That evening after dinner, Sensei gestures me to the couch.

Noticing the blanket and kitten already laid out, I scowl.

"Really? Didn't we just talk, Sensei? I just saw Tulutho-san… Is this really necessary?"

He smiles, all teeth and eyes crinkling.

I wrinkle my nose when he steps around me and just sort of crashes on his end.

"Yes."

He leans back against the arm and I glower at the amusement there. Lips pursed to the side and eyes drooped. He slides an arm against the back of the couch and gestures me over with a look. "Sit."

I cross my arms, unmoved.

"But why?"

He actually has the audacity to laugh.

Rude.

"I thought you were making a list," he says, lifting a brow. "Or did you think I forgot? We can start wherever. Your attitude towards Ms. Joke, your issue with Kouda, the rock-boy from Shiketsu, your mother-"

"Taisho?" I interrupt, annoyed. "I didn't say anything about him. Did Hitoshi-kun say something? He better not-"

"Rin," Sensei chides. "I don't need Hitoshi to explain when someone makes you uncomfortable. I have eyes. Now sit down, do you want to start there?"

I move reluctantly.

No.

I'd rather not start anywhere.

I don't say that though, well aware he'd make me write some stupid essay. Huffing, I grab the blanket and drop onto my end. Pulling the blanket around my shoulders, I wrap it securely over my head and glare out the makeshift hood. He smirks and I grunt, immediately looking away.

I try to think of a reply, but nothing immediate really comes to mind.

Stupid words.

"There… There's nowhere to start," I scowl, fingers brushing across the sofa cushion by my knee. I stare down at the gray couch and try to ignore his gaze. "He was mean. I got upset. I didn't hurt him. See, not everything needs a conversation."

"What did he say that was mean?"

I shrink and glance up to find his dark eyes still watching.

Looking away, I glower.

"Is this really-"

"Yes," he interrupts, voice stern. "There's a difference between schoolyard taunts and being purposefully cruel. I'm asking which was used. The fact that he's a hero student makes it even more cause for concern. One day, that boy will be expected to respond to emergency situations and deal with trying individuals. If there's an issue it needs to be addressed now."

Hero…

I cringe.

"Rin," Sensei says quieter. I glance up, surprised to find him rubbing his nose. "I would also like to know because it bothered you."

Oh.

I drop the blanket and pull at my fingers nervously.

He nods towards the space beside him, and, swallowing, I scoot over.

The moment I'm in the crook of his side, his arm falls like it did on the bus heavily against my shoulder. The weight is strangely nice. I lean into it, curling into the warmth and relaxing.

This is nice.

"What did he say?" Sensei prods again.

"That… that he hoped I got expelled and that I shouldn't be a hero. It… It was 'cause of what happened at the beach and… and that I was trash."

Sensei breathes deeply.

"I will address it. Do you believe you're trash?"

"No," I mumble, closing my eyes. Leaning closer, I nuzzle his side, the softness of his shirt soothing against my cheek. The smell reassuring.

Sometimes… Sometimes I wish we could stay like this forever.

"I… I shouldn't have left him, Yamada-sensei I mean."

"No, you shouldn't have," Sensei agrees, sounding almost contemplative. "Did he say anything else or attempt to physically harm you?"

"No," I answer, shaking my head. "He walked off. Can… Can we talk about something else?"

"Your mother?"

I grimace.

"No."

He doesn't say something for a long moment, fingers running through my hair, and I lean comfortingly into the touch.

"Alright," he says finally. "I spoke with Recovery Girl after our discussion. What are your feelings about the medication?"

I blink and pull away.

"What?"

"Do you want to try it?" he says, expression carefully blank. I frown, searching his face, and the façade cracks easily. He huffs, seemingly amused, and offers a wry smile. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not going to make you take it if you don't want to. It'd be a waste of time and energy. It'd probably end in an argument anyway."

I pout.

"It… It would not!"

At his knowing look, I flush.

"Okay, maybe," I admit, curling back against him. "But… I… I don't know. I don't want to throw up all day."

"Recovery Girl confirmed that it doesn't always cause nausea, and if it does, it's usually only for a few weeks. It would take your body time to adjust to the chemicals and new levels of hormones. It would also have the effect of making you feel less."

"Less?" I ask, concerned.

"Less emotions. I believe on average your emotions shouldn't exceed the fives. Happiness, sadness, all of them. The goal would be that without feeling constantly overwhelmed, you can practice healthy coping strategies so you can successfully manage your emotions independently."

I frown.

"And… And if I don't?"

Sensei lets out an amused huff, fingers scratching my scalp.

"Then nothing changes, we'll continue as we have been. I'm not punishing you for not choosing one or the other, that'd defeat the purpose of letting you choose. It's your decision Rin. Do you like feeling your emotions at 8s and 9s or do you want to feel them at 4s and 5s?"

I pull at my fingers.

I don't know.

"I… I guess?"

"You don't have to decide right now," he says, snorting. "But I'm going to need something a little more substantial in the future. Yes or no. If I give you until Friday, should I expect a meltdown by the end of the week?"

I flush and glare.

"No!"

He laughs and I know he's remembering his last deadline.

Red-faced, I wrinkle my nose at him.

"Sensei!"

.

.

.

The next day passes as quickly as the first.

It's, surprisingly, another good day. The teachers all give us a ton of homework, but nothing unmanageable. The math is still understandable, Literature is simply to read (which I finish in class), and our Art essay covers foreign symbolism in pop culture, which is super easy. It's a little weird that Midoriya and Bakugou still aren't back yet, but the others make enough noise that it's hardly all that noticeable.

Especially Hitoshi's friends.

They sit with us again at lunch and this time I'm more prepared for it. I'm less surprised when Mako-chan explodes across the table in a shower of giggles and nearly overturns my milk or when Daisuke drags Hitoshi into retelling some wild story of how they got into an argument with a business student.

And Kirishima, apparently summoned by all this chaos, joins us as well.

"Dude! You guys are crazy!"

"So then Kirishima-kun and Hitoshi-kun had an arm-wrestling contest!" I exclaim, rolling on my back and raising my arms. Yamada-sensei, currently lounging and stretched out on the couch, smiles fondly back with phone in hand.

"Oh?"

"Kirishima-kun won, but Hitoshi-kun came in second! I only got third, which Kirishima-kun said was decent, but I think that was just him being nice. I mean, it's basically last place 'cause it meant I only beat Daisuke-kun and Mako-chan, and that not really saying much cause neither of them actually train. Mako-chan was the worst though! Her arms are like Jell-O and- and did you know she couldn't even do pushups? That's crazy!"

Aizawa-sensei, somewhere in the kitchen cleaning up, snorts.

"Hate to break it to yah love, but that's really not that surprising. You're a little more cut than most," Yamada-sensei laughs. "There ain't too many girls your age bent on being strong. Most of 'em just wanna look good."

"More cut?" I repeat, wrinkling my nose. "Did you just make that up?"

Yamada-sensei tilts his head and squints over the sunglasses still perched on his nose.

"No, it's a real phrase! Don't doubt my lingo!"

I giggle at his annoyance, spreading my arms sideways and stretching.

"Sounds made up," I tease again, grinning cheekily back.

He looks caught between rolling off the couch and glaring.

"You know you have English with me tomorrow? I'm feeling a pop quiz in my sweet little intern's future…"

I laugh, sitting up and crawling over towards him. He crosses his arms and stares sourly back.

"Oh no you don't! Don't come over here, troublemaker! I don't want your apologies."

I ignore him and flop on his stomach.

"But Sensei!" I whine in English.

"Teacher," he corrects with a dirty look. "And they don't call their teachers teacher in English. They use honorifics."

I wrinkle my nose and wiggle to lean across his stomach, elbows digging in beneath me.

English is so weird.

"Mister Yamada?" I try, and then stick my tongue out not liking that at all. "Eww, yuck! Mister Hizashi?"

"You could try uncle," he offers trying to look disinterested.

I blink at that, legs hanging off the couch. He doesn't meet my eye, cheeks red and mustache twitchy.

"Uncle Hizashi?" I try, rolling the foreign word around my tongue. It's a mouthful. "That's too long! What about Uncle Zashi?"

He blushes, expression curling into a silly grin.

Leaning forward, he clobbers me to his chest, dropping his phone somewhere on the side of the couch. One arm wraps against my back and the other my head.

"H-Hey!"

"No takebacks!" he declares loudly, expression bright and delighted.

I squawk, unable to wiggle out, and kick wildly until my feet slide up and tangle in his.

"F-Fine!"

To have such small arms, he really has a lot of strength. I don't mention that though, too aware he wouldn't appreciate it. And when he lets me go, I consider squirming away to tease him again. But dinner was delicious and he's really comfortable, and even if his leather isn't anywhere near as soft as Aizawa-sensei's clothes, this is nice.

I glance towards the sink and blink, noticing my guardian's dark gaze and smirk.

"Sen-"

"Uh uh!" Yamada-sensei huffs, wiggling his eyebrows and pointing a finger gun at my nose. "No takebacks!"

I flush, surprised that he was actually serious, and let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, fine, Uncle Zashi?" I attempt again, pressing my chin against the middle of his sternum.

He raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

I smile mischievously back.

"Thanks for dinner."

He snorts and rolls his eyes, his long blonde hair sticking out over the arm of the couch and his finger gun disappearing as it slides through my hair.

"Yeah, yeah… it's not a problem kid. Good job passing the exam. All things considered, you did pretty well overall. Competing against a bunch of second years from around the country and coming up, what was it, fourteenth? Fifteenth? That's not bad at all. You keep this up and I'll be stuck interviewing you for the radio."

I flush brightly and he laughs, ruffling my hair.

"Hey!"

He pulls back and stops, both arms moving away to slide under his head so I can move as I please. I don't leave though, instead sliding sideways and squirming up so I can squish between him and the cushions and lean into his shoulder. He lets me, eyes slipping closed as he does.

He'll probably have to leave soon.

Something about making his rounds and a long patrol.

It reminds me of the internship, the quiet warmth of his apartment, and the comforting scent of expensive cologne.

"Sen- Uh, Uncle Zashi," I whisper, not wanting to break the peace but curious.

He peaks one eye open and looks down, the green swirl strangely colored behind the lightly tinted glasses.

"Hmmm?"

"When we do the Hero Work Studies, can I do mine with you?"

The eye shuts back and it's not exactly the reaction I was waiting for. The blonde sighs. Aizawa-sensei, clearly now done with dishes, doesn't join us. He disappears into his room and Yamada-sensei makes a face though I don't know if it's towards me or his best friend.

I wait, only too aware the answer isn't an immediate yes.

Dark doubts swirl quietly beneath my skin.

He doesn't want you.

Do they ever?

"Tell me why you want to work for me," the blonde says slowly, reaching out to collect his sunglasses and push them up atop his forehead. It makes him easier to read but doesn't stop my own confusion.

Why?

My mouth goes dry at the need to explain.

Sometimes, I really hate that word.

"I…"

I trail off, twitching uncomfortably beneath his bright green gaze.

I don't know.

Because he's easy. Because working with him is nice? Because I trust him and know him and he's kind-

"I… I don't have the words," I manage, lips curling down in distaste.

He nods, smiling reassuringly. Part of me wants to growl and point, shouting that! That right there! That's why!

But I don't.

"What if I tell you what I think, and you correct me if I'm wrong?" he asks.

I nod, shoulders loosening.

"Okay," he draws out, staring up at the ceiling. "I think you want to work with me because I was the one you did your internship with."

I nod again, slower, uncomfortably aware that that probably isn't the correct answer.

He notices and raises an eyebrow, expression shifting minutely between tired and bemused.

"Figured. And what would I teach you?" he asks.

Teach me?

I have no idea where he's going with this.

I don't know. "How… How to fight?"

"Why?"

I furrow my brows and sit up, one hand pressed against his abs and the other on the couch.

"What?"

"Why do you need me to teach you how to fight?" he asks again, not unkindly. "Kid, you just passed the fighting exam with flying colors. You spar regularly with your classmates and regularly beat them. It isn't like when we first started, you can defend yourself now. You don't really need me anymore for that."

Something dark and dangerous twists in my gut.

"I… I'll always need you," I whisper suddenly, throat tightening in terror.

He makes a noise, hands waving immediately in defense.

"Oh hey! Hey! Okay, so maybe that was a bad choice of words!" he backtracks. "I'm sure you'll always need me, I'm your Yamada-sensei! We're family. I get it! I'm not- I wasn't saying I won't be here for you! Just that you're growing up! You don't need to learn how to punch or basic self-defense anymore. Kid, you're a near-natural at fighting! As long as you've got the motivation to push through and keep goin' you've got this! You don't need what I'd teach you, except maybe some social skills, but that's not enough for the work study! These are for you to develop into the kind of hero you wanna be, and last time I checked, I'm pretty sure it wasn't the DJ-teacher kind!"

I frown, eyebrows knitting together, but don't disagree.

Yamada-sensei, as if sensing my darkening thoughts, sighs. Reaching over, he slides an arm around my shoulder and pulls me back down against him.

"Hey," he tries again, smiling conspiratorially. "Shouta mentioned you wanted to learn some medical skills, right? The work study is totally the time for that. Not just holdin' on to what's comfortable, yah dig?"

I scowl and fold my arms, wrinkling my nose.

"I got it," I grumble, face heating and looking anywhere but his face.

I probably should have known better anyway.

"I'm kinda not sure you do," the blonde grouses with a huff, but he doesn't press it.

I ignore him and bury my face back in the cook of his shoulder and huff, trying not to lean into his touch when it rubs against my arm.

"If it makes you feel any better, your class might not be participating in them anyways," my godfather says a few seconds later.

I peak up and glower, brows furrowed.

"Why not?"

He gives a sly look.

"Oh? Are we talking again now?"

I try to imitate Aizawa-sensei's deadpan stare.

He snorts.

"You know, that's kinda creepy."

I grin. Then remembering the way I used my shadows in the mirror, I sit up and pat insistently at his chest.

"Wanna see my other one?" I ask excitedly.

"Your other what?"

Closing my eyes in concentration, I have to focus to find the shadows, especially with the glow in such easy reach. It feels like a cool balm when I do, simple and pliable. I only summon a small amount, feeling it seep from the pores on my neck.

"Eh? Rin-chan, what are you doing?"

I open my eyes and grin even as the shadows drag my hair in the air.

Yamada-sensei gapes beneath me, mouth going wide.

"Oh shit, that creepy as hell!"

I drop the shadows instantly and pout.

He laughs, rolls off the couch, and takes me with him.

"H-Hey!"

"C'mon! Let's go show Shouta!"

.

.

.

Aizawa-sensei was not impressed.

.

.

.

The next morning, Sensei introduces the 'Big Three.'

I'm not really sure why, especially if Yamada-sensei is to be believed. Why dangle something everyone wants but won't be able to have?

The fact that I wouldn't be able to do it with Yamada-sensei still stinging.

The most powerful students at UA.

I don't know what I was expecting.

Whatever it was… it definitely wasn't this…

They're idiots.

I fold my arms, thankful to be in the back, and reconsider my trust in UA. The girl, probably the most annoying them all, had been bouncing around non-stop since she'd arrived, touching people and asking ridiculous questions she didn't bother to wait for the answers for. Luckily, she'd been contained to the front of the room, but her current fascination with Ojiro's tail was annoying.

He'd already pulled it back once, and if he did it again, she was going to tell her to stop.

"Get to your point," Sensei says sharply, eyes activating threateningly. "This is irrational."

I scowl when the blonde waves nervously, reminding me uncomfortably of another similar man. Only the dark-haired boy seemed normal, and he was currently shivering against the wall.

It does nothing for my attitude.

"Ahh-"

He makes a noise, posing like an idiot, and then grins.

Something in that smile sets my teeth on edge.

"Why don't you all fight me at once?"

My eye twitches.

Is he serious?

All of us at once against one of the top students in the entire school? That was insane! There was no way one person could defend against that many quirks, especially with all our experience.

Is this a joke?

"What'd yah say?" The blonde asks, rubbing his nose and smiling like he wasn't asking our rowdy class to beat his ass. "Is that alright? I mean, it's the most rational to have them experience our experience firsthand! Right, Eraserhead?"

Something about the way he talks, the way he uses my guardian's rationality against him, makes my teeth grind. I can tell from Aizawa-sensei's measured gaze that this wasn't planned. And the fact that he hadn't mentioned a fight last night either…

"Do what you want."

I don't know what's more surprising, that this idiot was actually taking us all on or that Aizawa-sensei was letting him.

Sensei never does anything without a purpose.

If he's letting him fight, then… Did that mean he thought he could win? Or was this a ploy to teach our upper classman to be less cocky? But why would he care what the upper classmen think?

I try to catch his eye, uncertain, but Sensei avoids it.

So instead, I rise and follow the other, spilling out into the hall and changing rooms among my classmates' excitable chatter. Momo, in front of me, gushes about the unique opportunity, and Kyoka, waiting for her, snorts.

"There's no way he'll be able to take on all of us at once!"

"I wonder what his quirk is, ribbit."

I don't respond.

Shrugging off my uniform, I ignore the puckered hills of scars on my arms and pull on my pants.

"Rin-chan!" Toru whines, an invisible arm snaking out and snagging my shoulder. "You're so quiet! What's wrong? I thought you liked sparring!"

"I do," I huff, making a face before removing her to pull on my shirt. Sensei had gotten it adjusted with a slit so my wings wouldn't accidentally choke me.

"Yeah? Then why do you look so serious?" she complains, clothes wiggling emptily as she buttons the front. "You're supposed to be excited! We get to compare ourselves to an upper classman! This is so exciting! You should be excited! You can show Aizawa-sensei how much you improved!"

I pause.

Glancing over, I imagine if I could see her face she'd be smirking. She dances, the PE uniform still slightly open on her chest, and I blink and realize sharply what looks so strange.

What…

"Are you not wearing underclothes?" I ask her sourly, eye twitching.

This was getting a bit ridiculous.

She laughs, voice loud and free.

"Uh… no! Duh! I'd just have to take them off when we start and that's weird! I don't want the boys looking at my panties! It's just easier to leave them off altogether."

I snort.

Of course, it is.

"Rin-chan? Toru-chan? Ready?" Momo asks.

I stuff my uniform in my locker with a loud clang and nod.

As much as I'll ever be.

.

.

.

The blonde is stretching when we finally arrive.

I frown the moment I see him, those same uncertainties rising back up again.

The girl and dark-haired boy are with him, but they move away the moment we enter. Her towards us and the boy towards the wall. I narrow my eyes when she immediately latches onto Mina but can't stop my eyes from drifting back to the other boy.

It takes me almost too long to realize why.

He's shaking.

I grimace and turn expectantly towards Aizawa-sensei, but he's locked in a conversation with Todoroki, brows pinched as he asks him something that I can't hear.

My frown deepens and I hesitate again.

Those with power have two choices, Rin-chan. You either use it, and be a hero, or abuse it, and be a villain.

I swallow, shifting, then, steeling my nerves, cross the room towards the older boy.

"Hey," I say, feeling my words come out harsher than I mean to at my own rising anxiety. "Are… Are you okay?"

There's a pause in which I'm fairly sure my classmates are gaping at my back.

I can even feel his blonde friend's stare, but I don't glance back, lips firm and eyes narrowed.

"Cause… Cause you look an-anxious," I say, twitching uncomfortably at his lack of conversation. What are you doing? Sensei's right there! Let him handle it! "And… And if- if you are, you should breathe. I… I mean, if you need to…"

The boy's dark eyes widen, sliding towards me as he stares.

"I… what?"

"Breathe," I repeat, not sure if he's asking about the anxiety or what to do. I shift awkwardly from one foot to the other and pull at my fingers. "I, mean, you don't look like your having an attack, but if you were you should lean forward, because it'll, it'll um help. Or at least, it helps me. Sometimes I have really- really um bad anxiety and Sensei says it's okay, that lots of people get it. My aunt—er, I mean, Midnight-sensei—actually, I don't know if I should say that. But if, um, if you want, you can, uh… talk about it?"

If anything, the boy looks even more worked up.

I open my mouth, fully prepared to spout more nonsense—because he's clearly not saying anything, and I must be doing something wrong—when a hand clasps my shoulder and I nearly jump.

"Ehhhh! That's super kind of you!" laughs the crazy blonde guy from earlier and I freeze instantly under his touch, feeling my stomach twist instantly into knots. His hand is huge, large enough it takes up my whole shoulder and my skin heats beneath his too-bright blue stare. "But, hey, Tamaki, you're going to be alright, yeah?"

The dark-haired boy, Tamaki, glances between me and the blonde and grimaces.

"Ahhh… I just wanna go home."

Still holding my shoulder, the blonde throws up a thumb and grins.

"That's what I figured! He's fine, just being a little shy," the brighter boy laughs, and I'm struck by how similar it is to All-

"I… Oh," I manage, flustered and embarrassed and wishing the ground could just maybe swallow me whole.

He releases my shoulder and winks.

My mouth dries instantly.

Did he just-

"Hoki-chan, right? I've heard about you! I can't wait to see what you've got! But we should definitely get ready, I don't think Eraserhead's a big fan of wasting time."

I glance, red-faced towards Aizawa-sensei, and nearly shrink when I catch his look.

What are you doing?

"Uh… yeah…"

He laughs, steps back, and immediately jogs back to the middle of the gym. The others, all locked into some sort of discussion with the girl barely notice. Well… mostly.

"Hey, Rin-chan, you okay? Your face is like super red!" Toru whispers as she suddenly slides next to me.

"I… yeah," I mumble, fingers twitching at each other.

"Oh good, cause if I didn't know better, I'd think you were blushing," the girl teases, and I make a face.

"Close combat team, you should move in first!"

I quickly separate myself from the invisible girl and slide closer instead to Ochako and Kirishima. The redhead takes one look and snickers, body already hardening.

I resist the urge to throw something at him.

"Rin-chan?" Ochako asks, her hand rising to hide a smile. "You good?"

I groan and summon my shadows, annoyed when they're red too.

"Oh my gosh, is her quirk blushing?" laughs Mina.

"Class! We need to focus!" Iida shouts. "Long-range fighters, prepare!"

"Anytime now!" whistles the blonde, not even bothering with a stance as he waves in our direction.

This was either going to be really easy or really, really bad.

"Alright!" Kirishima grunts, clearly pumping himself up. "It's on-"

"Here I come!" shouts Midoriya and there's a flash of green as he charges. I don't hesitate either, racing forward with reddish shadows circling my arms.

And then his clothes fall off.

I flinch at Kyoka's scream and stop my assault, not really sure what to do in the face of his sudden nudeness.

They're upset about that but not Toru?

I grit my teeth and glower as the boy hurried puts back on his pants. Midoriya, still going full-strength, doesn't hesitate. I wait for the crack of bones, the speed and power behind that kick surely enough to break bones—Sensei's not going to be happy.

But it doesn't happen.

A flash of powers explodes forward, a laser and clawed hand, and my heart suddenly hammers at the cloud of dust.

Something's wrong.

And that's when they scream.

There isn't time to think, isn't time to react. One moment the blonde is in front of us, the next he's by Kyoka, plowing through my classmates like butter.

Ash in the air, blood in my mouth, and great plumes of smoke blocking out the sun.

My shadows break free in an instant, circling my body in a low, revolving storm. They twist into briars and hands, faces caught in the darkness, classmates with open mouth screams.

"POWER!"

I stop hesitating.

Reaching out, I summon every dark, bleak thought I can.

You're mother's dead. She's gone and no one thought to tell you for years.

The fire that spills out is black and hot.

It scorches the earth, melts the cement, and it's only my absolute control that keeps it from touching my classmates, swirling past Sero and arching over Momo.

Then the blonde comes for me.

Naked, rippling with muscles, and fast.

A flash of silver in the dark.

I throw out my shield instantly, the shadows hot and pressed close against my stomach. I don't even manage a hit.

He punches through me, shattering my defenses effortlessly, fist digging into my gut.

It knocks the breath from my lung, lurches my stomach, drags my feet from the ground.

I drop to the floor, nausea climbing my throat, gag.

Flesh around my neck-

I can't breathe-

Drool leaks from my lips. My teeth click together, tears spilling unbidden.

"Hey! You burned me!"

He sounds impressed.

I want to snarl, want to curl in a ball, want to sharpen my tentacles and attack.

I don't have near enough breath for that.

Helpless.

It's a bitter, awful taste.

The blonde doesn't stick around to gloat, chasing after the others as I struggle to breathe. In seconds, the rest of my classmates are on the floor, curled up or groaning.

Pale and still, chest barely rising in the purple smoke.

"POWER!"

I slump forward, eyes sliding mercifully shut.

So promise me. Promise me Hellspawn, promise me you'll get strong.

Forehead against the floor, I remember his face.

Power…