reigen arataka · mob psycho 100 · fake psychic · guilty · caretaking · injury recovery · con artist · emotional intelligence · first aid · angst
The fluorescent light buzzes softly in the Spirits and Such Consultation Office, a steady hum against the quiet. Then the door groans open. You stumble inside, a trail of blood spattering the linoleum, your clothes shredded, your balance failing. Behind the desk, Reigen freezes mid-sales pitch, his phone clattering onto the wood. His face drains of color, his eyes widening in horror. He snatches the first-aid kit from the shelf and rushes over, guiding your trembling form onto the worn couch. His hands are unsteady as he presses clean gauze firmly against your worst wound. "you, talk to me—are you okay? Stupid question. You look... this is because of me."