It was a sunny day.

Behind the orange couch there was a large bay window through which the sun streamed in. Everything took on a lighter hue under the yellowish glow: the solid wood desk, the plant with yellowed leaves, the color of her bloody fingernails as she tapped on her notebook.

The relief of the windows projected shadow lines diagonally across the floor and walls.

Like jail bars.

I sat in the leather chair between the two facing sofas. I think she was a little bit surprised because it was her place, you could tell that it was her place, but I had decided to sit there anyway.

She smiled at me with good humor and went to sit on the orange sofa.

I felt angry when I saw her immediately scribble a few lines with her pen, but I managed to keep my emotions in check.

I had to anyway. I refused to let her - or anyone else - affect me.

“What are you drawing?”

I had decided that I needed to be ambidextrous.

“I heard about what happened on Monday. Would you like to talk about that ?”

I started with something simple, like brushing my teeth with my left hand and flipping the way I hold my cutlery around.

“You don't have to answer right away. Take your time.”

And she really shut up.

I think because I was a child, she expected me to find the silence burdensome and would try to fill it at all costs.

I felt satisfied when, as I was turning over my paper to draw on the back of it, she realized that I wasn't going to open my mouth and she lost her patience:

“How do you feel ?”

Something very interesting happened with my chakra recently.

“Are you sad ?”, she paused,“You have reasons to be”

I thought I would have to invent jutsu by trial and error, but no: a kind of book, like an encyclopedia, appeared out of nowhere.

“We might as well talk about something else”

The encyclopedia was divided into five categories. Each category was related to a branch of jutsu: Nin, Fuin, Buki, Gen, Tai. There was a sixth category called 'Ninja Knowledge'.

“You know, I really like the sun”

Great, now all you need is your acceptance letter to join the Winx, bitch.

“Water, however, a little less. It's not really pleasant to feel your clothes sticking to your skin”

There was only a basic summary for each of the five disciplines.

“Do you like water ?”

I only had access to basic information and training methods.

“Many don't like rain”

The idea was that the book would unlock the next level in the discipline I was studying as soon as I met the requirements.

“Some people in your situation may develop phobias. Have you ever-”

My pencil went right through the paper.

“I am not afraid of water”

Her small black eyes shining, the psychologist leaned forward. She gloated.

“Fear is certainly not the right word, I agree. Perhaps we could talk about concern-”

“I don't have concerns”

Enji was just outside the door. I had nothing to be concerned about.

Her eyes rose to the wall clock.

“Looks like our session's coming to an end”

She looked at me again.

“Would you like to show me what you drew ?”

She had phrased it as a question, but we both knew it wasn't. I handed her the paper without batting an eye. I had only drawn rosettes anyway and-

My breath caught in my throat.

In the middle of the irregular circles was a man with very, very broad hands. His left hand was a shaking triangle, his right a fist.

He had no face.

The therapist took the drawing from my hands.

I lowered my eyes. Obediently, I sat back in my chair.

I hid my shaking hands between my thighs, watching the psychiatrist under my lashes.

She met my gaze over the draft. And smiled.

If my drawing had tipped her off, she didn't show it.

“Well, if you ask me, our next drawing sessions will not be out of place”

She was hideous with her eyes squinting like a wrinkled mouth.

I nodded. She got up and walked around the couch to the door. I watched her out of the corner of my eye and stood behind her.

She opened the door.

Enji, sitting in one of the waiting room's padded chairs, stood up quickly.

He placed his handout and pencil on the magazine-covered table before walking over to us.

He stared at me intently before turning to the psychologist.

“Mr Todoroki, may I see you in my office for a moment ?”

He nodded.

“Shoto-kun, would you mind waiting on that couch ? It won't take long”

I looked at Enji. With his chin, he gestured me to go.

When I turned around, I met the scrutinizing gaze of the psychologist behind her golden frame. She raised her glasses with a finger.

She smiled again and her face contracted like that of a crying baby.

“We'll leave the door open, don't worry”

I wanted to tell her to go screw herself, but that would have given her too much food for thought. They closed the door behind me, leaving a gap that was as thin as a strand of hair.

I went to stand by the plant like the docile child I was pretending to be.

The long leaves scratched my face. I pushed them away with one hand, feeling my irritation grow. They came back at me.

I looked around. No one.

I raised my left hand and turned them to ashes.

*

Haruka Maki was the best in her field.

That's why Enji Todoroki chose her over someone else to help his son. He had paid a lot of money to have a session as soon as possible after the incident. If she could help Shoto, Enji was willing to finance her retirement plan in the Maldives.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Mr. Todoroki, thank you for coming in person to this special session”

She smiled.

“I know how valuable your time is, so I'll get straight to the point : your son is not well, and he refuses to say why”

Enji felt the need to defend his youngest child.

“He has always been the silent kind”

Maki's smile became indulgent.

“I can imagine that, Mr. Todoroki, but what I mean is that he didn't even look me in the eye, except for greetings when we were in your presence. In forty-five minutes, the only time I could get his attention was when I asked him if he was afraid of water”

Enji was taken aback.

“Do you think he has developed a phobia ?”

“I'm not sure yet, but I'm not ruling it out at this point. I would like to know, when you are at home, does he have any problems showering ? Or washing his hands ?”

Enji took a few seconds to recall the last three days. Between the hospital, his oldest son's second nervous breakdown, and his youngest son's quietness, his week had been full of events.

“He refuses to let anyone else into the bathroom when he's in there, so I wouldn't know”

He frowned.

“He always wants me to be within earshot at those times, and I remember hearing the water running”

The therapist pursed her lips and crossed out a line on her notebook.

“Have you noticed anything unusual about Shoto's behavior lately ?”

“He's been quieter than usual, but he's never been very chatt” (Break) “He's been playing in our backyard more often, and he refuses to sleep alone”

“You mean he sleeps with you and your wife, right ?” (Nod) “Did he often sleep with you before ?”

“No, not in our room, but he has gotten used to nap with me when I come home from work”

“Hmm”

She scribbled again.

“If I'm not mistaken, you were the one who found Touya and Shoto in the bathroom. Could you describe the scene ?”

“There was almost more water on the floor than there was in the bathtub. The shower mat was overturned and the foam overflowed”

Maki was folded in half over her notebook.

“How did you feel ?”

Enraged.

“I thought we were here to talk about Shoto”

Enji had been so angry that for a split second, he had considered hurting Touya.

It was Shoto's crying that brought him back to reality so quickly. When he had realized what he was about to do to his own child, Enji had suddenly been afraid of himself.

Maki looked up from her notebook.

“Of course, Mr. Todoroki, but I need to gather as much information as I can in order to assess the situation we are facing”

Her expression was less severe when she smiled. That was probably why she did it so much.

“I was surprised, I guess. And nervous”

Nervous, because he had seen himself embedding his son in the bathroom wall.

If that had been the case, he would be the one seeing a psychologist right now.

“Let's talk about Touya”

Of course, Enji had expected that. But that didn't mean that he enjoyed talking about him - especially not now.

A bitter taste crept into his mouth.

“They have not seen each other since the incident”

“I think it is wise to keep them away from each other. No one knows how Shoto or even Touya might react”

It was Rei who needed to be told that.

For her, the whole thing was just a temporary crisis, a game between children that had gone wrong.

Enji hated himself for saying that about the mother of his children, but he didn't trust her enough to entrust Shoto to her in case she would force a meeting with Touya.

“What kind of relationship do you have with your eldest son ?”

“Cordial”

The pen froze above the notebook.

“What else ?”

Enji had never liked psychologists.

They had shifty eyes and kept all your secrets in folders that they filed away among a whole bunch of other folders full of secrets as if they were worth less than the paper they were written on.

“I haven't seen him in a few days”

Since the night of Tuesday to Wednesday, to be exact, when Enji caught him trying to remove the locks from Shoto's door.

“I would suggest that you keep in touch with him, Mr. Todoroki. I imagine that he has not yet explained the reasons for his actions, but knowing that you are at his side might encourage him to reveal his motives”

Enji remained silent for a few seconds. His eyes narrowed.

Only the sound of hastily turned paper broke the icy silence of the office.

“How would you react if you came home from work and found your oldest son drowning his brother in the bathtub ?”

His voice had lost its detached tone and had suddenly become frighteningly calm.

Maki didn't even have time to finish her sentence because her whole attention was focused on the Todoroki patriarch.

“My wife was in my daughter's room, in the next room, and she didn't hear anything. Nothing, not even the slightest, not even the smallest sound.”

Enji's eyes shone with anger.

“If I had been too tired that day, or if I had decided to go to sleep alone instead of with my son, then Shoto would have died”

The psychologist stirred in her chair.

“When I saw Touya...”

Enji fell silent, unable to continue. His eyes became vague, as if he was reliving the scene.

The second before he was on the doorstep and the second after he had violently pushed Touya and had Shoto in his claws.

When he had looked at him, his mind had been clouded with anger. He had not seen his son, but the threat that had to be eliminated.

His hand had gone to his waist, brushing the ghost of SP 2022 he had worn for so long.

Enji stood up abruptly, almost knocking over his chair.

Maki scrambled to her feet and dropped a stack of files on the floor. She had not expected the conversation to turn sour.

Enji had already turn away. Maki blurted out everything she had to say :

“Mr. Todoroki, if you would let me look after your eldest son as well, maybe I could try to mediate and-”

“No”

The categorical answer startled the psychologist.

“May I ask why ?”

Enji was already halfway to the door.

“My secretary will contact you for the next appointment”

“Mr. Todoroki !”

Enji stopped, one hand on the door handle.

“Although forgiveness is an important step in the healing process, I strongly advise you not to forgive before there is retribution. People who are forgiven without retribution tend to believe that they are special and that they have done nothing wrong”

Maki breathed in.

“In the case of Touya-”

Enji slammed the door behind him.

*

I looked at the door that Enji had just closed. The round handle turned and then the 'click' of the lock was heard. I waited a few seconds for his footsteps to fade. The bed in his room creaked.

I approached the tub and took a quick look over the rim. The plug had not been inserted. I turned the faucet on full blast before stepping away.

I pulled out a stool hidden under the sink and climbed on it.

I undressed as I watched the tub fill through the mirror. My dirty clothes formed a pile on the carpet. I grabbed a clean glove from the closet before gently turning on the faucet. A needle-thin trickle of water began to flow.

I waited patiently for it to moisten my glove enough before running it all over my body.

I look like a dog licking its asshole.

A small smile stretched my lips.

My glove went under my armpits, on my stomach, between my buttocks. I moistened it again before running it over my shoulders and down my neck.

I paused for a moment before running it down the back of my neck.

I lifted my hair to inspect the extent of the damage.

There were four red lines on the back of my neck, the same kind of marks you'd find on the face of someone with sensitive skin after a slap. They were slightly curved, like crescent moons, all pointing toward my skull.

In places the lines were broken, like grooves dug by nails.

Yellow and green bruises dotted the lines like dirty stains that could not be removed. They were round in shape and uneven in size, like fingertips.

It looks better than yesterday.

I gently patted the back of my neck, careful not to touch the crusty lines.

The glove passed over a bruise; I pressed my lips together, a hiss of pain leaving me in spite of myself. I turned my head sharply towards the door and waited breathlessly for Enji to burst in.

The door remained closed.

With tense shoulders, I ran the glove over the rest of my body.

As I was getting dressed, I felt a sudden urge to urinate.

My eyes automatically went to the toilet, but I made no move to approach it. It was right next to the bathtub.

I turned to the shower. The shower head hung from its base on the wall like a sword of Damocles over the cold white floor. Drops of water trickled from its head and rolled down the shiny gray handle.

I ended up unplugging the sink and peeing in it.

It took me longer to clean it and get rid of the bad smell than it did to wash myself.

I washed my hands one last time before putting on my robe over my pajamas.

I looked around, trying to put myself in the shoes of a stranger coming to inspect the place. Was there anything that would make it look like I hadn't showered? The walls of the bathtub were still wet and I had dried the sink thoroughly. My clothes were in the basket and the stool was put away.

I caught my own glance in the mirror.

I gently turned on the faucet to get some water in the palm of my hand. I wet my hair, concentrating more on the ends.

Once I was sure no one would be able to deduce anything, I left the room.

*