Archive of Our Own ^beta

Serizawa wasn’t good with touch.

All things considered, this was very normal. He had spent 15 years in complete isolation, and even after those years he never received any touch that might be considered friendly. So it was no surprise that it was a challenge for him.

The day Serizawa realized this was his very first day at Spirits and Such. His nervousness was obvious in his fidgeting hands and shifting eyes, but Reigen and Mob hadn’t even blinked. Surprising him more was when he had suddenly been sat down and given a haircut.

To say that he was stressed about this was as ridiculous as calling a mountain a molehill. As soon as Reigen’s hands brushed the side of his head, Serizawa visibly stiffened. Clenching his fists and ignoring the sensation of something cold going down his spine, Serizawa sat there and let it happen. Every touch on his head sent a wave of something awful through his body, curdling his insides and tensing his muscles. When it was finally over, he was handed a mirror.

Serizawa could barely recognize his own reflection. His wild mane of curls had been shortened to his skull and his face had been shaved. He looked… professional? Is this was professional looked like? He wasn’t sure.

From there, Serizawa had to shake hands with three customers, bring tea to two, and be given a congratulatory slap on the back by Reigen all in the span of four hours. To say he was exhausted would be an understatement. However, this quickly became the new normal.

Day in and day out, Serizawa dealt with people. Handshakes, friendly touches, or even just a brush against his arm could all send a feeling of wrongness down his spine, shaking him to his core every time.

It wasn’t as though he was scared. Every touch was non-threatening at the very least, and a gesture of friendship at most. No, he wasn’t frightened that anyone would hurt him. The sensation was just.. foreign. It was new. But slowly Serizawa began to loathe this feeling, week after week, month after month. It wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t feeling any better. He had assumed he would just acclimate to his new environment, but he couldn’t see, to do even that.

Eventually, frustrated, exhausted, and at his wits end, Serizawa revealed this to his therapist. He wrung his hands anxiously as she looked at him thoughtfully.

“Well,” she began. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

That certainly hadn’t been what he was expecting.  

“How so?” He inquired.

“You’ve been through a lot, not just recently, but over a long time- 15 whole years! It makes perfect sense that touch would be an issue. I think you need to give yourself a little more time.”

“But it’s been months!” Serizawa protested.

The therapist hummed thoughtfully. “It has. There’s no timeline here, though, and I don’t think holding yourself to a standard you can’t reach is very productive. You need time.”

“I know, I just- I want to do something to speed up the process,” Serizawa muttered, fidgeting with his hands again. “I know it’ll take time, but it’s-I just feel out of control with it and I want to- I want to do it on my terms.” His eyes began burning with the familiar sensation of tears behind them, threatening to come out. “I want to get better at this.”

She gazed at him evenly, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she took the lead.

“You want to get better at touch?”

“I do.”

“I think that’s very brave of you, Katsuya,” she smiled. “It’s very admirable that you’re taking control like this. I know it’s hard to do that. Not many people would take responsibility like this, but you are. That speaks volumes to your character.”

Serizawa sniffled loudly, brushing away his tears. The woman smiled again, as though they shared some grand secret, and pushed a box of tissues towards him.

“I’ve had many patients who have issues with touch. You’re not alone in that.” She  started, pausing patiently for Serizawa to blow his nose. “Something that helps a lot of them is initiating physical contact- that way it’s on your terms. That might be a good first step to becoming more comfortable with it.”

Serizawa nodded slowly. “That sounds good.” The woman smiled.

And so it became a goal. Initiate one form of physical contact a day. Some days it was as simple as tapping someone’s shoulder, and others it was as grand as a full-body hug. And some days he couldn’t do it at all. But through it all came a new sense of control, of familiarity with the concept of touch- and slowly but surely, it became less of a task.