Chapter Text
“Midoriya Izuku,” I called, not even bothering to knock this time. Midoriya readily got out of his seat, bringing along his own notebook and pen. Midoriya took a seat on the couch so I took the armchair, pulling out his file while I gave him the standard spiel. “So, Midoriya. I read your file. It was pretty… interesting.”
The green-haired boy flinched. Ah, bad memories then. if he’s thinking of his school file then that confirms the discrimination theory. I set the slate off to the side; that confirmed his file was written discriminatorily and would probably be useless to me. I crossed my legs beneath me and leaned against my elbows.
“You know most of the people in my immediate family are Quirkless. Like my mother is quirkless and so was her mother before her,” I said with a soft grin. Midoriya looked at me, wary, surprised and hopeful all in one expression, “You won’t find that on record though. They still live in America so they aren’t required to register their quirk unless they end up in the criminal system or the foster system.”
“Really? But you have a quirk?” he was digging for information for the challenge, I noted, refusing to discount the idea that I didn’t have a quirk. But if figuring out what my quirk was would get him to engage then I’d take it. Besides, I could understand the confusion, and I know making a guessing game out of a non-existent quirk was good fun. My mum had done one with her classmates all through high school.
“I’m adopted,” I shrugged. Of course, that didn’t help me escape discrimination and persecution. It was different, yet the same. "So, tell me a little about yourself and what expectations you have for these sessions?”
“I don’t understand, I thought you were supposed to ask about the USJ?”
“I see you don’t talk to Jirou then” I commented off-hand, “I do have to ask about it because Hound Dog failed to perform an evaluation after the event but these sessions were originally intended for me to establish a psychological profile of you all and determine who needs regular sessions and who can book as needed. I’m asking for your expectations because these sessions are about you and how you want to improve yourself.”
“Outside of quirks or anything physical,” I emphasised, “it’s not my expertise. But if all you want from this is to learn how to speak with victims or coach someone through a panic attack I won’t begrudge you that.”
“What do you think I should work on? I guess I’ll defer to your expertise,” Izuku stuttered, curling in on himself.
“Well, I don’t know you all that well so I can’t be certain but you seem to have anxiety? So after you become more comfortable with me and this situation I’d say we work on that. Confidence perhaps and, though this is on the heavier side and completely up to you, your experience with discrimination? Unless something more pressing comes up.”
“What would be more pressing?”
“Destructive behaviours. Those that could harm you and those around you if not addressed properly. Suicidal thoughts, self-harm, addiction, criminal behaviour both petty and major, or self-depreciation which is the mental or verbal form of self-harm. As an example Kaminari shorting out his brain by overusing his quirk is destructive behaviour, sadly only on I can advise against and advise the staff to look into it more directly as it isn’t my area of expertise. I may have a degree in psychology but biopsychology and neuropsychology were always my weakest topics.”
“How would you know about destructive behaviours?” Midoriya’s hands started fidgeting in his lap and I cocked my head curiously.
“Some are more obvious than others but you could tell me about them yourself or a friend could explain concerns regarding a behaviour they’ve observed or I may simply observe that behaviour myself and figure it out,” I explained. Then, in a neutral tone with a blank face added, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
I leaned over my chair to reach into my bag and retrieve a thermos to take a drink. I look down in quiet contemplation for a while before turning back to Midoriya who is biting his lip to stay silent.
“You know, considering the amount of talking we do here I should have requested a mini-fridge.” Admittedly an oversight on my part but it got a small chuckle out of the kid so I call that a win.
The next person into my office that day was Minoru Mineta. He stared at me in a way that sent a shiver down my spine, in a way that I recognised well as leering. With his short stature, he followed behind me in a way that wouldn’t be immediately obvious to passersby that he was offering my ass as the tassels of the sleeveless fringe jacket I had opted to wear over my cardigan bounced against it as I walked. His snickers and snorts were loud enough to reach my ears. Without looking back I shrugged my jacket off my shoulders and let them drop into the crooks of my elbows. The solid fabric now covered my ass and the tassels now bounced against my calf.
“Take a seat,” I told him as I bypassed the armchair and couch to sit at my desk. I opened up my laptop and started looking through some files, opening an email in a separate tab. “You know, it is common courtesy, especially for people at your vantage point, to not stare. It makes women, no, people, uncomfortable.”
I found the questionnaire I was looking for in my files and sent it to the printer in the staff room while making a note to get a printer for my office and stuck it next to the one about a mini-fridge. Then I began composing an email.
“You say that like you didn’t totally like the attention, who wouldn’t want a man checking out their hot bod,” Mineta grinned. That was blatant and flagrant as if he saw nothing wrong with this whatsoever and his behaviour was normal and nothing to be ashamed of.
“You,” I deadpanned, “though if you did, I would have to update my notes because I didn’t know you swung that way.”
“Ew, no. Men who like men are disgusting. Men are disgusting,” he answered. Screwing up his nose and pinching his face to a point. Ah, homophobic too, add that to the email. And, oh joy, possible unconscious self-loathing and depreciation to unpack in that statement too. I cc’d Hound Dog in the email. “But really, you liked it.”
I aggressively hit send on the email and stared at him over the top of my computer, my hands folded. “Let’s make things clear between us. I am not interested, I will never be interested and your behaviour is inappropriate and makes me uncomfortable so you will stop. And if I hear that you’ve acted inappropriately or made another woman uncomfortable ever again then you will be getting more than a warning and it will not be pleasant,” I told him sternly, keeping the ‘it will be a lawsuit’ in my head. “Stay.”
I marched into the staff room and picked up the questionnaire I had sent to the printer. The teachers present looked up to watch me as I entered. Conveniently, Aiawa was present.
“Put Mineta on a report,” I seethed, catching his eye and holding his attention, “keep an eye on his behaviour towards the girls. Call him out on it and make a record of the incident. And I want that record.”
I handed Mineta the pen and paper.
“Fill that out as truthfully as possible, once that’s done you may leave.”
“Ojiro, how are you today?” The experienced martial artist had opted to sit in the armchair, his tails hanging lazily off the armrest.
“I’m okay. Today has been pretty good,” he replied, shifting nervously in his seat, his voice unsure.
“Is there anything you’d like to ask me before we begin?”
“Well, I’ve never done anything like this before so you could say I'm out of my depth. Um, what exactly do you do?”
“My job is to teach you the skills, and give you the resources you need to cope with and overcome the stresses and challenges of everyday life. More than that act as a friend who will always be here to listen and offer advice.'' I paused. “Would you like a fidget?”
“A fidget?” I stood and moved to my cobby, pulling out one of the canvas bonds and printing it back for Ojiro. I selected a fidget cube for myself before sitting back down on the couch.
“They’re toys you can play with absentmindedly. There are a lot of different types that play in different ways and they help some people focus or manage stress and anxiety.'' Throughout the rest of the session, Ojiro would pick out a toy, and play with it for a moment before setting it aside unsatisfied and looking for another. By the end of the session, he had finally seemed to settle on a bean bag stress ball that had a pastel tie-dye fabric cover. He reached over to put it back.
“Keep it,” I said, gesturing at the toy in his hand, “I can get more.”
“Sato, please, take a seat. Is there anything you would like to discuss?”
“Um. Do you know anything about eating disorders?”
“I have a passing familiarity,” I said as I pulled a few pamphlets about the subject from my bag and passed them to Sato. “I’m guessing your concern comes from your quirk?”
“Yes. oh, but I’d also like to get advice on how to keep healthy and fit for hero work even with my high sugar requirement,” he said, picking through the papers.
“Ah, well. My knowledge in that area is limited. But I can refer you to a nutritionist for assistance,” I said. I made a few notes in my notebook before pulling out another pamphlet and a loose slip of paper from my bag that I wrote a name and address on before handing it to him. “Now, are you concerned that you have an eating disorder or that you might develop one?”
Sero came into my office just before lunch. He had a pep in his step and a goofy toothy grin on his face. Our conversation was simple and lighthearted and he seemed to be doing pretty well. At the end of the session, I dismissed him for lunch break.