After agreeing to go to the beach, Midnight ends up staying late. I nod off twice before Sensei, annoyed when my head keeps falling against him, sends me to bed. I brush my teeth, braid my hair, and change into pajamas, slipping under my covers.
He appears as soon as I'm done, completing our nightly ritual as usual. He waits for me to turn on the flashlight, and flips off the light switch with a noisy click.
"Sensei," I mumble, eyes falling closed.
"Yes?"
"'M sorry," I whisper. He pauses in the doorway and sighs.
"For what?" he asks, moving towards the bed. It dips as he sits beside me.
"Nagging," I answer tiredly. I yawn and sigh deeply. I'm sure he says something more, but I don't hear it, already asleep.
.
.
.
When I wake the next morning, there's a note on my desk and a simple, black suitcase on the floor by my bed. I frown and pick up the note, curious.
You have until noon to pack a bag for the trip. You will need to include the following items now. The rest will be packed after dinner.
To-Do List:
5 Outfits 1 Dress 2 Pajamas Bathing Suit 8 pairs of underwear 6 Pairs of socks 5 Bras Hairbows Jacket Hat 4 Washcloths Sunglasses Sunscreen 3 Towels 3 Ziploc Bags 1 trash bagI blink at the list. Five outfits? And 8 panties? That seems excessive. And do we even have sunscreen? I start on the clothes first, grabbing several different shirts and simple shorts to go with them. I lay them on the bed and then return to the closet, looking for a dress. I ignore the black funeral one, pushed all the way to the back, and grab the blue dress Yamada-sensei bought me during the internship along with two pairs of pajamas. By the time I have it all on the bed, I'm not really sure how it will all fit into the suitcase.
But I try anyway.
If I do good, will Sensei be proud?
I flush at the idea, determined to do my best. I try to organize things according to the list, but by the time I get to the towels, I've run out of space and it's nearly bulging in the middle. I end up having to hold down the top and lay on it to try and zip it up. Groaning and grunting until my fingers are red and the thing barely closes. It's amazing Sensei doesn't come looking for me.
Must be tired.
I push away that thought, glancing at my phone instead. It's nearly ten and my stomach rumbles. I go to fix a bowl of cereal but stop when I notice the book left on the table. I must have passed it at least three times. How did I not notice? He'd left a sticky on it too.
Read chapter one we will discuss it later.
Curious, I sit down and open the book, Conquering Negative Thinking for Teens: A workbook. Skimming through the pages, I immediately notice it has a set of questions at the end of each chapter in a discussion format. The chapters don't look long either, maybe 10 or 11 pages. I turn to the first page and ignore my stomach, more interested in what Sensei wanted me to know. I'll eat something when I finish.
I start at the introduction, read through it, and then frown at the checklist.
The "I can't!" habit, the catastrophizing habit, the all or nothing habit… the list continues in that same vein, including nine different habits each sounding less and less appealing. They make me uncomfortable. They make my chest itchy and my stomach knot.
Is there something wrong with me?
Is he trying to tell me something?
Is this what they meant by cognitively immature?
I don't fill out the checklist.
Instead, I turn to the first chapter, the "I can't" habits and the process almost seems to repeat itself. It's like walking on hot sidewalk, where each word feels like a painful step, and all I want to do is stop and close the book. As I work through the first, then second, and third paragraphs, my head begins to fill with all sorts of questions at what I read. Am I doing this? Do I give up too easily? Is Sensei trying to tell me to stop?
By the time I get to the "try it yourself" section, I feel hungry, nauseous, and close to tears.
I give up on any attempt and slam the workbook closed, standing and glaring at it.
Of course, that's when Sensei decides to leave his room.
He blinks in the hallway looking between me and the workbook and back. He raises an eyebrow and I glower at the stupid thing before heading to the cabinet and pulling out a bowl. Then he frowns.
"What are you doing?" he asks, voice low.
"Fixing breakfast."
"Rin, it's nearly noon. Why are you just now eating?"
"I forgot," I tell him shrugging. His frown doesn't disappear. If anything, it seems to deepen. He doesn't question me though, disappearing into the bathroom where I try to ignore the sound of him peeing as I pour cereal.
I add the milk, sit at the table, and purposely don't look at the workbook.
Sensei returns and takes a seat at the table too, slumping into his normal seat with the grace of a potato.
"How often this week have you forgotten to eat?" Sensei asks. I take a purposeful bite and chew slowly. He scowls.
"I dunno," I grumble after I swallow. "This week? I guess this is the first time. Why?"
Sensei says nothing for a moment and I eat another spoonful. I can tell the way he's looking at me he didn't like that answer, but he's not responding quickly so he's either going to let it go or thinking about how to word the next question.
"It's important to eat three regular meals," he says simply. "What is your issue with the workbook?"
"It makes me feel funny," I mumble.
I don't think he was expecting that answer. Sensei leans forward and rests his cheek against his fist, not looking away.
"Explain."
I wrinkle my nose.
"It makes my chest itchy, my stomach feels like I want to throw up, and I keep thinking bad thoughts. I don't want to think them."
"What kind of thoughts?"
I flush and look away.
"I don't want to say," I mumble.
"If they make you want to throw up, I think you should," Sensei says flatly. I cringe.
"I… Is something wrong with me?" I ask hesitantly.
"Is that the only thing you've been thinking?" Sensei asks, not addressing the question and still not looking away. It's rather unnerving.
"No," I answer, I pause. "Can… Can I hug you?"
"Finish your cereal first."
I do so quickly, consuming all of it in a quick whirl of energy before lifting and draining the bowl into my mouth. Sensei looks amused when I turn back to him expectantly, but nods. I spring from the chair, wrapping my arms immediately around his neck. I like hugging him best when he's in a chair, I can sit my chin on his shoulder and feel all his prickly beard hairs. Though, laying against him the other night was nice too.
"I like hugs," I whisper when he wraps an arm around to rest against my back.
"I'm aware," Sensei says dryly. "Will you finish telling me your thoughts now?"
"But what if you don't like them?" I answer back, resting my head on his shoulder.
He sighs.
"Then I will dislike them, it doesn't mean I'll dislike you. Sometimes people learn certain ways of thinking to cope with certain situations or they get stuck in certain thinking patterns without realizing it. Your thoughts directly affect how you behave and how you respond to situations."
"Is that why I'm… I'm cognitively immature?" I ask nervously. His arm tightens and I cringe. "Because I think wrong?"
"This is why you shouldn't listen to adult conversations," Sensei says flatly. I rub my fingers against the prickle of his jaw. "You don't think wrong. And cognitively immaturity only means that you tend to act younger than your age. Most teenagers don't like hugs like you do. There's nothing wrong with it and there's nothing wrong with you. The trauma you suffered was wrong, but it doesn't make you wrong. Do you understand that?"
"Then why doesn't anyone want me?" I whisper, holding more tightly to his shirt.
"Do you not think I want you?"
"Do you regret it?" I ask instead. "Signing the papers? 'Cause I'm moody and- and I nag and-"
"I shouldn't have said that," he quietly interrupts. "Rin, I'm not perfect. I will get frustrated and make mistakes the same as you. But the answer is no, I do not regret becoming your guardian."
"Oh," I whisper.
He sighs.
"We can discuss it this evening. Did you finish packing?"
I squirm against him and he immediately releases me, but I don't let go, burying my face in his neck. He makes a weird noise before dislodging me. He gives me a weird look.
"Was that a yes or no?"
"Yes," I whine, drawing out the s. I shift nervously from foot to foot. He raises an eyebrow. I flush and look down. "But… But I think I did it wrong."
He snorts.
"Show me."
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.
.
Apparently, the way I packed was very wrong. Sensei takes one look at the suitcase and snorts, his lips drawing back into a smirk that makes my face burn all the hotter. The moment he unzips it, clothes explode everywhere. I cover my face in embarrassment when he actually chuckles.
"You've never packed a suitcase?" he asks, his voice somehow level despite the very evident amusement on his face.
"I-I had a bag," I admit not looking at him. "But- But that's a lot of clothes. Why do I need so many for 4 days?"
"I have no idea, Hizashi made the list."
I pause and look at him, mouth dropping.
"Wait, what?" I ask, blinking. He raises an eyebrow.
"Is that a problem?"
"Why didn't you make the list?" I ask, pursing my lips. He tilts his head, almost curiously.
"Because he already did."
I don't understand, but he seems just as confused by my question, so I let it go. It's not like it's a big deal, it's just weird. I don't know why it's weird, but it feels weird.
"If you're done questioning things…?" Sensei offers, waiting. I flush and pout.
"Sorry."
"Take everything out. If you didn't know what you were doing you should have waited and told me when I woke up."
I huff and do what he says.
"Now," he says, snagging one of my shirts while I pile the rest around the bed. With that same smirk, he sets it flat on the clear part of the bed near him. "There are several ways to fold clothes. You can roll them or fold them into squares. Because you're taking so many clothes, you'll want to roll them so you can see what all you brought without having to dig through everything and make a mess."
He looks at the mess on my bed pointedly.
I flush.
Then he proceeds to demonstrate how to roll the shirt. He tucks the sides, folds it in half, and rolls three times. I've never seen anyone fold clothes like that.
"Can you do it again?" I ask, curiously. He nods, pulls another shirt, and demonstrates a second time.
Hesitantly, I try. His two are neat and even, both the exact same size and perfect. Mine ends up lumpy with one side thicker than the other. I grimace and try again.
"Pause," he says and my hands still. He reaches over and corrects a corner that had slipped down. "Continue."
I do, and while it's still not as neat and perfect as his, it's no longer lumpy.
"Why did I correct you?" he asks, handing me another shirt. I fold it checking the corners. When I go to roll it, I notice they slip, and this time I correct it myself. It looks the same and I frown.
"If I don't keep the corners together it makes it lumpy?"
"Correct," he says, and, to my surprise, he reaches for some shorts as I finish the last of the shirts. "This is how you fold shorts."
Sensei stands beside me and shows me how to fold and pack my shorts, towels, pajamas, jacket, and dress. He explains the purpose of the trash bag (to put sandy clothes in to keep from souring everything else), the Ziploc's (to contain the smaller items), and then the pouches on the inside front of the case. He has me put my underwear and bras there.
"Why do I need eight pairs?" I ask curiously as I do what he says. He doesn't show me how to roll them, so I just collect them all and shove them in the zipped area.
"I have no idea," he says and before I can ask another question, he asks for my bathing suit. The moment he sees it, he scowls.
"Is it not okay?" I ask, blinking.
"Could you not have gotten something with more fabric?" he grunts. I hold it up curiously. I wonder what he would have thought about the bikini Nemuri had made me try on. It had been nothing but triangles and string.
"They didn't have a lot with more," I admit. "Though, Mid- Auntie, bought one that was made of lots of string. It even had string on her butt. She said it showed off all her assets. Sensei? Do I have assets?"
Sensei chokes.
"We're not discussing that," he says flatly. I grin.
"Auntie said that I have a cute face and abs. She said I should show them off, but that I didn't have a big chest." I tell him seriously. He narrows his eyes.
"What did I just say?"
"Do you have assets?" I ask, just to see what he'll do. His eye twitches. "It's the body parts that you like about yourself, right?"
"Rin, the bathing suit goes here."
"We're not talking about that either?"
"No."
I laugh and put the bathing suit in the section, and he shows me where to find sunscreen, which we do have. He has me pack sunscreen in one of the Ziplocs, the hairbows go in another with sunglasses, and all my hygiene items like my deodorant and toothbrush will go in the third. Because I have to use them in the morning, he says I have to wait to pack those.
"Are we finished?"
"No, we'll need to go out and get the rest."
I stare.
"There… There's more?" I ask suddenly overwhelmed.
"Nemuri made a separate list last night. You'll need aloe in case you burn, Chapstick for your lips, detangler, and travel-sized shampoo and conditioner. We will also need to grab snacks for the car ride."
"Oh," I say, nervous. I bite my lip and tug at Sensei's shirt, he frowns and bends forward, so we're eye level.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Sensei, this is too much," I whisper, pulling at my fingers. "This sounds expensive, and you already spent so much. You bought all my furniture and- and the food and my clothes and this is more stuff, and- and-"
"Breathe," Sensei instructs calmly. I suck in a sudden breath and he straightens, fingers moving through my hair so his palm rests on my forehead. It's so rough and warm. I release the breath and stare up at the dark-haired man with small dark eyes, and dark bags beneath them. He stares back, expression neutral. "The things you just listed are all things I am required to provide you."
I flinch.
"Not… Not like this," I say quietly. He frowns.
"What do you mean?"
"They're new," I whisper, backing up to the bed. He releases my head and my fingers touch the comfortable, blue sheets, so dry and warm. "They're soft and they smell good, those are… they're privileged kid things. I don't… I'm not… I shouldn't…"
Sensei sighs and he seems to contemplate his words.
"Come here," Sensei says after a moment. I do, immediately. I press myself into his warmth. Two hugs in one day? Squashing my face into his chest, I can't help the sigh of relief as his hand moves against my head again. "You are allowed to have nice things."
My shoulders shake. He calmly continues to pet my hair.
"The things you own don't dictate who you are. It's your actions that determine that. However, if I don't agree with a purchase, I will tell you. For example, I would not have allowed you to buy that bathing suit and while we're out today you will get something to put over it."
Slowly, I pull away. He allows me, his expression almost relieved.
"You… you don't like it?" I ask, quietly.
"No, it shows too much skin." He pauses and his eyes narrow. "Please tell me you got more out of that then the part about the bathing suit."
"You… You'll tell me if you don't like something?"
"Rin," he huffs. "You've missed the entire point. You are allowed to be happy. It's okay for someone to buy you things that are new. It's okay for people to buy you expensive things. The price of something isn't the issue here. The amount of items you own doesn't change the fact that you are Rin. They don't make you any different then you were yesterday. They are just that, things. Regardless of whether you have everything or nothing, you will still be you."
He seems to consider something before tilting his head.
"No matter what you own or don't own, you will still be my sweet, mischievous ward."
I swallow, chest suddenly feeling too full, too tight.
"Y-Y-Yes, sir."
He pats my head, ignoring the tears now brimming in my eyes.
"It's time to eat. Fix yourself a snack while I have lunch. We'll go by the store afterward."
I nod, too afraid that if I try to speak I'll cry.
.
.
.
That evening, after packing even more things, Sensei calls me to the couch.
"Sir?"
"We need to go over rules," he says, and I sit quietly on my end. "You will need to behave on this trip, that means following Nemuri and Hizashi's directions immediately and without mumbled comments. There will also be no cursing, here or there."
I cringe a little and he gives me a knowing look.
"Yes, sir."
"You are not allowed to wander off from them. At least one of them needs to know where you are at all times."
"Yes, sir."
"I expect you to call me every evening sometime between 7 and 9."
I blink and he raises an eyebrow.
"Y-Yes, sir."
"Do you need further elaboration on that rule?" he asks, voice dry. I flush and he must take that as a yes because he continues. "You will be nearly two hours away in a hotel. The rule is for my peace of mind as well as your emotional support. I will expect a phone call every night and you will tell me about your day. We will address any situations or concerns then."
"I… Yes, sir."
He smirks, clearly amused.
"Hizashi has… requested your bedtime be pushed back. You will be allowed to stay up until eleven during your stay, but anything after that is too late." Sensei pauses then and frowns. "You will also avoid drinking and smoking, you will not accept open drinks from strangers, you will not leave your drink open and return to it. There will be no touching, petting, kissing, or hugging of anyone outside Hizashi and Nemuri. When in public you will remain fully clothed. If someone asks you to do anything you feel uncomfortable with, you will immediately return to Hizashi and Nemuri. If someone touches you inappropriately, you will immediately return to Hizashi and Nemuri. If there is a villain or someone is in trouble, you will immediately return to Hizashi and Nemuri. You are not licensed to use your quirk, and you are not to run into danger. Do you understand?"
I stare, wide-eyed at the huge list.
"Y-Yes, sir."
"Do I need to clarify any of those points?" he asks.
"I… What's an open drink?"
"Any time you have a drink without a lid. If Hizashi or Nemuri isn't around to watch it, you don't drink from it if it leaves your sight. If you start feeling weird, you don't drink anymore."
I frown.
"What are you talking about?" I ask quietly.
"Spiking drinks," he says, and his eyes darken. "It's not my intention to scare you, Rin. I do, however, need you to be aware of your surroundings. The intent of this trip is to have fun, and I trust both Hizashi and Nemuri to keep you safe. I trust you to follow these directions, to a certain extent. But if something does happen, I need you to respond appropriately."
"I… Yes, sir."
"Enough of that then," he says sighing. "I intended to talk to you about the chapter you read this morning, but it may be best to wait until you return. It's nearly nine and you'll need to be up by seven. Do you have any questions or concerns?"
"No, sir."
"How do you feel?" he asks, head tilting to the side.
"Nervous," I admit swallowing. "That… that's a lot of rules. What if I forget them?"
Sensei sighs.
"Focus on the main idea," he says. "Stay with Hizashi or Nemuri, talk to them if you have a question or want to do something, and if they give you a direction, do it immediately."
"Yes, sir."
"Go get ready for bed then."
I nod and stand, but then hesitate.
"Sensei?" I ask curiously. He scratches his cheek and looks back, expression bored. It's the keep going face. "How do... How do you feel?"
He blinks at that before his lips tilt.
"Nervous," he says, and I stare in surprise, before narrowing my eyes. Is he making fun of me?
"You- You do?" I ask slowly, eyebrow drawn together.
"Don't look so surprised," he answers dryly. "The last time I let you out of my sight, there was a villain attack. I arrived to find you in tears and video footage of you sliding down a stairwell. And that was during a 3-hour trip to the mall. This will be for four days and you will be two hours away. Yes, Rin, I am nervous."
I swallow and cross the room to Sensei.
He sighs.
"Am I getting a hug?"
"Do you need one?" I ask, shyly, reluctant to admit that was exactly my intention. I pull my arms behind my back and tug at my fingers.
He huffs.
"Do you need one?" he asks.
I flush.
"Can I give you a kiss instead?" I ask, face hot. He snorts.
"So you're asking now?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Fine," he says, and he turns his cheek, very clearly not looking at me. I grin at the acceptance, somehow both surprised and gleeful. I lean forward and kiss the stubble there. I can't help but giggle when it prickles. Before he turns back, I reach out and touch it with my fingers. I giggle again, a soft light warming my skin. He stills. "What are you doing?"
"Your face hairs are prickly," I answer smiling. "I like them."
"You are such an odd child," he says almost fondly. "Go get ready for bed."