I realized there was a misunderstanding, and people thought I just wanted to make an early update on Wednesday. But no! It was a gift, so to say. So without delay, here's the next chapter! Let's get into therapy.
The First Session
"Thank you for the appointment on such short notice," Enji said. He'd just called yesterday, and had been very surprised when she offered such an early appointment.
"Of course," Tanaka gave him a mild smile, "I had a vacancy." She didn't elaborate further. Enji noticed the shadow that passed over her eyes for just a fracture of a second, before her smile brightened up again and she stepped into the room, opening the door wide for him. "I'm glad you called. Please, come in. Take a seat."
It wasn't the room he was used to from his earlier visits. No tiny cluttered office with a wall full of books, like he remembered. This room was more spacious. Beige curtains were half drawn to block the bright sunlight coming through the window. There was an inconspicuous round carpet in shades of brown and white and two white cushioned armchairs. On the other side of the room, just opposite the door, was a small, neat desk. From the desktop, pale blue light shone against the white wall. A series of three surreal paintings portrayed a group of children swimming with a school of fish under water. There was a big aloe vera in the corner of the room. It smelled a little of the plant.
He wished she would have just welcomed him in her cluttered office. This room… It screamed psychiatrist to him. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but now, taking a single crutch to hobble into the room, he felt he had no interest to cuddle up in the cushions of the chair to complain about his life. He'd never watched a lot of movies– but what he remembered from the few scenes he'd seen, these methods never seemed very effective to him.
Uselessly, he stood at the edge of the carpet, gripping his crutch a little tighter and lopsidedly limped to the desk. He leaned the crutch against the wall, took his coat off, and then sat in front of it. This seemed more professional to him. He felt more comfortable, despite the lack of cushions and armrest. He wanted this to be quick and effective– not a drawn-out session of just lounging around.
Tanaka followed and sat opposite him without a comment.
Was she already judging him? He wondered. Was his choice of chair the first test that would already tell her things about him he didn't want her to know? Uncertain, his eyes flickered back to the pair of armchairs under the window.
He was on edge, he realized. Frustrated, he huffed, leaning back trying to show comfort. So what if she read him? That was her job, after all. So whatever. Let her think that he felt more comfortable with a bit of wood between them. He could do that too. He could read her too.
"The attack?" he asked in a blank tone.
"Excuse me?" Her brows furrowed in confusion.
"The vacancy on your schedule?" he clarified. "Is it because of the attack?"
She needed a moment to react. Then, she neatly pushed a stack of papers on her desk together, righting herself in her seat. "I'm sorry, but I hope you understand that I cannot disclose information about my other patients to you." She smiled again. There was little actual amusement in it– just a professional, polite mask. "But as I heard, you were there. Do you want to talk about it?" Her hands were now resting on the papers, fingers neatly folding into each other.
Enji grimaced as she turned the question around on him. "You watched the news?" he asked. He hadn't talked about the attack on the phone, so that was how she must've heard about it.
"I did," she admitted. "But it wouldn't have been hard to guess." She nodded at his crutch.
Annoyed and displeased, Enji scowled at the stick of plastic and aluminum. He felt it was offensive. Like an insult to his person. With just one hand, using a single crutch made him walk like a crab.
"You don't have to answer," she said when he didn't say anything for a while.
"I'm not here to speak about the attack," he said, just as she gave him permission to skip the topic.
Tanaka nodded. Her hands were still resting unmoving. Turning back to look at her face, he found her calmness soothing. "That is alright. I should make this clear upfront. If you don't want to talk about a subject, we don't have to. I'm here to listen to what you want to say, not to force you to speak."
Enji nodded mutely. What did he want to talk about? "How is my wife?" He asked. Then he grimaced. "Ex-wife."
Her smile broadened a little. The corner of her lips curved kindly, but there was regret on her face. Of course, she couldn't tell him details about Rei's recovery. Stupid of him to ask for it.
"Do you want to talk about your marriage?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No."
She waited. He knew she was waiting for him to say something, to reveal why he was here, but instead he found his eyes drifting towards the paintings. The green-tinted underwater scenery was somehow odd, somehow wrong, almost offensive to the eye. He only focused back on her when her hands finally moved. He watched them vanish under the desk, then procured a black leather-bound notebook, and a pen. Enji followed her movements like a hawk, but she didn't write anything.
"I wonder if you might feel more comfortable talking to somebody who is not already affiliated with your ex-wife," she declared with a thoughtful frown. She tapped the end of the pen against her chin. "If you wish, I could refer you to a colleague?"
Enji hadn't even thought of that. Quickly, he shook his head. "No." He crossed his arms. "It's alright as it is. I don't want to involve more people than necessary."
A small frown showed on her face. "What do you think will happen if you talked to more people?"
He was about to scowl at her and tell her it was obvious: somebody would sell him out. The media wasn't focused on him anymore, but they would still pay a juicy amount for some first-hand insight into his psychiatrist's notes. Then, however, Enji's frustration deflated. He didn't want to call Tanaka's or her colleagues' integrity into question. They had done nothing to make him distrust them.
Her sigh was almost imperceptible. She shut the notebook, put it on top of the small stack of papers and then rested her hands on top of it. This time, as her fingers threaded into each other, her left thumb was soothingly stroking little circles against her right palm.
"Maybe you can tell me what it was that made you call me yesterday?" she asked, after the silence stretched on for too long.
Enji nodded. That he could do. "Irina told me to…" he stopped when he realized that it would make no sense to Tanaka. She didn't know Irina. "She works for me." Whatever else he'd wanted to say to explain the situation died on his tongue when he realized what he'd just said. His face twisted into an embarrassed grimace. Right, his employee… What did that tell about him, that he needed an employee to tell him, that he needed help? What would Tanaka think of him? That he was too close to his employees? That he was a horrible person to work with if people he paid asked him to seek help? That he – on top of being an abusive husband and father and failed hero – was also a shit employer?
"I see." Thankfully, she didn't comment further. She didn't even show a reaction giving away the displeasure she must've surely felt at the insinuations. "What do you think made her suggest that?"
Enji was so glad that she didn't comment about his prior statement. Ready to move on, he eagerly tried to answer her question. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Irina three days ago. "She must've thought I'd need help finding the right path."
"Path to where?"
His lips thinned. He had no answer for that yet.
"Todoroki, clearly whatever it is you want to achieve has to be important to you, or you would not be here. Sometimes, it's an important first step to verbalize it." Her eyes closed and curved into half-moons as she gave him an encouraging smile.
He looked away from her face, back to her intertwined hands. "I want," he started, wetting his lips. But then he stopped. She would laugh at him; he was being ridiculous! "I want to become a hero." The words sounded heavy on his tongue. Not the strongest hero, not the number one hero, just… a hero. As soon as it was out though, he realized how benign the words had to sound to her. He wanted to be a hero? So, he should just get back his license. Why make it more complicated than it was? But it wasn't just the license he wanted.
He glanced at her. There was curious surprise on her face. Then, his eyes snapped back to her hands. He was blushing slightly. "I mean… I mean a hero who can protect people. Somebody who can make them feel safe. I want to achieve something noteworthy…" he shook his head. His hands were trembling. "But…I know I've ruined that." He shook his head. "It's too late. I screwed up. I'm the reason it's all falling apart, and there's nothing I can do, to undo that. I never wanted that, but it is how it is, and because of that, I can never be… I can never be…"
He stopped there, terrified to end that sentence. Because he knew how it ended. And he only realized that now. He was here again, almost 30 years later, and he hadn't moved on. Not one bit. He had walked that path once, followed it through hell and high water– and now he found himself again, on that same crossing.
"You can never be…" she repeated, "what? What can't you be?"
He ducked his head. Just a little bit, hunched between his shoulders.
"I can never be…" His voice sounded uncharacteristically faint.
A symbol… All Might!
"That."
"That? What's that?" Her thumb stopped moving now. "A hero who protects people and makes them feel safe? Surely, you know, that even with everything that's happened, you can still protect—"
"Him," he interrupted her. "I can never be him." He looked up and right at her.
He saw confusion there. Then, as if she mentally went through the list of people he might be talking about, the other shoe dropped.
"Does All Might know about these feelings?" she asked softly.
"Feelings," he huffed. Putting it like that made him sound like a smitten fanboy. He had no feelings for All Might. None.
She seemed amused at his antics. "Would you not call it that?" she asked, with a smart twinkle in her eyes. "What would you call it?"
Enji shrugged. "Anger," he said half-heartedly, knowing it wasn't true. He didn't feel anger anymore. Neither did he hate the man after everything that had happened. There was a numb exhaustion whenever he thought about that man now. "Jealousy?" he guessed.
He was being stupid. Those were all feelings, and he didn't even need Tanaka to tell him that.
"Admiration." It just slipped out. He bit his tongue.
"And have you talked to him about it?"
Enji nodded tiredly. Yes, he had. Twice, and he didn't think the oaf understood it. "I have."
Tanaka appeared to be glad. "Would you be willing to do it again? Maybe this time, not alone?"
His eyebrows rose, looking at her skeptically. "You want to sit in with All Might and myself?" He couldn't imagine it would be very enjoyable for her. Entertaining, sure, but surely not fun. Enji also didn't quite understand the purpose. He had talked with All Might twice; each time, he felt he had taken… something away from it. But neither meeting had erased his resentment. Neither meeting had helped him get closer to All Might. But if Tanaka thought it might help… who was he to argue? "Okay, now that the holidays started, he should have a lot of time. When do you want me to arrange the meeting?"
"Allow me to handle that."
Enji didn't know she had a way to contact All Might. Still, he gave in with a shrug. Truth be told, he was even a little relieved that he didn't have to explain the situation to All Might – and possibly half the UA staff.
"Great," she finally picked her notebook up and scribbled something into it. Enji watched her with a frown, realizing that she was taking a while. She was obviously writing down more than just 'call All Might'. He didn't comment or ask about it, though, instead waited until she spoke up again. "In the meantime, I want you to tell me exactly why you think you cannot be a 'hero who protects people'."
He wished she could just go back to writing in her notebook. The question hit him exactly where he didn't want to touch upon. "You know," he grunted. He didn't say more than that.
Her eyes peaked over her notebook. "I want you to use your own words."
His feet shifted on the floor as he crossed his arms and legs. He wasn't happy with where the questions were going.
"I assume you don't wish to talk about it?" She seemed unhappy– almost sounded disappointed as she said it. Still, Tanaka remained calm enough. "Something else, maybe?"
She waited for a while, but he had nothing to say. He had come here without a plan, he realized. Effective and professional…? Yeah, right! Had he thought she just would swing a magical wand to make all his problems go away? He knew it needed more effort from him, but still, sitting here and wrecking his brain for something to say… He came up blank.
He didn't want to talk about his family. Not his children, nor his ex-wife, nor his brother who he had only started reconnecting with a few weeks ago, nor his dead parents.
He didn't want to talk about the attack, or any attack prior.
He didn't want to talk about Dabi, or his fears and nightmares.
It was ridiculous, because most of that was common knowledge. Regarding some of it, he had even published a press release, yet he couldn't talk about it with the woman he'd paid to do exactly that.
More silence.
"What did you feel when you got that scar?" she asked, after another eternity of mute silence. Maybe she was just trying to get him talking and the scar, so obvious on his face, drew her attention.
He didn't answer. Defensively, he turned away from her towards the window.
A coward! That's what he was. He had to give her something.
"Weak," he said finally, his voice rough. "I felt weak."
"It must have hurt," she suggested.
He only shrugged. "I don't remember the pain." And he didn't. He remembered that during that battle, his entire body had hurt. He'd felt horrible. But that specific wound– nothing. "I mostly just felt embarrassed."
"Why would you feel embarrassed?"
"It was on national television. The entire country saw me go down. I was the number one– I was supposed to…" but he stopped there. He'd been about to say 'be the strongest', but that didn't feel right anymore. "I was supposed to keep them safe."
"Wasn't that what you did?"
His head snapped up, staring at her, then. Was it? Had he? In his mind, the battle in Fukuoka had always been a massive failure. He'd looked so weak. He had a bad start, and ultimately only managed to take the beast down with his final attack. At several points in the battle, the monster had thrown him around like a broken doll. He'd even lost consciousness for a moment. And all that happened just days after he had so proudly reclaimed that they should just watch him. All of Japan had watched him be pathetic.
He glared down at his hands. Shaking.
"We always count the dead," Tanaka said kindly, "as it is more difficult to count the living. How many people do you think you saved that day?"
"Hawks saved most of them," Enji's answer came automatically. So what if there were no casualties? Hawks had been responsible for the evacuation. He'd saved Enji too. Without Hawks, he would've lost.
"How many?" she repeated with more fervor in her voice.
Enji sighed. "Two… two, maybe." Hawks. Maybe… Maybe if he hadn't been there, if Hawks had chosen a different hero for his little ploy… Maybe Hawks would have been able to evacuate the battlefield. But Hawks wouldn't have been able to defeat Noumu. The other hero – in all likelihood – would have lost too.
"Two?" she repeated, obviously unhappy with his estimation.
"As you said, it's difficult to measure." He shook his head. Enji knew he'd been a good hero— a failed hero, of course, ultimately. Eventually, they'd taken his license. But before that, he'd been confident in his work. However if she wanted him to give her some high number, when secretly he knew that the Noumu had only attacked because it wanted a strong opponent… He couldn't give her that.
Tanaka gave him a little skeptical smile then. "You kept them safe. Do you think this achievement is diminished by your past?"
He bowed his head. Shaking… Why were his hands shaking?
"Dabi sent that Noumu… Touya. My son." The barrel against his forehead. Cold hard metal. In his dreams, sometimes, he wanted him to pull that trigger – get it over with. Give his son what he so deeply desired.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I think this is important," Tanaka insisted softly.
Enji nodded. "I know. But not now."
Tanaka breathed in audibly, relenting. "Okay, we can get back to that at a later point in time."
But he didn't feel like she had given up. As she waited for him to speak, he knew she was hoping that he would continue. She didn't press him, but the silence was pressure enough. He had to say something, anything… just had to steer the conversation away from Touya.
"I'm afraid," he admitted shamefully. She looked curious, so he knew he had her hooked. Maybe she thought he was still talking about Touya. "I want to get my license back. After my injury they put off the decision until after my recovery. That's expected to be in late April. Just three or four more weeks." He was rambling again. Enji realized he regretted his choice of topic. His fears. His mind was so convoluted. There was so much wrong and nothing he wanted to talk about. "They'll send me back on the battlefield. But against those Noumu… or some of the members of the League… I'll die."
Her eyes widened in shock. He almost felt a little triumphant that he had wiped that polite professionalism off her face, even if only for a few short seconds, before she caught herself, schooling her features. "What makes you say that? You've defeated a Noumu before."
"I was stronger, then. My quirk…" Enji turned his healthy hand, activated just a tiny flame on the palm. "It doesn't work right anymore." He extinguished the flame feeling deep shame.
"Hm, that's not my expertise." She tabbed the pen against her chin. "I could refer you to a quirk therapist?"
His eyes narrowed in anger. "I'm not a child anymore," he scoffed, feeling insulted. "I've learned more about my quirk and refined my control over it to a higher degree than most people ever will!"
What insolence! A quirk therapist! A specialist children were sent to when they had issues controlling their quirks. Oh, he knew all about that: their patronizing little smiles, because their standards were so low; they were happy when their patients were able to use their quirks at all. Their encouraging little compliments. Their stupid little games. The glint of fear in their eyes as if they were handling a nuclear bomb about to go off.
"Quirk therapists are not just for children," Tanaka retorted. Then she shook her head. "That was a strong response to my suggestion. Can I assume you have experience?"
Apparently, his lack of an answer was enough for her.
"I see. Here in Musutafu? Would you be willing to tell me the psychiatrist who treated you?"
He gave in, though still mightily angry at her suggestion. "It was in this hospital. Hikari… or Hitori… Something like that."
"Hm. That doesn't ring a bell," she admitted.
Of course it didn't. The man hadn't been far from retirement when Enji saw him for the last time shortly before he enrolled into UA. Tanaka was around Enji's age, so she would've been in school then.
"I did not see that in your medical files," she said. "Then again, we delete all quirk-therapy files after 20 years, so it's not too surprising. I take it you didn't like it?"
Enji growled. "It wasn't the worst that ever happened to me," he admitted. "But it was demeaning." He had hated it. After several incidents in school, he had been obligated to take a few therapy sessions as a child, though nothing had ever come of it. Then his mother had died. Aiji's mother had expressed concerns that he might endanger her darling son. She feared his quirk was volatile – and to her credit, it probably was back then. He'd been a warden of the state, so she took her concerns to his social worker, and then Father State made him go through the entire thing.
It didn't do much to resolve his tension with Aiji's mother, as he had to move out shortly after and never moved back in again. For Enji, however, it had been a frustrating and humiliating experience. The timing had just been… bad. He'd wanted to enroll at UA, and Japan didn't want heroes who were regarded as ticking time bombs – so he had to get a clean sheet from his therapist. Thankfully, the man had been kind enough.
"Alright," she agreed somewhat reluctantly, "I won't recommend you to a specialist, then. Would you at least allow me to consult a colleague about your case?"
Enji shrugged. "Sure." With clenched teeth, he had to admit that it might come to that anyway if he couldn't get his quirk under control. If quirk therapy was the only option, it would be childish and stupid to deny it.
"Thank you. Then I will see to it," she looked at her watch. "And I will also arrange the meeting with All Might – hopefully. In the meantime, I would suggest we meet twice a week."
His jaw dropped in surprise. "Twice?" he repeated. How would she even fit that into her schedule on such short notice?
"Yes. I can't manage more at the moment. However, you mentioned that you might get your license in early April. We should try and get as much work done as possible until then, don't you think?" There was a determined glimmer in her eyes that he couldn't quite read.
They arranged to meet again on Friday, and then every Wednesday and Friday for the next three weeks, at least. He was about to leave, grabbing both his crutch and jacket, when something else occurred to him. He turned around, scrutinizing her questioningly.
"Yes?"
Enji didn't know if he should ask. He didn't know if he wanted to know the answer.
"When you gave me your business card… why?" He remembered how embarrassed he had felt then, like she'd insulted him. And now he was here.
Her brows furrowed a little. "What do you mean?"
"You must have seen that something was wrong with me," Enji specified. "Or you wouldn't have done it. Something made you think I needed to… well," he gestured around the room. "So, what was it."
"Oh," she shook her head. "No. When I saw you, I did not think you were 'mentally ill', if that's what you mean. But even if, that does not mean that anything is wrong. Of course, I knew about you from your wife, though when you came to share the news about Touya. Anyway. When I found you in front of her room then it was plain to see that something had changed." She smiled a little. "Believe it or not, half of the people who come to talk to me are not actually ill."
Enji didn't argue with her, but when he left the room, he scowled. She was wrong, of course. There was plenty wrong with him.
Yeah... and this was the point when I realized that getting Enji through therapy was not something I can just do in one chapter and then let the therapy run in the background over the next few months... no... apparently I had to write multiple therapy chapters.
That said, I never had anything to do with therapy, tbh. So I have no idea about how to write it and this is only really Enji talking his way through the hour. If you have any tips about writing therapy, I'm open for them^^
That said, as the chapter already spoiled that that would happen:
next up, a conversation with All Might!
