Chapter 23

The next afternoon it was time for a therapy appointment with Mafumi. Kankuro was grateful that his mission to Rivers had been scheduled so that he wouldn't miss any of his father's therapy appointments. He would have felt too guilty to go if he had deprived his father of support.

They were comfortably seated in Mafumi's office, side by side in chairs.

"I'm feeling much better," Yondaime offered, smiling.

Mafumi smiled gently in return. "That's good. I'm glad to hear that the medications are kicking in and taking effect, Yondaime-sama."

Yondaime nodded.

"Tell me about your life," Mafumi said. "What have you been doing?"

"I've been keeping up with my journal entries," Yondaime said. "It really helps."

"That's good…" Mafumi's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Kankuro saw that she was onto his father's evasion. "Now, tell me about what's been upsetting you."

Yondaime squirmed.

Kankuro couldn't help but smile. "Come on, Dad…we're here for a reason."

"Depression counseling," Yondaime said. "I know."

"You must deal with the source of your depression, Yondaime-sama," Mafumi said gently. "Unless you deal with the source, the feelings of depression will not go away. You are on medication now, true, but medication is only effective for one or two years, depending on the type. You will not want to keep switching medications for the rest of your life. You want to face what is bothering you."

Yondaime raised an eyebrow. "Do I?" But he sighed. "I suppose…" He leaned back in his chair. "I will have to, won't I?"

"Yes," Mafumi said with a small smile.

"I suppose…" Yondaime rested his head against the back of the chair and looked at the ceiling. "I should tell you. From the beginning."

Kankuro was amazed his father had the courage.

"My father abused me since I can remember," Yondaime said. "He died last year. When I married my wife, Karura, I started remembering the things he did to me. But most of my memories stayed under lock and key until he died. That was when I felt free to remember." He gave the therapist a wry smile. "Apparently."

He took a deep, slow breath. "It's been a hard year. Hard to keep going when I have nightmares every night, and my three children are at an age where they're going out on missions on their own…it makes me worry for them, for their safety, and thoughts of everything that could happen to them…things that I've known, things that happened to me, makes every moment almost unbearable."

"I understand that," Mafumi said softly. She waited a moment. When Yondaime stayed silent, she said, "So your main sources of depression are fear for your children and memories of the abuse you suffered as a child."

"Yes," Yondaime said. "After my wife died, my father came back in the worst way possible…but I don't remember much of that, yet."

Kankuro withheld a wince. God, Dad… He didn't look forward to when his dad had to process that stuff. His father would be in agony. The only comforting aspect was that he was here to offer support as an adult human being now.

"Well, it's important to process these memories safely and at your own pace," Mafumi said.

Kankuro nodded. "That's what Yuna-san said."

Mafumi smiled. "Ah, yes. You are working with Yuna-san also. I have heard this. Yuna-san is a good counselor. I trust her implicitly to lead you down the right path. I have worked with Yuna-san many times in the past because of her trustworthiness. It is a fortunate coincidence that you ended up seeking out my services after beginning treatment with Yuna-san."

"Perhaps the receptionist put us together," Yondaime said. "I asked for who she recommended."

"Ah." Mafumi nodded. "Perhaps that is it. Most of the people who work at the reception desk are aware of which therapists coordinate well together."

Kankuro was glad his father picked such a competent, friendly place to be. "What do you think we should do? Should we work out our issues with Yuna-san? Or did you want to help, too?"

"Well, I am mostly a behavioral therapist, though I do specialize in group therapy as well," Mafumi said. "I was thinking that I would help Yondaime-sama end any habits he wants to stop, and help him grow new, healthy habits to engage in."

"That seems reasonable," Yondaime said.

"And Yuna-san?" Kankuro asked.

Mafumi said, "Yuna-san does specialize in trauma-related family problems. I do believe she is a good place to start for processing your memories, Yondaime-sama. If you need any additional help, we will refer you to someone versed in post traumatic stress disorder related problems."

"Thank you," Kankuro said.

Yondaime nodded. "Yes, thank you, Mafumi-san. I am reassured that my treatment lies in good hands."

Mafumi inclined her head.

For the rest of the appointment, they talked more about building a routine that would help Yondaime manage his anxiety and depression. For instance, getting exercise into Yondaime's routine; including the possibility of putting a piece of gym equipment in his office, like a treadmill or an elliptical. Yondaime was amused. Mafumi also suggested massage again, but Yondaime was unsure. Kankuro thought that had a lot to do with the sexual abuse. His father likely didn't want unfamiliar people touching him.

xXx

After the appointment, Yondaime went back to work, and Kankuro went home. He wanted to do some research on his own. The Kazekage library was dedicated to more than jutsus, after all. He noticed that his father hadn't told Mafumi about the blackouts. He knew that his father probably wasn't going to divulge that information any time soon, but Kankuro thought it might be important.

Blackouts didn't exactly sound normal.

Kankuro browsed the shelves of scrolls and books. Dusty sunlight filtered in through one of the round windows high up on the wall, lighting the vast room. The ancient maroon carpet was a little on the ratty side in places, but Kankuro loved the library dearly. He wouldn't trade anything about it for the world. It had been the same for as long as he could remember. All the walls were covered with bookshelves up to the ceiling, the higher shelves accessed by a ladder that slid on a track. The center of the room had a row of low tables interspersed with round, squashy chairs and torch style reading lamps.

By now, Kankuro knew right where the psychology section was, even though nothing was marked. Some of the publications were old, including some scrolls that were practically falling apart, but there were new ones, too. Kankuro noticed that any time a prominent publication came out, a copy was donated to the Kazekage library. A similar library at the Academy was even bigger, but the reading selection was different. Less psychology and more history and jutsus.

Kankuro ran his fingers down the materials on the shelf, searching for the diagnostic reference. He could look up what caused blackouts in people, and then research each possibility one by one.

He found the book, a thick dictionary-like volume, and brought it over to the nearest chair to curl up and read. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, he didn't need to turn on a lamp. Kankuro opened the book and flipped through until he found the right entry: kiwoushinau – to faint, to lose consciousness, to black out. He hoped that the entry would have stuff about not remembering what happened, or else he'd have to look up memory loss, too.

Kankuro soon found out he needed to look under dissociation, or kairi. He found that entry and started reading. After scanning the paragraph, he realized that dissociation was, in and of itself, a topic that many books were written about. He shut the diagnostic volume and went back to the bookshelf. He came back with five different books. Not knowing which to start with, Kankuro stacked them on the nearest table and picked up the one that ended up on the top of the stack.

Hours later, Kankuro had absorbed a lot of information. The five books lay scattered on the table. He'd read two of them enough to know they weren't what he needed. The other three, though…one of them had been a slim volume easily finished. The other two would take him about a week to get through. He'd gotten through half of one, though. The descriptions of what the patients went through sounded so much like his dad that Kankuro had been unable to put it down.

Now he stared at the ceiling, stunned. When his gaze drifted to the window, he vaguely realized it was time to pick up his dad from work at the other end of the building.

How do I talk about this?

xXx

After dinner, Kankuro checked in on his father…and also prepared to tell his father some of the things he'd learned today. Last time, their research sharing had kind of exploded them both, so Kankuro wasn't sure this was a good idea…but he couldn't keep this stuff to himself.

He knocked on his father's door. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," came the response.

Kankuro slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

"Konbanwa," his father said, looking up from a sketchbook. Kankuro hadn't known his father had one. But there his father was, a sketch book on his lap, sitting in bed, a pencil in hand. "Please excuse the mess." He closed the book and put away the pencil in a pencil case, slipping both of them into the bottom drawer of the nightstand that used to belong to Karura.

Kankuro politely didn't mention anything. He knew his father was self-conscious, so he didn't attempt to explain that he didn't think his father's art supplies were a mess. His father's wording made him wonder if his father had been artistic as a kid, and his grandfather put a stop to it.

His father smiled at him once the bed was 'tidied up'. "What's up?"

"I did some research today," Kankuro said. He leaned against the closed door.

"Oh, did you?" His father raised an eyebrow, smiling.

Kankuro nodded. "Yeah, and I found out some things that you might need to know…It might be useful to know them…"

"Alright," his father said amiably. "Why don't you come over here and tell me, then?" He patted the bed.

Kankuro crossed the room that that permission and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Well…first of all…you have a dissociative disorder."

"What's that?" his father asked.

"Well, it's a lot of things," Kankuro said. "It's like…" He scratched his head. "Have you ever felt not attached to your body? Or, like…the person in the mirror isn't really you?"

Yondaime nodded. "All the time," he said softly.

Kankuro bit his lip. "Well, that's called depersonalization. That's a kind of dissociation."

"Okay."

Kankuro glanced at his father. His father seemed to be taking this well so far, so he continued. "And, there's more. Like…feeling like the world isn't real. Do you feel that way, too?"

"Sometimes." Yondaime nodded. "I find it hard to believe: Can this be happening? Is this real? Or is this one big nightmare?"

Kankuro nodded slowly. Especially given the declaration of war, he could easily imagine that response. "That's called derealization. Sometimes, people say that the world is foggy, or fuzzy, or far away…or that they feel like they're in a play – or in a movie, more recently, since movie theatres started getting popular."

"A very strange movie," Yondaime murmured. "In which I could never seem to do anything right, or get my lines right."

Kankuro reached out and squeezed his father's hand.

His father gave him a weak smile in response.

"A-and, well, there's a bunch of other stuff, but I don't know if you have any of that," Kankuro said quickly. He didn't want to scare his father the way he'd been scared by the research. "But there's one more thing."

"Oh?" His father raised an eyebrow. "Then tell me, by all means."

"One of the problems people have after they've been through something intense – like a traumatic accident, or a mission, or abuse – is that they can't handle feeling strong emotions," Kankuro said.

Yondaime nodded slowly. "Well…that's not the only reason, I imagine many people are simply not trained to display emotions."

"But that's different," Kankuro said. "They still feel them. They just don't share. I mean…like…you run away from them. Because they're too hard to handle."

"Ah," his father said.

Kankuro inwardly cringed at the one-syllable response. "So…you couldn't cope with going to therapy very well when you had to talk about painful stuff on of the last times we saw Yuna-san because of something called affect dysregulation."

"Affect dysregulation," his father murmured. He smiled wryly. "It sounds serious."

Kankuro could tell his father wanted to make light of this subject, but he steeled himself to move forward with it. "I'm not saying we have to deal with it by ourselves. I think we should talk about this with Yuna-san. The book I read says that therapists know ways to make it less scary to face your emotions."

"That would be nice," Yondaime said, nodding. "As it is, I'm very scared of being emotional. Especially scared of being scared."

Kankuro hugged his father. He pulled his father against him and got snuggled up, his father sitting against his chest, in his arms, the covers around them. "I'm here. It's okay. It's okay to be scared, and anything else. That's something we're going to work on. Not feeling okay to have these emotions is just going to cause more dissociation."

Yondaime just let Kankuro snuggle on him and pet his hair for a little while.

"You're a highly dissociative person because you've been abused as a kid," Kankuro said. "That's how it works. You were too small to defend yourself, so the only thing you could do was forget. Otherwise, you would have died, and you're too much of a survivor for that. But now…forgetting and other stuff is the only thing you know how to do, still. So we have to get you healthy. It's not fun to be forgetting stuff all the time, I'll bet."

Yondaime nodded. "It's not. Especially when my job depends on it. I find myself doing the right thing anyway, saying the right things, but I don't know how I manage to keep up. It's like there's some other part of me who knows…" He trailed off. "That sounds silly. I apologize."

"No, it's not silly," Kankuro said softly. He stroked his father's cheek. "It's true. There is some part of you who remembers. A trustworthy person everyone elected to be Kazekage, being Kazekage. It's you. You just can't remember how to access those memories, that knowledge, unless you're triggered off. When you're in the Council chamber, that might be a trigger, for example. When you're there, you remember, because you associate the Council chamber with the memories."

"Fascinating," his father murmured. "So the surroundings I'm in serve as a memory aid. That makes sense. I've noticed the same thing about my study. When I'm in my study, I remember things I have to do. So it's like that?"

Kankuro nodded. "When you've been abused, you store your memories differently. You're not forgetting or forgetful or brain damaged or anything. Your brain just keeps memories isolated in a special way. For instance…when your mom's away, but your father isn't. That's an environmental trigger. When that happens. You remember the abuse. But until then…you don't. Because your brain hid it. So only a circumstance related to the memory could trigger it."

"I suppose that makes sense." His father chewed his lip.

Kankuro stroked his shoulders. "It's okay…studies show that people with dissociative disorders can remember more under hypnosis. Just like everybody else. Apparently hypnosis done properly is a memory aid. Like a mild genjutsu effect, where you go inside yourself. Except it's not a technique that requires chakra, it's more like…guided meditation."

"Ah." Yondaime nodded. "I used to do a lot of meditation when Karura was alive. It would help me calm down and relax after a day's work."

"Then that's something you should definitely do again," Kankuro said. "Add it to the list of healthy habits."

"I stopped doing it because…after Karura's death…" Yondaime hesitated. "All it would make me do is cry. I would just cry, and cry, to the point where I had to stop."

Kankuro's eyes burned in sympathy. He hugged his father tightly and rocked him. "It's okay now. You've got some support back. You've got me."

Yondaime twisted around and held Kankuro in return, clinging tightly and kissing Kankuro's neck.

Kankuro blushed brightly. He felt himself stirring. "That feels good, Dad."

"I love you," Yondaime mumbled. "I love you so, so, so much." He punctuated his words with kisses.

Kankuro's eyes fell closed, and he allowed himself a soft moan. You used to be very physically affectionate, didn't you? When Mom was alive…I bet you were. His father had become increasingly snuggly and demonstrative the more he'd opened up. He stroked his father's back gently. "I love you, too, Dad. More than I can say." Mostly because he got a little choked up with emotion.

"You don't have to say," his father said softly. "You show me every day."

Kankuro felt warm at that; a rush of peaceful tranquility passed through him, making him melt. It was a feeling he didn't have too often in his life: being appreciated. And he'd been so afraid that researching his father's symptoms would be seen as prying. Instead, his reward was being held and snuggled. Proof that his father was one person who wouldn't push him away or reject his help. Kankuro never wanted anything more. His father was the ideal person to pour out his love to: someone who loved him back.