Chapter Text
Dr. Sara Keys considered the man in front of her. Her patient, and yet also the owner of the company that signed her paycheques. It would have been a challenging dual relationship to manage in the best of circumstances, and with this particular patient? It was not the best of circumstances.
“Look, Sara–”
“Doctor Keys, if you please, Mr Kaiba.” For most patients, using her given name was an effective way to build rapport and break down the anxiety they felt when accessing Employee Assistance Plan services, especially at a company as ruthless as KaibaCorp. But this patient, Seto Kaiba himself, had the opposite problem. His anxiety manifested as arrogance, protecting his dysfunctional beliefs by diminishing those around him until their insights could be disregarded.
“Doctor Keys, then.” His eye-roll befitted a teenager rather than a man in his late twenties. “I am a busy man. If the mindfulness exercises and meditation you prescribed aim for a state of no-mind, then clearly I can put the part of my mind unused by them to work on urgent corporate matters.”
With another patient, Sara might have re-explained the purpose of meditation as a time of peace. If she believed he were acting in good faith, she could refer him to the body of literature supporting its benefits for physical health as well as anxiety, depression, and even – though he’d never disclosed anything that would confirm the diagnosis – post-traumatic stress disorders. Kaiba wasn’t misunderstanding, though; he was refusing to comply with treatment. Just as he had with every therapist and every other psychiatrist who worked at the Domino City headquarters of Kaiba Corporation. Perhaps Dr Hakuryū had the right idea, after all. “We both know you’re making excuses. You refuse to engage in clinically-validated treatment modalities–”
“Like sitting around doing nothing?”
“Like meditation, yes. You have refused to engage in journalling–”
“Just writing down anything that comes to mind?” Kaiba scoffed. “My mind is filled with corporate secrets, Dr Keys. Plans for upcoming quarters, development targets years in advance, and connections our competitors dream of getting their hands on!”
“And for each suggested exercise, you provide some rationalisation to explain why you can’t do the work for your own recovery.”
“Doctor Keys, every week I take an hour out of my busy day to allow you to effect your cure.” The man had an impresive glare, even if his self-insight was lacking. “KaibaCorp has invested a great deal of money in our Employee Assistance Program. It has won awards nationally and been cited as one the best non-monetary components of any company’s employment compensation package. When I personally test its efficacy, however, you do nothing!”
“In order to effect change–”
“Don’t give me that nonsense about being willing to change. I don’t fund projects I do not wish to see succeed. The failure here is not my investment, but your competence. With the number of tests you’ve had me do and the number of these little ‘chats’ we’ve had, I expect tangible results.”
“Change takes time and effort both. Ongoing effort, even outside our time together.”
“Nonsense! When my blood pressure worried her, Dr Azilva’s first prescription lowered the numbers. A year later, she adjusted the dosage, and my blood pressure since has been perfect. You tried prescribing one pill, and it only made things worse!”
“For medications like trazodone, it can take four to six weeks to see full benefits–”
“Benefits! Ha! I saw the headaches and drowsiness fast enough, and it interfered with my ability to think.”
Since one of the reasons she’d prescribed the trazadone was Kaiba’s difficulty initiating and maintaining sleep, Sara hardly thought drowsiness sufficient reason to discontinue it. The disorientation and perceived memory impairment, however, had struck at Kaiba’s very sense of self. Even Kaiba didn’t deny his belief that it was his mental abilities that gave him value to the company. When she’d raised the fact that he took it further, believing that his cognitive capacities were what gave him any value at all, he had agreed as if it were both normal and self-evident.
“I run this company, Doctor Keys.” The sarcasm as he emphasised her title was almost expected, by now. “If I fail, the company fails. What will you do then, go back to California?”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Sara smiled, mouth demurely closed, offering his ego a tidbit before trying to lead again. “You inherited a prosperous company and have only strengthened it. There is no reason to believe it won’t endure long past your eventual retirement.”
“Nonetheless, I have spent the time, both with you and others of your department, with no return on my investment.”
Was the way he dismissed her reassurance part of his suite of symptoms, or the assault on her own value it often felt like? Counter-transference was always a threat, and Sara had been trained to avoid it, but some people made that a challenge. Dubious as she’d been about Dr Hakuryū’s retirement from psychology to take up a ‘new career’, at least he no longer had to smile professionally through his clients’ abuse. She’d seen case studies he’d submitted to professional journals, too, detailing his results. It was a pity they’d been rejected for ‘deviating from accepted psychological practice’.
Kaiba’s hands were on her desk, now. He leaned across it, positioning his anger directly in front of her face. “If you are not competent to help me, stop wasting my time. Admit it and refer me to someone who can!”
Don’t tempt me.
“What was that?”
Had she said that aloud‽ “Nothing, sir. Just talking to myself.”
“Well if your ‘self’ has any bright ideas, I hope she’ll contribute them. What you’ve managed on your own has been useless. I don’t see how a figment of your imagination could do worse.”
Sara unclenched her jaw and spoke softly. “I was simply reflecting on a pre-publication paper I recently read.”
“Is it one you deem relevant to my treatment?”
Don’t say it. “It’s not a methodology I’d be comfortable using.”
“That was not my question.” His voice had gone cold, so cold, but Kaiba returned to his seat on the other side of the desk. With her on the defensive, he felt in control. Confident.
And so deeply broken she feared she’d never reach him.
Sara hedged. “The initial results detailed were very promising in cases similar to yours. But it’s an intensive treatment regime, and you are a busy man.”
“But will it provide results?”
“There would certainly be some effect to the treatment.” Sara tried to imagine Seto Kaiba in the position of some of the subjects Dr Hakuryū described. Her mind quailed. “One can never guarantee outcomes, of course, and I believe the approach would be best labelled ‘experimental’. Your insurance, surely, would not cover it.”
Kaiba tossed the concern aside with a careless gesture. “My insurance will cover what I tell them to cover, if they wish to retain Kaiba Corporation as a client.”
Sara shook her head. It had been a wicked impulse, but she really couldn’t follow through. “I assure you, Mr Kaiba, you would not enjoy the treatment process. And, unlike meditation and journalling, they lack a substantial body of research supporting their efficacy.”
“Now you’re the one making excuses!” Kaiba glared at her across the desk. “Will it work, or not?”
“Impossible to say.” Though, as reluctant as he was to engage with therapeutic interventions unforced, it might have better odds than anything she could do. “It might.”
“Faster than spending an hour every Wednesday sitting in your office discussing nonsense from the ancient past?”
Sara would hardly call Kaiba’s childhood an ‘ancient past’. He had been a CEO since he was a teenager, and was still a decade younger than Sara herself. But if Dr Hakuryū’s approach were anything, it was efficient. “Succeed or fail, yes. Dr Ha– the paper refers to it as ‘brief, identity-focussed intervention for psychodynamic change’.”
“Brief? A matter of minutes, then, or hours?”
Sara shook her head. “Within our field, brief therapy generally involves anywhere between twelve and twenty-six sessions, though of course this varies depending on multiple factors. I believe Dr Hakuryū’s sessions are individually quite long, as well.”
“Still.” Kaiba’s fingers drummed against the arm of his chair. “To have things fixed, once and for all, rather than this incessant nattering. I don’t begrudge Mokuba his ongoing involvement with therapy; he’s always needed more support than I. If there’s something wrong with me, though, I want it fixed. And if there isn’t, I need a clean bill of health so my brother will stop worrying.”
“Mental health really doesn’t wor–”
An imperious gesture cut off her words. “You may refer me to this Dr Hakuryū.”
“I really can’t–”
“That will be all, Dr Keys.” Kaiba stood, straightening the long, white jacket he wore. “I will expect the referral on my desk in the morning.”
Before Sara could object that Dr Hakuryū was no longer working as a psychologist, that he didn’t take referrals, and that prospective clients were expected to make contact themselves, the CEO of KaibaCorp had swept from the room. She sighed, rested her head on her desk until the pounding in her temples subsided, then pulled out her mobile phone and opened her contacts. If she could talk Dr Hakuryū into taking the case, the results would certainly be interesting.