Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thinking back, it all only happened because Serizawa’s civics teacher left her dinner at home one night.

The teacher was a few minutes into the night's lecture on the impact of foreign nations on the economy when her son knocked at the door with a furoshiki-wrapped bento in hand. She was embarrassed, some of Serizawa’s classmates were teasing her, her son was really eating it up… it was a sweet moment. The sort of thing that made Serizawa glad he’d decided to go for his high school equivalency through courses rather than cram school.

Then the teacher’s son bowed, gave them all his best wishes, and cast his eyes across the room as he made his way to leave.

BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP.

A handful of students gasped, but most of the room went silent as the teacher’s son and a student in her twenties seated near the back of the room startled and checked their wrists. Even Serizawa found himself craning his neck, trying to get a closer look. An excited energy filled the room as the pair gave each other a curious second look.

“Really now,” Serizawa’s teacher tsked, glancing over her son’s shoulder. “I’m never going to get the class to stay on task after that.” She waved a hand dismissively at the lot of them. “Oh, go on, there’s no point in me trying to restore order. We can afford to lose one class to a bit of celebrating.

“Besides,” she added as people started to cheer, get up, and start gossiping in earnest, “it’s not every day my son meets the love of his life.” Pinching her son’s blushing cheek, she pushed him towards the girl in question and sat down to crack open her bento.

The class broadly split into three groups, after the initial uproar: those who had met their match, those who hadn’t yet, and those who didn’t have a TiMER. The ones who had were comparing meet-cutes—though to Serizawa’s inexpert ear, they all sounded basically the same: I was in a place, so were they, our eyes met, BI-BI-BEEP. The ones who hadn’t yet sat with their wrists shown off, comparing countdown times or bemoaning their foolish soulmate who, for whatever reason, had yet to get a TiMER installed. The last group, the smallest by far, primarily consisted of people who had already been married when TiMERs came on the market, fifteen years or so ago. Serizawa didn’t meet that criteria exactly, but he’d certainly been… unavailable, at the time. A couple other classmates—divorcées, ex-cons, the boy everyone assumed had been raised in a doomsday cult—were in the same boat, and the mood of the room had them talking about why.

“At this point in my life it would show a lack of faith in my husband,” said one housewife, to nods and murmurs from several others. “I made a promise to him, and getting a TiMER would tell him I value the possibility of love over that commitment.”

“Besides,” said another, “what if you both got one and immediately matched with each other? What a waste of time!”

“And money! Even with the government offering that big tax credit if you marry and have a child with your match, a TiMER is pretty pricey.”

“That’s why I haven’t gotten one,” one of the younger students in their class—Ishii, who’d been orphaned at a young age and left school to fend for herself at fifteen—confessed. “I just can’t afford it, especially not if I have to wait years to find my match and get that tax credit.” The doomsday cult boy, Inoue, nodded knowingly. The housewives made a lot of consoling sounds.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what TiMERs mean for the young people,” said Hayashi, a man in his mid-fifties, as he contemplated his bare wrist. “Thanks to the government’s eagerness to encourage the population to be fruitful, and the discrimination lawsuits from people who’d gotten a TiMER in good faith but couldn’t get any of the benefits they’d been promised, we have same-sex marriage in this country, however limited.” He fidgeted with a gleaming gold ring. “But I was already in my Kenji’s koseki by then, and we didn’t want children. So there's no financial incentive, no legal benefit, and if a TiMER tried to tell me anyone but Kenji was the love of my life, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“I’m… nearly the opposite, I suppose,” whispered Nakamura, a divorced woman in her late thirties, who was probably the classmate Serizawa admired most. She’d left her husband under difficult circumstances with virtually no means of supporting herself, as she’d married quite young in lieu of completing her compulsory education. Now she had plans for a business of her own, once she completed the necessary school equivalencies and got the appropriate licenses. “I’m afraid a TiMER will tell me I should still be with my ex-husband.” This earned her cries of disbelief all around. “I know it’s foolish, surely a person’s soulmate wouldn’t treat them the way that man treated me, but… the way he made me feel when I was young… I still worry.”

Serizawa made a sympathetic sound, flushing a little when he realized he’d drawn the attention of the group to himself. “Ah… I suppose I haven’t given it much thought,” he said, feeling a bit foolish. Would it be pathetic to admit he didn’t see the point? That he’d never even had so much as a crush before, and probably wouldn't know what love felt like without someone telling him? “With everything else I needed to do to reintegrate into society, love just… hasn’t been a priority.” A few of the ex-cons nodded, understanding.

“If you don’t make love a priority, it won’t be one,” Hayashi said knowingly.

“There are other things worth prioritizing,” Nakamura said, though her smile was a little sad at the edges.

“Yeah, but…” Ishii sighed, resting her chin in her hand and staring off into the distance. “It would be kinda nice, wouldn’t it? To know there’s someone out there, waiting for you?”

“Or think of it from their point of view,” Inoue added, looking fretful. “If your soulmate went the normal route, and got a TiMER when they turned 20, it’s been blank all this time. They’ve been waiting for you. Isn’t it cruel to keep them waiting any longer?”

That got the lot of them thinking, Serizawa included. It was one thing to say well, I don’t know if this is important to me. It was another to say to whoever it was out there, who had cared enough to spend real money on the possibility of love, you aren’t important to me. That did seem a bit cruel.

“Mm,” Hayashi nodded to himself. “That’s how they get you. The poor, lonesome, blank-faced masses, waiting for you to fork over your hard-earned cash so you can save one of them from their cruel fate.” Inoue crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at him, and he cackled. “Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life, boy! In fact, here,” and at this, Hayashi dug out his wallet and pulled out a couple large bills. “Inoue, Ishii—you young people should have the opportunity to live as you please.” The housewives joined in, and soon enough cash had been pooled to pay for both young people to get a TiMER. In the face of such encouragement they had to agree, and soon Ishii was looking up the closest TiMER store open this late into the evening, while Inoue begged others to join them.

“If it’s just the two of us, they’ll think we’re dating and hoping for one of those thirty-second matches,” he said with wide-eyed horror. “I couldn’t bear the pressure! Please,” he turned on Nakamura, “don’t you want the satisfaction of knowing your shitty ex never deserved you?” Glancing between Serizawa and two of the ex-cons who’d agreed with his priorities, Inoue said, “Even if you don’t want to seek them out just yet, don’t you think your soulmate has the right to know that you exist?”

Serizawa swallowed around a lump in his throat. He thought, suddenly, of Reigen, who didn’t date, who didn’t talk about exes… who was, in an understated way, quite lonely. Serizawa had never looked close enough at his wrist on the rare occasion it was bare to notice whether his TiMER was blank or counting down, but he suddenly felt certain that Reigen was one of those blank-faced masses, waiting for someone, somewhere, to think, I want to meet you. I want to love you someday.

“Alright,” Ishii said, “I’ve found one that’s ten minutes from here and is open until nine. How many shall I say are coming?” Inoue, Nakamura, and the two ex-cons raised their hands. After a moment, so did Serizawa.

Why not? It was like Inoue had said—it wouldn’t happen right away. He would have time to get used to the idea.

“And…” With a tiny pneumatic hiss, the TiMER clicked into place. Ishii yelped—it seemed she hadn’t been expecting it to hurt. “…there you are!” The TiMER installation tech glanced at the face of Ishii’s TiMER, did a bit of mental math she must be well practiced in, and said, “That’s about six months. Congratulations!”

Ishii stared down at her wrist, smiling a little in disbelief. “Six months… I’ll have just finished my last exams…”

“A wonderful time for romance to bloom,” the tech said encouragingly.

In the next seat over, Nakamura was getting similar advice.

Inoue had, in a frustrating turn of events, ended up with a blank TiMER. His tech had done her best to keep him from feeling discouraged—since you could only qualify for the tax credit once you hit 20, not many people younger than that got a TiMER, so if his soulmate was even just a year younger than him… in other words, it was normal at his age. Inoue wasn’t thrilled to join the blank-faced masses, but he didn’t seemed resigned to stay among their number for long.

Sasaki, one of the ex-cons, had turned out to have a pretty lengthy countdown—nearly ten years. He didn’t seem to know how to feel about it. On one hand, he could continue to prioritize other things, as he had been doing, without fear of missing out on true love in the meantime. On the other… ten years was a long time. Things could happen unexpectedly on that kind of scale that the TiMERs couldn’t predict. He might not even meet his match, in the end.

And now there was just Kinoshita, the other ex-con, and Serizawa to go. They sat down in two adjoining installation chairs, their classmates gathered around them, and waited. Serizawa did his best to relax as an alcohol wipe was rubbed across his wrist, but the sharp, cold sensation left him twitchy. He was okay with pain, he told himself. He could handle pain. A moment’s pain for a lifetime’s—well, an unknown amount of time’s anxiety, and then a lifetime’s joy. In theory. He closed his eyes. He breathed in for a count of four, held it for a count of seven, and before he could even start the count of eight it was done. He’d barely even felt it.

Kinoshita laughed. “Don’t need you to convert that number for me,” he told his tech. “That’s a week!”

“A week!” cried their classmates.

“And for you, sir,” said the tech who’d worked on Serizawa, “that will be… oh!”

Serizawa cracked open one eye. The rectangle on his wrist read: 0000D 12H 37M 42S. 41S. 40S. 39S…

“It’s not very often we see less than a day on the countdown at installation,” she said, smiling at him. “Congratulations!”

“Less than a day?” Nakamura bent over Serizawa’s shoulder to get a look. “Oh my, Serizawa-san! Twelve hours! That’s…”

“A little after nine o’clock,” Serizawa croaked out. “I’m going to meet the love of my life at work tomorrow.

Looks were exchanged above his head. Serizawa couldn't see them, staring fixedly at the countdown on his wrist as he was, but from the silence he could tell they were happening.

“Ah… an office romance, perhaps?” the tech suggested, sensing the change in atmosphere but likely required by her job to provide this kind of encouraging commentary.

Above them, a light bulb burnt out.

“Mm, Serizawa-kun’s job is kinda small, right? A lot of part-time student employees?”

Distantly, Serizawa was aware of his head nodding and saying, “Full-time is just me, and…”

Another light bulb fizzled out.

“Then… if Serizawa-san is in a customer-facing position, maybe a client?”

“Or, you know, if it’s gonna happen so early, maybe there’ll be a train delay! Some commuter sitting across from you, waiting for the train to get moving—”

“There are all kinds of possibilities!”

“You’re right,” Serizawa said, slowly getting to his feet. “It could be anybody.” Anybody at all. That was… definitely possible.

As they left the store, a hand dropped on Serizawa’s shoulder. He flinched.

It was Inoue. “Sorry,” he said with an awkward expression. “I really did think you’d have time to get used to it, before…”

“It’s alright, Inoue-kun,” Serizawa said. “You couldn’t have known.” Though Serizawa probably could have, if he’d just thought for a minute before—ha! what was he thinking? It could be anybody! There were all kinds of possibilities! He wouldn’t know for sure until it actually happened, in… twelve hours, twenty-six minutes, and—

Overhead, a street lamp blew out with an impressive scattering of sparks.

“Gosh, Serizawa-san, are you cursed or something?” Ishii joked. “Light bulbs around you keep breaking!”

Sasaki, who’d been in middle school equivalency classes with Serizawa early on, when he’d still been quite nervous about school, made an X with his arms behind Serizawa’s back.

“If I am cursed, I’d better get to work bright and early. Curse-breaking is one of our specialties,” Serizawa said, voice entirely affectless.

He walked to the train station in a daze, not taking in the conversations happening around him or the well-wishes as they parted ways, and nearly missed both his train and his stop. The walk home was harder. He kept thinking—and then stopping and rethinking, because his first thought was ridiculous, but other thoughts all took him to the same place. It was like his mind was a rat in a maze, searching and searching for a way out, any way out, just not that one. But there was only one way out, only one thought in the end.

And that thought was this:

Reigen, at the office late, mocking up a new poster design or reading up on massage technique, occupying himself with work to keep from feeling as alone as nights like these make him feel, when suddenly with a piercing BIP, his TiMER fully activates. A twelve-hour countdown.

What expression does he make?

Does he say anything?

Does he have any suspicions?

Does he have any hopes?

Chapter Text

With thoughts of Reigen continuing to circle in his head, Serizawa didn’t get much sleep that night.

He tried. Every home remedy his mother ever offered to her fearful little boy, every sleep aid and EZ-Sleep product he bought when he was starting his life over and panicked over minor crises on a nightly basis, they all got pulled out of storage and considered.

But no sketchy spiritual herbal tea, warm milk with honey, or melatonin chewable could put a dent in Serizawa’s all-nighter energy. Belly full and warm, eyes aching with the weight of sleep deferred, he found himself lying in bed at half-past eleven, staring at his arm.

Serizawa hadn’t turned on the light-sensitive mode, so he couldn’t actually see the numbers going down in the dark, but he knew it was happening. Time was running out until it happened, and that knowledge ate at him. He knew there wasn’t a physical gear inside the TiMER ticking over every second, that the buzz thrumming through his body wasn’t from the TiMER.

No, he knew that was just him.

Was it excitement? Fear? A third feeling he wouldn’t—couldn’t—name?

Serizawa had never been very good at telling his emotions apart. Excitement, fear, both of those made him sweat, made his heart race, made him stumble over his words. So did food poisoning.

Maybe he was just sick.

Maybe he’d stay home sick from work tomorrow—today, Serizawa corrected, glancing at his bedside clock—and maybe after rush hour passed he’d stumble over to a convenience store in search of something to soothe his stomach, and maybe he’d reach for a bottle of antacids at the same time as someone else, and their eyes would meet and… that would be that.

Yeah, right.

Serizawa sighed. He watched the red liquid crystals blink in and out of existence as the night moved on to a new hour, and another, and another. One hand resting on the other’s wrist, he tried not to picture numbers shifting under his fingertips.

He traced the number six across his wrist. Halfway there, he thought, failing at his task.

It had been a while since he’d been awake this time of night. In the old days, in his room with the blackout curtains and closed door, time hadn’t mattered too much. His mother had left food outside his door sometimes, but what did it matter when he ate it? He’d seen three in the morning as often as three in the afternoon, back then.

These days, the sight of three A.M. meant Serizawa had been studying, or gaming, and lost track of time. Either way, he always ended up oversleeping and feeling miserable the next day.

Maybe one of those insomnia cures would kick in, eventually, and Serizawa would oversleep.

Yeah, maybe he’d oversleep, and in his rush to get to the office on time he’d be hit by a car, and maybe one of the paramedics called to the scene would demand he look them in the eye so they could check him for a concussion, and Serizawa would obey and… that would be that.

Yeah.

Sure.

Half past four, now.

His eyes didn’t want to stay open. He was the kind of tired where his eyes actually hurt, like the muscles in his eyelids were straining to hold back the weight of sleep. There were two ways to beat this exhaustion, in Serizawa’s experience: go to sleep—and goodness knows he’d been trying—or mainline some caffeine. An energy drink, maybe coffee.

Maybe that’s what he’d do. Maybe he’d give up on sleep altogether and head in early, take advantage of the smaller crowds at this hour to stop by the café he’d always admired but never had the time to visit. Maybe he’d linger by the counter to read the descriptions of all the specials, written on mirrors in beautiful strokes of bright chalk paint, and someone would snap at him to pick already! and he’d glance up and their eyes would meet in the reflection and… that would be that.

Yeah… no.

No, Serizawa had a feeling it wouldn’t go like that.

Because if he called out sick, his boss would take it upon himself to bring Serizawa a new flavor of sketchy spiritual tea that promised to cure what ails you—not that I’m testing product for clients out on you, Serizawa! but if you did happen to try it and thought it might actually work… and even if Serizawa stayed in bed, tried to ignore him, Serizawa knew who would win in that particular battle of wills. He’d lean on the buzzer until Serizawa gave in and opened his door, and their eyes would meet, and—

And as if, in getting hit by a car, the car wouldn’t be the one taking the most damage! As if Serizawa wouldn’t avoid the ambulance and limp his way into work to find his boss frantic because Serizawa was late and hadn’t answered his texts—because whoops, turns out Serizawa’s phone was the real loser in the battle of Serizawa versus a silver 2009 Toyota Prius—and he’d demand Serizawa look him in the eye so he could check for a concussion, I’ve had plenty, I know what to look for, Serizawa, and Serizawa would obey, and…

And even if he headed into town early he wasn’t going to beat his boss in, who routinely slept poorly and didn’t care much for his apartment, who’d been the one to talk up this café to Serizawa in the first place because he frequented it on these tired early mornings, who would recognize him standing at the counter and pop up behind him to recommend something I know you’ll love, Serizawa—and Serizawa would glance up and their eyes would meet in the reflection, and…

One way or another… that would be that.

The inevitability loomed large in Serizawa’s mind as the night crawled by, the slate gray of predawn slowly blooming into a pink-orange sunrise that he watched turn to the true blue of morning as his TiMER wound down, numbers visible again in the light of day. He drifted off, twenty or thirty minutes at a time, exhaustion finally overpowering stress, until there was a little over an hour left on the countdown.

He considered staying home, skipping work. Did he really want to tempt fate?

No. This evening’s fretting aside, Serizawa liked his job. He loved his job. He wanted to be there.

Serizawa rolled over, staring blankly at his bedroom ceiling. He let his arm go limp across his forehead, pressing the cool glass surface of the TiMER against his skin, the last remnants of the brisk night air cutting through the fog of anxiety.

He wanted to be there.

Whatever happened, whatever changed, for better or for worse—or maybe, somehow, remained perfectly the same—after today, he still wanted to be there.

With Reigen.

Always.

Serizawa blinked. He dragged his hand down his face, pressing fingers blindly against the heat in his cheeks.

He laughed, a short huff of disbelief. He probably should have realized this sooner, huh?

With a grunt of effort, he rolled out of bed and started making himself presentable. If he was wrong, he only had one chance to make a good first impression on his match. And if he was right… well. No reason not to look nice, today of all days.

Chapter Text

Neither rushing nor dawdling, arriving neither particularly early nor especially late, Serizawa found himself approaching the entryway to Spirits and Such just as his TiMER hit the one minute mark. He could hear voices inside: one too faint to recognize, and Reigen’s.

Serizawa took a deep, calming breath. It was one thing to have acknowledged and accepted his own feelings, assuming he was right about his match. But there was another person to consider here, and Serizawa had no idea what Reigen’s reaction would be on a personal level, let alone a professional one. What if Serizawa got fired over this? What if he got promoted?

All too aware of the single number ticking down on his wrist, he pushed open the door and walked inside.

Two sets of eyes snapped to Serizawa immediately: Tome’s (oh dear) and Dimple’s (oh boy).

Reigen was seated facing the window, one leg crossed boldly over the other. He was holding an acrylic wine glass in his dominant hand, swirling it gently.

Red tea, Serizawa thought, didn’t make for a very convincing wine substitute, though it swirled obediently enough.

“Oh, hello,” Reigen said, voice sultry. “I didn’t see you there.” He glanced between the reflection of Serizawa’s silhouette in the window and his own wrist, countdown conveniently on display the way he’d positioned himself. “Please, allow me to welcome you to my place of business, Spirits and—”

“Uh… hey, Serizawa.”

Serizawa cleared his throat. “Good morning, Kurata-san.”

“Tome, don’t inter—wait, it’s Serizawa?” Reigen dropped his fancy tone and posture, dumbfounded. Then, spinning around in his chair at dangerous speeds, he yelled, “It’s Serizawa?!” One of the armrests bumped up against the side of Reigen’s desk and the chair came to an abrupt stop, sending Reigen flying, slamming into the side of a cabinet and collapsing to the floor. Tea went everywhere, the majority of it soaking into one of Reigen’s shirtsleeves.

As if as an afterthought, Reigen’s chair slowly fell over, landing on top of him. He groaned in weak protest.

“Reigen-san!” Serizawa abandoned his bag and his fears without a second thought, running over to Reigen’s desk. He rolled the chair off of Reigen, hovering anxiously as he sat up, watching for any sign of serious injury. “Are you al—”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, grimacing with pain, Reigen glanced up at Serizawa.

BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP.

Somewhere behind Serizawa, something delicate-sounding shattered. Reigen startled and recoiled, wide-eyed, slamming into the cabinet again, and bounced away from that impact with enough force to land him face-first in the side of his desk.

Something bony crunched.

Their TiMERs stopped chiming, and the world was silent for one long, weighty moment.

“…right?” Serizawa coughed. Really? Was Reigen alright? What a question. “I—uh—I’ll just go… get the first aid kit, then.”

There was a stifled sound from someone not Reigen; Serizawa ignored it.

Face still buried in the side of his desk, Reigen lifted a hand and gave Serizawa a shaky thumbs-up. His hand spasmed for a moment, then he showed Serizawa the flat of his palm, jerked a thumb towards himself, and finally offered a firmer, more confident thumbs-up. Somewhat confused, Serizawa went to stand, and found a hand tight on his arm. Reigen carefully peeled his (bloodied, oh dear) face off the desk, using his grip on Serizawa as leverage.

“I’ll come with you,” Reigen said, staring past Serizawa’s ear.

Fair enough.

Serizawa nodded, taking a minute to get the two of them to their feet and over to the supply closet. He set a broom and dustpan to cleaning up the tea set he’d broken—ceramics were usually a pretty easy fix, provided you hadn’t lost too many of the pieces—while he pulled down the office’s oversized first aid kit from the high shelf where it lived. Not that dangerous chemicals being up high kept children out of harm’s way in this particular workplace, but standards were what they were.

Reigen gave the first aid kit an unreadable look. Pinching gingerly just below the bridge of his nose, he walked off. When he reached the doorway to the exorcism room, he spun around, pointing at Dimple and Tome in turn.

“Not. A word.”

Reigen walked inside; Serizawa followed.

When the door closed behind him, it didn't block out Tome's shriek of “HOLY SHIT, DIMPLE-CHAN!” or the thirty continuous seconds of laughter from Dimple himself.

Serizawa knew he must be quite red. Reigen certainly was, and he flustered far less easily than Serizawa.

Best not to embarrass either of them further by drawing attention to it.

Serizawa averted his eyes, busying himself with pulling a few likely things out of the first aid kit: a single-use cold pack, alcohol wipes, gauze, medical tape… most of which would require Serizawa to stare at Reigen’s face very carefully to use without causing further harm.

Wonderful.

Really, they should have gone to the restroom; it was equally private, if smaller, and had a mirror and sink that would allow Reigen to take care of himself. But it was Reigen’s idea to come in here. He must have had his reasons.

Serizawa took one last thing out of the first aid kit, a blister pack of aspirin, and, pulling on every ounce of professionalism he’d been taught by the man next to him, casually offered it to Reigen. Reigen dry swallowed the pills with a grimace, hopping up on the exorcism table to put himself at a more convenient height for Serizawa to work on. Serizawa peeled open one of the alcohol wipes, nose wrinkling at the sharp scent, and began to dab at Reigen’s cheek, where the blood had started to congeal.

After a few minutes, Reigen let go of the bridge of his nose to dab at his nostrils cautiously. He inspected his fingertips, and finding them sufficiently unbloodied, sighed. Voice nasal, he said, “It’s just—so unfair!”

Serizawa froze mid-dab. “W-what is?”

“The whole point—well, no. The whole appeal of this thing, for me,” Reigen griped, gesturing at his wrist as meaningfully as he could with his off hand full of foil scraps, “was that I would know I was going to meet… you know… before it happened! I could plan out precisely how to look, what to say and do, make the perfect first impression!”

Oh. Reigen was wearing his nicer suit today, Serizawa realized with a shiver of something he couldn’t name. And Serizawa had dressed with a similar thought in mind—if not Reigen’s precise angle. (He hadn’t brought any fake wine to work, for one thing.) But yes, with what he knew of Reigen’s beliefs when it came to romance, this made sense.

Taking Reigen’s chin in one hand to angle his head just so and scrubbing at the last traces of blood on Reigen’s upper lip with the other, Serizawa said, “Put up the perfect front, you mean.”

A confused sound vibrated through Serizawa's fingertips.

“You already told me, remember? That you think your honest self would be rejected.”

A muffled ah of comprehension. Reigen must have forgotten that conversation, in the intervening months. To be fair, more important things had happened that day.

“So when you say this is ‘unfair’… you mean it’s unfair that I already know you, and you can’t manipulate my first impression of you?”

A hesitant sound of agreement. Reigen pulled away a little, uncomfortable in Serizawa’s clutches.

Serizawa looked Reigen over. Blood-free and nothing permanently damaged, though his nose was still inflamed, and certainly going to bruise something nasty. The cold pack should help with that. With a sigh, he let go of Reigen’s chin and offered him the cold pack, saying, “Lucky for you I’ve always been impressed by you, then.”

Reigen did not take the cold pack. He stared up at Serizawa. “Always?”

Serizawa blinked, realized how that sounded, and went hot to the tips of his ears. ”N-not like, love at first sight always! Or, er, not knowingly.”

Reigen continued to stare. “What.”

“I—well, maybe you don’t remember, but you asked me once if I’d ever had a crush?” It was the same day he’d learned Reigen thought his true self would always be rejected, actually… proof that neither of them could offer any useful real world advice to Shigeo, who was preparing to confess to his childhood friend. “And I said—”

“‘No, never,’” Reigen quoted instantly.

Serizawa lost his words for a moment. “You do remember?”

“Ah… yes. Vividly.” Reigen grabbed the cold pack, breaking the inner bag with a quick squeeze and settling it against the reddened bridge of his nose. “What I actually asked was if you’d ever had a crush on a girl,” he said, sounding sheepish.

It took Serizawa a moment to realize why Reigen sounded sheepish.

“I might have gotten a little obsessed with the implications of that no for a while there.”

“Huh.” Serizawa had never noticed. “Sorry, no implications intended; I’d never had a crush on anyone. I didn’t have any frame of reference for what being in love would feel like. I assumed I would know when it happened, and that it just… hadn’t happened yet. Then last night, when my TiMER was installed and I learned it would zero out when I got to work today, part of me panicked.” Remembering all the light bulbs he’d broken, Serizawa chuckled. “A big part of me panicked. But another part of me thought, oh, so that’s what this feeling is.”

At this, Reigen made a strange sound, like waterfowl squawking in alarm when a jumbo jet lands in the water fifty meters away.

Cheeks warm, Serizawa ducked his head, folding the alcohol wipe along its original creases to give his hands something to do. Tossing it away, he said, “Anyway. With that it became pretty obvious that I’d felt this way for a while.”

The cold pack slipped out of Reigen’s hand; before it could hit the floor Serizawa grabbed it telekinetically and offered it up to Reigen. It took Reigen a long moment to press it back against his nose. At last, he said, “Lucky for you that cluelessness has always been part of your charm, then.”

Serizawa stared. Reigen was blushing bright red, averting his eyes and smiling, a soft, fond thing Serizawa had never seen the like of before.

“Has it?” Serizawa smiled foolishly down at his hands, a wonderful, warm feeling flooding his chest. “Then I guess we’re both very lucky.”

Chapter Text

The next Tuesday found Serizawa back in his civics class like usual. It seemed that, whatever went on in your life or in the wider world, school continued. Though he didn’t usually get this many people waving at him or trying to draw his attention at the start of class. Smiling sheepishly, he waved back, mouthed after class to the persistently curious Inoue, and pulled out his notebook.

“Now then,” the teacher said, clapping her hands. “I trust that we’ve all gotten last week’s excitement out of our system?” She gave one student a teasing look. “Except for you, future daughter-in-law, feel free to be excited about my son for as long as you like.” The student in question blushed and offered giggly agreement. “Excellent. Today we’ll be playing a little bit of catch-up, then—”

There came a knock at the door. “Please excuse the interruption,” trilled a high-pitched voice, and a young woman entered the room, holding a familiar bento out before her.

The teacher stared. “Are you joking.”

“You’re the one who forgot your dinner again!” said the woman, apparently the teacher’s daughter, handing over the bento.

The teacher slumped over her podium. “I can’t believe it… I really did it again…”

“Is it your turn to find a soulmate in one of your mother’s students, then?” someone called out to a burst of laughter from neighboring seats.

The teacher’s daughter smiled cheekily. “Maybe,” she drawled, letting her gaze wander across the room.

BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP.

The room filled with cries of disbelief and cackling laughter.

“Are you joking,” the teacher said again, staring at her daughter. “Since when did your countdown activate?!”

“Last week,” she said, “about an hour after you sent the word around about my little brother’s good news. It didn’t feel like a coincidence. Was it?”

“Ah… no, a couple of us were, uh, inspired by all that,” Kinoshita said, getting to his feet. He looked like he’d been punched in the head, and happy to be concussed. The teacher’s daughter seemed pleased by him too.

“I can’t believe this happened,” the teacher muttered, unwrapping her bento. “Again.” Mouth half-full, she said, “Go on, get out of here! You’re going to be useless if I try to teach. This is the last time, though—I only have two kids, you people aren’t getting any more matches out of me!”

Chuckling to himself, Serizawa packed up and got up to leave, stopping by Kinoshita’s desk. He hadn’t actually moved yet, and their teacher’s daughter was laughing with her mother and texting on her phone at the front of the room, so there seemed to be no rush. “Congratulations, Kinoshita-san,” Serizawa said.

Kinoshita blinked, reorienting, and turned to grin wildly at Serizawa. “Thanks, man. And—wait, you too, right? Yours was supposed to time out the next morning, how’d that go?”

As if on cue, a number of their classmates surrounded them. All of the others with newly installed TiMERs, along with two of the more curious housewives and old Hayashi, who’d together funded Inoue and Ishii’s installations. They must have passed word along, after Serizawa split away from the rest of the group. It was strange to realize he was a topic of conversation—not an unfamiliar feeling, of course, Serizawa having been a neighborhood oddity even before he went full shut-in—but stranger still were the cautiously happy looks on their faces. ‘Kind gossip’ felt like a contradiction in terms, but it seemed it could happen.

“Serizawa-kun, Kinoshita-kun!”

“Congrats, Kinoshita-kun!”

“You and Satou-san are going to be in-laws, how funny!”

“How’d it go, Serizawa-san?”

“Yeah, yeah, was it a client after all?”

“Or a commuter on the same train as you?”

“Ah, no… it was my boss.” This garnered a variety of oohs in response—some scandalized, some curious, one… knowing? Serizawa rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Who, looking back, I’ve probably been in love with for a while.”

Sasaki nodded emphatically. “A while.”

Serizawa smiled, flushing, and found he couldn’t stop. “Yeah, I, uh, got the impression from a couple different people this week that it… wasn’t much of a surprise.” How strange, to be embarrassed and happy. Almost proud? Proud to be embarrassed? “We haven’t had time to really settle anything yet… regarding the business, or our intentions… but…” He laughed, helplessly. “I’m… excited? Yeah. I’m excited to see what the future looks like with him.”

“Me too!” Kinoshita burst out. “Shit, I’m so excited I might throw up. I should—congrats again, man, but I should really—” And with a lot of encouraging remarks and handshakes, Kinoshita was sent off to properly meet his match.

Serizawa got more of the same, plus a sly comment from Hayashi welcoming him to a tribe of some kind, before he was able to make his escape from the classroom, waving one last time to a nervous-looking Kinoshita standing in front of his smiling soulmate and her tired-looking mother. The rest of their classmates followed him out, chatting amongst themselves, some speculating about meet-cutes yet to happen, soulmates not yet known, and some wondering if their coursework was ever going to catch back up with the syllabus at this rate.

“Hey, isn’t that him?”

“Who?”

“Serizawa’s boss.”

Serizawa looked the direction Sasaki was pointing and sure enough, there was Reigen. Still in his work clothes, leaning against a wall looking at his phone. Huh.

“Class normally goes another hour…”

Serizawa turned on the group. “Ah, can you give us a little…?” They obediently stepped back, though not out of earshot entirely. Serizawa bit his lip. Here goes…

“Reigen-san?”

Reigen startled. “Serizawa! You’re—” he glanced down at his phone, “—early.”

“And you’re… here.”

“Ah, yes, well—it occurred to me, it’s been a week and we haven’t really…” He took in the small crowd hovering behind Serizawa and began to sweat. “I mean, we have a… Very Important Meeting that we need to—uh. Prepare for?”

Serizawa smiled. “Reigen-san, those are the classmates that got TiMERs installed the same time as me.”

Reigen did not seem reassured. “Ah! Well. Then. Do—would you—you know, I really thought I’d have another hour to find a cool way to say this…”

Serizawa found the strength within to hold back his (fond! very fond!) laughter. “Would you like to have dinner, and figure out what exactly we’re doing here?”

After a moment, Reigen smiled a little and relaxed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Serizawa waved goodbye to his classmates, getting cheers and teasing remarks in return, and followed Reigen off into the night. They didn’t hold hands—it felt a bit soon for that—but they walked close enough together that their shoulders brushed, and the zing of nervous energy that flooded through Serizawa each time felt like a promising start.

“Oh, Serizawa, you got a TiMER?”

Serizawa glanced up at the half-dozen curious teenage faces looking his way. The question didn’t come as a surprise, exactly; his TiMER was on full display today, with how he’d had to roll up his sleeves or risk heatstroke. Money was a little tight this month, for reasons Reigen wasn’t admitting to just yet, so the A/C wasn’t on despite the humid July weather. He smiled and nodded at Shou. “Ah, yes, I did.”

“When?”

“Last month? One of my classmates matched during class, and it got those of us who didn’t have one thinking we’d been missing out, so…” He shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do.”

“And you’ve already zeroed out!” Shou grinned. “Wow, that’s fast. Congrats! You gonna introduce us to them anytime soon?”

“Ah, well…” That was the issue, wasn’t it?

Takenaka spat out his drink. “Reigen?”

Well, so much for working their way up to it gradually.

Reigen looked up from his desk. “Yes? What?” Serizawa gestured to his wrist. “Oh, that.” He pushed up his sleeve and flashed his own zeroed-out TiMER at the kids. “Yes, yes, the two of us matched, don’t make a big thing of it,” he said casually, as if Serizawa hadn’t watched him practice being this casual for three straight hours the previous week.

“WHAT.” Hanazawa grabbed Shigeo by the shoulder and shook him. “Kageyama-kun, are you hearing this??”

“Yes?”

“Your boss and your coworker were destined for each other! Commoner love!! How can you have no reaction?!”

“Ah. I already knew.”

“You knew? Since when?!”

“Tome-san texted me about it, the day she found out,” Shigeo said. “I didn’t know how to feel at first, but then I thought about it more.” He smiled a little. “It makes sense. Reigen-shishou and Serizawa-san are well-suited.”

Which was always nice to hear from their mutual favorite person/first real friend, but no one else present wanted to actually acknowledge the reality of adults dating, so the teenage attention immediately turned on Tome.

“I,” she said with great dramatic poise, a hand pressed to her chest, “was there when it happened.”

Hanazawa leaned in with wide-eyed delight. “Ooh! Details!”

“Kurata-san…” Serizawa said warningly.

Tome sighed; her hand moved to press theatrically against her forehead. “I can’t. I broke the news to Mob before either of them could so now I’m not allowed to tell anybody because I ‘spoiled a beautiful moment between shishou and deshi’ and ‘would just tell it wrong.’” She let her face sink into the crook of her elbow, muttering, “Which is bullshit, I’m great at stories. I wouldn’t even make Reigen sound that stupid.”

As Tome continued to gripe about the unfairness of it all, Serizawa picked up on some whispering happening across the room.

“I’m telling you, however dumb you think Reigen looked is not dumb enough.”

Ritsu smirked up at Dimple. “I dunno, I think you might be underestimating me.”

That seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

“But isn’t it kind of embarrassing?” Shou wondered, hovering over Serizawa’s shoulder.

Serizawa blinked. Now what did Shou mean by that? He turned and waited for clarification. If a disaster happened while he was distracted, then it happened. He was learning to stress less about these things, with Reigen’s help.

“Like, unless you match someone from your neighborhood or school, most people don’t actually meet their match until way after they get their TiMER. But you knew each other for ages. Aren’t you embarrassed that it took a fancy watch to make you realize you were in love?”

“Hey,” Reigen bristled, “give Serizawa a break, he didn’t have any experience with crushes or romance or any of that stuff until… all this.” He froze in the middle of gesturing broadly between the two of them. “A-and anyway, who says we’re in love yet?! It’s early days!” He went on, gestures now moving at double-time, about refusing to listen to societal pressures, and feelings happening on their own schedule. Good life lessons for people on the brink of adulthood, who might be worrying about the complications TiMERs would bring into their lives.

Serizawa smiled, remembering how quickly that topic had come up between them. Reigen was a kind, thoughtful mentor, but he rarely spoke from experience. Giving Shou a shrug, he said, “Maybe a little. But I'm told that kind of cluelessness is part of my charm.”

Reigen stopped talking and blushed.

Shou’s eyebrows went up, impressed.

Takenaka gagged, shoving his headphones back into place. “Guys, please stop encouraging them to think sappy thoughts, I’m dying here.”

“Okay, just for that?” Reigen leaned forward in his chair and looked at Serizawa with intent.

Serizawa flushed, pleased by the attention, and decided to join in, thinking to the future. Was Reigen the kind of person to place a Christmas KFC order months in advance? No, Serizawa had a feeling Reigen would make that reservation if he thought Serizawa wanted it, but his own preference would be for something less cliché. (And cheaper.) A walk through the snow, weather permitting, with an oden-ya waiting at the end? And a small exchange of gifts. For Reigen, something heartfelt, handmade if Serizawa could manage it. From Reigen… the purchase Reigen wouldn’t admit he was saving up for, maybe? Serizawa smiled at the thought.

Takenaka groaned and shoved his head between two cushions. “I’m gonna puke, they’re imagining the exact same cheesy Christmas date. Somebody make them stop.”

As if on command, Dimple floated up and out of sight with a wicked grin, leaving behind a cackling Ritsu. “Wait, wait,” he gasped, waving a hand weakly in Reigen’s direction as he collapsed into a chair. “This is how you broke your nose that time? You were so surprised by Serizawa you tripped and landed on your face?!”

“DIMPLE!” Reigen yelled, shaking his fist at the ceiling, at which point the mood was truly broken.

But at least in the chaos Takenaka managed to find some peace.

Serizawa breathed in savory aromas and breathed out contentment. Post-exam results ramen had been a fantastic idea. He would have to thank Kinoshita later.

Another year of high school equivalency courses come and gone—but unlike his middle school equivalency classmates, long since lost to the winds, Serizawa had a feeling he would be staying in touch with this group. They had bonded, through their little TiMER adventure and the excitement that followed, and Serizawa wanted that connection to continue. He wanted Inoue to call him when a number started to count down on his wrist. He wanted Hayashi to tell him more strange, lovely things about their shared community and its history. He wanted to be someone Sasaki would reach out to, ten years from now, with happy news.

Plus, Reigen liked them.

And he honestly got along with them, which Serizawa had come to learn was a rare thing indeed. He listened with pleasure as Nakamura (who was also Reigen’s favorite of the bunch) made conversation with Reigen. Even as she approached a heavier topic, Serizawa could tell he was enjoying himself.

“Did you ever… resent your soulmate?”

Reigen, mid-bite, blinked incredulously at Nakamura. He bit through the mouthful of noodles, swallowed, and said, “Resent Serizawa? I could never!”

“Not Serizawa-san specifically! I mean, did you ever have any bitter feelings towards your soulmate for… taking so long?"

Reigen glanced down at Nakamura’s wrist, down to under a week now. “Ah, I see what you’re getting at.” He thought about it for a moment. “To be honest, what bitter feelings I had about that were all directed inwardly.” When she didn’t appear to understand, Reigen grimaced. “Like, taking it as a sign that I was inherently unlovable, or something like that.” Her eyes went wide, and Reigen fumbled his chopsticks. Setting them down so he could gesticulate without putting an eye out, he said, “B-but I was in a bad place in general at that time! A job I hated, no close friends… I wouldn’t expect that to be a widely held belief. Nor should you think your soulmate holds anything against you! I mean, these things happen in the time they’re meant to, right?” He leaned sideways in his seat, nudging Serizawa’s side playfully. “Imagine if you’d had your TiMER when we met, Serizawa!”

Serizawa thought about it. He winced, laughing a little. “Oh, no.”

“Right?” Reigen made a confident, there you have it gesture with one hand, the other returning to his ramen. “Like something out of a movie.”

Serizawa squinted at Reigen. That wasn’t quite how he remembered it. “What?”

“You know—” Reigen pitched his voice up, “‘Oh no, I’m in a terrible pinch! I think I’m going to die! If only someone would save me! Kyaa—oh, who’s this?’ And then you turn to look at me, and they start beeping while we’re in the middle of—you know, all that stuff. Dramatic, not not romantic, but definitely bad timing, we had more important things to worry about.”

Ignoring the mildly alarmed expressions surrounding them, Serizawa said, “Reigen-san, that’s not how we met.”

Reigen gave him a baffled look around a piece of chashu. “It’s not?”

“I—I mean, that moment was more memorable, certainly, but we met in passing five or ten minutes earlier, in the stairwell. Remember? You were looking for Shigeo-kun, and I was weeping on the stairs.”

Reigen snapped his fingers. “That’s right, you were the crying guy! I saw you and thought, So long as this weirdo doesn’t try to stop me from getting to Mob—” Reigen cleared his throat. “Right.” He thought about it. “Oh god, that might have been worse!”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking.”

“If we were too distracted by each other to get up there before that guy—”

“Sorry, but, uh… how, exactly, did you two meet?”

Remembering their audience, Reigen went sweatily quiet.

“You know,” Serizawa said thoughtfully, “legally I don’t think I’m actually allowed to talk about it.”

“Serizawa.” Reigen cleared his throat and his face, and said, “Suffice it to say, it was under… unusual circumstances.”

His classmates nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go, save one.

“Wait, hold on then,” Ishii said, shoving at Inoue’s shoulder and leaning over his seat to wave and get their attention. The dark flush in her cheeks gave away just how much she’d had to drink, celebrating her first place exam scores. “Do you think the ‘unusual circumstances’ were, like, fate trying to intervene? To make sure the two of you found each other, even without a TiMER to guide you?”

“Ishii, I need to breathe,” Inoue complained. She shoved his head further down into his bowl, muffling his squawk of outrage in onions, beef, and rice.

“Well?”

Serizawa considered it. It was hard to reject the concept of fate completely, in a world where a device installed on your wrist knew down to the second when you were going to meet the love of your life. But could whatever force the TiMER tapped into act on the world in other ways?

Did it matter?

“I’m not sure,” he concluded.

Reigen shrugged. “Who knows?”

Ishii booed the pair of them loudly. Inoue finally wriggled free of her hold on him, and the two of them squabbled for a minute before a man two seats down the bar snapped.

“Could you people please keep it down? Have some respect for your fellow man!”

“Who says I don’t respect my fellow man?!” Ishii turned a glare on the unsuspecting salaryman. “I’ll have you know that we are celebrating—”

BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP. BI-BI-BEEP.

Between the excited oohs and teasing from the students and congratulatory cheers from the chef and his customers, the ramen-ya became a wall of noise… except for a bubble of shocked silence around Ishii and her soulmate.

Serizawa glanced sideways at Reigen to find him looking back. They shared a smile and got up to go. A new year was just around the corner, and whatever forces had brought them together, they were looking forward to seeing it together.