Checking ~ Don't Play With Knives ~

2,708 WORDS - WRITTEN SEPTEMBER 9, 2024 - RATING: T (descriptions of intrusive thoughts, swearing, angst)

Reclining back in his chair as he finished the last of his homework, Ritsu sighed and cracked his knuckles.

It was a quiet night — almost eerily so, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling he had of an off presence nearby. It was far too late for him to be up at all on a school night.

Ever since the incident with Claw, where Ritsu had been kidnapped by members of the 7th division, Shigeo had been... acting oddly.

Well, more oddly than usual, at least.

Ritsu knew his brother well — and he was used to many of the things he did. So much so that a lot of Shigeo's quirks, his powers included, were rather normal to him. The standard in his life. It was one of many reasons why he had envied Shigeo before his powers awakened, Ritsu just felt so plain and inferior compared to his older brother.

And he could tell that since the 7th division of Claw had been taken down, something was deeply bothering his brother. He appeared more often like he was stuck inside his own head — looking dazed and distressed, but hiding it well enough that other kids at school weren't able to tell. Shigeo was subtle to most, but not at all to those who knew him as well as his family did.

Some concerning habits of Shigeo's were coming back as well... mainly a habit he had of scratching and picking at his hands, a habit Ritsu and both their parents thought he had mostly curbed. Along with all this, his sleep seemed to have gotten worse too. He'd often have nightmares and wake up in the middle of night, and the next day at school Ritsu would spot him falling asleep at lunch, sometimes even in the middle of eating.

And of course Ritsu was concerned. What kind of brother would he be if he weren't? What was more was that this was all probably his fault to begin with. Ritsu had started it all, with his inferiority complex and and the little power trip he got from awakening psychic abilities. He hurt people, and Shigeo had to see it. Shigeo had to see his brother beat people to a pulp with his powers. Shigeo had to hear his little brother, in his own words, say their relationship didn't matter to him anymore. That his admiration for his brother was fake.

Ritsu pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing before covering his forehead with his palm. He'd been such a dick. A sweet, kind, and caring older brother like Shigeo was too good for a brat like him.

Shigeo... forgave him, it looked like. But Ritsu was still on edge. Maybe he could be waiting for just the right moment to snap. If Ritsu slipped up even one more time, Shigeo could explode like the ticking time bomb he was.

Ritsu didn't want to fear his brother. More than anything, he wanted as normal of a relationship as possible with him.

... Was it even possible anymore? No, it had to be. Ritsu was being too cynical. It's not like he'd permanently damaged his relationship with his brother, right...? They made up. It had to be ok. It had to.

The main problem he was encountering here, really, was that he had no idea how to approach the subject and confront Shigeo on it. Maybe he should apologize... Did he ever get a chance to?

... There's that odd presence again. He could feel eyes pinned on him from behind.

On his wall, Ritsu could see something casting shadow through the light from his door. Someone was there.

He startled, giving an embarrassing yelp, and whipped around to look at the doorway.

... It's just Shigeo. Whew.

... How... long had he been there? Ritsu hadn't heard anyone at the door.

"Ah. Sorry," Shigeo said quietly. "I scared you..."

For as much as he'd been stewing over him moments before, hearing Shigeo's voice made Ritsu immediately un-tense.

"No, it's fine," Ritsu replied, relaxing and offering his brother an awkward smile. "What's up, Shige?"

There's a long, uneasy pause as Shigeo just stares silently at him for 5 minutes.

Ritsu's about to speak again when Shigeo finally replies.

"Nothing," He mutters, with a blank stare. "Just... checking."

There's another long pause, this time initiated at Ritsu. He looks away from Shigeo, puzzled.

"...Okay," He turns back around in his chair, and starts neatening the papers on his desk.

Shigeo nervously fidgets with his hands. "Whuh... what's wrong?"

"Nothing, just..." Ritsu lazily shoves his papers into his bag. "You've been doing that. A lot."

Shigeo had, in fact, been doing this a lot lately, and honestly, Ritsu was starting to get a little creeped out by it. He wasn't exactly sure why Shigeo kept "checking" on him.

Was he worried about Ritsu after everything that had happened? And just showing his concern in an odd way? It would make sense. But only Shigeo could say for sure what was going on inside his own head. Ritsu knew his brother very well, but wasn't exactly a mind reader.

Shigeo looked down at the floor, his bangs obscuring his eyes as he hunched over. "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

"No," Ritsu turned back to look at him. "It's fine. I just want to know why you keep doing this." He crossed his arms, his brows knit together. "You don't need to check up on me, you know. I'm fine."

Shigeo opens his mouth, as if about to argue, but then closes, very tightly gripping the sleeve of his shirt as his face flushes. He looks humiliated.

It so obvious he wants to say something, but for whatever reason, he withdraws. He used to do this a lot when they were younger, being so afraid of conflict of any kind with his brother that he'd close in on himself and shut down. It was one of many reasons why Ritsu could never argue with his brother. Feeling guilty was too easy.

Shigeo's expression soon changes, though. He looks... afraid?

He was often afraid of himself. Afraid of his powers and hurting people with them. Was he afraid he was going to hurt Ritsu? According to Shigeo, he apparently had when they were younger. Ritsu had no recollection of Shigeo harming him then, but he didn't want to deny that it had happened altogether since his memory of the event had been so fuzzy.

All he can remember of the aftermath of Shigeo's outburst was feeling terrified of his brother for the very first time. Why had he felt that way?

"I'm... sorry, Ritsu," He's so quiet, almost barely audible. "I'm just... scared."

Ritsu leans in, with a more serious look on his face. He might've guessed correctly, actually... "Why?"

Shigeo tugs at his sleeve, and shuffles in place. Silent, he looks around nervously, as if he's paranoid someone might be eavesdropping in on their conversation. It was rare of Shigeo to be nervous about something like that — more of a sign that this was really troubling him.

"I'm scared, that..." He swallows. It seems like he really doesn't want to explain. "I'm scared that... you'll disappear."

Automatically, the idea makes Ritsu snort, though he knows well he shouldn't even laugh a little bit at this. He can tell by the way Shigeo flushes again that he's already messed this up — that his brother's going to walk away from this feeling even worse. He's mentally cursing at himself in his head, but for his brother's sake, Ritsu stays composed.

"I'm not going anywhere, nii-san," He tells him. "It's okay."

Shigeo whimpered, hunching over again, his bangs covering his eyes, and turning away like he was about to leave.

"Wait, Shige," Ritsu got up, reaching towards him. "Come on, tell me. Why do you think I'm going to disappear?"

He stopped. Shigeo looked up, but was still trying to avoid looking directly at Ritsu. He was silent for a long time, obviously thinking about what to say. It was like Ritsu could see the gears turning in his head, and despite his otherwise calm-looking demeanor he was a little afraid to find out what Shigeo was going to say. He was impatient — It felt agonizing, like slowly ripping a bandage from the skin.

"It's... because..." He begins quietly. "Sometimes... if I don't see you, I..." He lowers his head again, scratching at his own hand. "Um... I'm not sure how to say it, but..."

Rip the bandage. "Just say it."

"If I don't see you, then I need to make sure I haven't hurt you."

Ritsu blinked, concerned. What was he talking about? "Huh? What are you talking about?"

... It didn't look like Shigeo wanted to elaborate on what that meant. He was silent.

What was he supposed to do here? Obviously his brother was distressed. But could he help if he wasn't quite sure what the problem was? As far as Ritsu knew, Shigeo had never, and would never lay even a finger on him. He knew Shigeo worried about it, but this felt very out of the blue. He doesn't know how to respond to it.

"I don't want to hurt you, Ritsu," Shigeo starts again. "I have... I have to make sure you're okay. That what my head tells me isn't true."

Somehow that leaves him with even more questions.

"Listen... I don't know what's going on in there," Ritsu points at Shigeo's forehead before grabbing his shoulders, startling him. "But you don't have to worry. You haven't hurt me... you've never hurt me, nii-san."

Surely, this should be comforting for his brother to hear. Surely, Shigeo would at least feel a little better, but as soon as Ritsu says 'you've never hurt me,' his brother pales, almost looking nauseous.

It's so, so painfully clear he wants to say something. That it's on the tip of his tongue, 'no, I have.'

But he says nothing.

Trembling, he slowly grabs Ritsu's hands, gently as possible, almost as if trying to avoid contact, and removes them from his shoulders. He swallows. "I'm... I'm sorry for troubling you, Ritsu. Good night."

Ritsu stared as he watched his brother leave the room. An abrupt end to abrupt and unnerving conversation.

He wasn't a mind reader, but he wished he was. He wished he could see what went on Shigeo's head. He wished he could read his thoughts for himself.

He wished he wasn't scared of the possibilities, were that the case.

Mob stared at his reflection in the water. The faucet was almost loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

Almost.

The fact that he'd left Ritsu at such an abrupt point in the conversation was eating him up inside. Why was it so hard to just talk? To his brother of all people?

Logically, he knew that if anyone would understand, if anyone would be sympathetic, it would be his own brother. But he just couldn't spit it out.

'I don't want him to be scared of me,' he thought. Maybe it was already too late. Maybe Ritsu was already scared. Oh, he's a terrible brother. He shouldn't think about —

Every. Single. Time. The same exact image.

He'd have the horrible image of his brother lying in a pool of blood.

He'd have it when he was alone. He'd have it when he was talking to Ritsu. He'd have it any time he even lightly touched Ritsu. He'd have it if he ever used scissors to cut paper. He'd have it if he used a knife to cut bread.

'You don't point knives at people. Someone could get hurt.'

'... But aren't you curious?'

A pestering voice in his head, every single time. He didn't want to be curious. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Stop. Stop. He was good, wasn't he? He was good. Good people don't use knives to do bad things. Good people don't think about using knives to do bad things.

... Oh no. He wasn't good. If good people didn't think about using knives to do bad things, then he wasn't good.

Sure he'd never actually used knives to do bad things like hurting Ritsu, but who's to say he wouldn't? Who's to say he wouldn't lose all control the moment someone handed him a knife? Who's to say his brother wouldn't be the first person on the chopping block?

Mob had hurt him before. He had the ability to do it again.

He knew if all his inhibitions disappeared, he'd leave blood in his path. The blood of family, friends, clients, bystanders... Even if he'd never used knives to do bad things, the fact that he was capable of it at all to begin with was more than enough for him to stew over. Even if he hadn't, he could.

... Well, there had been that one time he had shaved Teru with knives... but his hair could grow back. And that was in self-defense.

He still thought about that situation, though. The multiple times in that evening he'd almost killed Teru. He still couldn't forgive himself, no matter how unbothered Teru seemed by it now. Maybe Teru was just pretending, to spare his feelings. Maybe he was scared of Mob too. What if the knives had hit somewhere else? What if it wasn't his hair?

You can't grow back a hand if someone cuts it off.

He started to chew at his thumb nail. He felt prickly. Itchy. Maybe if he scrubbed harder, maybe if he used more soap, all the badness in him could be washed off. He'd be good as new. He wouldn't hurt people - living or dead. Maybe he and Teru could be friends for real. Maybe Ritsu would like him again.

But it would never work like that. It wouldn't fix him. He'd just be left raw.

Maybe he couldn't be fixed.

He could hear his Master's words in the back of his head, 'You don't need fixing, Mob.' But he was probably just saying that. He didn't mean it. After all, Reigen was a liar. He lied about a lot of things. He lied to people all the time. He was a fraud —

Don't finish that thought. No. His Master was a good person. He'd never lie to Mob, would he? No, he wouldn't!

But maybe everyone else was more privy to it, and saw well what Mob couldn't see. Maybe they all saw, knew his Master was bad. Ritsu didn't trust him, after all. And if Ritsu didn't trust someone, surely it was sign something was wrong with them. Didn't Mob trust him? How could he not trust his own brother? There was no one he admired more, after all.

... Maybe Mob was just naive. He was magnet for bad people, after all. He was a magnet for bad things. He was an unstable, ticking time bomb of emotion. He couldn't control himself. He was bad.

And he couldn't blame his little brother for hating him. Apparently, he didn't even trust Ritsu. Not only that, he hurt Ritsu, too. The moment Ritsu had awakened his powers, he had turned to violence. Laying waste to others effortlessly. It had to be Mob's fault, didn't it? He was a bad influence. Him and his powers were steering his brother down a dark path.

All because Mob couldn't control himself. All because Mob can't be trusted with knives.

He could feel the counter ticking up in his head, the guilt simmering up through his skin. His hair rising and standing on edge. He felt itchy.

Scratching at his knuckles, he thought, maybe if he washed his hands enough they'd be free of blood forever, all his powers would leak out and he'd be absolved of all guilt forever. How many times would be enough for him? How many times until he was clean of guilt? It wasn't possible. All he could do for now was just shove all this down. He was tired. Too tired to deal with it. Too tired to handle his own feelings.

He dried off, and put on his pajamas. They were too soft.

Mob laid down on his futon. It was too comfortable, but his own head had made him tired again. Hopefully, he'd sleep this off.