Sensei lets me sleep in the next morning.

I wake at ten to him sprawled out on the couch, a handful of files spread out beside him, texting on his phone. He scowls at whatever's typed there and huffs. He turns to a legal pad, balanced on the edge of his couch and scribbles something below.

"Sensei?"

He finishes his note before standing and stretching, arms rising above his head.

"Hey Rin-chan, you finally awake?"

I smile.

"Yes, sir. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"No, just some coffee."

"I can fix it since you're busy?" He looks at me and his face melts into a sappy smile. I blush and scratch my head, shuffling my feet. "I mean... if you don't mind…"

"You such a sweet girl," he says, flopping back on the couch. "Go ahead. I'm going to finish up this and I'll clean up. I wasn't expecting you up for another hour, to be honest."

I rummage through Sensei's kitchen, well aware of where the pans and other items are after having spent five days in his apartment. He picks up the files and looks back over them as I start the oven and heat the skillet. His favorites are eggs and toast.

I crack four eggs in a bowl and whisk them together with a fork, adding a bit of milk like I'd seen Sensei do several times. The white liquid curls around the yellow. I replace the unused ingredients where I found them and whisk again.

"I had something come up today," Sensei interrupts. I glance towards him, surprised, but he's still shuffling through files. "Apparently I'm needed at the police station to help with a case that's been stalled for the last month. I won't be able to bring you as the information's classified and you don't have the clearance to help."

I pour the eggs in the pan and listen as they sizzle, quickly moving them around with a spatula. I stuff bread in the toaster and pull out the butter.

"Shouta's already agreed to watch you for the afternoon. I'll drop you off on my way to the station at noon. We figured you and Shinsou could probably use some sparring practice against someone closer to your levels anyways."

I grimace at that thought.

Shinsou.

Being around the purple-haired boy was awkward enough. Being around them without Sensei feels uncomfortable. And knowing that Aizawa-sensei was the one to even suggest this internship…

I don't want to go.

It's a weird feeling. Made even colder by the realization, that it won't matter anyway because it's Wednesday and Friday will be the end. The end of what feels like a dream. No more hugs. No more silly naps, no more morning runs.

Back to the Last One.

Back to reality.

I plate the food, grabbing the toast and buttering it. Sensei frowns as I hand it to him.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say forcing a smile. I return to the kitchen, submerging the pans in water and rinsing away the debris. I can feel his eyes on me, watching. When I finish and finally grab my food, he's still staring wearing his serious face. We call it his therapy face.

"Rin-chan-"

"I'm fine," I interrupt. It's the first time I've done that to him. The first time I've raised my voice. I shrink as soon as I realize what I've done. "I'm fine Sensei. Thank you for breakfast."

He's quiet as we eat. After a moment he sighs and turns to his own food. When we finish, he collects the plates and cleans them.

.

.

.

Yamada-sensei drops me off at the warehouse with a silly dance and a hug. I don't want him to go. He pats my head and shoos me inside. Aizawa-sensei and Shinsou are already inside. My homeroom teacher has me stretch and run through a set of orange cones with the purple-haired boy. I do so silently under the dark gaze.

When we finish, Sensei pulls out the mat.

"You two are going to practice sparring. Remember, neither of you will be using quirks," Aizawa-sensei says as he slinks to the side. "The goal is to restrain the other. Three taps and you quit."

I swallow and settle into the stance Yamada-sensei showed me. Across from me, Purple does the same, hands raised and arms at the ready.

"Go."

Shinsou crosses the space quickly, hands snapping out to punch at my face. I grab his hand, twist, sink, and flip him over with the same move Sensei taught me. His own momentum carries him forward and he slams onto his back.

"Shit!" he chokes out, breathless from below me.

I squeak, terrified that I really hurt him and let go. He takes the opportunity. He latches onto my arm, and kicks out my feet, knocking me to the ground beside him. My head smacks against the mat on the floor and he's on me in a second. Both arms grabbing my own, straddling my stomach, and quickly overpowering me. I twist and squirm, kicking my legs up—I whack him in the back, trying to dislodge him, before he maneuvers and contains my legs with his own.

"Tap," he says.

I struggle, uselessly, before tapping three times with my finger.

He scrambles off me immediately.

We do it three more times with the same, awful results. Me failing to take an opening or flinching when his hand slams into my chest. Purple perches on top, scowl growing deeper and deeper until he's nearly snarling.

"Sensei, this is stupid," he snaps after our last session as he rises to his feet. He glares at me and then Aizawa. I pick myself off the mat and try to rub out the bruises around my wrists. "She's not even trying! How is this helpful?"

I flinch when the purple-haired boy sends me a rather sour look and cringe inward. Eraserhead turns his dark eyes to me, features plastered into annoyance. He's told me twice now to be more offensive. It hasn't helped.

I don't want to hurt him.

I don't want to hurt anyone.

"Hoki. You need to actually try or you're wasting all of our time. Stop being afraid to hit him. You don't have enough strength to even bloody his lip. I expect you to use everything Hizashi taught you, not just the defensive pieces."

I swallow and nod. Sensei gestures us back to the mat.

"Again."

I settle into my position and gulp at Shinsou's dark, annoyed eyes. He stays where he is this time, and I take a hesitant step forward.

"Sensei," he whines.

I use the moment to rush him, my open palm thrusting straight towards his nose.

I expect him to dodge. He doesn't. The cartilage cracks under my hand, he doesn't even have time to heave. His eyes roll up, and blood pours against my fist.

"Oh no!" I cry, hands immediately rushing back. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Purple growls, blood leaking down his face and shirt, and lashes out at my feet. They come out from under me. My head hits the mat and I instinctively roll. A foot stomps where I was. Without thinking, I thrust out my own leg, kicking at his ankle. He buckles and falls to the floor. I roll away, putting as much space between us as I can.

"Attack Hoki," Aizawa calls blandly.

"Y-Y-You said I couldn't hurt him!" I yell, forgetting myself at the sight of so much blood. It's running down his face and shirt. It's on my hands and arms. My eyes well with tears, my stomach churns. Aizawa's eyes narrow; his arms fold across his chest.

"A rational deception. You're holding back and he should have defended better." I stare at him in horror. He stares back, lips curling down as he scowls. "Now attack. You're going to hurt people when you fight, it's inevitable. Part of being a hero is being able to stop villains and protect the innocent."

I can feel the blood on my hand.

Is this what the hero felt when he snapped Daddy's jaw?

When he heard Ryu and Sora's screams?

My stomach churns again. My body shakes. I don't move.

"He's not a villain," I cry.

"No, he's a boy that wants to be a hero. And right now, you're standing in the way of that."

I shake uncontrollably at the edge of the mat.

Eraserhead notices and sighs.

"Shinsou, get some water and clean up. Hoki, come here."

I do so reluctantly, with trembling steps, my breaths coming in quick, short gasps. I try to ignore Purple as he goes to the bathroom on the other side of the room, the blood on my hands sticky. There's so much. Sensei puts out an arm and squeezes my shoulder. I cringe, folding into myself as his dark eyes meet my own, breaths coming in painful, wheezing shudders. I try not to cry. It doesn't help, my breaths come faster.

"Squat down," he says quietly, pushing me downward. "Head forward. Good, ten deep breaths, through your nose and out your mouth."

I do, or at least try. It's hard and I keep choking on my breath. His hand doesn't leave my shoulder even after I get to ten. There blood on my hand sticky.

"Good job, why are you panicking?"

"I hurt- hurt- hurt-"

"Stop, deep breaths, to ten. Do them again."

I do as he says. Getting to ten.

"Good," Sensei says. "Shinsou isn't hurt."

"He was, I- I- I-"

Sensei moves, gestures behind me, and Purple, looking far more uncomfortable than I've ever seen him, wanders over. Face clean of blood and wearing a different shirt, he squats beside us.

"I'm, uh, fine," he says looking between Eraserhead and me. "See? All good?"

Embarrassment floods my chest and my breathing eases. I wrap my arms around my knees and bury my face into the crook of my elbow, feeling tears run down my face and shoulders shake.

"Uh… sir?"

"Go start on your pushups, I'll be over in a moment."

I can hear his grateful sigh even as I try to control my emotions. Sensei's arm doesn't move.

"Hoki, I can tell you're embarrassed, but I need you to let that go. You had a panic attack, they're completely normal, especially among heroes. Hizashi used to have them as well. They don't mean anything except what we already know. Now sit up and talk to me before you accidentally start another one."

I grimace and sit back on my heels, wiping at my face with my wrist.

"Good job. Now, what triggered this? You've fought under All Might's supervision without issue as well as the Sports Festival."

I cringe, remembering them both.

"Th-the blood," I whisper hollowly.

"You told Principal Nezu you've hurt people before. What happens then?"

I swallow, shaking.

"Th-th-the ambulance takes them."

"And?"

"I… I move homes."

Something like understanding shines in Sensei's eyes. His hand squeezes my shoulder.

"You are in the hero course, Hoki. You are expected to fight and hurt people. Not to maim, but to disarm and defend. Villains will not hesitate to hurt you, and you cannot afford to fight with this handicap. You will need to overcome this. Do you understand that?"

I nod shakily.

"Look at Shinsou."

Reluctantly, I turn. He's near the back of the gym doing pushups, sweating profusely.

"Is he severely hurt? Maimed?"

"No, Sensei."

"Exactly. Hizashi's been training you to stop and disarm your opponents. You hurt him, but not to an extent he can't recover. I will stop you if either of you gets out of hand. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sensei."

"You're going to go wash your hands, drink some water, and walk for five minutes. And then you'll come back and spar. Do you understand?"

I shrink back with wide eyes. He stares back unyielding.

"Hoki," he warns.

"Yes… sir," I whisper. He nods, gives me one last look, and stands. He walks back towards Purple and has him stop and stand. They talk quietly for a moment and I know it's about me. I swallow, stand, and get my water. It aches in my stomach. I walk dutifully around and try to ignore the nausea rising steadily in my chest.

After five minutes, Aizawa-sensei calls us back.

We spar.

I still flinch.

.

.

.

Yamada-Sensei sighs as we enter his apartment. I stare at my feet silently, not looking up, afraid to see the disappointment on the blonde's face. I haven't looked at him since he came to pick me up. He'd been quiet since he arrived, talking in quiet whispers with Eraserhead as Shinsou and I had been tasked with climbing a rope.

I hadn't been able to focus on them. Climbing was hard work.

I'd made it to the top, just barely, and then struggled to slide back down. The rope burns between my thighs aching still.

"Rin-chan, you look upset."

I tug at my fingers. He sighs and pulls me in for a hug, dragging us both to the couch. He sits in his favorite spot and settles me beside him.

"Is it about training?"

I nod, silent.

"What happened."

I bury my face in his armpit and say nothing. He blinks down at me oddly, rubbing my back as I stay there. I swallow down tears I don't want to shed and instead breathe in the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne.

He turns, my head moving from his side to his chest, and his fingers unravel my braid. He pushes back the black strands gently.

"You know, I can't actually read minds, right? I mean, I know I'm awesome and all, but I'm not quite that talented." I snort in his chest and his fingers stop for a second, before resuming their movement. "I suppose I could guess though… hmm, what could make Rin-chan so upset she won't even look at her ever so amazing teacher? Hmmm… Maybe… Maybe she had too many beans and has gas?"

I look up and glower at twinkling green eyes.

He grins back down.

"Not it?"

"Sensei," I whine.

"You're welcome to tell me, whenever."

I look away and scowl.

"I had a panic attack," I tell him angrily.

"Oh? Yeah, I think Shouta mentioned that. Something about not wanting to hurt others. I get the feeling it has to do with certain other comments about not wanting to be a villain. But it's hard to put two and two together when someone won't talk about their feelings."

I sink back into his couch and Yamada-sensei lets me.

"How do you feel now?" he asks curiously.

"Angry," I answer honestly.

"Oh? See, this is why we talk about things! I thought you were embarrassed."

I grimace.

"That too," I mutter quietly. His hand moves my shoulder and twists me. I squeak as he turns me around, so my head lays on his lap and my feet stretch out towards the rest of the couch. He reaches behind him, pulls a blanket down, and tosses it over my legs. I twist onto my side and curl my legs to my chest, not moving my head.

Sensei's fingers return to my hair.

"The anger is probably from the embarrassment. Which I totally get, but what are you embarrassed about Rin-chan?"

"I told you, I had a panic attack," I whisper to his knee. His hand in my hair is soothing, the pads of his fingers warm as they move across my scalp.

"Right, but why did that embarrass you? I know Shouta explained that they're normal. I've had my own share, and Nemuri used to have them constantly. They happen. I can see your mind whirling, kid. Just tell me what you're thinking."

This is nice and I don't ever want it to end.

I grimace and pull my knees up tighter.

"Rin," he says softly.

"When I was little, Mama took me to gas stations," I say at last. "I didn't want to go, but we needed money. She told them hand over the cash. You have one minute, or she'll kill you. Then she'd hand them the bag. I would wrap them in tentacles and squeeze them if they didn't move fast enough. I don't want to hurt people."

Sensei says nothing and I close my eyes.

"So when you hit Shinsou-kun, it reminded you of that?"

I can't swallow past the lump in my throat.

"Yes, sir."

"Why were you able to fight in the sports festival?"

"I was angry," I answer, guilt and shame flooding my chest. "I… I shouldn't have. I could have killed them. I-I made a mistake."

Tears are leaking out my eyes. Sensei brushes them away.

"That's not anger, Rin. That's rage. When you're so upset that you lose sight of your own morals, it puts you and others in danger." I flinch and I know he feels it. He sighs. "I know you don't want to hear this right now, but Shouta's right. If you want to be a hero, you will need to overcome this. Fighting doesn't mean hurting people—killing people. You need to be able to defend yourself and others without that rage. Because if you do become angry, you run the risk of making mistakes. Like you did in the tournament."

I nod and he strokes my hair.

"So tomorrow, instead of going to the radio station, you're going to train with them again."

I freeze, breath catching in my lungs.

"Wh-wh-what!"

I roll over and stare up at his face. It's curled into a frown, eyes dark and glittering, like grass lined with dew in the dawn.

"B-B-But-"

"You're in an internship to get stronger," he says softly. I can hear the underlying edge, the stubborn set in his jaw. "None of this will matter if you die because you couldn't take an opening. So tomorrow, you'll do it again. This is not negotiable. Shouta's already agreed."

My chest aches. I turn away, eyes closing to swallow back the tears. His hand returns.

"Yes, sir..."