Training is different than it ever was in class. With Aizawa-sensei, everything is always about utilizing what we had and using it to the best of our abilities. With Kagura-nee-chan, it's always about controlling the shadowy tentacles and force them back down—under the surface, under my control, learning an indomitable will. Training under Yamada-sensei is different.
He races beside me with a glorious smile, sometimes pulling ahead, sometimes weaving around me to make me laugh and force me to dodge.
We make it to the park, and he does a little dance as I wheeze.
"Good work, little listener! Now it's time to spar! Show me your form!"
I have no idea what a form looks like, but I settle myself in my best approximation of Explosive before he charges. Sensei open mouth guffaws.
I redden.
"Sensei!" I whine, dropping it instantly.
"Are you trying to imitate Bakugou?" he asks, hiding his mouth in one hand as he bends over laughing. I scowl.
"I… I don't know. Explosive?"
He explodes into laughter again.
"Sensei!" I huff, face burning. I cross my arms and try not to smile. I fail miserably.
"Sorry, sorry. Blonde, angry, yells a lot, right?"
I nod.
"Bakugou," he says, pointing a finger in my face. "Memorize that. By the end of this, if nothing else, you'll know your classmates' names. Shouta ought to be ashamed. I can't believe he didn't catch that. Ugh, okay, so don't do that again. That was terrible. And relax, we'll start with the basics. Copy me."
Sensei settles into a stance with one foot forward and one slightly back. He raises both arms, one near his face and the other a little further out, both level with his chin. I scrunch my face in concentration and copy it.
"Close," Sensei says, pushing blonde hairs back and circling me with a hand on his chin. He adjusts my arms, moves my hips, and pushes my foot sideways with his own before grinning. "Perfect! Now throw a punch."
I blink and throw an arm straight out.
His lips twitch and I scowl at him again. It doesn't stop him. He throws his arms on his knees and laughs. Loudly. Again.
"What is that?" he asks in English. I wrinkle my nose at him.
"A punch!"
"No wonder you lost that fight. You're lucky you didn't break your hand! Alright, alright. Show me that again, we've got more work than I expected!" His fingers twiddle in little circles and I want nothing more than to shrink into the ground. He notices and gestures me forward to stand and taps a flat hand he holds out. "Punch it."
I bite my lip.
"Hah! Come on kid, show me what you've got."
I pull back and hit his hand as hard as I can. The impact stings terribly against my knuckles. I wince and move to shake it, but he catches the fist before I can and starts automatically adjusting the fingers around.
"Alright, the first rule of punches, move the thumb. You hit somebody with it out and you'll jam it into the socket. So tuck it under, yes, just like that. Next, keep this wrist straight." He adjusts my fists and holds my forearm with the other. "If it's bent when you hit you run the possibility of breaking it, depending on the force fo the impact. If we need to, we can wrap it when we practice until you get the hang of it."
I nod seriously as he lets go of my wrist and moves closer. He moves my forearm with one hand and puts another against my back, knocking my elbow down with his forearm. He keeps my back straight as he pulls the arm until my fist is pressed level with my chin.
"Feel this? This is the furthest back you should go. There are several types of punches, what you're going to be working on are jabs." He lets go and steps away, ducking so we're at the same level. He puts his own fist in the same position. Moving slowly, he throws his arm out a small distance and brings it back in, never fully extending. He shows me twice at that speed before moving faster, fast enough his jacket sleeves snap and I can feel the wind. "That's what I want from you. They aren't power-punches, but they're quick and help you get in some good shots. Just be careful not to over-extend."
He straightens and gives me a wink.
"Your turn, Rin-chan."
I concentrate and move my arm the way he did. He nods when I finally get it right, he does a silly dance.
"Awesome, now let's practice! I'll put up my hands, you practice hitting. Start in the form!"
He has to fix my form and then my wrists twice more when I start throwing crooked punches. We work for longer than I have in any other training session. He has me standing still at first, and then following him with the jabs, ducking from swatting hands, and then teaching me to follow through when I see openings. I feel beyond exhausted when his alarm finally goes off, the sun high in the sky above us, arms shaking and sore in exhaustion.
He grins and tosses me a water shooting invisible finger guns at my chest.
"Good job!"
He pulls out his phone, checking the messages and responding while I suck down the cool, sweet beverage. Then, as usual, he flips through his apps with abandon.
"Hey, Rin-chan, smile!"
I look up in surprise when he snaps a photo. Then, to my amusement, he flips the camera, comes to stand in front of me, and takes another picture, mouth wide open and tongue hanging out. I blush and cover my face.
"Sensei!"
"Look at that, Bad Boys! Perfect!"
He tosses me a towel from the bag he brought, and I wipe the sweat from my face, neck, and arms.
"Sensei, why do you always use so much English?" I ask as he grabs his own drink and stretches.
"Eh? Me?" he asks, pointing to himself. I purse my lips knowing he's being ridiculous; he opens his mouth and cackles. I can't help but laugh. "My mother is half American. We spoke it a lot growing up and I like the phrases."
I look at him curiously.
"So you're fluent?"
"Of course," he says and unlike normal, it has a different accent. He goes on to say more, speaking at a rapid pace, but it's faster than I can translate. I blush in embarrassment and look away. He pats my head almost conciliatorily with a smile.
"I'm fluent in several languages," he tells me, taking the towel back and stuffing it into the bag. He lifts the bag, puts it back on his back, and starts down the sidewalk. I hurry to catch up.
"Like what?" I ask, massaging my tired arms.
"Eh? Is that curiosity I hear, little listener?" I purse my lips and scowl at him. He pulls out the hair tie on his head and rakes long fingers through the blond strands. He wraps it back up, expertly putting half of it in a simple bun atop his head. "I speak five. Japanese, English, JSL—that's Japanese Sign Language, Mandarin, and Portuguese."
I touch my own scraggly braid and frown.
I pull my own hairbow out, copying his finger motions, and quickly re-braid it back. He chuckles and I avoid his eye.
"You're adorable," he says in English, one hand on my shoulder.
"Ugh."
He leads me to a sit-down restaurant, and they seat us immediately. Dressed in my old, battered shirt, gray shorts, and dingy white shoes, I feel incredibly underdressed. Everyone else wears blue jeans, cute shirts, and skirts. I sink into the booth, my thighs sticking painfully to the vinyl seats. Yamada-sensei takes the place across, dressed impeccably in his black jumpsuit. I look down, feeling inadequate.
A woman comes by and hands us both a menu.
"Can I start you two with drinks?" she asks. I finally look up and her smile falters as she stares at my face. I look back down quickly, pulling at my fingers while Sensei clears his throat.
"Rin-"
"Hizashi."
The woman moves out of the way as Aizawa-sensei appears, scooting into the booth beside the blonde. Purple takes the only other available seat—beside me. I swallow uncomfortably when he drops in the space at my side smelling strongly of sweat and deodorant.
"Two waters and two coffees, extra cream and sugar if you please," Yamada-sensei says with a smile. I cringe and Aizawa-Sensei frowns in my direction.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I say automatically. Purple, beside me, huffs as he leans forward on the table, resting his head on his arms.
"Your face doesn't look like nothing," he says blandly. I flinch and he rolls his eyes. Yamada-sensei reaches over the table and flicks Purple's nose.
"Don't tease, Shinsou-kun."
"Hoki."
Aizawa-sensei crosses his arms and the look doesn't go away.
"It's nothin-"
"The waitress stared," Yamada-sensei interrupts. I glower at him, but he rolls his eyes. "How was your training session?"
Now it's Purple's turn to shrink. I look at him oddly. He gives me a sour look.
"Uninspiring," Aizawa says giving me one last look before snorting. "He's completely dependent on his quirk."
"Hmm," Yamada says, he gives me a particular look over his glasses and I scowl. "Sounds familiar. We spent all morning just learning how to punch."
"You don't know how to punch?" Purple asks raising an eyebrow. He doesn't even pick up his head. I feel my face burn.
"Don't act like your punches are any better," Aizawa says tilting his head. "You overextend everything."
I giggle for a moment at the betrayed look on his face and Aizawa's boredom. Yamada laughs loudly, throwing his arm over the dark-haired teacher's shoulder. I blink in surprise when the Erasure Hero lets him. The waitress comes back then with drinks and extra menus.
There's some unspoken rule I don't catch and everyone pulls open a menu. I swallow nervously and do the same, not really sure what to do. There's a list of foods on the form and I frown nervously at the prices attached.
"Rin-chan, see anything you like?" Yamada asks after a moment. I look up at the green-eyed blonde and swallow.
"Ah, Sensei, I don't… ah… What do I do?"
Beside me, Purple blinks, eyebrow rising.
"It's not hard," he says, reaching over and pointing at the words. "Just pick from the list. I'm getting this." He points to a spicy curry and I bite my lip.
"I don't like spicy things," I admit.
"Then get something else," he huffs. I look in surprise as his ears pink and he returns to his menu. I frown.
Ordering isn't nearly as hard as I thought it'd be. The woman takes the list with only a brief glance at my face. Afterward, Yamada-Sensei dominates the conversation with talk about training. I listen quietly as the blonde suggests we do a joint patrol and Aizawa seems to nod in agreement.
Purple glances my way as he eats, Aizawa-sensei keeps looking between us, and Yamada-sensei starts talking about some new singer. I shrink into my noodle dish.
It's honestly a relief to finish lunch.