A/N: This chapter is a therapy session–its kinda wordy (and a lot of filler) but we'll get back on track pretty soon, y'all don't seem to mind all too much what I update as long as I DO update, so….here ya go.

.o0o.

I wasn't able to visit with Midoriya and All Might before Saturday, which was mildly frustrating. It ultimately didn't matter too much–to me at least, and to my knowledge, Midoriya was told the things he needed to know.

It looked like my father and I were going into a family counseling situation. As I was underage (like, severely), it was agreed that my father needed assistance learning to help me, as well as deserved to know what happened in the counseling room.

I was in the backseat on our way there, and I was nervous. Very nervous. I had secrets from my dad–secrets I wasn't sure I wanted to come out just yet. But given the nature of the secrets–and even still the unknown nature of our therapy session discussions–it was unlikely they would resurface soon.

Hizashi decided to drive us–both for moral support and because he had nothing better to do. I didn't mind. He was always great at being a constant in a world of chaos, even if I still felt bad for freaking out every time he touched me.

"We're here," Dad said quietly as Hizashi found a place to park.

I took a deep, calming breath as the car turned off. Both adults turned and looked at me, making sure I was okay.

I was, technically, if not nervous.

We checked in. Hizashi had some papers to grade and reports to fill out, so he assured us that we could take as long as we needed.

We managed to get in just before 10:00. My heart was beating out of my chest. I held onto Dad's hand for dear life and clutched my analysis notebook to my chest. We were both dressed business casual, and I was uncharacteristically very conscientious all of a sudden.

Dad knocked on the open door.

Dr. Yun looked up. He smiled warmly and stood from his loveseat and greeted us with a bow.

"Ah. Welcome in. Please, have a seat."

Dad bowed back. "Thank you for having us."

I bowed as well. He bowed to me and smiled.

We sat down on the big, furry couch. I noted the neutral-warm tone of the room, and the scent of freshly watered plants, and saw succulents littered around the room. Not much was in the room–a small, acrylic desk, two file cabinets; one for patients and the other for supplies, most likely, a loveseat, a rocking chair, a couch, and a coffee table. There was no bookshelf–instead, there was a chest of drawers that I assumed had books and resources in it. Any extra pieces of furniture were replaced with small palm trees, flower pots, and banana leaf plants.

If he was a quirk counselor, it would explain the lack of furniture, and the thin-lined carpet–easier to clean, but not uncomfortable for a 'livable' office either. Easy to pick up after a freakout of any given state. Plants were easily replaceable and easy to care for and emitted oxygen and pheromones known to calm and promote healing.

"Like what you see?"

I looked at the Doctor. He wasn't pressing he was quite comfortable. He had a calming aura about him. I felt at ease with him.

"What does this room tell you about me?" he urged again.

"Uhm," I started softly, sparing a glance at my father who seemed more or less indifferent, "I…noticed there wasn't much furniture…so you're conscientious of power and emitter-type quirks…you enjoy plants, whether for their calming factor or their ease of care, or both. You have a large area to sit in, but," I bounced on the cushion, "it's relatively light so you can move it for any reason. You're practical, simple, but not gaudy…the color of the interior is nice."

He nodded. "Very insightful. Your analysis was accurate at least 95% of the time."

My mouth twitched and I leaned back into the cushion, letting my guard down some.

"Let us start with some mild introduction," He said. His energy matched ours, something I appreciated. "My name is Daniel Yun. My father was born in China, I grew up in America, and then I moved to Japan for school, and have been here since. I enjoy gardening–hence the plants–and interior design–hence the choice in furnishing–in addition to quirk science and psychology.

"Knowing that about me," he continued, "I have a question for the two of you. What are you looking to get out of therapy?"

I wasn't sure who wanted to go first. I think Dr. Yun left it vague to see how we were going to respond. To get a feel of how we–my dad and me–worked.

"Would you like to go first, Sami?" Dad said softly.

I looked at him. "Uh…you can."

He nodded. "I'm here to assist my daughter in any way I can. I'm…not very equipped to help her with what she's been through, and I'm hoping to get insight and advice, and perhaps–if necessary–deal with my own issues. If it means helping Samiko, I'll do just about anything."

"Do you want to be here, Aizawa-San?"

I wasn't sure what he meant by that question, as he seemed to just answer it, but–

"If everything were peachy, no. I would rather be spending my weekend catching up on sleep or grading papers. I think of it kind of like this," he continued. "I'm a hero, as a profession. When I go on patrols and catch petty thieves, or fight with big villains, I would technically rather be doing other things, such as sleeping. I don't like fighting with villains, having petty thieves run away from me, or people illegally using their quirk, but the villains need to be caught and the problems need to be solved. So, I still do it, and understand I have an obligation to it.

"Similarly, that's how I feel coming here."

Wow. That was…something. I hoped I wouldn't be expected to give an answer like that.

Dr. Yun nodded "Very thorough, Aizawa-San. I appreciate the honesty. What do you think about his answer, Samiko?"

I pursed my lips. I ignored my rising heart rate. "I think it's reasonable. Understandable. I'm not offended by it. Best case scenario, neither of us would have problems big enough to need a professional–no offense to you, of course."

"None taken–I agree."

I nodded. "Exactly."

"With that in mind, what would you like to get out of being here?"

I paused again, thinking about my answer, thinking about the reason why I was here.

Dad's hand rested on my shoulder. I watched my hands begin to blur in my lap.

I sniffed. Everything was silent.

"I want…peace," I confessed after several minutes of silence. My voice wavered and a tear fell. "I want to know why I am the way I am, uhm…and I want to know how I can help it because I–" my voice cracked and I paused. "Because I'm miserable. And I don't know the answer. And it hinders me. That frustrates me."

I stopped talking. Dad's hand wrapped around my shoulder and I leaned into him. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

"That's a very introspective thought process, especially for someone so young," he said calmly. "I appreciate your honesty."

I laughed ruefully. "I can't be anything but."

"What do you mean?"

"It's part of my quirk," I said. "I can only tell the truth."

He let out a soft laugh. "What happens when you want to lie? What do you do?"

My mouth began twitching. "I don't answer a question," I chuckled. "Or I try to lie and get a headache."

"That sounds like it sucks," He said bluntly.

I shrugged. "'S not that bad."

There was another slight pause before he changed the subject.

"I ask those questions to get a feel for the patient, especially during family counseling or therapy, to see how the members interact with one another. It seems to me you two get along quite well and are on the same page concerning goals in therapy, which honestly takes a lot off my plate and we can get farther quicker.

"Going forward, I would like to get to know you some more, mostly–in your own words. To do this, if it makes one or the other person more comfortable to have one person leave the room, I would like that to happen. If you would rather have these conversations with each other present, then, of course, I won't have anyone leave.

"This is rather unconventional, I know," he said as he watched my father tense a little bit, "and this is pretty new. At any time, if either of you is uncomfortable, or if you would rather have these discussions in private, then we can schedule another allotted time for future sessions.

"So I'll leave it up to you two," he finished. "Would you prefer to proceed with each other or separate from one another?"

I didn't get a bad vibe from him, but I wasn't sure what his motivation was. One part of me said 'I would only find out if I tried it out,' but the other part of me knew I could get away with not trying it out and still getting the answer I wanted.

Hm. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I didn't look at my dad. I just looked at Dr. Yun.

He just looked right back.

"I was raped when I was ten," I said simply, starting the conversation bravely, not breaking eye contact. "I didn't remember much of it. Didn't understand. Now, I do. And now, I'm having flashbacks. Nightmares." My voice broke again. I swallowed. I blinked. "And…I'm like a whole different person. I hate it–I hate me," I breathed.

Dr. Yun's face changed. He didn't look away. He was practical as he nodded sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry you had to endure that."

His words hit me like a truck. It wasn't a token response. It wasn't said just because it was nice. He meant it. He meant every word with everything in him.

Tears sprung to my eyes. I sniffed and looked down, seeing a tissue box on the table. I don't hesitate to grab one.

"You're very brave, Samiko," he said gently. "You were brave that you endured it, and even braver to be open to help when it started becoming a hindrance. Many people either grin and bear it or let it affect them and their relationships all their lives. It takes humility to get help."

I nodded in understanding as tears fell silently down my face. I wiped them away with the tissue.

"I–" I spoke up, grabbing my notebook. "I actually…I took the time to write down, uh…what I thought was happening, based on research I did…" I handed him the notebook. "There's a lot that's happened in my life," I said. "So…feel free to ask for clarification."

His eyes widened, but not in a bad way, as he took the notebook. He flipped through the first few pages in silence. My dad rested his hand on my shoulder as I started to calm down.

He set it down and looked at me. "You are a very, very bright young lady." He set his hand on the notebook. "I'm going to keep this for now, if that's okay, and do some analyses, talk it over with another counselor, and see what we can come up with as far as steps forward for you. I am very proud of you for facing what you endured enough to come to these conclusions. It's hard to self-reflect for many people."

I gave a small nod. "Okay."

"Now," he continued. "Tell me about your quirk. How can I help you in that aspect?"

I told him. I told him about my threshold and my weakness, about how if my emotions get in the way, it activates, and about if I lack energy or lose concentration, I lose control of it. I tell him how it frustrates me and makes me feel bad for invading people's privacy against their will. I tell him I want to help it, but there doesn't seem to be an ethical way to do so.

I tell him how I feel to have the weight of so many people's pasts and secrets locked in my memory. I tell him, tearfully, how it makes me want to do things I never thought I'd do.

He listened intently, actively. He asked clarifying questions. It felt like a steady dialogue with him–not just him nodding along while I awkwardly spilled my guts. My father was completely still.

He wrote down a few more things and closes his notebook.

"Well, that sounds like a really solid place to start from," He smiles warmly. "Thank you for coming in and being willing. I would like to speak with your father privately for a moment if you're comfortable with waiting in the lobby with Sakura-San," he said. "If not, then we can have our conversation over a call sometime, it's totally up to you. I don't want to make you feel unsafe."

I nodded and stand. "I can wait in the lobby. It's nice, there," I say. I bow to him politely. "Thank you very much, Dr. Yun," I say.

I looked at my Dad, who nods as I head out.

"I'll be waiting," I said.

I walked out and took a deep breath, finding Hizashi and sitting down with him. He's just as shocked as I am when I sit close and lean into him, and okay with it. He puts his arm around me and hugs me close. I curled up in his side.

"Where's your dad?" He asked.

"Still in there. Dr. Yun wanted to speak to him privately."

'Zashi hummed. "Was he any good?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I like him."

"That's good," he said neutrally, his thumb rubbing small circles on my shoulder.

I close my eyes and relax into his touch. He's very comfortable. I could sit like this forever if I had to.

I don't know how long we wait until Dad finally emerges.

"Let's head home," he says to us. I sit up and we go to the car as he finished up some paperwork with the receptionist.

I sat and looked out the window as Hizashi drove back to U.A. in complete silence.

It wasn't comfortable. It wasn't uncomfortable. It just was. I wonder what Dad and Dr. Yun wanted to talk about in private, but I figured I could live without knowing.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling so much with your Quirk?" My dad asked neutrally.

I felt guilty. Maybe I should have told him before now. I didn't have a reason to before now.

"It's not really a conversation starter," I said quietly. "I mean…you almost died, Aila moved in, we had the Sports' Festival, Princess had her kittens, my nightmares came back–it got kinda put on the back burner," I explain.

He doesn't say anything. We make it home safe and sound. Aila's already made dinner for all four of us. We eat in peace.

No one says anything. I wonder if going to therapy was a mistake.

I sigh and excuse myself when I'm done with my food. Afterward, I head to my room. They bid me goodnight.

I lay down in bed and look at the picture of Mom on my desk. I wonder if her life was any easier at my age.

.o0o.