Archive of Our Own ^beta

Fraud.

Fake.

Conman.

A lot of words, all meaning the same thing, thrown at him from every direction. It was getting old very fast, especially after his initial attempts to defend himself anonymously failed. He just got flamed from every direction, discrediting comments and insults aiming for the kill. New posts flashed before his eyes, five every second, and he ground his teeth together in frustration.

He’d been set up, humiliated, and now everyone was taking the piss out of him. Likening him to other people, real frauds who actually ripped off innocent people and gave them only temporary satisfaction with phony beads and rosaries and whatnot.

‘He totally ripped me off too...’

He never ripped anybody off. He always helped people, gave them their money’s worth.

‘He doesn’t really have powers but he claimed to remove the spirit haunting my shoulders anyways...’

There was no shoulder spirit. Just regular muscle pain. Pain he alleviated.

‘What other sketchy projects do you think he’s set up?..’

Reigen turned away from the screen, taking a deep inhale, before turning the computer off. He solved people’s issues, and the method didn’t matter. What mattered is that he helped people, left everyone who came to visit him satisfied, and no amount of people on the internet misspelling threats at him could change that.

Getting up from his desk chair, Reigen undressed before slipping on a comfy, loose set of clothes, climbing angrily into bed. He shoved the words floating around in his mind aside, and closed his tired eyes. Tomorrow’s problems were for tomorrow’s Reigen.

Tomorrow’s Reigen suffered pretty much the whole day, an entire eighteen hours. First he woke up only to see the morning news was spouting the same bullshit as before, despite there being no major updates in the story. What was the point of reporting it if nothing new happened? He watched various reporters discuss his lack of psychic ability with a cup of coffee in hand that grew steadily cold.

Reigen lounged around on his couch for maybe three hours, surfing channel after channel, until they all blurred together into one in his mind. They might all as well be the same. Blah blah, fraud, blah blah, harming innocent people, blah blah. He decided that being cooped up all day wouldn’t do anyone any good and left his apartment for some fresh air, walking to the corner store nearby.

An ancient auntie ran the counter, and hardly paid him any mind as he shuffled up and down the aisles, not really dressed properly for an outside expedition, but justified by the fact he was only maybe two blocks from home. He grabbed a little bit of whatever he felt like; shrimp chips, little cups of rice pudding. He deserved it.

A flash of light alerted him to the presence of a teenage boy right near the drinks, phone in hand and eyes wide. Reigen’s eyebrows raised as the boy’s face turned red, before he quickly darted out of the store without a word.

Young people. Whatever.

“Here you go, auntie,” he said as he paid, handing over the money he owed in exact change. She didn’t bother checking, always knew he paid in exact change whenever he came because she was blind as a bat, and instead said,

“I hope you’re taking care of yourself, Reigen-san.”

He gave a smile, forced. “As I always do.”

Reigen returned home with his junk food, having intended to maybe walk to the park, but after the incident in the store deciding to just stay inside.

He snacked all day, not really eating an actual meal. Took a nap that just made him feel even more exhausted. Got angry at a couple of teenagers online before the moment passed and he grew more apathetic. You really do get tired the more it happens. He can understand now how famous people can withstand so much hate.

Some time in the middle of the day, he remembered the teenage boy, and then thought of Mob, who he was generally trying not to think about. Mob, who, despite sometimes being unaware of things going on, definitely had to have heard of all this. Mob, whom he hadn’t spoken to in days, who had no reason to defend Reigen, who had no reason to think everything on the news wasn’t true.

He ground his teeth together, a brief bout of frustration overwhelming him, and he aimed his empty chip bag at the trash can. It landed perfectly inside, but he felt no satisfaction.

That night Reigen turned off the news after hearing only about the first five minutes, turning on his computer instead because he maybe hated himself. He clicked through hundreds of thousands of emails, deleting most after the first word. Why did he make his email public. Why.

(And forget even looking at his phone. It had been turned off for the past twenty-four hours.)

He saw an email from his mom that he skim-read, same-old same-old. Get it together, let’s have a family meeting, do better. Sent an hour ago.

The forums were ever constantly updating, being spammed with messages from trolls and people yelling nonsense things. He had no idea what they were on about now.

He clicked through some boredly, half-typed a reply to one that was complete bullshit before deleting it, and was about to turn in for the night when a word (a name) caught his attention, and suddenly his lethargy was being turned into adrenaline.

‘akari?! wowwwww.’

‘akari is such an ugly name lol.’

‘ugh my name is akari...i don’t want to be associated with that bastard...’

There was no way.

No way at all.

How?!

Frantically scrolling up, past pages and pages of messages that seemed to go on forever, he bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood, leg jittering so much it shook his desk. He scrolled right past what he was looking for, freezing at the post just above it with devastating suddenness.

Reigen didn’t want to look. He didn’t know exactly what he would see, and at the same time he did. A million things could happen and yet he did not know which one would be the worst. He could just turn his computer off, go to bed, and not think about anything for the next month. He could not acknowledge anything that happened tonight, and live his life as peacefully as he could.

But that would be the coward’s way out. He had to see. Just to make sure.

He scrolled down, taking in the god-awful picture the original poster chose to use, before reading the whole comment.

I went to dig up all of Reigen’s old school records, but strangely no school in his hometown has ever had a ‘Reigen Arataka’ enrolled. You know who they did have, though? ‘Reigen Akari’. The resemblance is a bit too much, don’t you think? So here’s some news about the infamous Reigen...He’s actually a girl?! Anyways, here’s the picture and some essay she wrote...look at that haircut lol.

Everyone took to this information with fervor, misgendering him post after post, reposting his middle school picture heavily edited for memes. Only two comments came in his defense-

‘Hey, Reigen-san isn’t a good person, but we should still respect that Reigen-san is a man’ and ‘you guys are gross, Reigen is a dude’, but those comments were immediately flamed, downvoted, and drowned out in hundreds of other messages.

‘She’s a fake in every way lolololol!!'

‘Ahhhhh women are always liars and cheaters you know TT TT’

‘Where’d her boobs go? I’ve never seen something like that.’

A little noise made him jump so hard his knees slammed into the underside of his desk, and a second later he realized he had a new email. Clicking away from the hellsite, he opened up the new message, realizing it was from his mother the moment he started reading it.

Ah, Arataka...Seems like everyone found out, huh..?

Reigen didn’t read the rest of it, shutting his computer off and stumbling his way towards his bed, stripping apathetically and searching for his pajamas. The rising panic in his chest battled with the strange sort of calmness that resided within his mind. Well, calmness was not the right word. Maybe a sort of defense mechanism was the right word; a defense mechanism that decided to shut off all his emotions at once so he didn’t have to feel anything.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, and didn’t like what he saw staring back at him. Soft cheeks, less defined features, distinctly feminine. He blinked and the image righted itself, and his true self stared back. The correct version of himself.

“I’m a man,” Reigen said aloud, and his reflection seemed to agree. He adjusted his shirt, faced his reflection completely, and was reminded of when he used to practice introducing himself with his new name in the mirror after eighteen years of introducing himself as Reigen Akari. He lifted his chin, stared himself in the eye and said with conviction, “My name is Arataka.”

That’s right.

“It’s Arataka. Reigen Arataka.”

Ara-ta-ka.

Something he’d chosen after two years of deliberation, going through name after name before settling on one that felt just right. That was his name, and no amount of repeating tonight, online or otherwise, could bring the dead name back to life.

He slid underneath his covers, chanting ‘Arataka’ in his head as he curled into a ball. His hand slid its way underneath his shirt and found the scars on his chest that would never completely heal, but at least didn’t look as obvious as they did four years ago. His legs (hairy) rubbed against one another, and his breathing was deep and slow.

Like that, he fell asleep.

Of course they reported it on the news the next morning. The moment the word ‘Akari’ left the newscaster’s lips he turned on Netflix instead and downed his scalding coffee, ignoring the burn.

He didn’t want to eat, but didn’t want to stay inside either, where he felt confined by the walls. So he put on a large black hoodie, one from his late teens before he could afford a binder, and hid his face with the hood, walking to the corner store nearby.

It was empty, but the auntie was still there. The only sign that she’d moved from that position since yesterday was the fact that her cotton sundress was pink today, not blue. Reigen walked up and down the aisles with disinterest, not really looking at his options. He passed by the drinks and caught sight of a row of boxed milk, and his mind instantly jumped to Mob.

Mob. What if Mob saw? What if Mob didn’t....what if....

Yeah. Like he cared what Mob thought.

He aggressively grabbed a random fruity tea he didn’t know the name of and brought it to the counter, just so he wouldn’t leave empty handed. He pulled out his wallet, and realized he did not have exact change. He decided not to mention it, and just gave the auntie 500 yen.

“Good morning, Reigen-san,” she said, opening the till anyways. He was about to protest when she moved to drop a hundred yen in his hand, but she continued, “Please take care of yourself today. Promise me that.”

“Yes, auntie,” Reigen said hollowly, taking his drink. He tried not to meet her milky eyes, and she gave him a gummy smile.

“Now that’s a good young man.”

Reigen spent two hours in the park, sipping from his tea even if it didn’t taste that good, even got to pet a dog because the owner didn’t recognize him with his hood up. He wandered around, and thankfully wasn’t noticed by anybody. The air outside was crisp, fresh, and he felt at peace for the first time in a while.

Maybe he could get something a little more productive done tomorrow, like deleting those piling emails and changing his phone number. A little something to get his life back on track.

Yes. He would show everyone that he was continuing his work no matter what happened; that he wouldn’t back down because of the way they twisted his words and image. Handling this professionally was the best course of action.

He started off by entering the bar he frequented, and gathered an audience of the people he could consider acquaintances. They’d understand. Hopefully help him after all he’s helped them; a fact he needed them to convince the media of.

“...and that’s why I need you,” he finished his speech, turning his charisma up to eleven for extra measure. Yes. This was good! Thank god he got some air today and was able to clear his head! If they could come to his aid, tell the reporters all he did for everyone, his muddled image would start to clear, and he could recover.

His positive thoughts immediately shriveled and died when exposed to the negative energy in the air; all of the bar’s patrons stared at him with disbelief, disgust, anger.

Even the bartender, who had called him an endearing ‘Arataka-chan’ all the way up until now, looked at him coldly.

“Please leave. The news has already revealed who you are, and you can’t trick us again now that we know.”

‘Who you are...’

The vague wording pissed him off.

Just say what you mean. Do you mean a fraud or do you mean a trans man?

“Don’t just go with the flow,” Reigen argued, but already knew it was a lost cause. “Don’t succumb to herd mentality.”

Not a single show of support came his way. He sighed, and left. Maybe he was a bit too naive, a bit too hopeful, to think that they’d understand or help him. He should have anticipated that sort of reaction.

Approaching his apartment complex, he was irritated to find that there was  a herd of reporters and camera men flooding the area, clearly hoping to get an interview with him. How tiresome.

He tried to slip away, but someone noticed him, and he froze as he heard their words.

“There she is! Reigen Akari!”

It seemed as if they all operated under one hivemind; they all turned to him immediately, eyes flashing, mics glinting dangerously like knives. Cameras trained on him with the eye of a predator, and he spun on his heel, walking away as quickly as he could as shouts chased after him.

“Your victims want you arrested! What do you have to say about that?”

“Why are you pretending to be a man? Is that a part of your scheme?”

“Reigen Arataka, the world wants to know what you have to say!”

“Won’t you say anything?”

“You have to have something to say!”

Fuck, he thought to himself, picking up his pace, and only stopped when two familiar words were tossed in his direction.

“Press conference?”

He turned to look at the source, meeting eyes with the reporter who said it, who was also the only person who said his correct name. The reporter returned his stare, his mic outstretched,  hoping to get Reigen to say something. Anything.

He did.

That night, lying awake, Reigen thought of everything he did to prepare for his future.

Taking self defense lessons that ended up coming in handy during the strangest situations. Awkward and long conversations with old-fashioned and unsupportive family members. Appointments with a gender therapist two hours away from home in an area where nobody knew him, an area he eventually moved to. He thought of all these things, and realized that none of that could have ever prepared him for this.

It was during the press conference itself that he finally broke down.

Well, broke down is a strong word. The calm in his brain meshed with the panic in his chest, and out churned complete apathy. A mix of his dead name and his real name was shouted at him, a mix of questions regarding his gender identity and his supposed fraudulent acts. He answered only the ones about his psychic ability (or lack thereof). The rest was his own personal business.

If only everyone else could understand that.

Someone asked him why he became a spirit consultant, and all he could think of was Mob. Mob, who was probably at home, probably watching his (ex)master get torn to bits by the hungry media.

Mob, who was probably thinking of their first ever meeting with a new perspective, a new reason behind Reigen’s words.

Mob, who’s opinion mattered to him.

Mob mattered.

Mob, whom he’d said something terrible to.

Mob, who’d been through so much.

Why did he say those things? Those hurtful, untrue things? Because he was scared? Because he was using Mob for his own gain? Because he admired Mob? There were so many reasons, so many possibilities, and yet he could not say one of them out loud. The media was gathered in front of him, an angry mass of cameras and microphones, pens and harsh stares.

He glanced up at the nearest camera, and thought of Mob on the other side of the lens, watching quietly.

Maybe Mob was watching with friends.

“You’ve grown so much,” Reigen said genuinely, letting warmth seep into his voice, and the whole crowd stood in silent confusion before erupting into shouts. He did not pay attention to any of them, and only thought of Mob.

Mob, the one person he wouldn’t be able to blame for walking out of this whole situation hating him.

The sun washed the sky in pretty pinks and oranges, birds dotting it here and there. There was a gentle wind, and with it came a general sense of calmness. The sounds of bugs filled the air; bugs he could not currently remember the name of, and did not bother remembering, because they were not his focus right now. His focus was the black haired boy beside him, who barely came up to his shoulder, facing the other direction.

He didn’t know what to say. If there was anything to be said. What went on inside that building had been Mob. It had to have been him, but why? Why would he do something like that for him?

He must have asked this question out loud, or maybe Mob had suddenly acquired telepathic abilities, because he looked back at Reigen fleetingly, before letting out the quietest of sighs.

“No reason.”

That was a fair answer, and at the same time not fair at all. Reigen shoved his hands in his pockets, clammy and cold, staring out into the distance. He thought of everything that had been said about him in this past week, all the things he’d had to see, the words he hated and the feelings they gave him. He took a deep breath, and said what was on his mind.

“You’ve heard, haven’t you?” Mob was silent, but he went on. He needed to know, for closure reasons. If this was the end of them, the end of Reigen Arataka, greatest psychic of the twenty-first century and his disciple Mob, he needed to know.

“You’ve seen it on the news? My true identity?”

That’s not me. It’s not true, it’s not my ‘real’ identity. That never was the real me. It never will be.

He worded it that way anyways, and kept talking, kept running his mouth because that’s what he did best.

“They’ve all talked about me, called me names...You must have seen, right?”

Finally, Mob granted him mercy, ended his rambling by saying,

“I knew all that. I knew everything from the beginning.”

Ice crept up Reigen’s veins, and his breath hitched. The world titled dangerously on its axis, but there was a more pressing matter at hand: How could Mob, notorious for his inability to read the atmosphere, know? How could he know that Reigen was...that he...

“Shishou’s true identity,” and here he could hear the smile in Mob’s voice, and that in itself forced calmness upon him, “is that he’s a good person.”

There was a sting in his eyes, and Reigen swallowed heavily. Dimple muttered something about leaving before the media found them, and Reigen glanced towards the both of them fully for the first time. Mob met his eyes, kept his gaze with the smallest of smiles, and all Reigen could think was how much you’ve grown.

“What do you say we go get some ramen?” Reigen asked, and Mob fell in step beside him.