Medica Materia A Mob Psycho 100 Fantasy AU

Chapter 1

Serizawa Katsuya shrouded himself in solitude to keep himself from being detected by his former King. Having served as a Master Mage under the bootheel of a cruel man, Serizawa decided that isolation was the only suitable punishment for someone who had done the wicked things he had. Alone as he was, his appearance grew unkempt. His hair became wild, his beard unchecked and he draped himself in the skin of a bear over his rough-hewn underclothes.

He made no living, merely eked out a meager existence from foraging in the forest and raiding the nearby shrine for offerings. The spring and collected rain were his source of water. No wine touched his lips, except for the rare gifts left at the shrine. His home was a rough cave, bare of all but the most minimum of comforts. Serizawa did not particularly like it, but he bore his seclusion stoically. It was the only suitable punishment, after all.

He had lived this way for nearly a year when he heard strange noises at the mouth of his cave. Serizawa had been alone for so long that he did not recognize the sounds as human speech at first. He wondered who would travel out to this lonely cavern? The sounds repeated themselves: "We seek the Oracle of the Cave."

He went toward the noise. There at the entrance was a man and a boy. The man's hair was golden in the dying light of day, his face held a charisma that would have rivaled Serizawa's former King. But unlike his former King, this man did not have the trappings of wealth. He was dressed simply in sturdy breeches and a shirt, worn but well-cared for. He had a faded green cloak, the type worn by Apothecarists. Across his body was a large leather satchel.

The boy was a peasant about fifteen years old, his clothes less colorful, more patched together than his companion's. His hair was a dark mop upon his head and though his expression was dull, his aura was something else all-together. The Apothecary had no aura, but the boy was nearly overwhelming in his power. Serizawa was intrigued by this odd pair.

The two stood there and then stood there some more. Oh, they were awaiting an answer. Serizawa's voice sounded rusty to his own ears. "There's no Oracle here, just me."

The Apothecary at the entrance to the cave let out a long-suffering sigh. "Well, that sucks." He turned to the boy, "Come on, Mob. We'll try someplace else."

"Wait!" Serizawa called out. They were the first people had seen in ages. He hadn't realized how lonely he was until he saw them. "It's going to be dark soon," he said, really in a few hours but he was stretching for an excuse. "You can stay here for the night."

The man looked Serizawa over, as if gauging his sincerity. "You sure we won't be an imposition?"

"No," Serizawa said, "I could use the company." Oh, how he wanted these strangers to stay, if only for one night. "There's not much food or in the way of comfort but it's warm."

The Apothecary looked resigned. "Fine, another crusty old hermit," he muttered under his breath. He then gave a formal bow. "We accept your offer." He snapped his fingers and a small green spirit appeared. "Dimple," he addressed the spirit. "Is the cart safe or should we bring it over?"

"There's no one around for miles," the spirit answered. "Besides, no thief wants anything in your crappy old cart."

The man led his motley crew into Serizawa's cave, glaring at the spirit all the while. "I swear if I find anything missing tomorrow—"

"Nag, nag," Dimple said. Spirits kept to themselves, those bound to the service of humans were usually deferential or filled with ill-concealed fury. Serizawa had known one spirit-wielder before and he treated the creatures in his thrall as underlings or pets. This easy-going relationship was something he had never witnessed before. How much had changed in his year of solitude?