Chapter Text
Saiki hadn’t had a nighttime accident since second grade. Ever since his brother had crafted his power limiters, there was no more accidentally blowing up his house, or teleporting to a foreign country, or waking up as a random animal. He didn’t like his brother and probably never would, but even he would admit it was the one thing the man had done right. He had gotten used to going to sleep in his bed and waking up in his bed like a normal person.
This random field of grass was not his bed.
Freaking out wasn’t his style, but he did at least get to his feet with a disgruntled expression. He didn’t seem to be in immediate danger, in any case.
A field. It was literally a field. He didn’t recognise it as a place near Hidari Wakibara - his wonderful hometown full of morons - at all. He could see a road a little ways away, just beyond a short brick wall, and it did look like Japan’s general scenery. Somewhere south, maybe? It smelt like the port. Oh, well, nothing teleportation couldn’t fix.
He just blinked as he stayed in the exact same place.
He did teleport - there was a certain tingle in his hands that fizzled through his fingertips whenever he did. It was the main way he could tell if the cooldown was up. And yet, there he was.
Oh, wait, you probably didn’t even know what he was talking about right now, did you?
His name was Kusuo Saiki, and he had psychic superpowers. Telepathy, psychokinesis, clairvoyance, psychometry, telekinesis, astral projection, super strength, super speed, invisibility, mind control, x-ray vision, group illusionry, size augmentation, etc etc. At this point, his powers were little more than annoyances that Saiki planned his day around avoiding. Of course, they could be convenient sometimes, but he’d like to see you hear everyone’s thoughts in a 200 meter radius and remain sane. His ultimate goal was to be normal.
Right, speaking of that, all the voices were off. He had gotten used to the old ones. The one elderly couple a few houses down, the stupid kid next door that thought he was a superhero, the single mom in the house behind his, the bored gas cashier in the run-down gas station on the corner. The sun was high overhead, too. No excuses, unless he somehow apported - he could swap objects positions if they were worth roughly the amount - his entire neighbourhood. Though, it’s not like there was anything here to replace it. The only time he had ever done something like that was when he lost his limiter and sent that hotel building into the ocean. No matter. If teleportation led him here, this had to be the correct spot.
Where did his house go?
Oh, yeah, and his family. He liked them.
Clairvoyance didn’t reveal anything. Usually, he could just cross his eyes and locate any object or person he pleased, unless it was under water. The fact that he couldn’t picture them wasn’t a good sign. He knew his mother could swim; his father would probably just flail and drown, though.
He stretched his arms and started walking towards the road. If he can get ahold of a phone, he can try to just call them, or at least get a GPS on his location. All his powers, and he didn’t have a built in GPS. How sad.
He’s about to hike his legs over the short wall before he spotted someone turning a corner.
Normally, he wouldn’t really care about a random passerby, but what immediately stuck out to him were his thoughts. For your convenience, he’ll leave other people’s thoughts in single quotes and words spoken aloud in double.
‘I wonder what he meant by someone with pink hair. I’ll keep an eye out anyway, I hope I find him so I can help out the Agency for once!’
Someone was looking for him. A young man, maybe seventeen or eighteen, he couldn’t tell. Saiki’s first thought of him was that he clearly had a bad childhood. He looked malnourished, not to mention the paper white hair with random black streaks. Was that from stress or a weird hair dye decision? And what was up with that dude's bangs?
The weird breakdown-in-the-bathroom slant to the man’s bangs probably shouldn’t be what he was thinking about. Oh, crap, he was being approached.
“Hi there, sir!” the man enthusiastically greeted, if a bit nervously. “Uh, one of my colleagues wanted to talk to you. You aren’t busy, are you?”
He was standing in a random field in the middle of the day. Did he look busy? Good grief. And ‘sir’? This guy was the same age as him. This guy reminded him of Kaido in the worst ways. That sounded mean, but people were not and would never be his forte. His eyes were pretty interesting, at least - a weird mix of yellow and purple. It was incredibly strange to see someone else with a hint of purple in their eyes. They didn’t stick out to him as coloured contacts at first, either.
He eventually just sighed. “A colleague? Who even are you?”
The man immediately took a few steps back, staring at him incredulously.
“...Did you just talk with your mouth closed?”
Agh, what a pain.
“Sorry, it’s a habit,” he offered flatly, as if that made sense. His illusion usually worked on everybody. It wasn't often he had to reset it.
Right, he didn’t establish that before, so you were probably confused. Opening his mouth to talk was annoying. Think about it, that’s so much muscle movement all the time. Using his telepathy, he could simply talk to people inside their minds and use shared illusions to make it look like his mouth was moving. If that sounded more difficult, he would remind you he’d been doing it for eighteen years. Talking with his mouth open was more unnatural at this point.
Why was everything so odd all of a sudden?
He added as an afterthought, “I’m a ventriloquist.”
“Oh, I’m sorry too. I should expect stuff like that anyway, with Abilities and all. I’m Nakajima. Atsushi Nakajima. The colleague that wants to talk with you is Ranpo Edogawa,” Atsushi explained. ‘Ranpo’s incredibly smart, I can’t help but wonder what he needs this guy for.’
Incredibly smart, huh? He could get behind that. Sort of. Talking to somebody smart was just rolling a loaded die - they were either respectable and Saiki would get along with them, or they’d be the worst person you’ve ever met. His brother was a good example of the latter, and most tended to follow that. That was the third time now he’d mentioned his brother. He’d give you intricate lore on the tense relationship between them, and the 2452 wins Saiki had over him, but he didn’t want to bore you in the middle of a conversation.
Oh, and ‘Abilities?’ Good grief, this really was Kaido. Kaido was obsessed with magic, for reference. Once again, he’d save the detailed descriptions for later.
He gave a nod. This might have something to do with his missing house somehow. If anything, it would lead him to the city. “Alright then. Where are we heading?” he said after a moment.
“The Agency office building. Just follow me; we’ll have to catch a short train- Oh! I didn’t catch your name.”
“Saiki,” he settled on saying. This guy didn’t need to know his full name.
Atsushi waited for a second, as if expecting him to elaborate, before he just nodded back at him and started walking. While Saiki considered just turning the opposite way, he cast away the thought. He could deal with a taller Kaido if it meant saving his family.
He fell into step beside him, staring off at the road to hopefully ward away conversation. Atsushi’s thoughts were plenty enough noise, anyway.
‘This man is so quiet! He reminds me of Kyouka. Is he okay? Usually, when people act like this, it’s because something is wrong. Or they have trust issues. He looks pretty young. Is that part of why Ranpo wants to see him? Is he a criminal? No, Ranpo would just let the police handle that. I want to talk, but I don’t know how to keep a conversation going like this. He looks mad. I’ll be quiet.’
It was oddly ironic for Atsushi to say he’ll be quiet and then continue to think very loudly, but he supposed that was better than having to respond to any of it. He appreciated the observation skills. He knew very few people that would willingly shut up.
Conversation was over. It was time for description.
He was virtually the exact same height as Atsushi, though if he had to put a number on it, Atsushi was three centimeters taller than he was. And if you’re asking how he knew that, it's the same way he knew the guy had a bad childhood. With his eyes.
Either way, he had some sort of office get-up on. It reminded Saiki of those costumes at the store in the plastic packaging. A white button up, poofy black slacks that cut off a little above the ankle, and suspenders. And a belt that sort of looked like a tail. A belt and suspenders. Good grief, this guy had a lot to sort out with himself.
Staring for a little too long without blinking activated his x-ray vision, and he could quickly see the long sandy-red scars that went up and around Atsushi’s stomach. Burns, maybe? Either way, Jesus, those looked rough. Maybe he had been slightly too harsh earlier. He quickly blinked to set him back to normal. Oh, yeah, once five seconds passed, he could see through clothes. A few more seconds after that, and he’d see muscle. Usually, he’d blink before five seconds went by, though, so it was lower on his list of grievances.
“So, Saiki. Uh… What brings you to Kawasaki? Or do you live here? I, um, I realise that's a stupid question,” Atsushi rambled, looking away and trailing off. Well, so much for being quiet.
Kawasaki? Is that where he was? He hadn’t seen that on a map before. Why didn’t his teleportation work if he wasn’t in his hometown?
He realised he should actually answer. “Just taking a trip. It’s autumn break, after all.”
“Oh, you’re a student? That makes sense.” ‘By himself? Gee, he looks young. I hope he has friends or parents around.’
Saiki just nodded, hoping the conversation would end at that. You’d obviously think it's hilarious that this man was worried about him, but nobody knew about his powers. He made sure of it. Spare for his parents, of course, and a stupid kid at his school who could see ghosts. His name was Toritsuka, if you cared. You shouldn’t. He was annoying.
Yet again, Atsushi’s thoughts descended into the typical socially anxious mess they were before. Just because he felt a bit of pity for his scars didn’t mean he would suffer through useless conversation to make him feel better. He’d get over it.
Atsushi didn’t try to talk to him again until they made it to the train station. Saiki watched with mild interest as he swiped the pass for Yokohama. He’d heard of Yokohama before - it was one of his neighbouring cities. He’d never had a reason to go, though, so he supposed this would be his first time. Maybe he really was going on a summer trip. It wasn’t like it was a ruse to kidnap him. Cough cough, mind reading.
It was when they sat down in the train booth that Atsushi actually spoke up.
“I know you’re not one to talk, but, um, he wanted me to ask you a few questions before we got there. Here, actually, I wrote them down before I left. You can just write down your answers.”
He slid a notepad across the table in between them, quickly fumbling in his pockets for a pen a few seconds later. He placed that beside it with a quick, muttered apology.
Saiki let out an appreciative hum. Atsushi seemed to be getting it, finally.
He took the notepad into his hand and scanned the questions. His handwriting certainly wasn’t good, but it was at least legible. There were a few kanji he had to stare really hard at. It seemed to just be general interrogation questions.
Name: You already knew that. He didn’t include his first name this time, either.
Age: You probably should know that by context clues, but he was eighteen.
Height: 167 centimeters. (Or if you’re American, five foot seven).
Occupation: Student. He supposed.
Ability (Y/N): That Ability thing again, huh? He circled no. Y/N stood for yes or no, obviously. What else would it be?
Weird features or mannerisms: What was he even supposed to write for this? He got the feeling Atsushi was supposed to do this part. He just decided to write down ‘quiet’ and ‘green glasses + hairclips’. Good enough.
Oh, yeah, he hadn’t described his appearance yet. Not that he was about to, but he’ll elaborate on those two things. Firstly, he wore glasses to prevent himself from turning people to stone when he looked at them. They turned back after a day or so, but it was still incredibly inconvenient. They were green for style purposes, and they dulled out his purple eyes (he had originally gotten yellow ones that were complimentary to the purple, but they looked stupid compared to the green ones). Secondly, his hairclips looked vaguely like antennae and pretty much were antennae - they were what limited his powers and granted him better control over them - but he had used mind control to convince the general public they were normal hairclips. Okay, explanation over. Back to the questions.
Suspicious (Y/N): Once again, he shouldn’t be the judge of this, but he circled no anyway.
What an exhaustive list of questions. He clipped the pen onto the notepad and set it back on the table, giving a slight nod. Atsushi took it without another word. Good.
‘He doesn’t have an Ability? Why is Ranpo so interested in him, then? Well, Ranpo doesn’t have an Ability either, but still. Hm… Oh, and the last two questions. Whoops. I’m glad he just put that he wasn’t suspicious instead of being offended. He seems pretty normal to me, if a little antisocial. I get that, though, I don’t blame him.’
Would this dude stop rambling and just at least indirectly explain what an Ability was? He internally sighed. Was he seriously going to have to ask on his own?
“Atsushi,” he started reluctantly. “What was that Ability question about?”
He perked up. “Oh! You must’ve not heard of Abilities before. Don’t worry, I didn’t know about them until recently, either. An Ability is basically just a power that you get from birth. My Ability is called Beast Beneath the Moonlight! I can turn into a tiger.”
He just blinked. Once, twice. then a third time. This was a very advanced version of Kaido.
He cleared his throat. He should just go along with it. “...I see.”
“You could have one and not even know it. I didn’t know I did until maybe half a year ago. So, if there’s some weird quirk you have that you can’t explain, it might be an Ability. So just to make sure, you don’t, right?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Alright!” he chirped, tucking the clipboard under his arm.
Silence again. What sort of cult was this dude in? Was it the source of his trauma? That was one subject he wasn’t going to ask about; he could not do emotional comforting. He’d probably figure it out when he got to this building of theirs, anyway.
And while he would sit and tell you his thoughts for the rest of the train ride, he imagined you wanted to get to where things actually start getting interesting. He would pick up his narration when they made it to the building.