Chapter Text
Kiyotaka takes a deep breath as he steps off the bus and heads further down the street. It’s only a short walk from the bus stop to the clinic, and Kiyotaka was sure to schedule his intake late enough that he could ride there directly after school, but he can’t help checking his watch as he walks. He arrives at the clinic and checks in with nearly forty minutes until his appointment starts, so he sits down in one of the waiting room seats and takes a textbook out of his backpack.
His eyes drift over the words repeatedly, but no matter how many times he reads the same line of text, it just won’t stick. This has been happening more and more recently, and it’s starting to drive him crazy. Not only that, but he’s been finding it harder to get himself out of bed early enough to work out prior to going to school. In fact, the impetus for this visit happened just a few weeks ago, when he brought home a B on his report card and broke down in front of his father. Thankfully, he wasn’t in trouble, but the things he said led to his father scheduling this appointment for him.
Kiyotaka tries to shake away the memories. It was embarrassing of him to break down over such a thing, even if he had long been a perfectionist. He sighs softly—maybe switching gears would help. He turns around and pulls a math worksheet out of his backpack instead. He has a bit more luck working on this than his reading, but he just can’t quite seem to remember what they covered earlier today. Which formula was it? He’d have to consult his notes. He turns around once more to retrieve a notebook from his bag, huffing softly at himself for forgetting so soon. He’d paid extra close attention to try and make up for his recent slippage, and now he just couldn’t recall it. Ridiculous!
A short while later, Kiyotaka is pulled from his work by a door opening nearby and a voice ringing out.
“Ishimaru?”
Kiyotaka packs his belongings back into his bag and stands up, ready to follow the person back. He turns to the door to see an older-looking man with kind eyes. Somehow, that doesn’t quite soothe his anxiety. The man holds his hand out to Kiyotaka as they walk down the hallway to a small office.
“I’m Dr. Makimura. Did you come here alone?”
“Yes. My father is at work, but he’s already signed all of the necessary paperwork, including the financial agreements.”
Dr. Makimura nods.
“I’m not too worried about the last bit, but thank you both for completing it all ahead of time. Have a seat.”
Kiyotaka sits down stiffly across from Dr. Makimura’s desk. He glances around the room, noting the small bookshelf full of various psychology and psychiatry books, the portable blood pressure monitor, and the closed blinds on the window. Dr. Makimura shuts the door before sitting down and opening up his laptop. He pauses to read something on the screen before speaking.
“Oh, you filled out all the pre-screening questionnaires already. That saves me some time. Thank you. So, your only previous diagnosis is autism, correct?”
Kiyotaka nods.
“I was diagnosed when I was five.”
Dr. Makimura types something briefly.
“So, what brought you here?”
Kiyotaka swallows before he answers.
“My grades have been slipping, and my father is concerned. W-Well, there’s a little bit more to it than that…”
Dr. Makimura nods encouragingly.
“I had a meltdown about it and told him that I’ve been struggling recently.”
“Struggling, how?”
“It has been harder for me to pay attention and remember things from my classes, and I just… I don’t know, I feel so tired all the time, for no reason. Some days I even have trouble completing my homework, and I never did before.”
“How long would you say this has been going on?”
Kiyotaka pauses, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Maybe a couple of months.”
Dr. Makimura nods, typing for another few moments.
“One of the questionnaires we asked you to fill out is called the PHQ-9. It measures depression symptoms. You scored a thirteen, which may indicate moderate depression.”
Kiyotaka shifts awkwardly in his seat.
“Oh. Well, some of my answers were misleading. I mean, I’ve had trouble sleeping for as long as I can remember.”
Wrong answer. He watches Dr. Makimura type something else.
“Tell me more about that.”
“No matter how tired I am, I can never fall asleep in less than an hour. Sometimes, I lie awake for hours, or an entire night, and nothing ever happens. It’s… Been worse recently, actually.”
Dr. Makimura hums and nods.
“Do you have nightmares or trouble waking up in the morning?”
“Nightmares, yes, sometimes, but the only trouble I have in the morning is getting out of bed—and that’s new, too.”
Dr. Makimura continues typing for a few seconds.
“Are the nightmares repetitive?”
“What do you mean?”
“In theme. For example, you dream about failing tests over and over.”
“Oh. Yes, they are, but…”
“But?”
Kiyotaka shifts again. He glances away from the doctor.
“This is a safe space. You can tell me as much or as little as you want, but I can only help you if you meet me where I am,” the doctor says gently. Kiyotaka sighs.
“They’re about my grandfather. He was… He used to babysit me after my parents split up whenever my father would have to work. And he was… Less than kind in his parenting style to both my father and myself.”
Dr. Makimura nods, typing once more.
“Do you find yourself having unwanted memories or feelings about the way he treated you?”
Kiyotaka licks his lips.
“Sometimes,” he replies quietly. The doctor simply nods.
“Is it alright if I ask you about any other trauma you may have experienced?”
Kiyotaka nods.
“Yes.”
“Do you have experiences with bullying?”
Kiyotaka nods again.
“Emotional or verbal abuse?”
Another nod.
“Sexual abuse?”
Kiyotaka hesitates. Then, he nods, his eyes glued to the floor.
“Okay. We don’t have to talk about any of that in detail.”
Kiyotaka relaxes visibly, but doesn’t look up from the floor. The doctor continues on.
“Do you have any experiences seeing or hearing things that other people don’t?”
Kiyotaka shakes his head. The doctor nods.
“Any desire to hurt yourself or others?”
He shakes his head again.
“Okay.”
Dr. Makimura leans back in his chair and gazes at Kiyotaka, who looks back up at him.
“I’m going to go ahead and diagnose you with Major Depressive Disorder. Your anxiety screener came back normal, and I think we should perhaps explore a future PTSD diagnosis.”
Kiyotaka shifts his feet. Here in Japan, receiving a mental health diagnosis feels like a badge of shame. The doctor senses Kiyotaka’s discomfort.
“It’s alright. These are all relatively common diagnoses, and are very treatable. I’d like to get you started on an antidepressant called duloxetine. I think it will really help with your tiredness and difficulty concentrating. If you’re also interested, there’s a program we just started a few months ago for teenagers your age with mental health diagnoses. It’s more of a talk and support group, so you’d be coming here on Saturdays in addition to a recommendation of cognitive behavioral therapy every two weeks.”
Kiyotaka swallows again.
“How much will this all cost?”
“Everything that our clinic charges is income-based. We want this to be as affordable and accessible as possible. As for the prescription, it should be covered by the national insurance so long as you go to one of their pharmacies.”
Kiyotaka nods.
“I… Think I can fit that into my schedule. How do I sign up for that program?”
Two weeks later, Kiyotaka shows up to the clinic half an hour early for the noon to three adolescent and young adult support group. He walks up to the check in counter, expecting to be told to sit and wait in the waiting area, but instead a nurse leads him through another door and back into a room where a few other people sit in a circle of chairs: a nervous-looking girl with choppy hair, a person with long hair wearing a mask, a young man with short blond hair, another young woman with red eyes and glasses, and a young man with dark hair wearing a baseball cap. Upon seeing him enter, everyone in the room looks over at him. Kiyotaka freezes for a moment, then flashes a bright, somewhat unnatural smile and shouts,
“Good morning, everyone! My name is Kiyotaka—”
“No one cares, just sit your ass down,” interrupts the blond one. Kiyotaka huffs and frowns.
“There’s no need for language like that! I’m just introducing myself! Anyways, as I was saying, I’m Kiyotaka Ishimaru, and my pronouns are he/him!”
“What, you want a fuckin’ cookie?”
Oh, boy. This is going to be difficult.
“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t want to be here,” says the person in the mask, “My name is Korekiyo Shinguuji. My pronouns are they/he.”
Maybe not! Kiyotaka smiles and goes to shake hands with Korekiyo, noting that their hands and arms are wrapped up in bandages. How peculiar.
“Eek! I-I was going to wait until opening circle to do my introduction, but now it looks like everyone is moving on without me!”
Says the girl with the choppy hair. She stands up quickly, and, apparently tripping over her own feet, promptly falls forward against Kiyotaka.
“Are you okay?!”
“I’m so sorry!”
They simultaneously shout. The blond boy sighs in agitation.
“What a fucking mess.”
As Kiyotaka helps the girl back to her chair, she starts crying. Kiyotaka fumbles a little.
“Wh-What’s the matter?!”
“Y-You’re so nice to me, after I fell on you!”
“Well, it was an accident—”
“My name is M-Mikan Tsumiki. Oh! Um, I use she/her pronouns! Today’s your first day, right, Ishimaru? Y-You can sit next to me, if I’m not too revolting.”
Kiyotaka blinks. Has he said something to imply that she’s revolting?
“N-No, um, thank you for that kind offer! I’ll sit beside you today!”
Mikan looks absolutely overjoyed as Kiyotaka sits down next to her, even if that doesn’t slow her tears at all. Shortly after he sits down, two more people file in: a man with styled purple hair and a girl with round glasses.
“Oh, hey, the new guy’s here already! I’m Kaito Momota!”
Kaito walks over to Kiyotaka and shakes his hand. Kiyotaka nearly recoils from how cold his hands are, but manages to hide his reaction.
“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Kiyotaka Ishimaru!”
Rather than introducing herself, the other girl scurries over to the opposite side of the room, pulling her chair a few feet away from the rest of the group. Kiyotaka notes the three empty chairs and checks his watch. They’re supposed to start soon. Assuming one of those chairs is for the facilitator, that means two people may very well be late!
Speaking of the facilitator, Kiyotaka watches as a middle-aged woman enters and takes a seat in the circle.
“You must be Ishimaru, right? You can call me Miss Aiko. I’m a therapist and social worker, and I lead these sessions. Have you had your first session with your individual therapist yet?”
Kiyotaka shakes his head.
“No, that’s on Tuesday. I’m a bit bummed that I’ll have to miss a class to attend my appointment, but I’m sure I’ll make up the work.”
Miss Aiko smiles kindly back.
“I’m sure you will. Now, as far as I know, Oowada and Hagakure will be joining us today, so once they arrive we can get started.”
The room falls into an awkward silence as they await the arrival of the last two participants. It isn’t until nearly ten after that they arrive, walking in together. Before Miss Aiko can say anything, Kiyotaka stands up.
“You two are late! You’ve made us all run off-schedule, now! What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” spits the one with the ridiculous pompadour.
“My bad, lost track of time and left late,” replies the other, giving Miss Aiko an apologetic look. Miss Aiko frowns.
“Oowada, is that any way to treat the newest client?”
Oowada huffs as he plops down on the other side of the blond boy.
“Sorry,” he grumbles. The other man—Hagakure, apparently—sits down beside Kiyotaka. Miss Aiko clears her throat.
“Good afternoon, everyone. I think it’d be best if we all started today off with introductions and why we’re here. I’m Miss Aiko, as I just said, and I’m the therapist conducting the talking part of our session today.”
“Who do we have for activity therapy today?”
Asks Kaito.
“Music therapy with Mr. Gen.”
Activity therapy? That’s a thing? Before Kiyotaka can ponder if that’s really worth his time, Miss Aiko’s eyes are on him.
“I think I heard a few people around the room doing introductions, but I’d like everyone to go around and introduce themselves, starting with our newest member.”
Kiyotaka practically jumps to his feet, saluting the others, and says,
“My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, my pronouns are he/him, and I believe in bold simplicity!”
Miss Aiko smiles.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” most of the others around the room echo, though the man with the pompadour sneers as he does so. Kiyotaka has a feeling that they aren’t going to get along well.
The man sitting next to Kiyotaka goes next. He raises his hand with a casual smile.
“I’m Yasuhiro Hagakure, but you can just call me Hiro. Oh, my pronouns are he/him, and I believe in aliens.”
“Crazy bastard also thinks the Yakuza’s after him,” the blond man chimes in.
Miss Aiko frowns at him.
“We don’t use that word here, Fuyuhiko. And we don’t mock people for their beliefs, either.”
“I’m not mockin’ him; I know for a fucking fact that no one is after him!”
“You just haven’t been informed yet, man!”
Hiro argues back intensely.
“They’re following me!”
“Take your fucking meds!”
“No way! Not until my mom looks at the new stuff they’re giving me!”
Miss Aiko clears her throat loudly.
“Both of you, stop it. We’re not arguing about this right now.”
Kiyotaka swallows, raising his hand. Miss Aiko turns to him.
“You don’t have to raise your hand. What is it, Kiyotaka?”
“What does Hiro mean by that? That Fuyuhiko hasn’t been informed yet?”
A hush falls over the group. Fuyuhiko snickers.
“My full name is Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. I’m the heir to the Kuzuryuu Clan. That a problem, Ishimaru? It seems like both of our families’ reputations precede us.”
Kiyotaka pales and quickly shakes his head.
“Not a problem at all!”
Though he personally can’t understand the lifestyle of a criminal, he knows better than to try and scold the literal Yakuza. Perhaps Fuyuhiko is just here to try and better himself in light of his career.
“Uh, anyway… I’ll go next, although I already introduced myself. I’m Kaito Momota! Oh, and my pronouns are he/him!”
Kaito flashes a grin, and Kiyotaka swears he briefly sees stains on his teeth. No reason to fixate on that—after all, everyone here is presumably struggling with something. Still, he has to resist the urge to counsel Kaito on proper dental hygiene. Perhaps they could talk about it afterwards!
Next is the young man in the baseball cap. As he looks up, he angles the hat in such a way that no one can see his eyes. How odd and disrespectful during a greeting, Kiyotaka thinks.
“Ah, I’m Shuichi Saihara. My pronouns… Are he/they.” Kaito turns to Shuichi.
“You use they/them too? Why didn’t you tell me before, sidekick?”
Shuichi slumps over in his seat some.
“It never came up, so I didn’t say anything. I apologize.”
Kaito waves his hand through the air nonchalantly.
“Don’t be sorry! Men shouldn’t apologize so easily!”
Groans resound around the room at that statement. Kaito blinks.
“Oh, my bad. But still, really, you didn’t do anything wrong!”
Next is Korekiyo. They fold one leg over the other as they speak.
“Like I said before, my name is Korekiyo Shinguuji, and I use they/he pronouns.”
Miss Aiko turns to the girl who has pushed herself out of the circle.
“Are you going to introduce yourself?”
She glares at the therapist, then glances away, playing with one of her braids.
“T-Toko Fukawa.”
How… Simplistic. Sure. Kiyotaka will call it that.
Next is the young woman with red eyes and glasses. She pushes up her glasses before stating,
“My name is Peko Pekoyama. I’m here with my young master—”
“Peko, damn it, I told you to stop it with that shit!”
“...I’m here with… Kuzuryuu.”
Fuyuhiko sighs in irritation but says nothing else. They skip over Fuyuhiko, to the man with the pompadour.
“Mondo Oowada,” he grumbles out.
Last but not least, Mikan stumbles to her feet once more.
“I’m Mikan Tsumiki, she/her! It’s v-very nice to meet you!”
Once she sits back down (thankfully, without falling this time) Miss Aiko stands back up and claps.
“Alright, everyone! With that out of the way, I thought today we could talk a little bit about what brought us all here, if we’d like. Include as much or as little detail as you want, but also be sure to use trigger warnings for things that might be upsetting, so anyone who wants to step out or cover their ears can do so. Would anyone like to volunteer?”
A few moments pass. Then, Kaito’s hand goes up.
“I can go. I came here to support my good buddy Shuichi and help him get better!”
Something tells Kiyotaka that there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t say anything. Shuichi readjusts in his seat before looking at Kaito and speaking up.
“Hold on. Shouldn’t you at least mention your grandparents?”
Kaito frowns and sighs.
“I’m also here because my grandparents were worried about me, but there’s no reason for them to stress. I’m totally fine!”
Shuichi briefly looks disappointed, but his expression changes so quickly that Kiyotaka can't be sure about what he saw to begin with.
“I guess I can go next,” Shuichi says, “I came here because my uncle thought I wasn’t quite acting like myself after a case I solved, and, well… He was right. I’ve become very depressed recently.”
Shuichi pulls his hat down a little further. Kaito perks up proudly.
“Shuichi here is a detective! He works for his uncle’s agency.”
“Ah, Kaito…”
Shuichi’s pale cheeks flush.
There’s another lull in the conversation before Hiro speaks up.
“I came here from, uh, I think my third inpatient stay?”
He frowns thoughtfully and scratches his head.
“Basically, I went off my meds again and went missing for a while. I was in hiding from the Yakuza, but my mom was worried. I won’t be taking anything else they give me until she looks at it, though! I swear! That stuff does weird things to your body if they give you the wrong thing!”
The next person to speak up is Mikan.
“Um… Tr-Trigger warning for bullying…”
She hesitates for a moment before continuing to speak.
“My school recommended I come here after making some… concerning comments about people who weren’t being very nice to me. B-But it was just in the moment! I didn’t really mean it! Um, not that I don’t enjoy being here with everyone! You’re all v-very nice, and I’m really glad you don’t hate me, and—”
“We get it!”
Snaps Fuyuhiko.
“God, I guess I’ll go next.”
He groans and rolls his eyes.
“Trigger warning for suicide.”
Kiyotaka watches as Korekiyo calmly covers their ears.
“Basically, my family treats Peko here like utter shit, and I’m sick of it. Told my parents they’d better stop or else I’d do something they’ll hate. Turns out that slitting my stomach in front of them is enough for them to send me here. Peko’s here officially as my bodyguard, but I want her here to get better too.”
It’s hard to tell under Fuyuhiko’s naturally rosy cheeks, but Kiyotaka thinks he might see a light blush. Next to him, Peko sits stiffly, her intense eyes glancing around the room. After a moment, she speaks up.
“You all heard what he said. I’m not entirely sure what I am supposed to be working on while I’m here, but I’ll be here every day alongside him.”
Korekiyo lowers their hands.
“I suppose I can go next. Trigger warning for self-harm.”
They pause for a second.
“I am here after my parents caught me intensely self-harming and talking, seemingly, to myself. Though, I assure you all, it is not so simple.”
Kiyotaka isn’t sure he wants to know what they mean by such an ominous statement. The room falls into another awkward silence, and Miss Aiko glances at the last two, who both shake their heads.
“I don’t w-want to share,” Toko replies.
“That’s fine, then. Well, with the rest of our time, I’d like us all to read a handout about emotional regulation.”
By the time their fifteen-minute break rolls around, Kiyotaka isn’t sure what to think. This is such an eclectic group of people, and he could be using this time to study, but at the same time, he knows that something is wrong with him, and he doesn’t want to disappoint his father by simply quitting so soon.
He decides to take out his phone, noticing a text from his father.
Have a good day. I hope everything goes well on your first day.
Kiyotaka smiles faintly, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he mentally debates what to say back. Perhaps being honest would be best.
I’m not sure what to think yet. I’ve met a lot of new people today. We have music therapy after this. I’ll talk about it with you later. Love you.
That should work, right? He’s being honest, but he’s not saying anything that would concern his father. Lord knows he already has enough to worry about.
Kiyotaka stands from his seat to stretch his legs and use the bathroom, heading out into the hallway. As he does so he brushes past Fuyuhiko.
“Hey, Ishimaru.”
Kiyotaka pauses and turns to face him.
“Yes?”
Fuyuhiko looks him over, like he’s considering something, then hums.
“You’re the spitting image of him, y’know.”
Kiyotaka’s blood runs cold. He balls a fist and swallows thickly.
“What’s your point in saying that?”
Fuyuhiko shrugs.
“A couple of things. It makes you pass well, at least. See, I’m only a year older than you, but when you’re Yakuza, you’ve gotta keep an eye on politics and tabloids. I remember hearin’ all about the former prime minister’s granddaughter walking around with her hair cut short and wearing a boy’s uniform a few years back. It was all over every shitty cheap magazine in the gas stations, but it died out pretty fast.”
Kiyotaka grinds his teeth, tears meeting his eyes.
“And?”
Fuyuhiko reaches up and pats his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But maybe you should keep an eye on some of the older staff here. Let’s just say I have a personal interest in this sort of thing.”
With that, he walks away, leaving Kiyotaka utterly dumbfounded. Does “personal interest” mean what he thinks it does? Who should he look out for? Is he safe using the bathroom here? Kiyotaka shakes his head and continues towards the men’s bathroom.
Fortunately, nothing else of note occurs during the break, but Kiyotaka is still pretty shaken up by the entire interaction.
Promptly at the end of their break, a short middle-aged man enters the room—presumably, the Mr. Gen that had been mentioned before. He smiles at everyone in the room.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Are we ready to play a game?”
Hiro and Kaito both cheer, while most of the others nod. Kiyotaka is confused. How could a game be therapy?
“Alright, we’re gonna divide the room in half into two teams.”
He points to the empty seat where Miss Aiko had been sitting earlier, then gestures to the left side of the room.
“This half will be one team, and the right half will be the other team. That means Toko, Peko, Fuyuhiko, Mondo, and Mikan will be on one team, while Korekiyo, Shuichi, Kaito, Hiro, and…”
There’s a pause as Mr. Gen looks at a sheet of paper in his hand.
“You go by Kiyotaka, is that right?”
Kiyotaka nods, shifting in his seat.
“You’ll be on that team, then.”
Everyone rearranges their chairs into smaller circles, although Toko remains several feet away from the others on her team. Mr. Gen passes a dry erase board and marker to Fuyuhiko, then to Hiro. Fuyuhiko immediately passes it to Peko, while Hiro glances around at everyone else on his team.
“I’ve got neat handwriting, is everyone cool with me writing for us?”
A chorus of hums and nods rings out as the other four agree. Mr. Gen approaches the front of the room.
“I’m going to play a clip of a song from the Billboard top 100 in Japan. You guys have to guess the name of it and the performer. Your team will get one point for each correct answer, so you have a chance to get up to two points per song. Make sense? Good.”
Mr. Gen pulls out his phone and begins playing a song. Kiyotaka doesn’t recognize it at all, but that isn’t surprising—he doesn’t really listen to music, except when he occasionally plays classical music while studying. The other four seem to know it, though; they whisper to each other before Hiro scribbles something down on the dry erase board. After about thirty seconds, Mr. Gen pauses the song.
“So, do we have our guesses?”
Peko and Hiro both raise their billboards, which each say, “familie by Mrs. GREEN APPLE.” What an interesting name for a performer, Kiyotaka thinks to himself.
“Correct! Both teams get two points!”
This continues on loop for several more songs before Hiro leans over to Kiyotaka.
“You don’t have to be shy, y’know. You can help us guess.”
Kiyotaka sits up straight.
“Oh, I actually… Don’t listen to modern music. I haven’t heard any of these songs before.”
“What? Not even, like, on the radio? For serious?”
Kiyotaka shakes his head, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. Hiro hums.
“Huh.”
Then, he turns back to the dry erase board and hurriedly jots down their guess for that round. Perhaps this is a sign for Kiyotaka to study modern media more. After all, he doesn’t want to keep being the odd man out.
Eventually, the game ends, with Kiyotaka’s team winning by only two points. Mr. Gen picks up his clipboard and starts going around the room.
“Korekiyo, what was your benefit from today’s activity?”
“It was distracting,” Korekiyo answers.
“Shuichi, what was your benefit?”
And so on with everyone else. When it comes to be Kiyotaka’s turn, he pauses momentarily before answering.
“I suppose my benefit is that I learned more about modern music.”
There are a few snickers throughout the room. Kiyotaka resists the urge to slump down in his seat and hide himself.
“Yeah? That’s good,” Mr. Gen replies, writing down Kiyotaka’s response.
“Well, everyone, it’s about three o’clock. Have a good week, and I hope to see you all next Saturday,” Mr. Gen announces. Toko jumps up from her seat and rushes out the second he finishes speaking, followed less urgently by Fuyuhiko and Peko.
Kiyotaka checks his watch, then his phone. Drat! He’s just missed the bus and the next one isn’t scheduled for another half hour. Oh, well. Perhaps he can get some studying done at the stop. He did bring his backpack with him, after all.
As Kiyotaka makes his way out to the bus stop, he sees several of the others departing various ways—Fuyuhiko and Peko enter a fancy car with darkened windows, Mondo apparently has a motorcycle, Toko is picked up by a couple who, interestingly, don’t look much like her, and Hiro climbs into a van to drive himself home. Korekiyo seems to be waiting for someone outside of the clinic, while Kaito and Shuichi appear to be walking home together. That leaves…
“Oh, y-you’re taking the bus, too?”
Mikan says, sitting down on the bench to wait. Kiyotaka nods, sitting next to her.
“My father works long hours, so I often use public transportation.”
“My parents are busy, too,” Mikan replies, “s-so I usually go places by myself. I have since I was little. O-Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t ask!”
Kiyotaka smiles warily, hoping it calms her down.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind you talking about yourself. It’s normal for people to do that, right?”
Mikan bites her lip, glancing away.
“You’re a lot nicer than most of the other boys I’ve met our age,” she mutters. Kiyotaka frowns, then sighs.
“I know what you mean. Teenagers can be especially cruel. I’m… Also bullied at school. But I don’t let them get me down; I know that I will go on to do great things! I’m going to be prime minister someday!”
Mikan smiles meekly and giggles.
“You have b-big dreams, Ishimaru. I want to be a nurse, I think. I’ve always been good at bandaging myself up after I get hurt, so I want to help others in the same way.”
Ignoring the concerning connotations of that statement, Kiyotaka supposes that it’s a sweet sentiment. He smiles back at Mikan more naturally this time.
“I’m sure you’ll make a great nurse someday, Tsumiki.”
Mikan tears up at his statement. She’s… A bit of a crier, huh? Not that Kiyotaka isn’t, of course.
“Y-You think so?”
Kiyotaka nods.
“You can do anything with enough effort and perseverance, I think!”
“Thank you..! No one’s ever believed in me before… It feels nice.”
Mikan smiles again, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater. If Kiyotaka looks closely, he can see the bandages covering her arm. He decides it’s best not to ask about it. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence as they wait for the bus, with Kiyotaka pulling out a history textbook to review while they wait.
With it being a Saturday afternoon, the bus is mostly empty. The two board together, but before they can sit, the bus begins moving, resulting in Mikan tripping once again. She falls into an empty seat, and Kiyotaka hurries to help her up.
“O-Oh, no..!”
“It’s okay, let’s just sit here, yeah?”
Mikan nods, hurrying to sit down on the inner seat. Kiyotaka sits down in the aisle seat, tapping his foot. He glances over at Mikan.
“I don’t live far from here. Do you?”
Mikan shrugs.
“Um, it’s about half an hour by bus, but the trip is shorter if you drive. So, sort of?”
Kiyotaka nods in understanding. His commute is only about ten minutes, so it seems they’ve oriented themselves correctly.
“Do you happen to attend Lapis Lazuli Girl’s High School?”
Mikan nods.
“Ah, I see! I attend Kaiseidan High School, nearby!”
Mikan gasps.
“You must be really smart, then. I’ve heard a lot about the boys that attend that school. It’s hard to get into, right?”
Kiyotaka hums.
“I don’t think I’m especially smart. I’m just very hardworking.”
She tilts her head some.
“W-Well, you can be both.”
Both, huh? Kiyotaka has never thought about it that way. It’s a little too close to the assumption that he’s some sort of genius.
“Ah, maybe so… Oh, my stop is coming up.”
He reaches up to pull the cord.
“I’ll see you next week!”
Mikan nods and waves as the bus slows to a stop, allowing Kiyotaka and a few others to exit.
As he walks from the bus stop to his apartment, Kiyotaka can’t help but feel anxious for his first meeting with his therapist. Who knows what’s to come?