A Kaleidoscope of Visions @liketolaugh-writes - Tumblr Blog

Session One

This is the Allen-Goes-To-Therapy fic I've alluded to a few times! Now, one thing I want to mention up front is that this is very different from my other therapy fics in that Allen is fighting this process basically every step of the way. I've talked about this jokingly, but now I want to make this explicitly clear: Allen's therapist will not be a gentle person, because there is no gentle way to convince Allen to stop masking.

So, Kazama is designed accordingly, and isn't nearly as sweet as, say, Raine or Cotard. He's largely modeled after Dr. Knox, from Fullmetal Alchemist, although he's a lot more patient because otherwise he would just be bad at his job.

If you haven't read it yet, the preface for this story is here, explaining the crossover AU it takes place in.

TW: every kind of abuse, pedophilia mention, references to self-harm and a suicide attempt, dated language.

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By the time Allen went to his first appointment, Ichigo had already explained the general concept of therapy a couple of times. Allen was still incredibly uncomfortable with the idea; he was only just starting to get used to confiding in his friends, and even then, only the ones who had insisted that they wanted to hear it. The idea of an occupation centered around listening to the worries and dark thoughts of others was baffling, and the repeated explanations hadn't really helped Allen to decide how to approach it.

In the end, he settled on being polite, cautious, and agreeable, which was a strategy that rarely failed him.

Ichigo dropped Allen off with a reminder that he'd be at the café across the street for at least the first couple of sessions, and at eleven o'clock, Allen stepped into the sunlit office, where an older man was looking at his computer.

"Excuse me, are you Dr. Kazama?" Allen asked, soft and careful. His desk had a nameplate, Allen noted, but the prompt would still get a response from Kazama without seeming presumptuous.

"That's what it says on the desk, isn't it?" Kazama retorted without looking up, forehead creased as he studied something on the screen. "Sit anywhere, I'll be with you in a moment."

Allen glanced around the room. There was a couch on one side of the room, and a couple of cushioned wicker chairs. A tall bookshelf sat against the wall, and there were a few potted plants scattered around. There was also a keg of some kind, containing what Allen thought might be water, although it was hard to be certain. Paper cups sat in a wire sleeve against the side.

Allen sat on one end of the couch and folded his hands in his lap to wait.

"Allen Walker, I assume," Kazama said at last, turning his attention to Allen to study him. Allen smiled and nodded. "A time traveler, from what I hear."

"I suppose," Allen agreed, keeping his back straight. "Although I've been made to understand it's more complicated than that."

Kazama grunted, apparently unimpressed. "Make sure to tell me if you need something clarified," he said. "I don't know a damn thing about nineteenth century England, and I'm not going to spend time finding out."

"Yes, sir," Allen agreed readily.

"Don't call me sir," Kazama told him. "Kazama will do."

"Alright, Dr. Kazama."

Kazama nodded, apparently satisfied. "How much do you understand about therapy?"

Allen firmly suppressed the urge to fidget. "Ah, Ichigo explained the general concept. We're going to discuss my feelings and personal history, yes? And that is... in some manner going to make me healthier."

"Wasn't very specific, was he?" Kazama commented. Allen shrugged.

"He said that the details tend to vary, and he wasn't an expert on the matter, but that he trusted Ishida Ryuuken's judgment. I assumed that the process would become more apparent once it was underway."

Kazama grunted again. "Many forms of therapy have been developed over the years, but the bulk of what I practice here focuses on understanding your perspective, why it is the way that it is, and how that affects your behavior in the present. If something comes up that you need help processing, we'll take some time to do that. Make sense?"

Almost. "I'm sorry, can you explain what you mean by 'processing'?"

"When people go through something traumatic, like the loss of a friend, a lot of the time they'll put their emotions on hold so they can deal with the practical problems," Kazama explained. Despite his gruff demeanor, Allen noted, he was patient and helpful; he reminded Allen of Nyne. "Sometimes they'll remember to give themselves time later, sometimes they don't. If they don't, they can get stuck in the pipeline, and over time it gets clogged up. That's what you're experiencing, probably. Processing is giving you a chance to examine those feelings so they can clear out."

Oh, that sounded... unpleasant. Allen tried not to think about all the emotions he'd repressed over the years. "I see. Thank you for explaining."

"Is there anything else you want to know?" Kazama prompted. Allen hesitated, and after a moment, Kazama tacked on, "For this to work, you need to be transparent and sincere. If you lie to me, or hold back, you're wasting both our time. Ask the question."

Allen's fingers twitched, his tension spilling over slightly in his discomfort, but after a moment he obeyed. "I'm sorry if this is too personal, but... why did you enter this profession?"

Kazama raised an eyebrow; Allen had surprised him. He answered, though: "Japan has one of the highest suicide rates in the world. Mental health professionals are something we need a lot more of around here."

Allen supposed that was admirable, although it left him with a lingering unease, like he was wasting Kazama's time. "That makes sense, thank you."

Kazama studied him for a moment, frowning slightly, and then asked, "Do you have any concerns?"

Allen's fingers twitched again, and he folded them under his palms before he responded. "No. Why?"

"I told you not to lie to me." Kazama's expression didn't change, but Allen froze, his chest tightening. "It's fine. Every patient does it. What is your concern?"

Allen smiled sheepishly, buying himself time while he forced his heart to slow down. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to be a bother." After a moment, his chest loosened enough to continue, "I... typically find discussing my feelings to be..." His desire to play down the problem tangled violently with his desire to do this correctly for Ichigo's sake. The latter won, barely. "...unpleasant. So I admit, I have some apprehension about this idea."

"I see," Kazama acknowledged. "Then it may reassure you to know that there's a certain threshold of stress we can't afford to pass here. The therapy itself cannot be traumatic to you, or it isn't going to help you at all. We'll dedicate a portion of our time to building trust and getting you acclimated to discussing your feelings frankly. Does that reassure you, or are you still concerned?" Allen hesitated. "Would you like to have a safeword, which you could use to temporarily delay a conversation if you feel overwhelmed?"

Relief flooded Allen's chest so quickly and completely that it was dizzying. "Yes. Please."

Kazama nodded. "What would you like your word to be? Ideally something that is unlikely to come up in context."

Allen's common sense caught up to him, and he immediately felt embarrassed, warmth flooding his face. "Wait. I apologize, can you clarify how that would work?"

"You would assign a word to be your safeword, and you would use that word to end a conversation immediately," Kazama explained, apparently unfazed. "We would instead take some time to allow you to calm down, then move on to a different topic. At a later date, the next session at the earliest, we would attempt to revisit the topic. There would be no limits or conditions to this safeword use, although we may discuss some later if you end up using it often. Does that sound acceptable?"

Allen exhaled shakily, then nodded. At the very least, it would take some of the pressure off each interaction, which Allen assumed was the intention. "Let's go with... kettlecorn, then."

"Noted," Kazama said, tapping his computer rapidly. "We're going to start by taking a case history, which means we're going to discuss your background, your reason for seeking therapy, and the basic facts of your personal and family history. Does that sound acceptable?"

Allen shifted, crossing his legs at the ankle. "I suppose."

"How old are you, Allen?" Kazama asked, his attention on his computer again.

"Sixteen."

"Are you currently in school?"

Allen shook his head. "I've never been to school. My father taught me to read and write, but that's all."

Kazama paused, visibly thrown by that. After a moment, Allen recalled that a certain level of education was mandatory in this time period. How bizarre. It must have been a nightmare to implement. "I see. Remind me what year you originate from? I should note that down as well."

"I'm from 1897," Allen told him, relaxing slightly as the topic became less personal. "I spent the most time in England, but I spent a few years traveling through much of both Europe and Asia."

"I see," Kazama said, tapping at the computer again. His expression was unreadable. "What is your current occupation?"

"I don't currently have one," Allen admitted, keeping his posture straight. "Until recently, I was an exorcist - did anyone explain that situation to you?" Kazama shook his head. "I was part of a small unit in a larger organization that fought akuma. They're similar to hollows, but can only be harmed by a specific type of weapon. But they've recently become a non-issue." The thought still filled him with relief. At last, there were no more akuma in the world.

Kazama nodded. "I assume that's part of why you were sent to me," he said. Allen smiled ruefully and nodded. "Can you explain your current living situation, then?"

"I'm still living at the Black Order headquarters for the moment," Allen said, allowing himself to smile slightly at the thought of the Science Department's determination. "Since many of the Order's fighters are recruited young and have no other skills, the Science Department took it upon themselves to make sure everyone would be able to support themselves after the Order fully disbands." They weren't having a particularly easy time of it, either, but they certainly were determined.

"So you're currently in a transition of circumstances?" Kazama clarified. Allen considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Does that concern you?"

Allen shook his head. "Unlike most of the others, I already know I can keep myself off the street just fine. It's not a particularly stable lifestyle, but that doesn't bother me. But I'm not in a hurry either. I'd like to help the others if I can."

"It's commendable that you want to support your comrades." Kazama tapped his computer some more, while Allen smiled slightly. "That's your basic information down. So, why are you seeking therapy? You certainly went out of your way to get it."

"Ah..." Allen's smile turned uncomfortable again, and he had to force his shoulders to relax. "Ichigo did most of the work, really. He was the one to point out most of my... problems."

"Which are?"

Right. Allen shifted, tightening his fists so his nails dug subtly into his palms. "As I mentioned earlier, I have... difficulty opening up, even to close friends. I experience substantial anxiety outside the Order, due to prior experiences. My mood is often low at times when it is inappropriate." All things Ichigo had listed as reasons for Allen to agree to therapy.

"Hm," Kazama said again. He looked unimpressed, studying Allen with a skeptical frown. Allen tucked his fingers under his palms again. "Is that all?"

Allen's stomach lurched violently enough that he had to hold his breath for a moment, wincing silently. He didn't want Kazama to think that Ichigo had wasted his time, especially not because Allen was withholding information he found embarrassing. He ducked his head, avoiding Kazama's gaze as he admitted, "No. I, ah. I... tried to end my life a few months ago. While Ichigo was kind about it, he was rather unhappy with me. He wanted to start bringing me immediately, but the war required all of our attention."

"Is that your chief complaint?" Kazama asked, meeting Allen's eyes. There was a look in Kazama's that made Allen frown, trying to understand it. "That your friend is concerned about you?"

Allen's fists tightened on his lap, clenching in discomfort. "Is that wrong?"

"Allen. Do you have any desire to get better?"

Allen wrinkled his nose, tilting his head in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Kazama looked dead serious. "So far, you have only explained to me the reasons that Ichigo wants you to seek therapy. If you have no desire of your own to get better, we aren't going to get very far. So I'm going to ask you again: do you want to get better?"

Allen hesitated, dropping his gaze to his knees. It was... a more difficult question than it should have been. What would 'better' even look like for him? He didn't understand a single one of Ichigo's complaints. As far as Allen was concerned, things had always been that way. He'd always felt like this.

He'd always felt like this.

"I would like to stop feeling like this," Allen said at last, without lifting his head. "I would like... to stop feeling as if it's all I can do to put one foot in front of the other."

"That's a good place to start," Kazama agreed, with less frustration than Allen had expected. In fact, he looked... "Let's see if we can expand on that. Can you describe that feeling further? Is it sadness, or hopelessness, or perhaps a lack of joy? And do you experience it every day, most days, or merely often?"

Allen crossed his arms in discomfort, keeping his gaze firmly away from Kazama now. He already regretted ceding this much, but it would be cowardly and uncooperative to back out now. "I suppose..." He hesitated. "Are you... going to speak to Ichigo about this?"

"Nothing you tell me will leave this room," Kazama told him. "In fact, it's illegal for me to speak of it without your permission. I would lose my license to practice."

Allen's eyebrows rose in surprise, and after a moment, he let out a shaky breath and nodded.

"It's... a sense of hopelessness, and often exhaustion," he admitted quietly, unable to look directly at Kazama. His fists clenched and unclenched. "It is with me every minute of every day, even when there are other, louder emotions that ought to drown it out. Even when I am in combat. Even when I am also happy. But it is somewhat lessened when I am with people I love. Is that... something you can help me with?" It came out more tentative than he'd intended.

"There are a variety of things we can try," Kazama assured him, with something like kindness in his voice this time. "You're certainly not the first to suffer from such feelings, nor will you be the last. While I can't promise that the results will be immediate, or that we can get rid of it completely, we should be able to make it a much smaller presence in your life." Allen nodded stiffly. He wasn't sure how much he believed Kazama, but he was willing to try. "How long have you felt that way?"

"As long as I can remember," Allen said, crossing and then uncrossed his arms in discomfort. There was a deck of cards on the shelf. "May I...?"

"Certainly. That's what it's there for. You may fidget with anything else you see as well." Relieved, Allen grabbed the deck of cards and started to shuffle them, forcing his hands to stop shaking. "Have you found yourself with little interest or pleasure in doing things you might normally enjoy?"

Allen shrugged and nodded, splitting the deck between his hands. "There are days like that, yes. I try not to pay it any mind. There are things that must be done; finding pleasure in them is a bonus, not a necessity."

"How often?"

Allen considered for a moment. "Not very often. A few times a week, perhaps, but typically one of my friends will notice and cheer me up." He smiled slightly.

"You have a good support system, then?" Kazama asked, glancing up from his computer. Allen smiled warmly.

"I like to think so."

Kazama nodded, tapped his computer, and asked, "Have you had any further thoughts of harming yourself since your suicide attempt?"

Allen twitched, smile faltering, and focused on the cards in his hands as he considered his answer. For a long moment, he had to suppress the urge, again, to lie. "I- yes. Typically I know better than to act on them, but there were... extenuating circumstances, which are no longer in play. It's not a problem."

"I understand," Kazama told him, "but I will continue to ask these questions at the beginning of every appointment. It is standard practice and does not reflect my perception of you." Allen nodded cautiously, and Kazama continued, "I am now going to move on to your personal history. Do you have any questions?"

Allen tried to smile, instinctively covering up his discomfort. "Ah, how much detail do you need? Exactly?"

"I would like you to summarize your family relationships, any significant events that occurred over your lifetime, and some of the other relationships you consider significant, both past and present. I'll likely ask for more detail based on what you say."

Ha. He made that sound so easy. Allen's smile strained, and he fumbled with the cards, nearly dropping some of them. "We, ah. We could be here a while, doing all of that."

"Depending on how much has happened, taking a personal history can take several sessions," Kazama said, unfazed. He pushed his glasses up his nose, looking irritatingly disaffected. "It's not a concern. I can see that you don't relish the prospect, though."

Allen tried to laugh. It came out too sharp, with entirely the wrong emotion behind it, and he bit his tongue hard and smiled sheepishly. "Not really. I... I don't suppose I can delay this."

"It's a cornerstone of treatment," Kazama told him, blunt but not unkind. "We can start with discussing your relationships with others if that would be easier."

Allen didn't bother to hide his relief, shoulders dropping, and he nodded. "Yes, that sounds better. What exactly do you need to know?" His hands steadied, and he split the deck in his hands and riffled the cards back together.

"How many people are in your immediate family?" Kazama asked. Allen winced.

"Ah... none. I've been an orphan all my life." He offered Kazama another sheepish smile. "A man called Mana cared for me for a few years, starting when I was seven, but he died when I was ten."

"Who cared for you until you were seven?"

"I have no memory of anything before I was seven, for magical reasons I would prefer not to discuss today," Allen said firmly. Thankfully, Kazama just nodded, and Allen continued, "For some months between when my memory starts and meeting Mana, I worked as a chore boy in the circus where we met. No one cared for me there. No one even liked me."

Kazama nodded, expression neutral. "And after you were ten?"

"I lived with Mother - a woman known as Mother, that is - and Barba, for two years," Allen replied promptly. "I don't consider them family, but they were kind to me while I was unwell following Mana's death. Master Cross was also there for the first six months or so, and then in and out following that. I started to travel with him as his apprentice when I was twelve, and he sent me to the Black Order shortly before I turned fifteen."

"Thank you for the summary," Kazama said, tapping away. "Tell me about the circus first. How would you describe your time there? What memories do you have from that time period? Who were the significant figures there?"

Allen forced a laugh, thankful that it came out more natural this time, and fanned the cards from one hand to the other. "Why are we starting there? I wasn't there for very long, really. I don't believe it's relevant."

Kazama arched an eyebrow at him, looking unimpressed. "Have you studied psychology, boy? Childhood memories are formative. They affect your way of thinking for the rest of your life, and it is only by understanding those patterns that you can break them."

Oh, wonderful. Allen didn't particularly want to discuss... any of his childhood, actually. "As I said, I wasn't close to anyone there."

"Adverse figures count as significant. And you would not be avoiding the topic if it didn't still weigh heavily on you."

Allen clenched his jaw, exhaled through his teeth, and then forced his shoulders to soften and smiled apologetically. "You're right, I'm being difficult. My apologies."

Kazama looked, if anything, even more annoyed. "I didn't say that. I pointed out that you are exhibiting avoidance behavior, which is a normal response to painful memories. You are not going to convince me that those memories no longer matter."

Allen sighed, suppressing his irritation forcefully. Dr. Kazama was only doing his job. "Of course, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

Allen clenched his jaw through another wave of frustration, waited for it to ebb, and then smiled and spoke without acknowledging the response. "The atmosphere of the circus was... unpleasant. I was told that my parents had sold me to be part of the freak show, as my left arm is deformed and, at the time, was also paralyzed. After the first time I was put on exhibition, however, I threatened to run away." Allen hesitated, then exhaled shakily, shutting his eyes. "I... I thought we would be focusing on the present, for the most part."

"The purpose of this exercise is to lend context to your mindset in the present," Kazama said without missing a beat, even and calm. "I won't ask you to examine these memories closely. Summarizing the events will do."

Ha. He said that as if it were easy. Allen reached up to rub his forehead, feeling exhausted, and considered his options for a moment. Then he gave in.

"Ichigo tells me that children in this time period enjoy many protections that prevent most of the things that concerned me when I was a child," Allen said at last, stiff and strained. "Children in my time... do not have those. Orphanages tend to have very low capacity, and foundling hospitals only accept children whose parents pretend to want them back someday. Most unwanted children, especially children with limb deformities such as mine, sleep on the street, and they typically die there as well, from hunger or cold. When I threatened to leave, the ringmaster took me for a walk and made it clear what would await me if I did."

"I assume this is one of your earliest memories," Kazama said quietly. Allen nodded without looking at him, then blindly reached down and started to shuffle the cards again.

"The only one before it is the exhibition itself," Allen said, giving the cards a weary, self-recriminating smile. "I couldn't describe to you anything that happened before that, although I believe a few days passed." He exhaled shakily. "I asked to be allowed to do chores instead, which was difficult due to my paralyzed arm. I frequently went days without eating because I was unable to complete them. The most significant figures were the ringmaster, whowas impatient to get his money's worth, and Cosimo, who was simply an insecure, spiteful, and cruel type of person."

"Were you physically abused there?" Kazama asked. Allen frowned at him, and he elaborated, "Were you hit, beaten, threatened, restrained, or otherwise physically harmed?"

"Oh. Yes. Why?" Allen cocked his head, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

Kazama stared at him for a moment, looking first baffled, then resigned. "Ah. In the present day, there are understood to be four types of child abuse, all of which have lasting effects on a person's psyche. Physical abuse is one of them. Another is emotional abuse, in which the child is harassed, belittled, ridiculed, or otherwise treated with contempt. There is also sexual abuse, when an adult interacts sexually with a child, and finally neglect, where a child's caregiver refuses or is unable to provide basic necessities, such as food, warmth, or affection. If you experienced any of these during a given period of your life, I would like you to include it in your description."

Allen stared at him, sticking on the idea of someone actually caring about those things. Allen's life had been rife with those things, and he generally understood that it wasn't personal; it was simple the way things were, most of the time. Of course, most of those things were frowned upon, at least in polite society, but the act of naming and defining those things almost seemed to imply that something was being done about it.

...He would ask Ichigo about it later. He cleared his throat.

"By those definitions, I experienced physical abuse, emotional abuse, and neglect at the circus," he said at last, careful and clinical in his discomfort. "No one interacted with me sexually. In fact, the only time that has happened to me, it was when a man asked to buy my mouth, and my master promptly took him out back and shot him."

Kazama's mouth twitched. "Yes, many people would consider that the appropriate response. Thank you for telling me. Does that conclude your description of the circus?" Allen nodded quickly, relieved. "In that case, why don't you tell me about Mana? What do you remember most about him? How did you typically interact, and how did he discipline you? What was your life like during that period?"

Allen exhaled, allowing himself to relax, and gave Kazama a cautious smile.

"Mana was wonderful," he told Kazama earnestly. "He was the kindest person I've ever met. That is what I remember the most - he never raised his voice, never said an unkind word to anyone, and always had time to make someone smile - especially me, it felt like." His heart lightened, and his smile came easier. "I was... rather disagreeable as a child, but Mana never seemed to mind. He never seemed to get angry with me at all, no matter how rude or ungrateful or belligerent I became. If I was upset, he always seemed to know it, and he would help me - separate me from someone who was being cruel, or patch a hole in my shoe, or simply cheer me up. And even if I was just being obstinate, he was patient with me."

"All of those things sound like the marks of a good guardian," Kazama said quietly. Allen gave him a genuine smile.

"He was wonderful," he repeated, softer this time. "He was a street clown, so we'd perform together often, traveling from town to town. I enjoyed that greatly, and until recently I considered it the best time of my life." He had to reach up to wipe his eyes. He wished that talking about Mana were not so difficult. "The only problem was, ah..." He swallowed with difficulty, his throat aching. "Mana was... unwell. The doctors called it dementia. It had already started by the time we first met; he was losing memories, and often acted peculiar. In hindsight, I think I missed most of the earlier signs, and his decline wasn't obvious to me until the last year, when he started to forget things like how to find a place to stay for the night, and how to dress for the weather. Around four months before he died, he stopped being able to perform, so we slept in a church that... understood the situation. One morning, I woke up and found that he had died in the night."

Without meaning to, Allen hiccuped, unwelcome tears spilling over and running down his cheeks. He wiped them away.

"I imagine that was devastating," Kazama remarked softly. Allen nodded without looking up and wiped his eyes again. "Were you caring for him, during that period? Or was there someone else who helped you?"

Allen hiccuped again, wiped his eyes, and answered, "For the most part, it was just us. One of the sisters would watch Mana when he was too unwell to even leave, and... someone else who may have been leaving things for me to find, so I could barter for food. Otherwise... it was just me, helping him in what ways I was able." He swallowed. "But even then, he always found a way to make me smile." He reached up to dry his eyes again. "I... I would like to move on from this, I think."

"I understand," Kazama said, unexpectedly solemn. "Then perhaps you would like to tell me about staying with Mother and Barba."

"Ah." Allen hiccuped around a laugh, straightened up, and dried his eyes, hopefully for the last time. "Well... I was cursed only a few days after Mana's death." He tapped the left side of his face for clarity. "So I don't remember very much of the first few months I spent with them. I'm told that I was completely unresponsive for the first six weeks. I had to be spoon-fed, bathed, and... otherwise coddled like an infant, you understand." He grimaced slightly in embarrassment. "Which I tell you only because... Master did all of those things, not Mother or Barba. I didn't understand why for a long time, since he's not a naturally caring person, nor did we have any connection that I was aware of."

"Is that what you meant when you described yourself as 'unwell'?" Kazama asked.

Allen nodded. "In part. But... even once I roused from that state, I remained somewhat dazed for months. I would stare at the wall for long periods of time, or hide in dark corners to lose myself. I would have strange fits with very little prompting. I felt for a long time as if I was having a very strange nightmare." He shrugged, uncomfortable again, and picked the cards back up. "As to what was actually happening, both Mother and Barba were understanding and patient, and allowed me to pick up chores at my own pace, once I was ready."

"I see. And your master? Cross, you said?"

Allen snorted softly, allowing himself a small smile. "Master is a right piece of work, as it happens, but he does love me. He taught me nearly everything I know about surviving on my own without needing to resort to begging. He also never should have been put in charge of a child, but beggars can't be choosers, I suppose." He laughed quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't get me started," Allen said without heat. "For one thing, he took me through every brothel and bar from Spain to China. He'd abandon me in cities and make me come find him. He'd send me out to buy alcohol without any money. An absolute prick." There was too much warmth in his voice.

"Despite all of that, you seem quite fond of him."

Allen smiled sheepishly, called out. "I didn't appreciate it at the time," he said, "but Master gave me all the tools I needed to control my own fate. There is nothing more valuable to me than that."

"That's quite a significant statement," Kazama noted, tapping his computer again. "How would you describe your life during that period?"

"Hm..." Allen tilted his head, considering. "I suppose... day-to-day I was typically quite stressed, as Master often placed me in difficult or dangerous situations that he fully expected me to get myself out of, without any assistance from him. On the other hand, I was able to keep myself fed, sheltered, and more or less unharmed. It took everything I had, mind, but it was still different from earlier times, when 'everything I had' was still not enough. I built a lot of confidence during that time, I think."

"I can see how that would have made a substantial difference to you," Kazama acknowledged. "Did he abuse you in any of the ways I described?"

Allen shrugged. "He hit me sometimes, I suppose, and he certainly enjoyed winding me up on purpose. When we were together, he more or less saw to my needs, although it was quite common for us not to be. It would be a lie to say those things were completely absent, but I found them more vexing than malignant." More tapping. Belatedly, Allen realized that Dr. Kazama was taking notes - presumably he saw many other patients and would need the reference later. "Ah. My apologies, can other people access those notes?"

"No," Kazama said, without missing a beat. "These will remain private and are only accessible by me. Another person gaining access by mistake would be quite a violation, and I would be legally required to inform you."

"That's... considerate."

"That's the idea, yes. You said that your master frequently brought you to... red light districts, yes? Is that term familiar to you?" Allen chuckled slightly and nodded, and Kazama continued, "Were you placed in any situations that made you uncomfortable?"

Uncomfortable? Allen supposed that this was a sexual abuse question. He shook his head. "I typically stayed with the working girls in a back room, and they tended to be rather protective of me. The only times I was exposed to that aspect of the business were when I started helping to remove violent clients from the rooms - which was something that I chose to do."

"You were exposed to sexual violence, then?" Kazama asked, expression still fairly neutral, with a deep furrow in his brow that seemed to be standard for him. Allen had the fleeting, dismissive thought that Kazama was being rather precious about this, then immediately chided himself for it. Cultural standards were different everywhere, and twenty-first century Japan was clearly quite protective of children and their innocence.

"In concept, mainly," he told Kazama. "The working girls spoke about it fairly freely, and most of what I know about sex came from them." He had seen some things he would have preferred not to, but if anything, that was all the more reason to intervene. By the time he was fourteen, he was already stronger than most of the people working security - when there were any at all.

Kazama raised an eyebrow. "Unconventional, but effective, I suppose," he commented after a moment. "Those conversations didn't make you uncomfortable?"

Allen shook his head. "By then I was of an age to be curious about it, and the girls didn't mind explaining if I had any questions. Compared to what the kids raised by the church got, I'd talk to the working girls any day." Lenalee, Kanda, and Link had all been hopelessly flustered and confused about the topic, although Lenalee had eventually mustered the courage to ask some questions about the whats and hows of the matter.

Kazama snorted. "If there's one thing that hasn't improved since the nineteenth century, it's the Catholic approach to sex education," he said dryly. "Yes, I imagine what you learned was at least comprehensive." Allen chuckled and nodded. "Were there any other significant figures during this period?" Allen shook his head. "Have you been sexually active at any point?"

"Hm?" Allen tilted his head again, then shrugged, playing with the cards more idly. "Sorry, I'm not certain what the boundaries of that term are."

"For our purposes, it is any interaction with another person for the purpose of gratification," Kazama told him bluntly. "However, if a doctor asks you the same question, it refers exclusively to intercourse."

"Ah, thank you." Allen gave him a small smile, tucking the information away. "Yes, a little bit, mainly with other boys my age."

"Hm." Kazama glanced up again, raising an eyebrow. "Allow me to backtrack for a moment. I skipped a basic demographics question because the stigma is so much greater in your time than in ours. Is there a term you prefer to use to describe your sexual and romantic interests?"

Allen blinked for a moment before understanding sparked. "Are you asking if I'm a homosexual?" he asked, allowing enough amusement to creep into his voice to signal that he wasn't offended.

"Or otherwise," Kazama confirmed, without missing a beat. "Many more terms exist for such things now, and I know many also existed in your time across different cultures, although I'm not familiar with most of them."

Allen nodded. Considering the types of places Cross took him through, he hadn't really noticed any variation in the prevalence of homosexuals across different cultures, but he'd certainly noticed the differences in how they'd presented themselves. "It's not something I've spent a lot of time thinking about," he admitted frankly. "Expressing my preferences to others was never a priority. I don't consider myself a homosexual, personally - homosexuals are typically interested only in their own sex, and my interest is indiscriminate."

"Thank you for sharing that with me," Kazama said, taking note of that as well. "Have you had any romantic relationships?"

Allen shook his head. "There's someone that I like, but I'm waiting for the situation to settle down before I make any moves." Link would likely be a lot more receptive once they were more secure in their peace with the Noah - and Allen would need to be very tactful about it, considering what the Church had to say about homosexual relations.

"Patience is a virtue," Kazama agreed. "Tell me about your other relationships, then. You mentioned that you feel better around your loved ones, yes?"

Allen beamed, straightening up without thinking. "That's right," he agreed readily. "The Black Order is like a family to me - to everyone there, really. I feel more accepted there than anywhere else I've ever been. I..." He smiled sheepishly. "Well, what do you need to know?"

"That's quite an enthusiastic response," Kazama noted, with some dry amusement. "Feeling accepted means a lot to you, I'm sure." Allen nodded. "What else do you feel is going well? Are there any patterns that stand out to you, or, conversely, any unique relationships?"

"Hm." Allen tilted his head, considering the question seriously. "I would say... I am very fortunate to have so many people that care about me so much." He smiled softly. "I have friends that will help me if they feel I need it, go out of their way to do things to make me happy, and accept even the things about me that they find strange. I don't know what else I could possibly ask for." His relationship with the Noah was more complicated, but those relationships were still developing.

"You care very deeply about your friends, don't you?"

"My friends are everything to me," Allen said without hesitation, lifting his head to meet Kazama's eyes. "Mana told me, soon after we met, that love is what makes the world beautiful. I have always found that to be true. I am very grateful for my friends."

"I understand what you mean," Kazama said solemnly, taking Allen by surprise. "Is there anything that you struggle with? Maintaining friendships can be difficult after a long time alone."

"Oh, well..." Allen winced, scooting back a little, and played with the cards. "Several of my friends have complained that they feel that I don't confide in them, which... is true, typically. I prefer not to bother them with my problems. Kanda has further accused me of being unnecessarily docile, and... Lenalee, Krory, and Marie feel that I don't truly trust them." Allen didn't particularly understand that one. He wasn't sure how he could possibly trust them any more than he already did.

"All of those are common problems in people who feel a strong need to please others," Kazama said, taking Allen by surprise. Then, as if determined to continue doing so, Kazama met his eyes. "And what do you feel that you struggle with? Something you feel is making it difficult for you to build or maintain relationships with others?"

"Ah-" Allen blinked, then looked away, flushing. He hadn't even realized he'd only cited things others had said about him. "I... suppose that..." Discomfort pricked at him, the hair on the back of his neck rising as he struggled to settle on a safe answer. "That I have trouble being considerate towards people whose perspectives I don't understand. It came up with some of the CROWs, ah, the non-exorcist combat unit. I felt that they were cruel, and it made it difficult to interact with them... but it was easier once I understood them better."

"It's good to be aware of that tendency," Kazama acknowledged. "That's something you can work on if you desire. What about your existing friendships?"

"...There's nothing wrong with my existing friendships." Halfway through, Allen realized his voice had dropped into a darker register, and he softened it hastily, trying to sound reasonable.

"You seem quite happy with them," Kazama agreed. "But you also stated that you prefer not to ask them for help, which shows that you still have some reservations. That's a normal challenge to have, especially after isolation. I thought you might have some insight on any similar issues, since you seem to have an acute awareness of social dynamics."

Allen studied Kazama for a moment, his own expression neutral. That was... a delicately worded criticism, couched in reassurance and subtle praise to make Allen more accepting of it, which was at odds with what Allen had seen of Kazama's rather dry personality. Of course, Kazama's entire career relied on skill with the spoken word; it made sense that he would have practiced making things more palatable for his clients.

"Ah. I laid that on too thick, I see." Kazama's voice was wry and self-effacing, picking up on Allen's reaction instantly.

"Yes," Allen agreed without missing a beat, and then shook it off and smiled sheepishly, sitting up and straightening his legs. "It's alright, you don't need to coddle me. You can tell me when I'm being difficult."

"I will not be doing any such thing," Kazama told him, blunt again. "You are not 'being difficult' - you are showing signs of distrust, which is normal at this stage, especially from someone with a history of abuse. Openly offering reassurance and empathy are standard ways of building trust, but you're rather perceptive, aren't you?"

Allen suppressed his instinctive apology and smiled instead, shrugging it off. He quickly ran through the session in his head and realized - Kazama had been doing some form of that the entire time, punctuating most of Allen's explanations with some form of positive acknowledgment. It had seemed at odds with Kazama's otherwise gruff personality, but Allen hadn't taken note of it.

"It's something I'm known for, yes," he agreed after a moment. "But really, I don't mind. Please don't coddle me. You can be blunt."

"I am not coddling you," Kazama said, sounding annoyed at the thought. "I am speaking to you the same way I speak to any of my clients, which necessarily includes making it clear that this is a safe space, and I am not going to harm them either physically or emotionally. Building that trust is an intrinsic part of my job. If there's another approach that you think would make you feel safer, we can try that."

For a long, tense moment, they stood at an impasse, staring at each other. Allen's heart pounded as he realized he was being faced, again, with a decision: did he want to get through this safely, or did he want to engage with therapy as intended?

He wasn't going to get better if he kept lying. And Ichigo wanted him to get better.

"...Why do I need to trust you?"

Kazama scowled at him for that question. "Because if you don't trust me, you won't tell me anything that matters," he said testily. "Therapy is difficult. It will involve expressing emotions that you find uncomfortable, discussing painful memories, and even occasionally trusting my judgment. If there is no trust between us, there is no foundation to build on."

They stared at each other for a few seconds longer.

"Please be blunt," Allen requested at last, more meekly than he'd intended. He hesitated, bit his cheek so hard he tasted blood, and elaborated, "It makes expectations very clear. I prefer it."

"Fine." Kazama made another note. "I'm not going to insist that you do the same, but you should try. I've been a therapist for over thirty years. It takes a lot more than an angry client to rattle me." Allen hummed noncommittally, and Kazama continued, "On the topic of relationships, most people will find that they encounter similar conflicts in most or all of their major relationships. In your case, you've commented that several of your friends agree that you don't ask for help when they feel you should. Have you noticed other recurring conflicts? Either things you do that you feel unable to control, or frustrations that you experience often?"

That was better. Allen let out a sigh and thought about it seriously, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.

"I don't understand what they want from me," he admitted at last, without looking at Kazama. He crossed his arms, tight and defensive. "I don't know how I could possibly trust them more than I already do. Sorry... I know that's not really what you wanted."

"It says quite a lot, actually," Kazama lied. "We'll talk about that in more depth once we're done with your case history. I recognize that you put effort into your answer." Allen shot him a wary look, but Kazama ignored him. "Those are your personal relationships, yes? What about your work relationships?"

"Oh." Allen allowed his mind to slip away from the previous topic with relief. "There's no functional difference between my personal and work relationships. Everyone in the Black Order lives... lived at headquarters, only leaving for missions. Most of them have no life or family outside of it, and those that do weren't allowed to keep contact. When I said the Black Order was our family, I meant it."

"Hm." Kazama studied Allen for a moment, then glanced at the clock. "We'll wrap up your relationship history for now. Can you explain your work as an exorcist? I would like to be familiar with the factions and inner workings of the war you've mentioned before we get into your personal history."

"Of course. I'll explain the best I can." Allen felt relieved.

---

Clinician notes:

At the time of this initial assessment, Allen Walker appears to be a classic abuse case, albeit with highly developed ability to mask his emotions, deflect questions, and anticipate expectations. While he made a significant effort to appear outwardly pleasant and cooperative, his approach to our conversation was defensive and avoidant. This is the main obstacle that will need to be overcome in order to make meaningful progress. Based on other comments that he made, I suspect that his concept of trust has been so damaged that he has no recognizable grasp of it.

His chief complaint is severe and persistent depression, with related difficulty seeking support from close friends. While this was not outwardly visible, this is likely because of Allen's skill with masking. It's also worth noting that he seems to struggle with honesty and openness in general, and stated explicitly that discussing his feelings makes him uncomfortable. He has admitted to one suicide attempt and frequent thoughts of harming himself, but believes that another attempt is unlikely, citing extenuating circumstances surrounding the first. My final note as a clinician would be that the euphoric adoration with which he spoke of both Mana and his friends stood out to me as unusual, and may suggest a diagnosis aside from depression.

Allen's communication style will likely dictate the pacing and course of his treatment, as Allen quickly becomes anxious the moment he feels any part of the conversation has escaped his control. While normally this would mean allowing Allen more control over his treatment, he has also been demonstrating significant avoidance behaviors around sensitive topics - both things that doesn't wish to think about, and things that he fears will elicit a strong reaction. So far, the most effective method of bringing him back on track has been to remind him that therapy requires honesty. For the moment, we have reached a tentative agreement that I will be direct about my expectations, and he will attempt to engage with these directions in good faith.

Most likely, Allen's remarkably spotty caregiver history is the root of his difficulty trusting others, particularly the brutal beginning of his conscious memory. He truly is a product of his time. Considering the extent to which he had to fend for himself throughout his childhood, respecting his independence will be a critical element in building rapport with him. This is underscored by his role within the Black Order, where he has made it clear that an unholy amount of responsibility was placed on his shoulders as well as those of his fellow exorcists. Allen has not been a child in a very long time.

If he can learn to rely on them, Allen seems to have a robust support system. He has a generous network of close friends across a variety of age groups, about which he seems to have no conscious reservations and with whom he shares a number of otherwise unique experiences. This is a relatively recent development (within the last two years) and all of his self-reported relationships prior to this are with various caregivers, which is likely the source of some of his difficulties. I have never heard of someone having no peers until the age of fifteen; it's surprising that his social skills aren't more stunted, although it is telling that they seem to present primarily as a survival skill.

That support system, along with Allen's own emotional intelligence, will likely be the greatest assets in his treatment. Further observations will wait until after I have taken his personal history. Allen has opted to use a safeword, kettlecorn, to avert conversations he feels unprepared for.

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