Shinsou ends up spending the night after a quick phone call to his parents. It's interesting to watch him talk to them, the way he flushes and glowers and grins. He scowls at me when he sees me watching and I quickly turn away. Sensei feeds us fish and rice for dinner. Afterward, he pulls out a set of cards to try and teach us some ridiculous game. I'm too full to really pay attention. I doze sleepily, leaning against Shinsou as they talk. The boy grumbles but lets me until Sensei pokes and prods me into leaving. I finally get up and go to bed.

I sleep in my room from the internship.

The next morning dawns bright and clear, and despite the painful ache in my muscles, I smile.

It feels like waking up from a bad dream. And honestly, I could almost pretend none of it ever happened. I could pretend that I'm still in an internship with Present Mic, that Yui-san is probably waiting for me to come back to scold me for being too open, Niko's probably got some new prank planned to make me squirm, and I'll have a mountain of chores since I'm still, technically grounded.

Stretching in the bed, I reach over and unplug my phone. I open it to check the time and blink at the new notification. Clicking open, I stare in surprise at the yellow envelope glowing on the screen.

A message from Aizawa-sensei.

I frown and sigh. The quiet joy souring in seconds. I wonder what it's about. It's probably about my behavior yesterday. I'd been rude to talk to him like that. Was he upset? Would he yell at me through a message? He'd never yelled at me before, but I'd seen him do it plenty with Explosive.

Would he tell me not to come back?

My stomach drops. Did he finally have enough?

The message loads and the ache in my chest stills. It's a picture. I wait longer for it to load, holding my breath. After a moment, the small flip phone screen shows an image of Miska sitting outside my room door. I furrow my brows and scroll down.

Someone misses you.

Something warmer, brighter, and lighter than I've ever felt bubbles up in my chest.

I clutch the phone to my chest, kicking myself out of the bed, and pad out into the hallway. Sensei sits where he always does, a computer on his lap and a cup of coffee in hand. Beside him is a large lump of blankets with a thick set of purple hair poking out. Sensei looks up and smiles when he notices me. He looks like always did during my internship—his blonde hair half pulled up in a bun with reading glasses perched on his nose.

"Good morning," he says around his mug of coffee.

I grin and cross the room. When I'm close enough to the couch, I lean over and hug him around the neck. He makes a little noise, and I quickly pull away.

"Oh… um, sorry-"

He laughs, puts down his coffee and computer, and drags me over the side of the couch, down into his lap.

"Silly girl," he says in English. He hugs me close to his chest. "I was surprised. Thank you. Why are you so happy this morning?"

I show him my phone and he squints, before plucking it out of my hand. Then, pulling it close to his face, he adjusts his glasses and reads the small text. He smirks when he finishes.

"I think more than the cat missed you," he snorts.

I flush.

"You wanna send him one back?"

My eyes widen.

"But he said-"

"I'm positive he won't mind. Shinsou-kun, stop pretending to sleep and throw out some duces."

I twist in Sensei's arms to see Shinsou's tired face poking out of the pile along with his wild mess of hair. He groans.

"Rin, you gotta look at the camera!"

I turn back around, and Sensei holds the phone backward at a weird angle above our heads. He tickles my side and I laugh. He takes the picture then and I wrinkle my face at him before snatching it back. The image is grainy but recognizable.

A dark-haired girl laughs in oversized clothes, Shinsou behind her still wrapped in the blankets looking half-asleep gives a lazy wave. The couch dips and I can smell him as he leans over my shoulder to look. He smells like Sensei's soap. It's weird.

"Cute," he says. Then he yawns and I twist again to watch him curl up and lay back down. He looks like Miska. I smile when I imagine purple cat ears and a tail. "But why are you two so awake? It's too early."

"You shouldn't have stayed up so late then," Sensei says chuckling.

"Unnn…"

I giggle and squirm out of Sensei's lap. I take the phone with me, slipping it into my pocket.

"Do you want eggs for breakfast Sensei?" I ask.

"Sure, but crack seven of 'em. Shinsou-kun will want to eat once he's more awake."

"Unnn," Shinsou groans and he rolls over hiding his head under the blanket. "I need coffee."

"I thought teenagers weren't supposed to drink coffee?"

"Shinsou-kun has bad habits," Sensei says laughing.

"I'm fifteen, I can drink what I want," Shinsou mumbles beneath the covers.

I giggle when Sensei reaches over and tickles his side. The purple-hair boy lets out a squawk and squirms, kicking him in the chest. Sensei cackles.

"Oh you can, can you?"

"Ugh! Let me sleep!"

My smile doesn't disappear all morning.

.

.

.

After breakfast, Sensei has us throw our clothes in the washer. I offer to take Shinsou's, but he gives me a strange look.

"I'm a guy."

"And?"

"What do you mean 'and'!"

"And I'm a girl. What does that have to do with anything?" I ask looking at him weirdly. "I don't have enough for a load. We should just wash them together."

His ears pink and he splutters. Sensei laughs from behind another cup of coffee, legs crossed, and a computer on his lap.

"Rin, I believe he's embarrassed you'll see his underwear."

I blink. My eyebrows furrow. I turn back to the purple-haired boy now glaring at Sensei.

"Are you really?" I ask tilting my head. If anything, his face seems to redden further.

"Uh- I- What- What do you mean- That's weird!"

"Why?" I ask shrugging. "It's just underwear. I used to wash my brothers' clothes."

"Your… you have brothers?" Shinsou asks. He bumps past me, putting his own clothes in the washer. He obstinately doesn't look my way.

"Yeah. Three. Are you going to put in the wash soap or is that embarrassing too?"

He grumbles and looks around the shelves. I reach behind him and grab the soap before handing it to him. He scowls and snatches it. I grin feeling mischievous.

"You know, Ryu sometimes wore boxers around the house in the summer. I never really understood the button though. But one time it was really hot, and I found him naked-"

"I don't want to hear this!" Shinsou shouts spinning. "What is wrong with you!?"

His eye ticks when I laugh. His neck and face scarlet. I scamper away when he swipes at me, ducking under his arm and returning to the couch. I perch on my knees beside Sensei, balancing on the edge as I face him. I snicker as I hear Shinsou mutter. Sensei reaches out and flicks my ear.

"Ow!"

"Don't tease," he says, but his green eyes glitter. "You brought your books, didn't you? You two can study while I finish up lesson plans. We'll head to the warehouse when your clothes finish."

I nod and grin back at him, but don't move. He blinks, eyebrow rising.

"You're in a good mood," he says after a moment. He scoots the laptop to the side before poking my nose. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

I lean forward and wrap my arms around his neck. Careful not to spill his coffee, I press my cheek to his face.

"And touchy too. Has Shouta not been filling your hug quotas?" he asks, leaning forward with me still draped around his neck. I giggle. His hair slides against my face, and I hear the clink of him putting down the mug. When he sits back, he wraps one arm around me. It's warm and strong and safe. I like the way the fingers press into my hair.

I don't want him to let go.

In his arms, it feels like nothing could ever go wrong. Like the kidnapping, being dragged through the streets, the Last One, even the funeral—like it did in the room but better. Like they were all just a bad dream. I hug him tighter.

"Rin-chan?"

"Aizawa-sensei doesn't give hugs," I tell him quietly. The blonde peels me off and I try not to look disappointed. He raises an eyebrow.

"You haven't hugged him?" Sensei asks me surprised. "All week?"

I frown at him and then at Shinsou when I hear the boy snort. He smirks and drops back on the couch, curling up like a feline. Miska would love him. He bundles back under the blanket like a lazy lump. Sensei clears his throat and raises an eyebrow, calling back my attention.

"Rin, seriously? Why not?"

My face heats up.

"That's… he wouldn't… I mean…"

"Can you get her to do it at practice?" Shinsou asks from his pile. I scowl at him; Sensei just shakes his head.

"You two are something else. Rin, I give him hugs all the time. You've seen me do it. He's not going to mind."

I pout. Sensei laughs.

"Now go study. Both of you."

.

.

.

We arrive back at the warehouse to find it empty. Sensei pulls out the mat while Shinsou and I stretch. My muscles ache, but I warm them up anyways. Shinsou, beside me, gives me a contemplative look. I frown.

"What?"

"Just wondering if your gonna cry or bite me today."

I scowl.

"Shut up."

"I brought tissues this time."

I flush and glare. He smirks back and meets Sensei on the mat.

"Hey now! You two done playing around? I wanna see what you've got, yah dig?"

Promise me Hellspawn, promise me you'll get stronger.

I breathe deeply and join him. I can feel emotions rising again. So many I couldn't even begin to name them all. I push them all back, focusing on Sensei in front of me, on Shinsou beside me. Sensei speaks, but I don't hear him.

Promise me Hellspawn, promise me you'll get stronger.

I will.

I won't be weak like that again. I'm going to stop him—Asp. I won't let him hurt anyone ever again. I won't let him touch them.

Shinsou. Aizawa-Sensei. Yamada-Sensei.

Yui-san.

"Rin! Rin-chan!"

I blink and snap my attention to Sensei. The blonde frowns back at me, green eyes dark with worry. Shinsou bumps my shoulder.

"I was joking about the tissues. I really didn't bring any," he says, and I scowl at him.

"I'm fine." I roll my eyes. I turn back to the blonde. "Sorry Sensei, I was thinking."

"Anything you'd like to share?" he asks. He makes a funny face, but I can tell he's half-serious. I cringe realizing he'll probably tell Aizawa. We're probably going to have another talk. I scrunch my nose in disdain.

"No, Sensei."

He hums and lets it go.

"Well, in that case. I want to see you two spar. The goal is to get the other to tap out. No quirks."

Lovely.

We move further into the mat and I settle into my stance. Shinsou does the same across from me, eyes narrow.

"Go!"

He moves first, crossing the space between us. I dodge automatically before I can even think. He expects it and pivots, hand swiping at my head. I block-

He knocks my head against the brick wall. Shadows creep across my vision, pain shoots through my skull and neck, nausea rises instantly. He pulls me back and blood drips from the wall.

-and he pulls back and punches again. I capture the hand, step in his in-step, and plow my elbow into his stomach. He gasps for breath, I push him down to the mat, my knee in his back.

"Yield," I snap.

A black mask, two holes.

My knee digs deeper. Fingers tap into my thigh and I scramble back.

It's like coming up for air. I take several steps away and breathe heavily. Please be okay. Please be okay. Please-

"Rin-"

I straighten and shake off Sensei.

"I'm fine. Again?"

Shinsou frowns at me, he's finally pulled himself off the mat. He's not bleeding. He's not hurt. Sensei looks reluctant. I set my jaw and return to the mat, sinking into my form. Shinsou glances at Sensei in question. I don't. I watch Shinsou, watch him settle into his stance and tighten his fists.

"Go."

I charge this time.

Promise me Hellspawn, promise me you'll get stronger.

We fight ten total times, all of them short, all of them brutal. I stop just shy of biting him. I'm careful never to strike his face. Despite you and your classmates' thoughts, spars should not end in injuries. He doesn't hold back either. He punches with his full force, uses his weight to his advantage, and twice overwhelms me with strength alone. I win six of the ten rounds. Moving faster, moving with more agility, and, at times, taking hits to get the winning shot. We're both breathing heavily by the end, my sore muscles screaming from use. I smirk at the purple-haired boy in victory, hands on my knees. He scowls back.

"Shinsou, you left yourself open twice. If Hoki were bigger or stronger, she'd have gotten your feet out from under you," Aizawa-sensei says. He'd come in before the last round and had watched impassively when Shinsou had managed to pin me down. "But good job keeping up with your exercises. You've improved."

Shinsou's face changes, he tries to look bored, but I can tell he's proud. There's a subtle shift in his slouch, a tiny flick of his lips. Sensei turns to me next, there's a pause, and I frown. Whatever emotion that had made him send me that picture this morning is dead. His face is blank, eyes half-lidded, lips turned down.

It's like being back in class.

"You barely hesitated."

I wait. He doesn't go on.

Is that it? What do I say to that?

"Uh… yeah?"

Yamada-Sensei makes a noise and turns around to tie his shoe. Aizawa-sensei's eye twitches. I stare blankly back.

"Why, Hoki?"

Oh.

Shinsou snickers.

"I'm going to be stronger."

Aizawa-sensei's brows furrow and his gaze darkens.

"Why?"

I'm not sure why he's being so short. It makes my chest ache and my stomach clench. Too many thoughts crowd my brain, too many answers to that one short question swirl in my mind, too many to make words of. How can one, three-letter word be so hard to answer?

Because I made a promise. Because I don't want to be vulnerable like that ever again. Because I won't watch him hurt you too. Because I want to watch him burn.

"Because… Because I'm going to stop him," I tell him. The moment the words are past my lips I know it was the wrong thing to say. Sensei's frown deepens, his eyes narrow and darken.

Aizawa opens his mouth to say something, but Yamada clears his throat. He doesn't look happy either, his hand reaching out to his friend's shoulder.

"Shouta," he warns.

Aizawa closes his mouth.

"You two, take a five-minute break. When you finish, we'll work on some new throws."

.

.

.

After training, Aizawa-sensei has us return home. It's nearly four and my stomach growls with hunger. He notices, raises an eyebrow and smirks. I shower and change while he cooks. The hot water feeling so good on my aching muscles. I stand under the water for far too long, head resting on the tile as I just blissfully don't think. When I exit, dressed in soft pants and a shirt, he's already set the table. I stare at my bland vegetables and rice in distaste.

"Can I make dinner tomorrow?" I ask as soon as we sit down. He gives me a knowing look.

"If your homework's complete." I grope for the jar of colorful questions and move to pull out our conversation of the night. But he stops me with a noise. "Don't. I have a question."

I look at him curiously. The last one we'd pulled was Friday and it had asked his favorite color—he claimed he didn't have one and such questions lacked any logical basis. I'd told him mine was blue and he'd looked at me like I'd told him I was a girl. Obviously. It had been a short conversation that night.

I wonder what his question tonight will be. I don't ask. Instead, I wait, watching as he chews the bland vegetables and swallows.

"Why do you want to be a hero?"

It's the same question from Saturday, from after the funeral—was that really yesterday? I frown, eyebrows furrowing, my hands settle in my lap.

"Sir?"

"I want an answer."

"I don't know what to tell you," I say honestly. His face darkens. He puts the utensils down and I can feel the weight of his full attention.

"You have one week to figure it out." My frown deepens and my eyes narrow. He doesn't look away, his dark eyes piercing.

"What?"

"You will figure it out. You can tell me verbally or you can write a paper. I don't care which, but you will explain it to me by Saturday." He pauses. I clench my jaw as anger starts to sizzle beneath my skin. "And if I find your answer unacceptable, I will remove you from the hero program."

My breath leaves my lungs.

I gape for a moment before finding my tongue.

"Are you serious?" I snap.

"Yes," he says, not even flinching at my increase in volume. Smoke curls from my skin and his lips thin. "Being a pro is dangerous, difficult work. I have no idea why you applied; your motivation lacks logical reasoning. You hesitate to hurt others, you have no interest in connecting with your peers, and you're not ambitious enough to do it for the title. Having a strong quirk is not an acceptable reason to be a hero. There will always be someone stronger. And if you tell me your sole purpose is for revenge against Asp, I'll pull you tonight."

I glare, teeth bared.

"You can't do that."

"As your guardian, I can and I will."

Flames erupt from my skin. Red eyes burn into existence, dark hair rising around his face. The black flames disappear, and I hate how helpless I feel knowing nothing will come to my call. It's like being back with Asp, fingers in my hair, dragging me through the rain.

"Control yourself."

"Why?" I snarl. I stand and push back the chair, the urge to run rising up. Needle in my neck, the cold liquid slipping under my skin. "You can just get rid of me now!"

He scowls.

"Sit down."

"No!"

My chair clatters as I overturn it. I stagger towards the front door. His chair scrapes loudly. I try to yank it open, but it's locked. I fumble with the deadbolt, barely getting it to click. I tug again and it opens. A hand pushes it back shut. I shove it aside, pulling again, but another arm wraps around my chest, dragging me back.

He drags me again, this time walking slower, at a steadier pace. I want to summon black fire and claws, nightmares and death, but they don't come-

My breath comes in short, fast pants. I claw at the hand, nails scratching at skin, blood wells. He hisses but doesn't let go. My shadows don't come. My fire doesn't come.

"Breathe, Hoki."

I can't.

And then they do. Shadows explode from my mouth, long tentacles with hands and claws. They choke me and circle around and-

Disappear. We drop to the floor. Dark-clad legs extending past my own with my own in between, a warm, hard chest against my back, tangled black hair on my face. The arms don't leave but they readjust, loosening. I clutch at the soft black sleeve, the fabric wrinkling between my fingers.

"Ten deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth."

The flat planes of the body behind me push me forward, the heat of it searing across my back. I sob and choke and breathe and he counts to ten, and when he stops, I cry some more. The arms still don't move, still don't leave, and I don't understand. Why.

Why don't they ever want me?

Why don't they ever keep me?

"If I release you, will you try to run again?" Sensei's voice says in my ear. His breath is hot, his whiskers prickling as they rub against my skin. I shake my head. He makes a noise in his throat. "I need words."

"N-N-N-No," I manage.

The hands relax and fall away. I don't know what to do. Sensei moves behind me, body rising, hands reaching out. He pulls me up by my armpits. He steadies me on my shaky legs, one arm moving behind my back, pulling me forward. He deposits me on the couch and sits beside me.

He pauses, looking around, and rises again. When he returns, Miska is dropped unceremoniously on my lap. I pull my knees to my chest and pet the rambunctious kitten unhappily woken from her nap. She stretches, whines, and lets out a large yawn.

"I am not getting rid of you," he says after a moment.

He sits beside me again, so close I could almost touch him. He reaches back and pulls out eye drops. I watch silently as he squeezes the liquid into both eyes. When he finishes, he puts it away and turns back to me, fingers wiping away the excess moisture.

"Hoki, when I signed the guardianship papers, I did so with the full understanding that you would be my responsibility. Do you know what that responsibility entails?"

I stare at him and don't answer. My hands shake as they work through the kitten's fur. My lips tremble. Too much swirls in my chest.

He sighs.

"It means that I give you a place to live with food, water, and a bed to sleep in. It means I will never be cruel. I will never strike you, call you hurtful names, or allow others to do so in my presence. Do you understand that?"

Slowly, I nod.

If you wish to inaccurately believe these fantasies you've concocted, you will do so elsewhere and outside of her hearing.

He takes a deep breath and sighs again.

"When you tell me something, I will listen and take it into consideration. You told me yesterday you don't like heroes, that you were traumatized as a child by something you saw. You also told me the teacher you've spent nearly two months working under scares you and makes you feel unsafe."

I swallow and cringe, shrinking into the couch. Sensei doesn't look away. I almost wish he would.

I shouldn't have said that. Why did I tell him that?

What's wrong with me?

You've gotta be careful what you say.

Sensei's hand brushes mine as he pets Miska's head. Her eyes are closed, and she stretches from my knees to my waist. Little snores escape her little mouth. Hesitantly, I let my fingers skim against his hand too. It's warm. He doesn't move away.

"If I told you Hizashi was afraid of bugs, would you take him to a bug festival?"

"No," I admit quietly.

"And if I told you Mineta was terrified of Bakugou after the sports festival. Would you make them work in pairs?"

"No," I whisper.

"Then you can understand why this entire situation is irrational. I am not trying to be unreasonable, Hoki. If you are withdrawn from the hero course, you will not be removed from my care. I am giving you a week to find the words to explain yourself, you can speak to Hizashi, Nemuri, myself, or anyone you trust if you need to. But you will explain it because otherwise, I will assume this is a self-destructive manifestation of the abuse you've suffered-"

"I'm not abused," I interrupt him.

He pauses and his jaw tightens.

"Tonight is not the night for that conversation," he says quietly. His lips thin.

"I wasn't," I tell him angrily. Hurt.

"We can talk about it tomorrow or some other night if you want," Sensei says. I swallow and rest my head against the back of the couch, eyes closing. "First, I need to know if this is a habit. Was the first time you've run like this?"

"No."

"How often has this occurred before?"

"Once," I mumble. I peak from beneath half-lidded eyes as his shoulders loosen. My hands stop shaking and I relax a little more into the couch.

"What happened?" he asks.

"N-N-Niko yelled at me. And I… I got angry. She wouldn't stop and- and Yu-Yu-I was in trouble about the clothes. And I was…. You sent me home early, and I-"

I cut off at Sensei's sharp breath. His teeth grind and his nostrils flare.

"Excuse me?"

His voice drops an octave. I look at him in concern.

"S-S-Sensei?"

"Tonight is not the night for that conversation," he repeats. I don't know if it's for himself or me. But there's a sharpness to his voice I don't miss. "You need to finish dinner."

"I'm not hungry," I tell him quietly.

"Do you need chicken stock?" he asks. I shake my head. Then, hesitantly, I put Miska on the floor. She whines and curls into a ball there, aggravated at being moved again. I turn back to Sensei and stare. He's dressed casually, dark sweats and a comfortable sweater, his hair pulled back into a low bun. He frowns. "What?"

You have to ask for what you want.

"Can… Can I hug you?"

His eyes soften.

"Yes."

I roll to my knees before, hesitantly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He doesn't move, but the hairs on his cheek prickle against my face and arm. I lean across his chest, still on my knees, and one arm, slowly, moves across my back. Like he doesn't know what to do with it. It rests against my lower back. I inhale deeply. He's so different from Yamada-sensei. He smells like the familiar detergent, and while he doesn't pull me to him with the same, crushing adoration, his arms are still just as strong, his body just as warm, and I'm surprised to realize I still feel just as safe.

The words on my bracelet warm against my wrist.

He chose you.

I am not getting rid of you.

Tears leak from my eyes as I squeeze a little tighter.

"If you cry again, I'm making stock," he says warningly.

I sniffle and wipe my eyes.

"Yes, sir."

He huffs.

"Can we finish dinner now?"

I let go and back away, offering a watery smile back.

"Yes, sir."