offered the spoon to him.
Reigen took it and looked at his reflection in the spoon; warping and twisting, too big and too small. He grabbed the spoon from both ends. “I guess I’d imagine myself holding it like this, and then…” He made a twisting motion.
“Ohhh I wanna try!” Mitsuura grabbed a spoon and furrowed his brows as he concentrated on bending it.
Hoshino looked at his spoon and held it to the fluorescent lights above, a flicker of doubt in his eyes before he closed them.
The spoon in his hand didn’t react at first, but as Reigen watched, he noticed a faint change in the way Hoshino stood; he was manually resetting all of his muscles, relaxing each tendon, each fiber until suddenly, like soft wax, the spoon twisted and bent and then broke in half, the top side falling to the ground with a clang.
Hoshino yelped, dropping the other end as well, then marveled at his accomplishment. His hands went up to his cheeks and he gasped. “Holy—I think I just hit a new record. Hey—Hey did you guys see that?” He waved at the observation room; some few meters away where the Awakening Lab scientists were observing the training from behind a windowed panel in a wall.
The intercom clicked on. “Yes.”
Asahi Goh crossed his arms and sniffed. “Then what about me? Got any tips for pyrokinetics?” Asahi Goh watched him expectantly, though if Reigen was being honest, he hadn’t thought much about pyrokinesis. He’d had all the time in the world to consider the ways he’d use telekinesis—especially being around psychics like Mob who wielded it without a second thought.
“Maybe…lean forwards more? If you shrug away then subconsciously you’re limiting your output,” he fibbed.
“I did it!” Mitsuura held up his spoon, bent 45 degrees at the neck. “Ok—I lied but it’s a good first step!”
Was it really…? Reigen found himself a little lost.
It wasn’t as if he disliked being at the lab. Reading the books Mitsuura had accrued was entertaining, especially given the sheer volume of Mitsuura’s collection. And there were moments spent with the scientists that were, frankly, fascinating; like watching the espers use their powers while hooked up to various electrodes, and seeing their brain activity light up like the sky during tanabata.
It was just that he hadn’t made much progress—at all. And wasn’t progress the whole point?
Asahi Goh pouted. “Come on, there’s got to be more than that. Got any ideas on the spot, kid?” He pushed, making Teru shoot him an aggravated glance.
“Well…what is it like when you use your powers? I don’t know anyone else who uses pyrokinesis. I can’t begin to imagine how it feels.”
Asahi concentrated, seemingly taking Reigen’s advice and throwing his whole body forward in a punch. What came out was a plume the size of a particularly vigorous matchstick. “It’s…like I’m breathing it out, you know?”
No, he wouldn’t. But Reigen smiled, anyways. He summoned what confidence he could feign for the sake of selling his point. “Then as you move forward, exhale that energy and imagine yourself expelling it from your limbs. When athletes throw a ball or move to hit something, it’s always by twisting and gathering kinetic energy from throughout the body, right? So then, it’s the same for psychic energy?”
Asahi nodded, determination filling his eyes. “Alright! I got this.” Adjusting his stance, he turned towards the far side of the room, and Reigen noticed a barrier manifest around him, Teru, and Mitsuura. Teru avoided his gaze, though it was pretty obvious what he was doing. Only question was why Hoshino wasn’t offered any protection.
With a deep breath, Asahi coiled his arm back and launched it forward, his fist carving a flaming arc through the air that ended in an explosion the size of a soccer ball. The fireball burst forward, though it fizzled out just as soon as they came. And Asahi fell back like the blast was as strong as a dynamite.
“Did you see that?! You saw that, right? Kinetic energy, huh? Man, Reigen I bet you’re secretly a little genius under there, aren’t you?” Asahi laughed wildly, bumping fists with Hoshino, who seemed just as ecstatic—if not a little jealous.
A genius… Would a genius struggle to finish his math homework on time? Struggle to sit down and study without immediately swerving into another night of video games and scrolling uselessly at the videos on Mobtube? Reigen avoided the statement entirely, choosing to return to his math notebook for the rest of their visit.
“Where’d you come up with the idea of comparing psychic powers to athletics?” Teru asked as they were walking to the subway station.
“Oh, just from school…and Mobtube?”
Teru hummed. He walked a few paces ahead with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his massive wig managing to stay perfectly still on his head. Either Teru was using his powers to keep it from listing, or he had a natural talent for balancing things on his head. Both seemed equally plausible, based on what Reigen knew of the man.
“Then what about me?” Teru stopped, spinning around with a perfect little twirl and pointing at his chest.
Reigen stopped in his tracks, blinking up at the man. Teru, unlike the espers at the Awakening Lab, had talent—real talent. The way he used his powers could be likened to a fifth limb—as natural as walking. “For Teru-sensei…I can’t tell. Sometimes you push your knees in, but maybe that’s just a habit.”
Teru laughed, pulling at his collar. “I see, well that’s...ahem” He pat Reigen on the shoulder and smiled. “You know? You’re doing great, Reigen-kun.”
“How?” Reigen blurted, his hands a second too slow to cover his dumb mouth.
“Take today for example! You were able to help both Asahi-san and Hoshino-san improve their abilities,” Teru began, sinking slightly to meet Reigen at his level. “Surely—surely that translates to how you may develop your own abilities?”
Reigen looked up at Teru, noting the slight uncertainty in his voice. His head was swimming. School, psychic powers, Mob and Teru and Mob and Yoshioka Mamoru’s stupid, worried face. “But what if I can’t?”
Teru blinked. “You can’t what?”
“Can’t do it? What if I can’t develop powers?” What if I’m not able to?
Teru hesitated, regarding Reigen strangely. Reigen’s heart sank. “Is—is that your goal?”
“My…goal?”
Teru nodded. He put a hand on Reigen’s shoulder and began coaxing him along. “Psychic powers…they’re just a trait like any other. Like being good at math, or having blond hair.” He pointed at his head and winked. “Having a trait isn’t really a goal in and of itself. Often times, that trait is part of a journey towards completing a larger quest. What’s yours?”
Reigen found himself looking down at the ground. His goal…? He tried finding an answer for Teru, but then there it was again, that emptiness in his chest like a black hole, dense and dark; inescapable.
“It’s okay if you don’t know, yet. You’re at a time where that’s perfectly normal. Even I had my period of considering what I wanted to become. It might not seem like it, but I wasn’t always aiming to become a TV star,” Teru explained, doing a flourish with his hands. Reigen, despite the terror in his stomach, laughed.
“What were your plans before?”
Teru smiled. “Fashion designer.”
“Ah. Were your parents supportive?”
“They were quite wealthy so I had the freedom to do whatever. Point is, it’s never too late to change careers! For your future aspirations, anything is possible! And the rest of us are rooting for you!” Teru smiled and his face glittered like sunshine.
Change careers…
One week later, on the day of the semester finals, Reigen dropped down into his desk having barely studied. If he was to change his plans, what would that look like? More math? More science like the neuroscientists at the lab? Or something else? Should he focus on a school subject to specialize in, or take his mothers’ side and go to cram school?
Did he have a plan—in the first place—to pivot from?
He picked up his pen, his hand shaking, and pressed the graphite to his test booklet to pen down his name. Reigen Arataka.
That was him.
Yet, who was he? Who did he want to be?
Reigen wanted to throw up. Wanted to run away, hide in the bathroom, and fail all his exams. But there was no way he’d survive the ensuing confrontation with his parents if that’d happened. Instead, he readied his pencil and, when Ogawa-sensei announced the beginning of their semester finals, Reigen put his head down and solved math equations like his life depended on it.
Yoshioka leaned back and set his pencil down with a sigh, finally having finished checking his answers.
Beside him, Matsumoto was furiously erasing something on his exam papers, while on the other side, Aoki Tatsuya was quietly dozing. Yoshioka wondered how Reigen was doing. In the weeks approaching exams, they stopped meeting up as often. And as much as Yoshioka hated to admit it, it was only because of the extra study—cram classes and personal work combined—that he even managed to complete his math finals. He spotted Dimple, drifting through the wall, making a face, then landing on his desk soundlessly.
“The kid’s not looking too hot.”
Yoshioka looked at him. Which kid?
“Your kid. Who else?” Dimple snorted, making Yoshioka flinch. He resisted the urge to turn around, instead settling for tossing Dimple a glare.
Ok? What about him?
Dimple shrugged. “See for yourself.”
Sure enough, Ogawa-sensei announced the end of the math exam and ordered for the papers to be collected to the front. As Yoshioka turned to take the papers coming in from behind him, he snatched a glance at Reigen. Reigen, who looked awfully pale, with eyes unfocused and brows furrowed like he was about to throw up.
“Yoshioka?”
“O-oh, sorry.” He handed the papers over to Ogawa-sensei, who raised his eyebrow at him and continued down the row.
“What happened, did you see?” He whispered as students broke from the tense exam atmosphere, turning to their friends, letting out nervous laughter as they dreaded their results together.
Dimple shook his head, though he didn’t need to have seen something happen to guess at what might’ve transpired.
Yoshioka ended up chasing him down the hall. “Arataka. Hello?”
“Huh—oh, it’s you.”
“How’d you do on exams?” Yoshioka fell into step beside his classmate.
Reigen slung his bag around his shoulder and shrugged, then suddenly cast Yoshioka one of his signature smirks. “I did fine. What about you? You think you’d make the bulletin board, this time?”
Yoshioka returned the expression. “Well, maybe I did. I studied my ass off, you know? Maybe I’ll even place top twenty…in the whole school.”
The look Reigen gave him was incredulous in every definition of the word, and it earned the other boy a friendly shove on the shoulder. Reigen snickered, a sound Yoshioka welcomed, though he had half a mind to wonder how long the smile playing on his classmate’s lips would last.
“Have you—”
“Ah, Reigen. May I have a word with you in the office?”
“Ogawa-sensei?” Their teacher greeted them with a sheepish smile, one hand raised in a half-wave.
“Yoshioka! Good job, today. Could I borrow him for a bit? I hope this doesn’t come in between any plans?” Ogawa-sensei glanced between the two of them, to which then Reigen shook his head.
Ogawa-sensei nodded, his lips pulled thinly in a way that sent a shiver down Yoshioka’s back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Yoshioka fixed his gaze upon his classmate, meeting the other’s eyes and finding that they seemed to look right through him.
Reigen smiled. “Yup! See ya.” He tossed Yoshioka a smirk, waving as casually as ever, before following their homeroom teacher to the opposite end of the hall. Yoshioka watched, solemnly on until they disappeared behind the bend.
“Can you—”
“Nah.”
“Dimple.” Yoshioka pleaded, whirling to face the spirit, only to feel his trajectory manually corrected. Can’t be talking to ghosts in public. He felt his feet move and allowed Dimple to walk them along, winding through the halls and down the stairs as any normal person would.
“Gotta stick around for when you meet with that Ishiguro kid. What if this is a trap? Can’t have her knocking you into the pavement. If she turns you into a fine paste, who’s going to feed me chocolate?”
Yoshioka cringed at the graphic reminder. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Naturally.”
Dimple cast him a shit-eating grin, enough to momentarily distract Yoshioka from the dread burning in his stomach. “Why would she beat me up if she’s here to recruit me?”
“Dunno.”
“And besides, I don’t even know when she’d showing up. Might as well send you—”
“Send who?”
Yoshioka yelped, spinning around and throwing his hands out instinctively, only to hit them on a gossamer barrier the texture of glass. The hollow bang reverberated up his arm and left his skin tingling. He looked around, realizing with a start that they’d made it to the courtyard in no seemingly no time at all. And standing at the school gate, with her jacket fluttering behind her like wings.
“Ishiguro-san,” Yoshioka greeted, rubbing his palms with a wince.
There was a boy next to her; slick brown hair, lanky with gangly limbs, and almost as tall as Yoshioka. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses and an arrogant grin.
“This is Terada-kun,” Ishiguro introduced; Terada smiled and lifted his sunglasses to wink at Yoshioka. “He’s my main information source here at Salt Middle School. Our recruitment program keeps an eye out for valuable talent within the ward, and at Salf Middle we’re privileged to have one esper watching over each grade.”
“Heh, but once Sakurai and Koyama are gone, this school will be all mine,” Terada announced, puffing out his chest. “So you’d better watch out, rookie.” Yoshioka was glad that he would’ve graduated by then.
“For one year,” Ishiguro added smile unwavering, and Terada, incognizant of what she meant, took it in stride.
Ishiguro’s gaze drifted to the side before snapping back to Yoshioka. With a flick of her hand, she dismissed Terada. The boy bowed theatrically, then passed her a note from his pocket before strutting off. Ishiguro glanced at it quickly before nodding to herself, beckoning for Yoshioka to follow and heading off without checking if he did.
“Terada-kun told me you have exams this week. How curious that you didn’t say anything yesterday.”
Yoshioka kept a few paces behind her to avoid the sleeves of her uniform. “Unfortunately, I was a little bit distracted. Fighting an evil spirit you sent after me,” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. Dimple was no longer floating in the air, and had instead retreated into Yoshioka’s body. Not quite possession, as it came without the standard parasitic chill he’d felt the first few times he’d been possessed. “What did you want to show me, anyways?”
She walked with a spring in her step. “Venture a guess?”
Seriously…? Yoshioka recalled Ishiguro’s small rant about all-that-she-could-offer-him: power, control, all the like. “If I tell you I’ll accept your offer, would you still need to show me…whatever it is you’re planning?”
“My, aren’t you quick?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Ishiguro giggled, continuing to skip her way down the street. “To answer your question…in order to get the most out of your membership, yes.”
“My…membership.”
“To Claw. I’m sure I’ve introduced our organization before, but allow me to enlighten you one more time.”
“Claw,” she began, slowing down to walk beside him. “Is an elite esper organization, modeled after its predecessor of the same name. We aim to free esper-kind from the shackles of common society, to form a nation of our own, as the world of the common-folk is hostile to people like us—and for most espers, our unique skills are unappreciated by commoners, only seen as a novelty or as a toy.
“With Claw, espers can self-actualize. And our branch, the Seventh Division, is the strongest division working independently from HQ. Our main function is to search for new recruits. Some to bring back to HQ, some to keep for ourselves.”
“What does that make me?”
“For keeping,” Ishiguro stopped suddenly as a pair of students passed before them at an intersection. Yoshioka held his breath, shrinking behind Ishiguro when he recognized them. Hurrying to catch up with Koyama, who’d run past while chasing a ball of his own, Matsumoto caught Yoshioka’s eye and sent him a glare, turning his nose and making sure Yoshioka knew how displeased he was.
Ishiguro watched them go with a click of her tongue. “We’ll follow them.”
“Follow them?” Yoshioka sputtered.
Ishiguro thread her fingers behind her back and gave him a cheery smile. “You’ll see,” she sang, letting a beat pass before continuing, “it’s important that you see.” Ishiguro waited for Koyama and Matsumoto to disappear from view before tailing them, not bothering to wait for Yoshioka as she zipped on ahead.
Yoshioka groaned, giving himself a moment to wallow in self-pity before chasing after her. “What does that mean? Can’t you just tell me what it is—oomph.” He bumped right into another forcefield, ricocheting off the gossamer barrier with a thonk.
Ishiguro held her finger to her mouth and beckoned for him to join her at peeking around the corner. Yoshioka rubbed his forehead and obliged, ducking behind the corner again when he realized who it was.
“What is he doing here?”
“Why wouldn’t he be here? This is the route he takes whenever he goes straight home,” Ishiguro said.
“I—” Yoshioka surveyed his surroundings, noting its familiarity with a sinking feeling in his stomach. And yet something still felt off. Hadn’t Reigen gone to speak with Ogawa-sensei? If that was the case how did he…
Yoshioka didn’t have time to calculate the distance from school to their specific street. Didn’t have time, as when he raised his gaze to double check his surroundings, Koyama made a move that slammed every other thought out of his head. Except for one.
He felt a force hit him, sending him into an adjacent wall and pinning him there so all he could do was watch.
“Ishiguro,” he hissed.
“Yes?”
“Let me go.”
Ishiguro hummed. “And then?”
“Then?”
“What will you do, then? Run at them? Fight? With what? The powers that you keep so tightly hidden from your good friend over there?”
Yoshioka bit his lip and forced himself not to look; to turn his eyes from the awful scene that played before him like a mirror reflecting back to a person everything they hated about themselves. He turned to shoot her a smile. “Ishiguro-san…this, this has to be fake right? Psychic powers can do that? Make illusions?”
“Psychic powers can do anything we desire. But I assure you,” Ishiguro turned his face to the scene with a gently touch and lowered her voice, “this is not an illusion.
“Reigen Arataka passes this direction once or twice every week. If he doesn’t take the alternative, longer route through Syrup Lane, then he takes this one. Koyama-kun and Sakurai-kun normally do as well, they live two streets from here, and are next door neighbors. When the two parties cross paths, Koyama-kun, as he does with most kids smaller than him, demands money from them to pay for snacks, of which he buys from a convenience store down the road.
“Sakurai-kun keeps him from becoming physical with his targets, but because Sakurai-kun has left with some mutuals of theirs for a study session, Koyama-kun is free to walk home alone, today.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Ishiguro let out a pleased hum and released her telekinesis, making him stumble forward and fall onto his knees. Yoshioka threw his arms out to catch himself before he faceplanted on the ground. “You know why,” she said.
Yoshioka pressed his lips together, his mind oddly devoid of thought. In fact, it was this clarity that made his whole body burn. He pushed himself onto his feet and wavered there.
“Do you believe you could beat him?”
Koyama rummaged through Reigen’s things as Matsumoto laughed. The brute found himself what looked like 400 yen and rose, putting his hands on his hips and pocketing the money without much fanfare. He gestured to his accomplice that they were done, but Matsumoto stalked over to Reigen and crouched down, saying something to the other boy before kicking him in the shin.
“Not alone,” Yoshioka answered, glaring at Ishiguro.
Reigen slowly crawled back to a stand and began picking his things off the ground, stuffing them loosely back into his bag. And Yoshioka hated that he knew that blank stare on his face. He knew that look, he knew this scene, and he knew he’d seen it dozens of times before.
He backed away, pressing himself into the shadows cast by the houses and telephone wires, then bolted in the opposite direction of where they were headed.
Dimple manifested beside him, waving his tiny arms around. “Hey, wait a second! Where the hell are you going?!”
“Just a shortcut.” He skid to a halt at a corner and found himself face to face with Ishiguro, who held out her hand to him, a strange sharpness in her dark eyes. He took her hand, then felt the world around him spin as Ishiguro pulled him towards his desired destination. Yoshioka stumbled last minute from her grasp and charged forth, accepting to himself that he was a foolish little bunny who’d hopped right into her trap.
But maybe that was alright. If she could truly live up to her promises, give him the power to protect the people around him, then he’d happily fall for whatever tricks she’d laid out for him.
Matsumoto saw him coming from what felt like a mile away, his eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what the hell Yoshioka wanted. It was only after Yoshioka’s fist came smashing into his jaw that he wondered if his former friend had seen the confrontation earlier.
Yoshioka grabbed Matsumoto by the shirt collar and pinned him against a wall. He heard Koyama shout, then silence himself when he realized Ishiguro was there.
“What gives, man?”
“Reigen Arataka,” Yoshioka growled. “What the hell is your problem with him?”
“My problem?” Matsumoto snorted, struggling against Yoshioka’s grasp. “What do you mean my problem? You know one-hundred percent what my damn problem is. Especially since you were the one who started this stupid game in the first place!”
“What?”
It took Matsumoto a few breaths to regain himself, but when he did, his voice was like acid, burning holes in Yoshioka’s gut. “Yuh huh—even before middle school, people left Reigen alone. End of story. Nobody cared about that idiot. No one cared to notice him until you came along. Then everyone knew. And they knew not to mess with us, and they knew they could easily mess with him. I didn’t even know he existed until you pointed him out,” Matsumoto spat. “Math workbooks, remember?”
“Until I…” Yoshioka let Matsumoto go, practically pushing the other boy away from him. Matsumoto kept one hand on the wall while his other went to nurse his throat.
“One moment you tell everyone how easy it is to push him around, and the next you’re barking around him like a dog? The person with problems is you. What is wrong with you?”
Yoshioka looked down at his hands, blood draining from his face as it dawned on him that Matsumoto was right. And he was dead on the money in a way that wrung his breath from his lungs. His knuckles pulsed with numb pain, waves of tingling sharpness that dug into his bones and reminded him that those rough hands of his were still used for hurting.
And wouldn’t psychic powers only serve to enable that fact?
No, he decided. Psychic powers could restrain, could be used non-violently to keep others away. And not only that, he wasn’t the only monster he needed to protect Reigen from.
“Touch him again, and you’re dead.”
“What is he, your bitch?”
Yoshioka didn’t respond. He didn’t look at Matsumoto either, instead meeting Ishiguro’s narrowed eyes as she whispered something to Koyama. Koyama looked between the two of them and nodded slowly, hobbling over to Matsumoto and attempting to drag the other boy along.
Matsumoto made a rude gesture and shook Koyama off him, choosing instead to storm off on his own.
Yoshioka traced the rim of his left ear, thinking back to the day after he got the injury. He turned to Ishiguro. “If you hadn’t been there to stop Koyama, what would he have done?”
Ishiguro shrugged, smiling flippantly. “Who knows? Koyama-kun can get carried away in a fight. However, because I’ve trained each and every one of my espers, I can tell you that his moves are nothing special.
“Yet, even then, Koyama has the advantage of psychic powers on his side. That alone would guarantee him victories a thousand times over.” Expectant eyes locked with clouded ones as Ishiguro’s hawk-like gaze settled on him. She rocked on her heels, patiently, with her hands threaded behind her back and her uniform jacket billowing around her like wings.
Yoshioka clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling the thrum of Dimple’s energy coursing underneath his skin, and of sickly green bruises no doubt blossoming over his knuckles.
“Give it a think-over,” Ishiguro said, eventually. “Once you’ve found your answer, that spirit-friend of yours will tell you the rest.”
The rest? He looked at Ishiguro questioningly, finding her face fully illuminated by the afternoon sun and seeing for the first time the scars that littered her face like strands of confetti. She smiled at him. Her bangs fluttered and covered one eye as she tilted her head. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said, and Yoshioka understood that the breeze collecting around her wasn’t wind at all.
In a flash, she was gone, shooting into the sky as she did the night before. Rocket-style. Yoshioka had so many questions he wanted to ask, still.
“Dimple?” Yoshioka whipped his head side to side, wondering if the spirit was still around.
“Here,” Dimple replied, spooking him by manifesting right in his face. The green blob hovered there awkwardly, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face(?) His body(?) Yoshioka shivered, feeling Dimple’s presence lift from his body.
“What was she talking about? The rest? The rest of what?”
“S-slow down, there.” Dimple furrowed his brows and sighed, rubbing his fingers together like he was scratching off grime. “Spirit contracts. She was talking about spirit contracts.”
“Spirit…” Yoshioka perked up. Ishiguro had mentioned spirit contracts before, as well. He hadn’t thought that much of it, but if Dimple was bringing it up, now…
“And this is dangerous, serious business, alright! So ya better use your one and a half ears to pay attention, got it?” Dimple declared with as much false bravado as he could conjure.
“Dangerous, serious business?” Yoshioka sent him a wary look, surprised when the spirit nodded.
Dimple reabsorbed his arms, thinking he’d be wringing them if he had them out. He didn’t want to be projecting any more uncertainty than he already was. If anything, he should be pleased! The conversation he’d been avoiding for god knows how long had just been delivered to him on a silver platter. And yet…he couldn’t shake the discomfort building in his spirit body.
“All humans—no, all beings—are born with a certain degree of spiritual power. Think of it as energy, but for and originating from the spiritual plane,” he began, floating down to Yoshioka’s level. He kept his expression neutral, just in case. “For living beings, this energy is abundant. It exists within their thoughts and dreams, their innermost desires, and is continuously generated. But for supernaturals…”
“Supernaturals,” Yoshioka echoed. “Ghosts?”
“Same difference. Supernaturals must feed on spiritual power to survive.”
Yoshioka didn’t seem to react at first, staring at Dimple blankly like he’d expected the spirit to continue.
Dimple wrinkled his nose. “Seriously? Don’t you have something to say to that? Like maybe—”
“That’s why you’re here…right? Why you stick around? And before, when you had to charge up energy during the fight with Cookie-chan.”
Dimple glanced at the ground. When his gaze returned, he had a dangerous grin on his face. “Spiritual power, raw belief, is what makes a supernatural. You can eat other spirits, or you can feed on the belief of mortals. Whichever way you put it, one triumphs above all, no? Mortals are plentiful, more plentiful than supernaturals, and even the innocent belief of children is able to bring demons to life! I mean—I’d be a fool not to take such an opportunity. Back then, it was my cult—but since that’s been…disbanded…”
“So why me?” Yoshioka interjected. Dimple didn’t like the determination flickering in his eyes. Fresh sparks that heralded ill plans.
“You…” Dimple hesitated. “As I said before, mortals are all born with spiritual power, but the degree to which each being is born with. And the degree with which they produce it…that varies dramatically. There are mortals like you, brimming with energy. And there are mortals like…Reigen.
“A spirit contract ties a mortal’s soul to that of a supernatural, linking their spiritual energies. That’s a near-endless supply of power, straight from the tap! Having that, I could make us as powerful as someone like Koyama!
“But you have to understand that once you make a contract with a supernatural there is no going back! And…and for greedy spirits, there’s a possibility they’ll grow impatient and suck their hosts dry of energy until…it kills them.”
Yoshioka nodded. Dimple hated how the flame in the boy’s eyes only grew.
Karmic retribution; divine justice. Yoshioka didn’t mind being tethered to an evil spirit.
And Dimple saw it in the crooked, wry smile Yoshioka flashed as the boy crossed his arms and asked him: “and you’re warning me because…?”
Resignation. Dimple couldn’t help but smile along. “Just being informative.” He flashed the teen a similarly confident grin. “My goal has always been to become god, you know? And a youth like you is ripe for the harvest.”
Yoshioka laughed. He held out his hand and Dimple landed in his palm. “So how do I do it? Make the contract?”
“Verbally. Words are powerful in the world of supernaturals.”
Yoshioka nodded. He didn’t really know what words to use, though it didn’t seem like it mattered. “Then, almighty Dimple-sama, please make a spirit contract with me. Grant me your power, and I’ll grant you access to mine.”
Dimple looked up at him, expression inscrutable. “Deal.”
Nothing changed, really. Dimple’s energy, familiar now, enveloped him like cool steam. And yet when Yoshioka blinked, the world was different.
Not so different that it’d be hard to get used to, but different enough that he had to take a minute to drink it in. Shapes that fluttered about; forms that casted no shadows; colors with no origin, both see-through and opaque.
A strange, winged snake danced across the sky, vanishing through the window of a house.
“Are those…”
“Spirits.” Dimple answered floating beside his head. “Uh, hope you can get used to them. Those things are everywhere in schools during exams.”
“Why only exams?”
“Lots of hopes in the air. Sometimes they get crushed and that’s edible, too.”
“Are there other times they show up?”
Dimple rolled his eyes at Yoshioka’s teasing smile. “Sure. There’s valentines, white valentines, and the entire month of July.”
Yoshioka looked down at his hands, noting the faint swirling energy in his palm. No longer did it feel intentionally gathered. Now it was almost as if that power was truly pulsing underneath his skin. Maybe he’d regret this. Maybe he’d hate himself one day for doing something so foolish.
But right now, he had a plan. And part of that plan involved promising never to tell Reigen that he’d obtained those elusive psychic powers Reigen was looking for.