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Reigen had taken the job because he thought it'd be a nice change of pace from the stifling confines of the office. The AC had broken down a few days prior, and his only weapons against the heat were a fan spinning idly to create the illusion of coolness, and an open window to catch a nonexistent breeze. Mob never complained, but Reigen could see the sweat coating his student's face, and the way his eyes unfocused more than usual when trying to do his math homework. So when the backpackers stopped by to ask for psychic protection on their hike up Pepper Hill, Reigen jumped at the chance to leave the office with Mob in tow.
The bus ride was mercifully cool— at least until it broke down a kilometer from the hiking grounds. It would take a mechanic another half hour to get there, and then who knew how long to fix the overheated engine, so Reigen decided they'd walk the rest of the way. It wasn't a bad walk— there was shade from the trees on the side of the road, and the wildflowers were beautiful this time of year. Nonetheless, their shirts were starting to stick to them by the time they reached Paprika River, a wide, rushing thing carving a path between Salt and Pepper Hills.
They stopped to rest in the shade of a large oak tree marking the beginning of the path up Pepper Hill, taking in the view of the river and Salt Hill on the other side of it, vibrant greens reaching up towards a clear blue sky. The rush of the water was soothing, complementing the chirps and tweets of birds calling out to each other in the trees above.
"Beautiful, isn't it, Mob?" Reigen said, pulling out his phone to snap a couple of pictures. Mob only nodded. Reigen checked the time, and then almost swore— crap, they were late!
"Well, sightseeing's over, let's go, Mob!"
Reigen grabbed Mob's arm and pulled him around, up the winding path that would eventually lead to the campsite, and their clients.
He had known it would be hot. He had expected it to be humid. What he hadn't prepared for were the bugs.
They assaulted his face, flying at his eyes, landing in his hair and clothes before taking off again. He had walked through more than one swarm of gnats, and he was certain he'd have mosquito bites on his neck later.
He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by how much the bugs liked him— his face and brow were coated with moisture, sweat dripping down his brow and into his eyes, down his face and flicking off his chin. His shirt was soaked, as were his pants, which were chafing his thighs with every step. He'd taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, but it only helped a little as he trekked uphill, his breathing harsh. Harsher still were Mob's breaths, though, as he stumbled to keep up with Reigen, tripping over roots and plants that had grown into the path. Not a well-maintained path, Reigen thought with a frown, before turning to inspect a tree trunk, keeping an eye on Mob in his periphery. It was an interesting tree trunk, he decided, with moss growing on the side facing the river, and with whorls and lumps that looked like a craggy yet smiling face. As Mob caught up, Reigen turned back to the path, keeping a slower pace so as not to lose his student. He had only taken a few steps before stumbling over a hardened root. Which wouldn't have posed much of a problem for anything but his image if his shoe weren't hanging half a meter above Mob's head instead of on his foot.
"Shishou, are you okay?" Mob asked as Reigen hopped on his other foot, clutching his toes.
"Yes Mob, I'm fine," Reigen hissed in pain, rubbing his big toe. The pain was receding, and he didnt think his toe was broken....
"I can give you back your shoe, if you want," Mob said, lowering the shoe within Reigens reach.
"No Mob, that's fine. This is for your practice, remember?" Reigen waved it away, gingerly putting his foot on the ground. His toe still ached, but he could walk on it. And he could use the pity of arriving with only one shoe on, and the intrigue of the other shoe floating behind him.
"Let's keep going."
Another fifteen minutes passed before Mob stopped walking. Reigen was surprised at the boy's stamina— in this heat and humidity, the walk was hard, even at their slowed pace, and Mob didn't have the best stamina for hiking most days. But they were only five minutes away from the campsite, and they were already an hour late. So when Mob called out to him, Reigen kept walking.
"Shishou—"
"Come on, Mob, we can't stop now! We're nearly there!"
"Shishou, there's—"
"And besides," Reigen added, slapping the side of his neck with a grimace, "The longer we stand still, the more mosquitos we'll have to deal with. Let's keep moving—"
"Shishou, look!"
Reigen turned to look at Mob, taken aback at the sharpness of his tone. But Mob wasn't looking at him. The boy was looking to the left, out past the trees and the river, to the hill on the other side. They had stopped in a clearing, and it was a gorgeous view from here. Sunlight glistened on the water below, water which was hedged by lush green forest giving way to beautiful patches of lighter green clearings peppering the hill across from them. The campsite on the other hill was visible from here, like a terrace cut into a part of the hillside, sandstone and dirt contrasting with the greens. He could hear laughter filtering over the river rushing by, could just hear the rustle of leaves as trees on the far hill moved with the wind—
Wait.
There was no wind.
Reigen took another look at where Mob was pointing, paying closer attention to detail. Trees were moving, yes, but only small clusters of them, and only near that campsite, or at the base of the hill. And there was something else, something off about the way the river sounded, or maybe it was the clustered rustling of leaves, or perhaps the wildlife—
The birds. They had stopped chirping.
A scream echoed across the river.
Reigen's blood ran cold, and he shivered despite the heat. They were on the wrong hill.
Shit, shit, shit.
Shouts and cries emanated from the campsite on the other hill, and Reigen could see the beginnings of chaos: some small figures running, some frozen in place and pointing at the sky, a tent crumpling as if stepped on by a giant foot.
Shit!
He couldn't swim or wade across the river— it was too wide, to deep, too fast for him to make it safely, let alone Mob. He scoured the river for a bridge, or a boat, or maybe a log— something to get them from one hill to the other. The main roads were too far away from the hills to consider; the pedestrian bridges were nearer, but even if they booked it, by the time they reached the other campsite they'd probably be too late. There had to be something closer, though, something that didn't involve Mob levitating them both across—
Aha! It was small, and he nearly missed it, but there was a boat on the bank of the river, bobbing in and out of view behind the trees. It was a little out of the way, and no doubt someone else was using it, but it was much closer by than the pedestrian bridges. It would have to do. Now he just needed to pick a route that optimized his time—
Another scream, louder this time, more shrill. Reigen looked up to see something— no, someone— floating above the campsite, about a hundred feet or so, dangling upside down by their foot and jerking as if to try and get away from something only they could see.
Fuck it, Reigen thought with a grimace, eyes wide, and took a step towards the river. He just needed to get down the hill— the forest posed a problem but as long as he was going downhill he'd make it to the river, and then he could follow it to the boat—
A blast of warm wind as unnatural as the trees rustling on the other hillside took him off guard, nearly sent him tumbling off the path. Reigen turned to see Mob, wind blowing his hair from his face, a look of deep concentration as he held the shoe aloft with one pointed finger, his other hand outstretched towards the campsite across the river. Leaves and grass and dirt whipped past his student, leaving the boy untouched but flying at Reigen's suit and face and hair; so he turned again and saw the detritus that didn't buffet him fly down the hill and across the river, picking up spray from the water and plant matter from the other hillside as it rose to the campsite. Reigen could only watch as people were bowled over, as screams were drowned out by the snapping of ropes and the flapping of tents as they came apart under the onslaught, wrenched from the ground to join the debris climbing with the wind. He couldn't look away as the wind and water and debris rose to take the form of something huge, something monstrous, something that ballooned and expanded as the wind rose and the screams grew more shrill and—
And suddenly, it was gone. Just a light breeze remained, connecting one hill to another. The debris and the floating person seemed to pause for a moment, suspended in the air.
And then they began to fall.
Reigen reached out. He nearly took a step. He froze. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't get there in time - who was he kidding, he was never going to get there in time! He had taken Mob to the wrong hill, and now they were going to watch someone die because of it. His throat tightened. His hand trembled. But he couldn't lower it, couldn't stop searching for a way to— maybe— but what if—
But they were falling.
And there was nothing he could do.
They were falling.
They were falling.
...
Why hadn't they hit the ground yet?
Shattered on impact?
For that matter, why hadn't the debris rained down on his clients yet, showering them with injuries, perhaps even more death?
They were falling.
But they were falling... more slowly?
Reigen's hand was outstretched, but it no longer trembled. He measured the distance between the falling person and his thumb, kept track of the debris between his fingertips. Their descent had slowed, Reigen confirmed, was slowing, and now they were— floating? Yes, floating to the ground. On it's own, Reigen's hand lowered with them, swaying by his side. He watched as the plant matter formed itself into a neat pile in the corner of the terrace; as the tents reformed themselves and tethered themselves to the ground; as the floating person gently landed on their feet, before collapsing to their knees. Reigen locked his own knees to keep from doing the same.
The warm breeze stopped. The silence was deafening.
Then the birds began to chirp again.
The campers on the far hill began to rise, to come back to the campsite, to huddle close and hug each other, to survey the scene where nothing but a pile of branches and leaves and dirt remained to show the ordeal they'd gone through.
Reigen wrenched his gaze away from them, turning to look at Mob.
Had Mob done this?
Mob's hand was down. He was sweating, but no more than he had been before. His other hand was still in the air, still pointing at the shoe hovering above his head. As far as Reigen could tell, the shoe hadn't moved an inch from where he'd last seen it.
Mob's gaze was directed at the sky above the hill, but it turned to Reigen as he continued to stare, flabbergasted at the psychic power within such a small body. A child. His student was a child.
A child who didn't need a fully grown adult gaping at him.
Reigen schooled his expression into one of disinterest, looking above Mob's head.
Mob turned his head to gaze up again at the sky.
"Do you still want me to carry your shoe?"
Reigen started, then looked up at the shoe, which Mob had moved to within Reigen's reach.
"... No, you can give it back."
Reigen grabbed his shoe from the air, then turned his back to his student as he put it back on. He had come here expecting a hike, not... whatever the hell that was. What was that thing? He wasn't able to see it, but he could see how huge it was when Mob had used his powers, could see its shape in the blast of wind and debris Mob had created in stopping it. He could still see that person falling from the air, could still hear their screams in his head. That had been too close. Far too close. And Mob, from this far away, had taken care of the problem without breaking (more of) a sweat. Reigen was glad Mob had taken the initiative, proud even— he himself had been useless, unable to do anything to help because he'd led them up the wrong hill, led them away from his clients—
Shit.
They were still on the wrong hill.
His clients had no clue that he had been there, that they had fulfilled their job as psychic protectors, if not psychic escorts.
Reigen couldn't, wouldn't, let that stand.
Reigen grabbed Mob's hand, wrenching his student's attention away from the sky.
"Come on Mob, we're on the wrong hill! We have to catch that boat!"
He dragged the boy off the path, into the forest. It was still the quickest way to the boat, which hadn't moved despite the wind and the screams on the other hill. If he was lucky, he could catch his clients before they left, tell them what they had done to melt the evil spirit before things could get too too hairy. If he could do that, maybe he wouldn't have to worry as much about this month's rent. Maybe he would get paid.
Reigen did not get paid.
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