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It was late. It was a school night. She shouldn’t be doing this. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. So why was she doing it?
A few days ago, at school, Hitoka Yamaguchi was gossiping with her friends. It was normal, considering that she was just a sixteen-year-old girl in high school. However, she felt this topic was not one she should be indulging herself in.
“Do you know Yaoyorozu? She’s a third year.” One of her friends said, “I think I’ve talked to her once or twice. Why? Did she do something?”
“She cuts herself.”
That conversation left her wondering. She was not unfamiliar with people mutilating their bodies; she’s not that innocent. Hitoka knew that some people, with poor mental states, used it as a last resort. However, this time, it was different. It was someone she had actually met, not some dumb teenager on social media or a sociopath in a horror movie. It actually happened in real life, and she was witnessing it. She really couldn’t shake the feeling out of her chest or the questions that were constantly tormenting her after the “casual” gossip session she had with her friends. Why would Yaoyorozu do that? Doesn’t it hurt? Does she have problems at home? Did it actually help her feel better? She really needed an answer to those questions.
So there she was, on her bedroom’s floor, holding a box cutter with her left hand and just staring at her left thigh. This clearly wasn’t right, obviously. Hitoka’s friends made evil comments about the third-year, like “she is so stupid, that is so disgusting,” or “she should be locked up. I mean, only crazy people would do that to themselves.” Did she want people to think about her that way?
But still, her curiosity was stronger than the fear of others judging her, so she swiped. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as she expected it to be. Hitoka was about to make a second cut, and she froze. “Crap,” she said. The blade went a bit deeper than she intended it to, so she spent the next five minutes applying pressure, waiting for it to stop bleeding. Afterwards, she quickly threw the tissues away, hid the box cutter, and immediately went to bed. She was not doing that again. Ever again. It was a stupid move, but it calmed down her thoughts, and she was finally able to shake them off. Or so she thought.
She was having dinner with her fathers. It had been a couple weeks after that "incident." They were in comfortable silence until one of them spoke up. “So,” he started, “your math teacher sent us an email.” Kei looked her in the eyes. “I’m not mad about you failing your test; I know math’s not your strongest subject. But still, what happened?” Hitoka wanted to cry. That stupid math quiz. She got a 20 out of 100, and it was humiliating, especially after all that studying. The fact that the blonde was giving her one of his “I’m disappointed” looks was definitely not helping her feel better about it at all.
“I’m sorry,” the freckled girl muttered before starting to cry. She couldn’t say anything else as she covered her face with her hands and stared at her food shamefully, not daring to look up.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Tadashi said as his hand reached her hair, and he started stroking it. “Maybe we should get you a tutor,” he smiled kindly. “After all, math wasn’t your dad’s strongest subject either.” He started laughing.
“Shut up, Tadashi,” his husband replied, giving him a playful push and rolling his eyes.
“Sorry, Kei,” was said in between chuckles. “I’m not wrong, though.”
That managed to get a laugh out of Hitoka. They switched topics of conversation, talking about an embarrassing story about a guy at the museum the former Tsukishima (who switched his last name to Yamaguchi once they got married) worked at.
After dinner, they both kissed her forehead and assured their daughter that she would improve throughout the year in math and that she had her own talents she should be proud of.
She was extremely glad her parents didn’t react badly; they were the best.
Thus, she felt like the worst. She knew how much sacrifice her parents put into her education, and she couldn’t even pass a simple math test. She locked herself in her room after saying goodnight and rustled through her drawer until she found her box cutter. She took her pajama shorts off and stared at her thighs. She carefully caressed the spot she had cut two weeks ago. The scars were completely healed, leaving a faint and barely noticeable scar.
She went way further than last time. She wiped off the blood, put some Hello-Kitty bandaids over the deepest ones, and called it a day. She turned off the lights and laid down in bed. She started sobbing uncontrollably, until eventually she drifted off to sleep with a heavy heart.
Soon enough, it became an addiction. She went from doing it once in a while, to doing it almost daily. She started harming herself in other places in her body, too. She couldn’t stop; she started being obsessed with it; her life revolved around it. She indulged herself in media that was about self-harm or other mental illnesses, like books and movies. She also started interacting with people online who encouraged it, which did not help multiple failed attempts to recover (she stopped trying to, eventually).
Hitoka didn’t have a reason for it. She was very good at school (with the exception of math, of course), her parents loved her, and she had very good friends. I mean, ignoring the fact that she felt extremely insecure about herself all the time, the fact that she felt sad non-stop, and the fact that she wanted to die finally rest did not mean she had a valid reason to do it.
She knew deep down that her mental health had worsened tremendously ever since she started harming herself, but it was comforting. She felt ill every time she thought about it or admitted it, but it grounded her. It calmed her anxiety. She acknowledged that it was not a good coping mechanism. But it helped her, so she couldn’t stop, even if she wanted to.
Kei and Tadashi started to catch up, eventually. At first, it was just little things, like zoning out during family outings and being a bit quieter than usual. The former middle blocker was highly observant and, although he didn’t like admitting it, a bit paranoid too. When he first started noticing, he immediately talked with his husband.
It was late at night; they were watching some weird sitcom they found as they were mindlessly scrolling.
“Hitoka is acting weird,” he said, with a worrying tone. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s up.”
“Honey, I love you, but this is probably your anxiety speaking.” Tadashi looked at him with sleepy eyes. “I know you worry about her, but last time you had a “bad feeling,” she had just broken a glass and was scared to tell us. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s something silly.”
“No, it’s not silly. It’s different this time,” Kei sighs. “You need to believe me.”
The green-haired man took him an understanding look and takes one of his hands. “Alright, I believe you. But don’t freak out about it, okay? Let’s wait a little bit, and if she starts showing more signs, we’ll do something about it.”
And just as his lover predicted, she started showing more signs. And this time, Tadashi noticed them too.
She wasn’t sleeping well; her eyes wore heavy eye bags beneath them.
She wasn’t eating well; although she never had much of an appetite, much like his dad, it started to get suspicious, especially since she became skinnier than she was before.
She wasn’t as focused on her studies as she used to; she struggled with math and never really got high marks, but she was excellent in her other classes, so it was surprising when they found out she was failing a lot of tests.
She wasn’t talking to her parents. Sure, at dinner time, she would be there, but she never told them anything anymore. It was starting to scare them.
That last sign was enough for Tadashi to agree with his husband, and as he promised, they were going to do something about it.
They agreed it was best if they talked with her first, and they also agreed it was best if Tadashi did it. In their several years of relationship, even before they actually started going out, they had noticed he was the one to express himself better, and of course, he was better at comforting.
He found himself knocking on his daughter’s door.
“Come in,” a voice said, and when he opened the door, he found her laying in her bed, reading a book.
“Why are you giving me that look? Did I do something?” She definitely got her observation skills from the blonde.
“I mean, sort of? Not really, though. Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Hitoka froze. They figured her out. Her self-destructing behavior started around eight months ago, and she tried her best not to show it. Keyword, tried. She knew her parents finding out would happen sooner or later, but she wasn’t prepared for it.
“Yes? What’s wrong?”
“Your father and I, both, are worried.” They totally found out. She was fidgeting with her sleeves, embracing herself for him to utter the words, “We know you’re hurting yourself.”
“You’re acting weird. You’re not sleeping well, you’re not eating well, and your grades are slipping… You’re not talking to us like you used to. What’s wrong?”
Okay. She was safe. Sort of.
“Oh… I’m sorry. It’s nothing, I promise-“
“Hitoka Yamaguchi,” he never used her full name, “do not lie to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
After quite some time, mostly her trying to bullshit her way out of this conversation, her pa (how he called Tadashi) dropped it.
Before stepping out, though, he looked her directly in the eyes.
“I’m… upset. Not at you directly, but at the situation. You’ve always opened up about your feelings. I know you’re growing up, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to keep listening to your struggles, just like your dad. Please talk to us; I know you’re not fine… Good night.” And he left. He didn’t kiss her goodnight like daily, so she knew she messed up.
That night, Hitoka hurt herself again. She hadn’t involved herself in that behavior for over two weeks (a very big achievement, at least for her), but it all went to waste. She deserved to lose that streak, though. She made her pa feel upset when he was just trying to help. She was a bad daughter; she truly didn’t feel like she deserved love from those two people who were always worrying about her.
Little did she know, in a bedroom not too far from hers, were Tadashi, softly crying, and Kei, comforting him while also wanting to cry too.
“It’s okay,” the former middle blocker said as he rubbed his lover’s back. “I know you want to help her, and I do too. But she probably has it rough right now. It’s not your fault she doesn’t…” He struggled to find the words, “she doesn’t feel ready to talk to us.”
“Kei, I don’t know what to do.” A sob escaped his mouth.
“We’ll get her help, okay? Don’t let it get to your pretty head. Let’s sleep, and tomorrow, with clearer thoughts, we’ll work something out.”
After some discussion, an appointment was made for Hitoka to visit a therapist. She pretty much threw a tantrum, but it was set, and her parents were not changing their minds about it. She was clearly not doing okay, and she needed help.
Although she complained a lot, the first appointment went pretty well. Her therapist, although kind of cold, was kind and understanding. She took a liking to her. So, when her parents suggested another appointment, she agreed almost instantly.
It had been a couple of months. Something she liked about her therapist was that she never snitched on her. Sure, she talked with her dad and pa about her mental health and about the diagnosis that needed to be made, but she ensured her that anything that was said during a session would be kept there. And she followed that promise through. So imagine her surprise when her therapist told her parents about her self-harm.
When she started therapy, it helped her with her emotional and even physical well-being. She started eating and sleeping more, she focused on school more, and she even started talking to her fathers more (and even though it was almost never about her issues; it was progress). She seemed to be genuinely happy. However, she never stopped cutting herself. It made her feel safe, in a way. If she was going to get better, she still needed some way to cope, right?
Her therapist frowned when Hitoka explained all that, "how long have you been… involving yourself in that kind of practice?”
“I… don’t know? I have never really thought about it. I guess around a year? probably a little less.”
“Hitoka, that is definitely not a good way to cope. I understand why it feels that way, but it’s not. Would you mind explaining to me why you started? What triggers it? Why haven’t you stopped? Tell me everything you’re comfortable with, please.”
She knew she was safe with her therapist, so she told her every detail. How it began with a girl at school, how she became addicted, about that one relapse after her failed math test, or the conversation she had with her pa. Obviously, tears were shed, but it felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.
That weight was put back on immediately when she saw her dad and pa, both with tear-stained cheeks, walking out of her therapist’s office, eyes filled with concern.
Well, fuck.
The ride back home was extremely uncomfortable. No one spoke; ano one really dared to. The tension was thick, and Hitoka wanted to burry herself in the ground and never come out. She dreaded the moment they would get to their house.
“Don’t go to your room. Sit down on the couch. We’re all talking about this,” were the first words to come out of Kei’s mouth when he unlocked the door. She knew there was no point in arguing, so she just sat down.
Tadashi was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Why?”
Hitoka just sobbed. She couldn’t answer. How do you admit to your parents that you've been harming the body they’ve worked so hard to protect?
She expected yelling or grounding, even if her parents weren’t the kind to do that stuff. Instead, they just hugged her. No words were spoken. They just cried with her and comforted her. It gave her a sense of safety. She was glad she had good parents.
“I’m sorry for being a bad daughter.” Was the only thing that left her mouth that evening.
Both her parents looked at each other and then at her.
Tadashi choked up in tears and just hugged her tighter.
Kai gave her a reassuring look. “We’re sorry we made you feel like you were.”
After that heartfelt moment, it was very awkward. She was forced to give her parents the tools she used to harm herself (the box cutter wasn’t her only weapon anymore).
She was also forced to show them, which was the worst part. She knew they were just worried, as “they could be infected” (her dad’s words), but it was still pretty difficult to do. Thankfully, she had taken care of her wounds, and there were no hospital visits that day.
Laying in bed, as she was kissed good night, she was extremely glad that day was over; it was exhausting. She apologized once more.
“Pa, dad, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“ she was cut off by her pa.
“Love, it’s okay; we get it. Don’t apologize, we’re happy you were able to open up. Get some sleep, alright? And please, if you ever get urges to hurt yourself, or if you give in to those urges, come to us. We just want to help.”
There was more crying that night, but it was okay; she was going to be okay.
That thought didn't really last long. Hitoka, once again, felt like a bad daughter. It was a shitty week, so shitty she didn’t even want to think about the moment that made her relapse. It had been over three months, and there she was, wrist bleeding and a torn-apart pencil sharpener (the only thing her pa didn’t take away from her). She just sat there, crying. She dreaded seeing her parent’s face; she definitely did not want to see their reactions. All the efforts they had put into her recovery for her to just relapse that easily was truly disappointing.
Nevertheless, she walked into her parents room, and she admitted it.
“I cut myself.”
She instantly regretted it when she saw the look on her parents faces. A few moments passed, and her pa hugged her with glossy eyes, as her dad walked into the bathroom and got the first-aid kit. He went up to both, kissed Tadashi’s forehead, and put his hand on her daughter’s shoulder. I’ll clean you up, okay? Let’s go to your room.”
It was humiliating, at least for her. She just looked away and waited for her dad to be done. She hissed a couple of times, followed by apologies and “that’s how you know the disinfectant is doing its job." After her arm was wrapped up, she was hugged. She just leaned into it and stayed silent. She knew the blonde was never good at words, but his company was enough.
“You know,” he said, “I understand what you’re going through. I really do.”
She pulled herself apart and stared at him, not getting it. When she finally did, however, she widened her eyes.
Oh. Oh.
“I- I had never really told you about it, because I never found the moment nor found it necessary. I was wrong though; I think I should’ve told you sooner, way sooner.” He sighed, “it was definitely not a good time in my life. I was just finishing middle school, so I was about a year or two younger than you. I didn’t know what else to do. It went on for a really long time—I'm talking about three years. I felt… helpless, and I felt alone. But I wasn’t; I truly wasn’t. I had my mom, my brother, even if I would never tell him that,” he chuckled, and Hitoka did too. “I had your pa. They helped me through it, and I’m so glad I was able to open up before things started to get out of hand.”
He grabbed his daughter's hand, which was already tearing up. “I’m… not sure how you feel right now, and maybe you aren’t sure either. I, myself, didn’t know how I felt during that time. But what I know and can assure you is that you are not alone. You’ve got me and your pa. You’ve got your friends, you’ve got your teachers, and you've got your family. A lot of people care about you, and you should care about yourself too. I’m sorry you’ve had to resort to this sort of coping, and I know it will be difficult to stop harming yourself. But you can always count on me and your pa, and,” his voice cracked a little, “I swear, we’ll get you through it.”
They hugged afterwards. She didn’t truly cry, however, until Kei said, “And you’re not a bad daughter. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the apology you made the day we found out. I don’t know what or who got that thought into your brain, but I don’t think I would be as happy as I am with you with another girl. I love you, and you’re the best daughter I could have ever asked for.”
The three of them watched a sappy movie afterwards, cuddling in the living room and staying up way too late. Thankfully, Hitoka was able to skip school the next day.
After that night, she was determined to get better. There would be bad days, bad thoughts, and bad relapses, but her parents would provide help every time she needed it. She wasn’t a bad daughter, after all.