I package the cupcakes up and make a simple card before we leave. Sensei carries the cupcakes, despite the fact that I easily could. I don't know why, but he doesn't offer an explanation. So instead I ask him questions again. Much like he did yesterday afternoon, he answers without much fuss.
Did you always want to be a teacher? No. Is there a part you don't like? Grading. Did you really fail an entire class? Yes. Why? They weren't suitable.
When we reach the classroom, he puts down the cupcakes, drops off his things, and leaves.
When he does, I deliberate on whether or not to go to Mizuno-Sensei's classroom.
I don't want him to annoy Shinsou again, but I also can't leave them here because my classmates will want them. I can't help but smile to myself imagining my ridiculous classmates' reactions. I shake my head, and after ten minutes of stalling, head towards 1H.
When I arrive, I can see the light on, and I knock on the door before sliding it open.
Mizuno-Sensei looks up from a pile of paperwork.
He notices the box in my hand and grins.
"For Shinsou-kun?" he asks raising an eyebrow.
I flush.
"N-N-No, sir," I reply quickly. "Th-th-they're for your class. I… I made cupcakes."
He pauses and blinks before giving a small laugh.
"And did you make any other classrooms' cupcakes, Hoki-san?"
"No, sir," I admit.
"Well, I'm sure the students will appreciate them. You can set them on the table behind you. Excellent. Do you want to wait today?"
"No, sir," I tell him, and I can feel my cheeks heating.
"Hmm," he says noncommittally. He notices the paper card still clutched in my hand. "His desk is the second row, third from the front."
"Th-thank you, sir," I mumble.
"For what? I haven't done anything," he says with a simple smile. "Thank you, Hoki-san. It's comforting to know that when Shinsou-kun finally transfers he'll have a friend. Please feel free to come by any time. The students really would be delighted to meet you."
I don't know what to say so I bow and leave.
.
.
.
My phone chirps about five minutes before homeroom begins.
Nobody looks, but I flush as I pull it out. Flipping it open, I glance at the message from a random number. Selecting it I feel my face burn.
WHY are there cupcakes in my homeroom?
I turn the volume down when another message makes my phone beep. Beside me, Todoroki gives me a curious glance. I open it too.
And HOW do you know which desk I sit in?
I type out a quick message.
Happy birthday?
The phone buzzes not even seconds later.
I'm going to kill you.
I blush and close the phone with a snap. Mineta turns around and looks at me weirdly.
"Hoki-chan, why are you smiling like that?"
"I'm happy," I answer honestly. It's the happiest I've ever been. Mineta seems almost at a loss for words. Beside me, I can feel Todoroki's stare, but I don't look over.
Are you dating him?
I'm not sure I can ever look at him again.
"That's awesome!" he says finally. And it's weird, but he looks and sounds genuinely excited for me. He opens his mouth to say something else but is interrupted when Explosive turns around in his seat.
"Will you stop fucking mumbling you damn nerd!"
It really isn't funny. But for a moment he kind of looks like Shinsou and I can't help myself. I giggle.
He hears me.
The blonde's eyes zero in on me. His eyebrows twitch. He glares.
"Something funny, scar face?"
"Besides your face?" I respond without even thinking. Its something I would have said to Shinsou when we bicker. He would have snorted, said something rude, and we would have moved on. Explosive doesn't. His hand slams on the desk and he rises angrily to his feet. I slap a hand over my mouth in horror.
"The fuck did you just say to me?"
"Oh shit! Hahaha!" Red laughs outrageously. Beside him Tape does the same.
"I'm sorry!" I squeak, cringing back.
"The hell you are!" he snarls. But he stays in his area. I keep my mouth firmly shut and Tape sends me a thumbs up from his seat. I'm relieved when Sensei finally starts the class.
.
.
.
Shinsou sits with his general studies peers at lunch.
I try not to feel hurt. He alternates between our tables two or three times a week, so really, it isn't a big deal. At least, I try reminding myself that. Plus, it's his birthday and he can do what he wants. If he wants to sit with them, then good! But my chest aches and my eyes burn, and I realize with startling clarity that I'm lonely.
I push the food on my plate around with a fork.
"Where's your boyfriend?" Red asks as he sits down.
I give him a sour look. He actually smiles at it.
"I don't have a boyfriend," I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.
"Hey!" he says, throwing up his hands. "My bad! You two are always hugging and touching and stuff! I didn't know!"
I flush when he puts it that way.
"He's just a friend," I tell him scowling.
"Uh huh," Red raises an eyebrow and grins with pointed teeth. "We're friends and you don't hug me."
I blink and furrow my eyebrows.
"Do you want me to?"
He flushes and gapes. I can't help but laugh at the face he makes.
"That's- How- You're teasing!" he says after a moment. I smile and shake my head. "Man, that's new. I like it though! Well, I guess not too new. I can't believe you teased Bakugou this morning! Hah, I'm impressed. Didn't know you had it in you Hoki."
I flush.
"I wasn't trying to," I tell him quietly. "It just slipped out."
"You should let it slip out more!" Red says laughing. "You're pretty cool, you know? You should sit with us sometime instead of always over here. I feel like we don't know anything about you!"
I scratch my neck and smile wryly.
"I… uh, don't like crowds," I admit.
"Yeah, I remember," Red says smirking. "But we're your classmates, you know? We're not gonna push on yah or anything, that's so unmanly. You're just easy to talk to. So what'd yah say? Wanna come join us?"
I stare, my mouth going dry.
"Uh… now?"
"Why not?" he asks shrugging. "We've still got twenty minutes left of lunch."
Why do you want to be a hero? 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.
I don't learn names.
There's no point when I always leave.
I deliberate. Red notices and his smile falters.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
I swallow.
"Nothing." I lift my tray and his grin is like the sun itself. For the first time, I join the others.
.
.
.
That afternoon, once everyone's left and it's just me, Sensei, and my homework, I check my phone. I'm surprised to see three messages.
You wanna eat lunch with us?
Why do you even have a phone if you're not going to check it?
Are you still at school?
I turn the volume back up before typing out a message.
Yes. I'm in Sensei's room. Why?
I close the phone and put it to the side. I manage to get maybe five minutes in when it chirps again. I pick it up instantly, flipping it open.
You type so proper for a flip phone. I can't believe you're bothering to capitalize stuff.
I scowl. What does that mean? I stare at the message for a moment before typing out a response.
You didn't answer my question.
I put it down and start back on my homework. By the time I pick up my pencil to focus back on the work, it chirps again. I immediately open it up again.
I was going to come by and say thanks, but I don't have time now. Next time don't wait fifteen minutes to respond.
I don't know if I want to glare or smile. The resulting mixture makes me feel idiotic.
Sorry. I didn't see the messages.
I expect that to be the end of it and pick up my pencil when the phone chirps again. I pick it up.
"Hoki."
I freeze and lookup. Aizawa-sensei scowls back at me, eye twitching.
"S-Sir?"
"Stop texting Shinsou and get to work."
My phone chirps. Sensei grinds his teeth.
"Y-Yes, sir."
He returns to grading and I return to my homework.
.
.
.
That evening, as we sit down with leftovers, I frown.
Why do you want to be a hero? 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.
I will assume this is a self-destructive manifestation of the abuse you've suffered-
"Sensei?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not abused."
He pauses in chewing his vegetables to look over at me.
"Are we doing this tonight?"
"I'm not," I tell him more forcefully. He hums in response. It's annoying.
I remember the abuse victims. I'd met plenty enough in the homes. Kids that screamed at night, that didn't let people touch them, that snarled and kicked and hurt you like they'd been hurt. I wasn't one of them. I wasn't.
"Finish your dinner. We'll talk about it on the couch."
I stuff the rest of my food in my mouth and he gives me a flat stare. I swallow and rinse my dish, annoyed to see his plate still half full. He makes no effort to move faster. I wash dishes while I wait, scrubbing harder than necessary and stacking them with more noise than really applies.
Sensei glowers.
"Go sit down before you break something," he grunts.
I huff and go to my room, grabbing my rabbit and a blanket before returning to the couch. Miska jumps up to join me and takes a particular interest in the blanket, creeping up and down it before settling in and kneading my legs. I curl on my end and wait. By the time Sensei finishes his food, the kitten's asleep and I'm dazing drowsily as well.
The couch dips, a warm body presses against my legs, and I open half-blurred eyes to see Sensei rubbing long fingers through Miska's fur.
"Sensei?"
"You look tired. We don't have to discuss this tonight."
"I'm not abused," I mumble sitting up. He sighs and doesn't move.
"Hoki, tell me the definition of abuse."
I breathe deeply and rub at my eyes and blinking away the sleep.
"When someone hits you over and over," I pause and frown and shudder, remembering a particular girl that had cried and cried and cried. "Or when they touch you in… in private places."
Sensei's face dissolves into a rather dangerous scowl.
"Has anyone touched you like that?" he asks.
"No," I answer immediately. His relief is evident, and I scowl. "I told you, I'm… I wasn't abused."
He raises an eyebrow at my tone and after a long moment I look away.
"Your definition of abuse is rather sparse," Sensei says after a moment. "There are multiple types of abuse. And your definitions of physical and sexual abuse are rather rudimentary at best. You've also completely missed two other forms, verbal and psychological. None of that includes abandonment, neglect, and exploitation. All of these are reasons to remove a child from their home."
I frown and something in my chest tightens.
The gray suits.
"We will start with physical abuse. If you need to stop, you will tell me. Do you understand?"
I nod.
"This is a verbal conversation, Hoki. If you're not able to talk, we're not having this discussion."
The way he says that makes my stomach twist and my throat ache. He looks me in the eye, and I shiver at the seriousness in his face.
"Y-Yes, sir."
"If you need to stop because you feel overwhelmed, what will you do?"
"Tell you," I whisper. He frowns but nods.
"Physical abuse is causing someone intentional bodily injury. This isn't just hitting people. It's pinching, scratching, biting, choking, kicking, shoving, or anything that hurts you. Have you ever been hurt by an adult or another child?"
I swallow.
This… this wasn't the way I expected this conversation to go.
Sensei says nothing and waits.
"It- It wasn't abuse," I tell him quietly. "N-N-Niko hit me, but… but it wasn't abuse."
Sensei frowns.
"Was it an accident?"
"No," I admit quietly.
"Did she do it on purpose?"
Yes.
My eyes well with tears.
Sensei waits.
If you're not able to do talk, we're not having this discussion.
"Yes," I say, and I can't help it. I cry.
He sighs.
"We're done," he says and his hand sweeps through his hair. My chest aches as I crawl out of my blanket. He moves Miska to the other side of the couch.
"S-Sensei," I manage. I wipe at my face. "C-C-Can I… H-H-Hug?"
"Yes."
I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face there as well. His facial hair pricks against my cheek, and his long hair sticks against my face. One arm rises and settles against my back. I shake as I hold on.
"I wasn't abused," I whisper to his chin. "They didn't- I'm not-"
"Hoki, the conversation's over. We're not discussing it."
"B-B-But-"
"No," he says. There's a command in his voice, a sternness there that makes me shiver against him. The hand on my back pats me awkwardly and I don't want it to let go. I don't want him to let go. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave. The tears keep falling. "If you wish to believe that, then do so. But we're not discussing this any further when you can't even form sentences."
He lets me stay there and I don't move as he reclines on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, one arm around me and the other petting Miska. After a few moments, I relax against him, loosening my hold and dropping my head so my ear rests near his heart. I can hear it beat.
It's so loud.
It feels so safe.
In the bag. You have one minute, or she'll kill you.
"Mama," I whisper. He stiffens. "Mama pinched me."
He lets out a long, slow breath from his nose.
"Hoki-"
"When- When we robbed the stores. She pinched me to make the shadows… I didn't want to hurt them. I-I cried. She doesn't like crybabies. She- She pinched me when I cried."
Sensei doesn't let go. His arm tightens and I breathe.
I don't want him to let go.
I breathe deeply in his simple scent. The comforting smell of detergent, the soft touch of his shirt, the warmth of his body. I close my eyes and cling to him.
Please don't leave me.
"I will never pinch you." I look up in surprise at the baritone of his voice. He stares lazily back. "But we're still not having this discussion. Think about something else."
He looks petulant.
I can't help it.
I smile and bury my face into his chest.
He sighs.
"I don't wanna let go," I mumble in the softness of his shirt. He snorts and I can feel it rumble through his chest. It's weird. I giggle softly.
"You're going to have to eventually. I can't sleep like this and I won't be able to teach."
"Tomorrow's Saturday," I pout. "You don't have to teach."
"And my sleep?" he asks. I know if I could see his face, he'd be lifting an eyebrow.
He's teasing.
"I don't think you sleep. You have eye-bags."
He snorts and I giggle again.
"You've got about twenty more seconds, and then I'm removing you."
"Do all of your hugs have time-limits?"
"Yes."
"What about Yamada-sensei? Does he get a time limit?"
"Yes."
"If Mineta asked for a hug, would you give him one?"
"It would require extenuating circumstances."
"Red asked for one."
The hands that had moved to my arms pause.
"Red?"
"The one with the hardening quirk?"
"Kirishima," he says and there's an edge to his voice. "wanted a hug?"
"Sort of, he was jealous 'cause I give them to Shinsou. I offered to give him one if he wanted. He turned as red as his hair. It's been over twenty seconds."
Sensei removes me and scowls. He doesn't even grunt as he picks me up and drops me on my blankets. I hadn't realized he was that strong.
"Don't hug random boys," he says, and I don't miss the way his eye twitches.
I blush and smile at him.
"Can I have another?"
"No."
.
.
.
"Sensei?"
The dark-haired man makes a grunting noise that I've learned means 'what' during the early morning walks. I smile and try to fall into step beside him. He ignores it at usual.
"What's a good enough reason to be a hero?"
His head tilts and he glowers. It's the same face he uses when I don't eat all my food. I flush and look down.
"Name a reason and I'll tell you if it's acceptable."
"What if it's not?"
"Then I'll tell you."
I pout. He raises his eyebrow.
"What if you don't like it?" I try again.
"Then I'll tell you I don't like it."
I frown at him. He shrugs and keeps walking, hands in his pockets and slouched like normal. I stay quiet for a moment and study his face. It's bored like usual, his posture loose, his gait steady. He doesn't look upset.
I stare forward and cross my arms.
I think about Mineta's answer.
"If… What if I wanted to be a hero so people would notice me?"
Sensei snorts.
"I'd suggest acting. It's less likely to get you killed. Are we going to go through all of your classmates' reasons or do you intend to tell me one of your own?"
I flush.
"H-How did you-"
I cut off when he gives me the stupid question look. I duck my head and pull at my fingers. I open my mouth to say something, any of the reasons, and then shut it again, feeling flustered. I do it three more times before his hand settles on my shoulder. It's comforting and I lean into the touch.
"What are you so afraid of?" he asks. I don't lookup.
"I don't know."
You won't like it. You won't like me.
What if I'm not good enough? What if my reasons aren't enough?
He grunts but doesn't remove the hand. We walk to school in silence.