Preparing to intern with Present Mic is strange.

It feels a little like it does every time I leave a home. My duffel filled with everything I own, my best skirt ironed, and my hair pulled back in a bun. But my hands don't shake, and that pervasive feeling of failing isn't there.

I hand Yui-san the key as I leave.

"Yui-san…" I start, bowing.

She gives me an annoyed glower.

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of here and mind your manners. I don't want any more calls, you hear me?"

I nod, furiously, and she rolls her eyes, gesturing for the door.

I walk to the train station listed on the paper silently. Nervously.

Sensei meets me there with a grin. He's easy to spot in his black leather and blonde hair greased up. He's dancing in the crowd to a song only he can hear, headphones covering both ears. He's even collected a little gathering of children and adults watching and recording him. I can't help but giggle at his moonwalk.

I wait for the crowd to disperse before tapping his shoulder.

"Hello there, female listen-" He stops when he recognizes me, and his face wrinkles into a silly, curious look. He leans forward, one finger thrust out towards my nose. "Ah, Hoki-chan, where's all your stuff? This is supposed to be a week, not a night!"

I blink, staring cross-eyed at the finger.

"I… This is all I have."

He trips and falls, faceplanting on the floor. I lean forward, worried, but he recovers quickly and stands, taking up a curious pose. He scratches his chin and looks up towards the ceiling, the other hand on his hip.

"We'll have to look at it when we get to the house. I didn't take into account shopping, but I'm sure we can squeeze it in, but Shouta mentioned I shouldn't give you coffee, so maybe not tomorrow…"

I watch as he talks himself through several ideas, the hand on his hip moving to pull out a cellphone. He wrinkles his nose, swiping through several apps making faces.

"YESS!" he says in English, turning back to me with a grin and thumbs up. "Got it, you ready?"

I nod and bite my lip. He grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me forward by his side. He's strong, stronger than I realized. I'm stuck unnaturally to his hip as he starts walking. It's weird to walk like that, actively working to match steps to keep from falling behind or tripping. Eraser Mic doesn't seem to notice. He keeps his long-legged stride going for what seems like hours. We cross at least six different blocks at that pace until he finally let's go. I fall, hands on my knees, breathing heavily. We're standing in front of a tall apartment I've never seen.

"Well, we'll have to work on your stamina," the blonde hero says, raising an eyebrow. Then he smiles and holds open the front gate, letting me in. He leads me through the lobby at a slower pace and whistles, waving at a few smiling faces.

They laugh and wave back, a few giving me curious stares.

I blush.

"Come on," the blonde man says in English, waving me towards an open elevator. We go up to the third floor and he spends the entire ride tapping his foot and bobbing his head. Then down to a plain white door decorated with a silver knocker. "We're here!"

I stare wide-eyed as he opens the door.

It's nice. And full.

He puts a hand on my back and pushes me in, offering me slippers as he takes off his own. But I can't focus. Not at the place before me. It's like walking into a dream. The living room is large and covered in soundproof tiles. The walls, the ceiling, I imagine there are some even under the floors. And records. Old, vinyl records decorate everything, hanging off the windows like curtains, pressed under lamps, a giant rug shaped like one. His TV, a huge flat screen, takes up the majority of a wall, and to either side are glass racks of different memorabilia, little notes from fans and signed pictures.

He heads towards the western-style couch, a thick, gray thing covered in bright yellow and black pillows, and pats the cushion beside him. Still carrying the old duffel, I move to sit.

"ALRIGHT!" he says dramatically, waving his arms. "Welcome to my crib!"

There's so much English in that sentence it takes me a minute to work it all out. I nod once I understand and he cracks his neck, pouting.

"Ah, well, not the best reaction, but it's fine. So, Hoki or Rin? Which one do you want to be called?"

"Rin," I answer immediately, before blushing and looking at my feet. He hums in acknowledgment.

"Great! You can call me Yamada or Hizashi-sensei while we're off the air as well. Now, let's talk logistics, yeah? I've got a spare room you can sleep in; it'll be through that door." He jumps up and points with both hands down the hall. I lean back and see a piece of paper taped heavily to a plain door with a messily written HOKI RIN SLEEPS HERE! "You have free access to anything in the kitchen and anything in here but let me know if you need something more. The bathroom's down the hall. Training starts at six in the morning and we'll be busy until eight, except Tuesday and Thursday, which I'm live on my radio show…"

I stare wide-eyed as Present Mic pulls out his phone and loses track of the conversation as he starts looking at the schedule.

"Now, phone policy!"

I swallow.

"I… I don't have a phone," I tell him pulling at my fingers.

He blinks.

"You… You don't? Don't all teenagers have phones?"

I shrug and look away. He sighs.

"Well, I see… Give me a sec, I'll message Shouta and ask him to pick you one up. Nothing fancy, just something prepaid. You can't go on patrols without some form of communication! What if something happens?"

"I…"

"It's fine, kiddo. Now, hmm, I made a list!"

I pay dutiful attention as Sensei goes through the rest of his rules listed in his phone. They're basic things I've learned from different homes. Don't break anything, don't go in his room without permission, knock on the bathroom before entering, and etc. He likes to explain each thoroughly though, hands moving through the air, striking different poses, voice modulating with each example. It's detailed and entertaining, and I find myself relaxing the longer he talks, sinking into the couch.

It's the nicest couch I've ever sat on.

"Eh?" he says after a moment. "Rin-chan?"

I blink up at him and he leans forward and grins.

"Adorable!" he hums in English. I blush and sit up.

"Sorry Sensei…"

"It's fine, I think that's enough. We're doing patrol tonight, so let's have dinner, and then a nap!"

I stare.

"A… nap?"

He grins, dancing in his living room.

"Yes! As a teenager, you need at least 8 hours of sleep Rin-chan! Since we'll be up most of the night, we'll need to make it up somewhere. Now, how do you like fish?"

I don't really have time to puzzle out his English question, much less answer. Sensei leaves to change into his 'casual' clothes and tells me to put away my things. So I walk to the door bearing the ridiculous sign and open it.

My eyes water.

I… I can't speak.

The walls, the same pale white as the living room, are decorated with little bluebirds. The bed covered in a soft blue quilt, with cotton white sheets and a simple silver rug. There's a dresser, just for me, not dingy or dirty, but painted the same light blue as the birds, and a desk covered in notes.

I step inside, fingers touching the quilt, it's softer than anything I've felt for years. I smooth it down, wondering if this is real. If this is for me. I turn then to the notes. They're all written in sensei's silly scrawl, doodles of him and peace signs scratched in the corners.

Welcome, Hoki-chan! I'm so glad you're here!

I put the note down and grab another, staring.

You've always been such a good student, I'm sure you'll make an amazing intern! Let's work hard to go PLUS ULTRA!

Tears drip from my eyes. I quickly put the notes away, not wanting to ruin them, and wipe at my face.

I've never… Nobody's ever…

Somebody knocks and I turn to see Sensei leaning against the frame, arms crossed, hair still spiked, wearing a maroon sweater and jeans. He looks different without the leather. More casual, more relaxed.

"So? What do you think- Hey! Are those tears?"

I sniffle and quickly cover my face.

"No, I'm sorry-"

"What's wrong!" he squeaks, voice pitching high. He crosses the room in seconds, hands on my shoulders and then wrists, pulling away my fingers. His face is screwed up in extreme concern, one eye wide and the other pinched shut, his mouth twisted sideways. "Is it the birds? They're too childish…?"

I shake my head and my face hurts as my hair smacks it. My sinuses throb and my eyes ache, my face still painful from the bruises hidden beneath the makeup.

"N-N-No, sensei! No, it's just… It's so nice…"

He stops prying at my fingers, his body moving away. He blinks.

Then, face pinking, he leans forward until his whole face takes up my vision and all I can see is his pink cheeks and goofy grin.

"You… you like it?"

"Is- Is it really for me?" I ask, still trying to wipe away the tears. He laughs and pulls me into a hug, squashing me against his chest. It smells like cologne, his maroon sweater fuzzy against my cheeks.

"You're perfect!" Sensei says loudly in English.

It's… nice. Something warm and heavy fills my chest and I watch him walk away. He dances into the kitchen, whistling and flicking something on a wall before a happy tune fills the air. The melody flickers through the air and I slowly put my things in the dresser.

.

.

.

Dinner is an eventful affair. Unlike at the home, Sensei doesn't eat at his table. He doesn't really have one. He has a small studio set up in that place instead. He has us eat on the couch instead, putting on a cartoon I've never seen. Tom and Jerry, he calls it. It's an English show, but there aren't really any words.

I giggle and eat my fish, losing myself in the animation as the cat falls for the little mouse's tricks over and over again. Sensei sits beside me and grins, throwing me a peace sign whenever I remember to look his way.

When it ends, I take my bowl and his and go to wash dishes. He stops me with a little pat on the head.

"I'll take care of it tonight," he says shooing me out of the kitchen. "Nap time!"

I blush.

"But Sensei, I… I'm not a kid…"

He shakes his head and then his finger.

"Ah, ah! Sorry Rin-chan, it's on the schedule!" He thrust out his phone and I blink at all the color-coded items. None of them have words either, everything labeled with different emojis. I look away when I see the blue block labeled with a girl emoji next to a sleeping head. Beside it in yellow is a microphone, coffee, and stack of papers. "Now, off to bed!"

I go to my room (He really did all this for me?) without further question and sink into the mattress. The sheets are soft and cool, the quilt warm and comforting. I light my flashlight, just below the covers, casting a warm glow.

I'm asleep before I even realize it.