Work Text:
It’s a smoggy night in the city, too clouded to see the stars and far too gloomy to produce any positive thoughts.
At least, that’s the rhetoric that up-and-coming star of the psychic world Reigen Arataka uses to justify his foul mood that evening. As he finishes up one of his “Photographic Exorcisms” (which is really just amateur photoshopping) and moves on to the next mind-bogglingly mundane task, he figures that the reason he’s been so unmotivated tonight is really because of the bad weather. Definitely not because he finds his own life to be becoming stagnant. Of course not.
Reigen can’t see the moon behind the endless grey of smog; therefore, he can’t tell if he’s yawning from the lateness or just sheer boredom. He checks the time on his computer, only to find that he still has half an hour until he’s supposed to be finished. Worse yet, he still has some work he needs to do if he wants to keep on top of it all.
He sighs, scratching his head in frustration, urging himself to keep pushing on and just finish already.
It’s at times like this that Reigen starts to second-guess his choices. He begins to wonder whether this is really where he’s supposed to be. If this is truly where he wants to be in life.
The answer usually ends up being that yes, he does want to do the job he does. At the end of the day, it’s the best option he’s got. He gets to be his own boss, decide his own hours, and use his well-honed charisma to his own advantage- all for a pretty decent wage.
What well-paying job has better conditions?
Furthermore, if it weren’t for Spirits and Such he wouldn’t have ever met Mob or Serizawa, or even Tome. Even if the endless photoshop projects and massages aren’t exactly what he’d always imagined he’d be doing as an adult, the experiences he’s been able to have outside of work, because of the wonderful people he’s gotten to meet, were still special.
But still, whenever he saw scientific breakthroughs on the News, heard of a bestselling author’s new release, or saw a heart-warming story of a hometown policeman saving the day, he couldn’t help but wonder…
Was this what he was destined to do? Would he be better off starting a new career, one that could lead to higher success? If he began now, whilst he was still young enough, could he potentially lead a much more fulfilling life?
Shaking his head, Reigen pushes the notion aside. He got to help people every day, even if oftentimes the threat he was saving them from wasn’t even real. But at the very least, he was able to grant people peace of mind.
He got to be a hero, even for just a short period of time.
He’d been able to help his friends become better people, too. He’d been able to remind people that their life was their own.
But was he treating his life like it was his own?
Letting out another sigh, Reigen decides that he’d done enough work for the day, judging from the brain fog he’s experiencing, and gathers up his things. He trudges outside with a fatigued demeanour about him, as he’s too tired to even pretend to be an upstanding businessman now, only to find himself walking into a wall of smoke. He blinks in surprise, and upon further inspection realizes that it’s because there’s a group of kids smoking at the bottom of the stairs leading up to Spirits and Such.
Rolling up his sleeves with an annoyed huff, he puffs out his chest and stomps down the stairs, prepared to give the kids a good telling-off… Until he’s caught off-guard by a certain smell.
He inhales once, and then twice, and then he finally places it.
It’s the familiar aroma of weed.
Then, he gathers his thoughts and has a think.
If these kids are bad enough to be smoking some illegal crap out in the open like that, who knows what else they could be carrying on them? Knives, Tazers, or perhaps even a gun…The thought of facing an early demise at the age of 28 is not exactly appealing to Reigen; but neither is the thought of letting a bunch of little punks disrespect his property.
So, like the master of deceit he is, Reigen hatches a plan. He unrolls his suit sleeves and swaggers down the steps with a completely false, but convincing, confidence.
“You guys seem to be having some fun.” He comments cockily, walking down the steps far enough now that the group has finally noticed him.
They turn to stare at him, eyes hidden under their oversized hoodies, and try to act tough: snarling and adopting square posture, in a way they must hope is intimidating. Reigen can tell just by their quintessential “thug” uniforms alone that they’re all much younger than him, because they seem to be so crushed by peer-pressure that not a single one of them has their own sense of identity yet.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be bothering you. Just run along now and there won’t be any trouble.”
The kids look at him for a second, as if they’re genuinely considering just leaving. Then, one of them breaks into hysterics, and the others follow suit, cackling like a pack of hyaenas and pointing at Reigen like he’s a damn circus animal.
“This guy wants us to just pack up and leave! Nah man, we like it here, and we ain’t moving!” the perceived leader of the group cackles, talking in a fake gangster accent and puffing out his chest like the perfect caricature of a tough guy from some action movie.
Reigen takes a couple more steps, walking slowly and confidently, until he’s barely a meter away from their leader.
“You wanna say that into my wire?” he retorts back.
And the whole group goes silent.
Eyes dart between Reigen and their leader, as all the younger ones are clearly expecting the apparent leader of the group to do something. They need him to talk back and get them out of this somehow. But the kid just freezes, saying nothing, and Reigen takes that as his signal to continue.
“Or maybe get a little closer so that this building’s camera can see you even clearer?”
The group of kids don’t even check to see if he’s bluffing before making a break for it.
The leader turns to run, but Reigen grabs his arm before he can leave. The kid’s tough guy act has completely melted away now, leaving only a terrified high schooler who looks like he’s on the verge of shitting his pants and crying for his mother. Reigen keeps his expression cold and serious, although the urge to laugh his ass off is slowly creeping up him.
“I won’t turn you in kid, I’m off duty and I can’t be bothered with that- so just hand the contraband over and don’t do it again, alright?” he bargains, and the kid nods frantically, hurrying to empty his pockets as quickly as possible.
When he’s handed everything over, Reigen finally lets go, and the kid runs away.
He opens his palm to see a clear baggy holding around 2 grams, some rolling papers, a couple roaches, and a lighter.
It’s all he needs.
“That was too easy…” He laughs, and runs down the steps with a jump in his step, with a new plan for how he will spend the rest of his evening.
-
[This is one of Reigen’s special moves: "Psychic Joint-Rolling". Reigen uses his spiritual energy to command spirits to roll the perfect joint, so tightly and efficiently that Snoop Dogg himself is dying to take a hit]
After the first toke Reigen is already coughing his lungs out, sputtering like a steam engine and shaking in his chair. He’d forgotten the small differences between smoking marijuana and smoking regular tobacco, and the first hit on that joint had made him feel like his throat was burning. He’d definitely inhaled too much, that was for sure.
During his University days Reigen had indulged in pot once or twice. And by once or twice, I mean he’d sort of become a stoner to get through it by the time he was writing his thesis. But since University he’d ended up quitting indefinitely since he’d lost contact with his dealer who had been a friend doing the same degree. Plus, he knew that he couldn’t exactly go to work high every day, so he gave up the stoner life before he could get himself in any trouble.
A couple more tokes in, and he’s finally beginning to feel the effects of the weed kick in. All of a sudden he feels lightheaded and woozy, all his thoughts melt away as his heartbeat quickens and his limbs slacken as though he’d just tied them to bricks. He snuffs his joint out in the ash tray, saving it for later, and falls back on his sofa, turning on the TV and surfing through the channels.
He finally feels relaxed as he mindlessly presses the buttons on his remote control, eventually ending up on the discovery channel and leaving it there. He giggles as he watches hippos mating for a couple minutes, and then his eyes flutter closed as though he’s about to fall asleep.
But he doesn’t quite lose consciousness. Instead, drifting thoughts wade through his mind like an endless stream, flying by him before he can even comprehend what he’s thinking. He vaguely realizes that he’s thinking about his life after a couple moments. It feels as though he has his eyes closed for hours, days even. In reality, it’s only about two minutes.
He thinks about where he is, and how all the actions he’s taken have lead up to that moment. About Mob and Serizawa, and how they ended up at Spirits and Such too. He feels a smile creep onto his face, which then slowly forms into a laughing fit, as he remembers all the stupid things he’s done.
He opens his eyes and the animals on screen are still going at it, and his laughter now is almost too much to handle.
All one big joke, that’s what life is, he thinks. Not in the malicious sense- but in the sense that maybe it wasn’t supposed to be as serious as he thought.
Maybe he could just get high and relax to some discovery channel every now and again.
As the initial effects of the weed start to slow down, Reigen can feel the paranoia settle in, and so he makes sure all his doors are locked and the stove is off before he can have a full-blown freak out like he used to as a student back in the dorms.
When his brain goes back to normal after a couple more minutes, he picks up the end of his joint and has a couple more puffs, then goes to bed.
He has a good night’s rest that night.
The next day, Mob asks him why he smells funny.
He tells him that it’s the curse of some funky smelling ghost, and the kid seems to believe him.