The ambulance comes to take us last.

Shinsou rides with me. It all passes like a blur. A concussion, several lacerations, and severe bruising all over. Plus the presence of an unknown substance in my blood. They draw samples, but whatever it is, wears off quickly.

Under Eraserhead's dark eyes, I summon tentacles that vibrate and wreathe. He disperses them instantly when their dark forms twist from my grip and slither towards the police officers in their dark suits.

Shinsou snorts. The police taking notes do not.

They stay with us for hours, handing our teachers stacks of paperwork and peppering us with what feels like a thousand questions. Shinsou's are simple, what were you doing? How did you know where to go? What did you hear?

Mine not so much.

How did he know where you lived? What contact have you had with him? Was his voice familiar? What did he say to you? Why would he target you? Did he give you clues? Are there any families that could connect you?

I don't know.

I don't know.

.

.

.

Shinsou's parents come to get him. His father has purple hair just like his own, dark circles under his eyes, and a kind face. He greets us, speaks with Eraserhead in the hall, and takes his leave. We check out afterward. I barely remember the train ride, Yamada-sensei's worried face, or the strong arms that lift and cradle me against the solid chest.

I just remember waking on a familiar couch, curled into Yamada-sensei's side as he sprawls out in his favorite spot, a blanket draped over us both. And it feels like a horrible dream.

Except… except there's something dark under my nails. Blood.

Is it mine? Or Yui-sensei?

Or the thirteen-year-old girl at my side?

I don't know.

I stumble and fight with the blankets to stand, nausea rising in my throat. I fall off the couch, bang into the coffee table, and barely manage to stumble into the kitchen. With blurry eyes, I open the trash can and vomit. My mouth tastes like acid, my throat burns, and the shadow tentacles develop claws—claws that scratch in my chest until I just want my skin to bleed so I can see it. So I know I'm alive.

But there's blood under my nails.

I gag and turn on the water, nails scrubbing at my skin, scratching at my palms and hands until their red and angry and painful and-

"That's enough," Aizawa-sensei says softly. His hands wrap around my wrist and pull them from the water. They pull me against his chest. "Hoki-"

"It's still there," I cry, pulling away to get under the water. I want it to scald, to wash away their flesh, the sick feeling of his gloves on my skin. "It's still- It's still- I can't-"

He doesn't let go. He folds my arms across my chest in a tight x, pulling on my wrists in some strange version of a self-hug. I struggle and he pulls. It's like being tied all over again. I can't move from his grip. The water continues to run in the sink, red liquid swirling on the surface. I sob. Yamada-sensei rises, his hair a tangled blonde mess, green eyes red and tired. He's more tired than I've ever seen him. Quieter than I've ever seen him. He takes me from Aizawa's arms, gathering me up. One arm under my back, the other under my knees, he carries me back to the couch. I sob.

"I- I-"

"I know," he whispers. His voice cracks and long fingers tighten, holding me close. The sound of running water ends and the height drops. He settles back into the couch, taking back his favorite spot. He doesn't let go. One hand pushes my head against his shoulder, another repositions my hips to the side of his own, so I'm leaning over him. I can hear his heart, his breath. A blanket covers us again. "Rin-chan…"

Rin-chan.

I wrap my arms around his neck and sob.

His hair gets in my mouth, my snot and tears mingle on my face, but he rubs my back, never letting go.

I cry until I can't anymore. Until the tears go dry, until the well inside me feels hollow, until all I know is the steady pet of fingers against my back and hair. I fall asleep like that.

.

.

.

Aizawa-sensei wakes me the next time.

Strong hands pressed against my shoulders. I wake to dark eyes, a penetrating gaze, and a cup of soup. My stomach churns.

"It's broth," he says lowly as he pulls me up. I just want to sag back down. I want to sag into oblivion. He doesn't let me. Strong arms pull me upright. He thrust the bowl in my hands, spoon jingling as I hold it.

Yamada-sensei rises with a little noise, his body popping and creaking, and he heads towards the bathroom.

I stare forward, hollow.

Sensei stares back.

"Eat," he says frowning.

I look at the yellow liquid and frown.

I'm not hungry.

I stare into the broth, listless and exhausted.

"Hoki." I look up and the frowns deepens. "Eat. Now."

My fingers shake, nearly rattling the bowl, as I pick up the spoon. I manage to get nothing in my mouth and on the third time I give up the spoon. I sip the broth from the bowl. Sensei watches with half-lidded eyes.

I force myself to swallow it all.

He takes the bowl with a nod. I sink back into the couch and close my eyes. He lets me.

.

.

.

Exhaustion marks my days and nights.

We stay at Yamada-sensei's house for the rest of the weekend. Myself, Present Mic, and Eraserhead. They sit together at the counter, leaning against it on two wooden stools that we've never used. They whisper while I wish myself asleep. It's nearly midnight already. And all I want, all I wish, is that I could fall into oblivion, but I can't. So I listen to their soft chatter instead, the familiar and comfortable way they talk options, consequences, and paperwork. I should have gone back by now, should be in the dusty little room in the Last One. But it's gone. It's gone and I don't know where I'll go.

Because where do you go after the last?

But I don't ask them.

I don't know how.

"Fuck," Yamada-sensei whispers as he rattles what sounds like a piece of paper in his hands. "Fuck."

"I just told you-"

"She isn't a kitten, Shouta. This… This is permanent."

"What other choice is there?" Aizawa-sensei asks. There's a creak and thump as his stool hits the ground. He's prone to leaning in them. I trace the pattern on the couch. "Where will she go? What will they do? The school isn't in any position…"

"I know, I know…"

"It'd be another home, halfway across Japan."

"I know. It's not fair, but life isn't fair. You know that. I know that. Are you even thinking about what you're suggesting? This isn't one night or even a week. It's a lifetime. A lifetime responsibility that will change everything. One you don't have to take."

"Hizashi-"

"Don't look at me like that. I know, okay? Fuck. You think this doesn't suck? I've had her for a week, Shouta. I know!"

"She will not make it." There's a growl in Aizawa-sensei's voice, it makes him sound worn and old. It reminds me of tires, scraped across gravel, like broken pots in the rain. "People can only take so much before they break. She will break."

"It's not your responsibility."

"Then whose is it? You and I both saw the placement. It's a detention center. I've sent kids there. They don't have the numbers to handle this, and then there's the matter of her quirk."

"I know. Fuck, you think I haven't considered this all? Damn it, Shouta. I've spent the week working through her walls. I know what will happen if we break that. But we have to be realistic. I'd take her, you know I would, but I don't have the time. I work nearly eighty hours a week. I'd be gone more than here, and that's almost worse. If you do this, something will have to give. Are you willing to give up your hero work for one girl? It will take months to move past this, to move past everything. And it won't be easy."

"Is it even a choice? What kind of hero lets someone hurt just because it's hard?"

There's a pause.

"When I dragged you into teaching, I never thought you'd do this," Yamada-sensei says quietly. "I'll support you, you know I will. But I feel at fault for this. I pushed you to be a teacher. You're too kind-hearted."

There's a silence that stretches between them.

My eyes fill with tears as they seem to so continuously do. My breath catches, my shoulders shake, and I cry as quietly as I can. It doesn't help.

Breaths hitch, the stools scratch across the floor, and two pairs of faces appear blurry in my sight. I close my eyes, hoping they won't notice. But tears roll down my cheeks. A warm thumb rubs them away. Strong fingers moving me, holding me, pulling me into a lap. I stare blurry-eyed at my blonde sensei—his hair falling around his face and eyes smudges with dark bruises.

"What woke you?"

"I… I never fell asleep," I whisper, trying to pull away. He doesn't let me. His arms tightening.

"Ah," he says and there's exhaustion in every fiber of his voice. "You heard all that?"

"What's going to happen now?" I ask, my shoulders shake.

The couch dips as someone settles beside us.

"Let her go."

The blonde releases me and I stumble exhausted from his arms, placing myself on the floor, my back against his coffee table, his record-shaped rug beneath me. I curl up and hug my knees, watching them stare back down. My dark-haired teacher leans back on the couch, beady pupils looking down from dark, shadowed eyes.

"You have two choices. You can move across Japan to another home."

My lip quivers at that option.

She will not make it. She will break.

"Or," he continues, sighing, "I will sign the guardian papers."

I swallow at the emotions in my chest.

"Y-Y-You?"

He frowns and leans forward, his weight shifting, the couch groaning. His arms press heavily on his knees. Tangled black hair falls forward, past his capture weapon. I swallow as tears leak through my eyes, falling over my cheeks.

"Yes."

"B-B-But Yamada-sensei said…"

Aizawa shoots the blonde an annoyed look. Yamada offers me a small, apologetic smile but says nothing to refute his previous statements.

"I am aware of the responsibility," the dark-haired man tells me. "I do not make this decision lightly. You should not either. Ignoring everything you heard, I need you to consider yourself. Do you want to continue at UA?"

I nod, throat squeezed close. If I open my mouth, I'm afraid I'll sob.

"Do you have objections to living with me?"

I shake my head.

He nods.

"Then it's only rational." He leans forward presses a hand against my shoulder. "I'll sign the papers and you'll come home with me tonight."

.

A/N: :D I read about how you all thought it would be Hizashi and I smiled the entire time. Hizashi is way too busy to adopt Rin. That man works three jobs. You might not have noticed because he's off from school during the internship and he cut back his radio time. But that's no easy task. And he loves it. He works hard to do what he wants, and it doesn't make him a bad person to recognize that he would be miserable if he gave that up. It just makes Shouta Aizawa that much more amazing.