T-tring!!!
The bell for fourth period rang. Along with it, came the migration of the Exhausted masses from class.
"Essays due Monday!" Mrs. Nakamura called. "And Mr. Akutami—" her eyes sharpened onto Yuta, "—report to the Guidance Counsellors office."
Yuta frozen for a moment.
".. Um, what?"
"The school has booked you for mandatory counselling based on your accident."
"But .."
"Counsellor's office. Now."
The class collectively made an ooooh sound.
"Shut up," Mrs. Nakamura said without looking at them. Then—to Yuta—"The Counsellor is waiting in Counseling Room Three. Don't keep him."
"Yes mam." Several students snorted. Yuta closed his notebook slowly. Very slowly.
"Yo, Yuta."
Hana appeared at his desk, holding something.
His textbook.
"Someone returned this during lunch a few days ago," she said, setting it down. "Hero Course girl. Pink skin, yellow eyes. Said it belonged to a Yuta Akutami."
Kimura leaned on the desk. "We were betting you lost it." Yuta sighed. "Just my luck."
"How did you lose this one?"
"I didn't lose it. It just… got away from me." He replied, taking the book.
Hana raised an eyebrow. "Textbooks usually don't run."
"I'm aware."
She smirked but let it go.
"We're grabbing ramen at the station after school," she said. "You coming?"
Kimura nodded.
"Yeah, man. Celebrate you surviving the odds."
Yuta's face darkened.
"You make it sound like I have a deadly disease."
"It's not our fault you won't tell us what happened. We can only speculate."
Truth be told, the boy wasn't far off on the celebration. Defeating Overhaul truly was a fear worth celebrating.
However,
Yuta sighed. "I can't. I have to head home."
"Ooh, because you're—"
"Grounded," he deadpanned.
Immediate sympathy.
Tanaka placed a hand over his heart. "We grieve with you."
"Be strong," Hana added.
"Send us a signal if you escape," Kimura nodded solemnly.
Yuta slung his bag over his shoulder. "Rain check."
"Rain check." He walked out of the classroom.
Yuta walked out of the classroom, the door sliding shut behind him with the soft whump of academic doom.
Mandatory counseling.
He exhaled through his nose.
Of course U.A. wouldn't just let him "walk it off." He did get folded like a human omelet and hospitalized for a week. It made sense.
Still…
Did they really have to book it without asking him first?
He adjusted his bag and headed down the hallway.
Counseling Room Three… Counseling Room Three…
As he walked, his brain—traitor that it was—began spiraling.
Counseling.
At U.A.
Which meant…
Midnight.
Because who else, right?
The R-Rated Hero was the wellness teacher, the conflict mediator, the staff member who did mental health evaluations for hero course students. She'd lectured enough about "emotional vulnerability" in assemblies to make half the first years fear eye contact.
Yuta gulped.
"…Man. How am I supposed to talk about trauma with someone who shows up dressed like that?"
He rubbed his temples.
Hopefully it wouldn't be too awkward. Hopefully she'd be professional. Hopefully she wouldn't ask him to "sensually express" his feelings in a journal or something—
Yuta approached the frosted glass door marked Counseling Room Three.
'Okay… Midnight. You got this. Just… breathe. Pretend it's normal. Nothing weird will happen. You are still a minor after all '
He knocked lightly. A deep, calm voice answered from inside:
"Come in."
Yuta froze. …Wait, that's… not Midnight.
He slowly pushed the door open.
Inside, behind a large desk, sat a hulking figure. Broad shoulders, muscular frame, ears perked on top of his head, tail resting lazily. He gave Yuta a measured look.
Yuta stumbled slightly, trying to collect his thoughts.
"…H-hello. I'm… Yuta Akutami?"
The figure smiled faintly, voice calm and steady:
"Yup. That's you. Have a seat."
Yuta blinked. And blinked again.
This wasn't midnight. This was ... "Hound Dog? Is the Counsellor?"
'Wasn't the counsellor supposed to be ..' He paused as something clicked. Earlier, Mrs. Nakamura had mentioned a 'Him' when referring to the counsellor.
He just didn't notice at the time. 'Well, that was unexpected.'
He stepped in cautiously, bag clutched to his chest.
Hound Dog gestured toward the chair across from him.
"Sit down. Don't worry, I don't bite—unless you try anything funny."
"…Right. Of course."
Hound Dog leaned back, resting his arms on the desk. "So… you're here because the school thinks you might have,… trauma issues after your little 'incident.'"
Yuta shifted in his seat, cheeks heating. "Little… incident? That… that's one way to put it."
"Uh-huh." Hound Dog steepled his fingers. "Tell me how you're feeling. No tricks, no 'I'm fine' lies. You're fifteen, You were nearly killed by a villain. Your body was torn apart. That's a lot to process."
Yuta exhaled slowly, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest. Torn apart?… yep, that's accurate.
"I mean… I'm okay. I guess. I didn't exactly… die or anything. And people… helped. So…" He trailed off.
Hound Dog gave a low hum. "Helping doesn't erase the stress. Seeing danger up close, thinking you might not make it… that sticks. Even if no one else saw it."
"…I guess it's just… weird," he muttered. "Everyone who knows keeps acting like I should be a mess. But I'm not. I don't know if that makes me fine or if it makes me broken in a different way."
Hound Dog nodded slowly. "Normal reaction."
"…It is?"
"Yep." He tapped the desk twice. "Trauma isn't a one-size thing. Some kids shut down. Some kids cry. Some kids joke. Some kids feel nothing for a while and then panic later, usually in the shower or while eating cereal. Everyone is different. You can't expect everyone to act the same way."
"…That's oddly specific."
"I've worked here a long time." Hound Dog waved a paw. "Point is—you're not abnormal for not falling apart immediately. Shock, adrenaline, and teenage stupidity go a long way."
"…I feel like that was partially an insult."
"It was."
They sat in silence for a moment
Hound Dog leaned forward. "Let me ask you something. In that situation? How did you feel?"
"Honestly? I would say despair."
"Is that so?"
"Pretty much." He nodded. "Nothing I thought of worked. I wasn't even trying to fight. I was just trying to escape, yet even that didn't work out. It was frustrating."
"I can imagine. Though you kept trying."
"Well ... Yeah. There was a kid at stake."
"Good." The pro hero nodded. "That's a sign your brain was prioritizing. Protecting someone can override fear. Makes you focus on something outside yourself. It's healthy… until it isn't."
"…Until it isn't?"
"Let me ask you something. Do you understand how lucky you are to be alive?"
"…Yeah."
"Do you understand that most people in your situation wouldn't have survived?"
"Yeah."
"Do you understand that what you did—fighting a villain alone, without backup—could have gotten you killed?"
Yuta's jaw tightened.
"…Yeah."
Hound Dog nodded slowly.
"Good. Because I need you to understand the consequences of what could have happened."
He picked up her clipboard and flipped a page.
"If you had died, your mother would have lost her son. Your friends would have lost a classmate. And U.A. would have lost a student. While the girl in question would have still been taken away. Nothing would be gained, but your life would be lost."
Silence filled the rock.
"Kid. No one is saying what you did is wrong. It is never the wrong choice to try to save someone's life. But if you only focus on other people, you forget you're allowed to be scared too. You nearly died, kid. You don't have to play tough for me. Or your friends. Or your teachers."
Yuta looked down again. The words sat heavier than he expected.
Come to think of it, just what exactly was he supposed to feel? Terror? Fear? That didn't seem right. Others might not know but he had killed overhaul. Sure it was difficult, and he almost died, but he won. Despite his grievous injuries, quite easily at that.
It would be wrong to fear what he had defeated. Perhaps that reasoning was flawed after discovering his inability to use the Mangekyo again last night, but it is what it is.
But if not fear and terror? Then what? Guilt?
His mind wandered to the terrible things he remembered overhaul doing in the anime ...
'Nope.' That didn't seem right either.
"I'm not trying to play tough," he mumbled. "I just… I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."
Hound Dog's tone softened.
"You're supposed to feel whatever you're feeling. That's it. No checklist."
Yuta let out a slow breath.
"…So I'm not failing at trauma."
"Congratulations," Hound Dog said dryly. "You're passing with a solid C-plus."
"…Wow. Thanks."
"Anytime."
Another pause.
Hound Dog checked something on the clipboard beside him. "Alright. School policy says I have to ask this next part directly." He cleared his throat. "Do you feel like you're in danger now? Physically or mentally?"
Yuta blinked. "No?"
"Any panic? Sudden fear? Nightmares? Loss of appetite?"
"No. Just… homework."
"Tragic."
Yuta snorted before he could stop himself.
Hound Dog set the clipboard down. "Good. Then you're not in the danger zone. You're in the processing zone. That tends to bring less need for worry."
"…So I'm allowed to go?"
"Couple more questions. Then yes."
Yuta sat up straighter.
Hound Dog raised an eyebrow. "Last one: if something like that happened again—if you were facing something dangerous—would you freeze up? Or would you still act?"
Yuta didn't have to think long.
"…I'd still act."
Hound Dog nodded, satisfied.
"Then you're fine." He stood, stretching his back with a quiet crack. "Well—emotionally fine-ish. Physically? You bounce like wet paper, so work on that."
"…I walked into that one."
"Yep."
Hound Dog reached into a drawer and slid something across the desk.
A small card.
Yuta picked it up.
"If you start feeling off," Hound Dog said, "or if something hits you out of nowhere—call that number. Or come back here. You don't deal with this alone. Got it?"
Yuta inspected the card. A phone number. Office hours. A tiny doodle of a dog paw.
"…Did you draw this?"
"No."
Yuta looked at him.
Hound Dog sighed. "…Okay, yes. I was bored during lunch."
Yuta smiled faintly as he put the card away. "Thanks."
"Good. Session over." Hound Dog walked to the door and opened it for him. "That's all for today. But I want to see you again next week. Same time."
"Okay."
Yuta stood and headed for the door.
Then paused.
"…Um. One more thing."
"Hmm?"
"I wanted to know if .." Before he could finish—The door slid open from the outside.
"Hey, Ryo—did you fill out the faculty wellness survey yet? Nezu's threatening to replace all our chairs with yoga balls again."
Yuta's brain short-circuited.
Midnight stepped in, clipboard under one arm, heels clicking softly against the floor. Her eyes flicked to Yuta.
"Oh. Student in session?"
"Session's basically done," Hound Dog grumbled. "And no, I didn't fill out the survey. Because I'm not doing yoga while grading essays."
He turned back to Yuta. "What was your question?"
"Um ... I wanted to know if there's… a place I can train? For the Sports Festival, I mean."
Hound Dog tilted his head slightly.
"Train?"
"Yeah. Like… gym equipment. Training grounds. That kind of thing."
There was a pause.
Both pro heroes turned to look at each other for a while before looking back at him.
"You thought you didn't have access?" Asked Midnight.
Leading Yuta to realise that something was wrong.
"…General Studies isn't Hero Course. I figured most of the equipment was off-limits."
Midnight stared at him.
Then laughed.
Not a polite chuckle. A full, genuine laugh that made Hound Dog's ear twitch.
"Oh, sweetie. No. You have full access to any general training facility on campus."
Yuta blinked.
"…I do?"
"Yes," Midnight said, walking over and leaning against the desk. "Weights, treadmills, endurance rooms, open fields—everything not specifically marked for Quirk testing or Hero Course drills."
She crossed her arms, grinning.
"Why did you think it was restricted?"
"I don't know. Priority? Budget? Space?" Yuta scratched the back of his head.
Hound Dog huffed.
"Kid, U.A. is the biggest hero academy in Japan. We've got more gyms than some pro agencies."
Midnight nodded.
"Every student—Hero Course, Support, General Studies, Business—has access. The Sports Festival is designed for all of you."
Yuta stared at them.
"…Oh."
Midnight smirked.
"There are even sign-up sheets if you want reserved time slots. Check the bulletin board near the cafeteria."
"Oh."
Hound Dog gave him a flat look.
"You really thought we'd lock you out?"
"…I didn't want to assume."
"Fair," Hound Dog grunted. "But next time? Just ask."
Midnight pulled a pamphlet from the folder she was holding and handed it to Yuta.
"Here. Training facility guide. Times, locations, equipment lists. Read it. Use it."
Yuta took it carefully.
"…Thanks."
Midnight's expression turned serious.
"But Yuta?"
He looked up.
"Don't overdo it. You're still recovering. Push too hard, and you'll end up right back in the hospital."
"You've heard of me?" The lady grinned even wider in response.
"A U.A student getting hospitalised is a rare occurence dear. Especially in a case like yours. Almost all the staff know about it."
"… I ... I'll be careful."
"Good answer," Hound Dog said. "Now get out. I've got paperwork."
Yuta nodded and headed for the door and into the hallway, pamphlet in hand.
'So I can train on campus.'
Relief washed over him.
His mom wouldn't let him train at home—not after seeing him nearly dead in a hospital bed.
And he was grounded, so sneaking out wasn't an option.
But this?
This worked.
He looked down at the pamphlet.
U.A. HIGH SCHOOL – TRAINING FACILITIES GUIDE
Open Hours: 6:00 AM – 9:00 PM (Weekdays)
Available Equipment: Weights, treadmills, combat dummies, open fields, obstacle courses
Reservation System: Sign-up sheets posted near cafeteria
'Six days until the Sports Festival.'
He exhaled slowly. 'Alright. Let's make it count.'
___
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