Chiaki Nanami, who needs your help with a problem.

The young woman seeking your help today reclines on the therapy couch across the room, on the other side of the coffee table from where you sit, cross-legged in your arm chair.

Earlier that afternoon, the school's Ultimate Gamer, Chiaki Nanami, had knocked on your office door. While a passive frown seemed to be a normal expression for her, usually accompanied by an unreadable stare, you could read body language well enough. You knew the way she'd pulled her cat-eared hoodie up and tugged on it in the middle of the school hall meant she was troubled. Sure enough, she wanted to know if you were available, and sure enough, you were. You always made time to solve a student's issues... and, seeing as many of them seemed strangely hesitant to seek out the help of an Ultimate Therapist, you had nothing but time on your hands.

You asked her to make herself comfortable on your couch, and she did. She sat the butt of her skirt onto the comfortable cushion, tucked her distractingly curvy legs up to her chin, and pulled a well-loved handheld console out of her backpack. Then, she retreated into her game.

...And, besides eventually shifting from sitting to reclining, gazing up into her screen, that was all she had done since entering.

For a while, you'd been inclined to let her do as she liked. She seemed to find your luxurious couch very comfortable, and she seemed like her mood was stabilizing by playing her game, so for a while you simply observed, thinking maybe she just needed a place to relax. Although you'd never reveal this kind of thought about a patient, it didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes, both in terms of the soft, pastel color palette of her outfit and light pink hair, and in terms and her soft, pale, body. Her legs, pinched by those dark thigh-highs, stood out... To stop your eyes and mind from wandering, you focused on taking notes on your pad.

Not much to write.

That was about ten minutes ago. Oblivious to the way you'd begun subtly clearing your throat, tapping your pen on your pad, crossing, uncrossing, and re-crossing your legs, the student remained lying around, solely focused on her game. Her mood was no longer improving, or getting worse, or changing any other way you could discern. She was "in the zone," as they say.

Now, to the present. You find it hard to imagine that Chiaki came to your office looking mopey just because she wanted a comfy couch for her gaming. You decide to finally broach the topic. "Chiaki... if you're happy, I'm happy, but did you need anything particular from me? Is anything troubling you?"

"Hm?" She didn't even pause her game; you could see her fingers still flying across buttons as she turned her head to face you. "Ah, yeah... That was why I came in here, huh? Sorry..." she yawned, finally putting her console down and returning to upright. She rubbed at her big, sleepy pink eyes beneath her blunt bangs, then tried to straighten herself up. "Your office is so cozy. I almost fell asleep."

You wonder if that's true. Would she fall asleep playing a game? Was she... was she sleeping with her eyes open, just now? All of that's besides the point. "I try to make this a safe and comfortable space to discuss your problems, yes. Do you have any problems, Chiaki? Anything troubling you at all?"

Immediately, Chiaki's expression clouds over again. Having now seen the difference between that expression and her relaxed gaming face, you no longer fail to recognize it. She glances at her system. "Do you mind if I clear this level while I talk?"

Ordinarily, you'd worry that might distract your patient from useful therapy, but Chiaki looks more distracted without a game console than with one. You nod your head, but you don't give her the chance to enter another silent gaming trance. "What seems to be the problem, Chiaki?" While you prepare to hear her out, you set up a metronome, a useful tool of your trade. You've observed that she isn't wearing any headphones, playing with the sound off. Therefore, the soft and steady rhythm of the metronome ought to help her enter the proper headspace for your therapy. "You can talk about anything here. I want you to think about what's troubling you and describe it to me, in the plainest terms you can, without fear of judgment. This is a safe space. A relaxing space. We're only here to help you. Understand?"

... This is working a little too well. You realize that you're working with an unusual patient here. Chiaki has dropped her game console to her side, forgotten, but her eyes have moved past glazed over: they're all the way closed! Her impressive chest rises and falls in a regular rhythm as she remains silent. Just when you're worried you might hear her begin to snore, she responds. "Yes." And, after a second: "I think."

"Good. Please, describe what's bothering you, Chiaki. Take your time. Be thorough. Include details, even if you're not sure how they relate to the problem."

She mumbles to herself in a concerningly groggy way, but finally continues. "Okay... At lunch, I usually meet up with a boy from the Reserve Course... to eat lunch and play games. His name's Hajime Hinata... He's a good guy."

"A good guy? Sorry to interrupt, but expand on that."

"... Hm? I just mean... he's a guy who's good... He takes time to eat lunch with me, even though we don't always talk a lot, and plays games with me, even though I usually win... Even though he's a reserve course student, he talks to me like anyone else, and usually doesn't seem nervous... And he always makes time, whether he's in a good mood or bad mood. That makes him a good friend, I think."

Your mind is working towards a conclusion here, but you don't say it. No need to press it until it's relevant. "All right. Tell me what happened at lunch."

"Well... Like I say, Hajime's a good friend, so he shows up to play games, even when he's sick. Today, I noticed he was acting a little funny and looked a little feverish, probably... He asked me if instead of eating lunch in the park like we always did, I wanted to eat at this cafe that opened up nearby... He said he'd treat me."

"How nice. How did that make you feel?"

"... Feel? Um... I was surprised, since we always ate in the park... So I told him I had my own food, so he didn't need to buy me anything, and I was most comfortable right where I was, but I was fine if he went to the cafe himself... I didn't tell him, but I really wouldn't prefer that he left me to eat by himself."

"... I see. How do you think that made him feel?"

Even though her heavy eyelashes remain shuttered, you can tell she's pouting slightly. "I don't know how it made him feel... Unhappy, maybe? He looked disappointed... but he gave up on it and decided to eat with me, instead. I thought to myself that it was better, anyway, because he already had a lunch with him... so it was a little silly how he wanted to buy us both lunch. He's a reserve course student, so I doubt he has that much extra money... Probably, at least."

"... Yes. Well, how did the rest of the usual day go?"

"I challenged him to Mortal Kombat... and beat him 36-0... I think. No, for sure. I remember. I'd never seen him so distracted playing, or so depressed at losing."

Smiling sympathetically, you pause, glancing at your notes. "So... I'm not too clear on the terminology, but you turned down this Hajime's invitation to dine together and then proceeded to thrash him uncontested in a competitive fighting game? Is that correct?"

"Mm," Chiaki nods. "That's exactly right."

... You begin to consider if this Hajime Hinata is the one you really need on the couch across from you. Nevertheless, one at a time. "Let's get back to you for the moment. Chiaki, I take it you're upset because Hajime was upset, correct?"

"Mm," Chiaki nods again. You can see a thin line of drool is starting to run from her sleepy lips, and her voice is beginning to slow down. You realize you might be working on a time limit. "He usually doesn't get that upset about losing fighting games to me. But, to be clear... he does lose... A lot. So maybe he's just tired of it...? Could be."

You think to yourself that, compared to some of your usual cases, there's surprisingly little to unpack here. People thought the students at this school were like enhanced humans, mutants, or eccentric weirdos, the kinds with brains unknowable by the average man or woman. However, for a talented therapist like you, their problems might as well be written in ink on a card above their foreheads. The only question would be how to best fix Chiaki's problem for her...

Speaking of which, reflecting on Chiaki's story, what is the glaringly obvious problem she has?