The next three days mostly just blur together.
I get up, eat breakfast, and start on whatever essay or assignment Sensei has left on the kitchen table:
How did you feel when you watched Hizashi get hurt? Explain how he might have felt watching you run into danger. Make a chart detailing all of the logical motivations a person would have for asking you to follow them at night and without informing an adult. List at least five better decisions you could have made in that situation and why. What traits help you determine whether a person is trustworthy or not? What would that person act like? What behaviors would be considered suspicious and what do you do when you see them?
I almost wish he would hit me. At least then it'd be over.
"How… How long am I grounded?"
"Three weeks," Sensei says, moving through the kitchen to fix lunch. "You have twelve more days assuming you don't do anything to add more. Since your time will run through our summer camp next week, you'll be writing essays during that as well. Did you finish?"
I deflate and push the papers across the table.
"Yes."
That was also part of our new routine. Usually, I'd finish around noon and he'd fix us sandwiches or leftovers before reading over what I wrote. He hadn't been particularly impressed with my chart on Saturday, yesterday, and he looked even less so with today's attempt.
"'A trustworthy person is someone that doesn't lie,'" he reads verbatim from my paper, raising an eyebrow. "Rin, that's about as simple as you can get. And while I appreciate the fact that you put hiding in bushes, hurting people, and other examples from the immediate past as your examples of suspicious behavior, this is still lacking. Can you define trustworthiness?"
"Being worthy of trust?" I mumble, pouting.
Sensei sighs and massages his temples.
"Obviously. Do you trust me?"
"Yes," I answer immediately.
"Why?"
I blink.
"Because you're my teacher," I respond oddly.
"Do you trust All Might? He's your teacher."
I consider it and take a bite of my food.
"Trust him to do what?" I ask after a moment.
"Exactly."
I wrinkle my nose.
"I don't get it."
Sensei slides the paper back and I groan. He offers a dry stare.
That had also become a sort of habit, having to redo everything because it wasn't up to his ridiculous standard. It wasn't even that it had to be good, it had to perfect.
Yui-san never cared.
I snatch the paper and slap it (perhaps a little too hard) against the kitchen table. Sensei gives me a look. It means I've got about two more chances before he'll put me in timeout, which has become his new thing. It's infuriating. He treats me like I'm three!
I stuff my mouth full of food to keep from making a comment, glowering at the sheet.
"Don't put so much food in your mouth. You're not a chipmunk. As for your assignment, trust has different levels. Consider what makes you trust one person more than another. You can make a list or draw a picture."
It takes two gulps to swallow all the food.
"Do you trust some people more?"
"Obviously," he says, and I stick my tongue out at him when he isn't looking. "You for example, I trust far less than your peers to stay out of trouble, with maybe the exception of Midoriya."
I cross my arms and glare.
Sensei meets my gaze evenly.
"Why are you so mean?"
"That's not me being mean. That's what happens when you break trust," he says flatly. He drinks a sip of water before continuing. "If you're finished, wash your plate and fix the paper."
My lip quivers and I stand angrily, stomping into the kitchen and rattling the dishes as I rinse them. I can't help it. Ever since we started training—ever since I got back, he's been stupidly strict! Yui-san never made me do all this. She just had you clean the floors or pull weeds or something else physical. That was it, there weren't essays and trainings and making you explain all your feelings. She didn't care about our feelings! Nobody did! Nobody cared as long as I was quiet.
Sensei catches my arm when I return, pulling me close with a scowl. I jerk immediately at the touch, and while he loosens his grip, he doesn't let go.
"Hey! Do you mind-"
"This is your warning," he interrupts, voice stern. "If you need to do some breathing exercises or play with Miska for five minutes, then go do it and come back. But this tantrum isn't going to be tolerated. This isn't supposed to be fun. You could have died Wednesday."
"I- it's not a tantrum!"
"You're stomping, snatching papers, and rattling dishes because I want you to fix a problem that landed you in this mess."
I glare, snatch my arm away and sit down. I don't do the breathing exercises and I don't go play with Miska. Instead, I pick up my pencil, grab a fresh sheet of paper from my pile on the table, and start writing as hard as I can, wishing it were his face I was scribbling all across.
When the tip breaks, I snarl and toss it across the room.
"Couch. Now. You have ten minutes."
I let out a muffled scream and kick over my chair as I go. His eye twitches as I do, and he starts his timer.
He'd gotten so ridiculous he'd even gone out and bought a timer! A big fat one that you could see from every side of the couch. He'd tacked it on the wall yesterday morning after our argument the night before. He'd claimed he'd given me ten minutes; I was positive it'd been closer to fifteen. He'd shown me on his phone, but he'd probably just changed it. I'd been stuck on the stupid couch for three rounds that night because of 'my mouth'.
I stare at the numbers and simmer, watching the time tick away.
The moment it beeps, Sensei's back, shutting it off as he squats by my end. I wrinkle my nose and refuse to even glance his way.
"Can you be appropriate, or do you need more time?"
That had also become a thing. I don't know why he even bothered asking, he'd just send me back if he felt like it.
"I'm fine."
"Why are you here?"
"I threw a pencil."
"Correct, what should you have done?"
"I don't know! Go get another?"
He's silent for a moment and I risk a glance. He's frowning like usual, lips curved down and expression bored.
He looks like he needs to shave, I think uncharitably.
"Rin," he says warningly. I cringe and slump against the cushions. "Control yourself. It's fine to be angry but yelling at me is not. Yes, you could have gotten another. What should you have done about your temper?"
"Played with Miska," I mumble, pulling at my fingers.
"Why is that a better choice?"
"Because I wouldn't be in trouble!" I growl. Duh! Why'd he always have to treat me like I'm stupid?
Sensei sighs and I grit my teeth, annoyed.
"You aren't in trouble," Sensei says, one hand reaching out to press against my shoulder. I rest my cheek against his arm for a moment before remembering I'm upset with him. I jerk my head away and he huffs. "Pay attention."
"I am," I whine, glaring again.
His eye twitches. He removes the hand.
"Do you need a hug?" he asks exasperated.
"Yes…"
He moves to the couch and I crawl as close as I can. I bury my face in his neck, circle my arms around his shoulders, and lean as hard as I can. He never tilts over. He's got to be the strongest man alive. After a moment I give up. Instead, I breathe deeply and sag limp against his chest.
He puts a hand against my back and runs another through my hair.
"What is this really about?" he grumbles and his prickly beard scratches against my ear.
"I'm always in trouble!" I whisper angrily into his neck. With his hair tied back, I can see all the little hairs against his jaw. "I'm trying! I'm trying and I'm horrible and maybe I'm just bad! Is that why- Is that why Yui-san never-"
"Rin, stop," he interrupts. "Breathe."
I do, sucking in a large mouthful and slithering even closer. He lets me sit on his thigh, lets me curl my fingers into the loose hairs in his ponytail. He's so warm and strong and there.
Daddy never gave hugs like this.
Did he?
"You didn't get put here because you were bad. You're here because you can't control your emotions. You can't control your emotions because the people that were supposed to be taking care of you didn't. Can you understand that?"
"They did!" I argue, tightening my hold. He makes a noise as I accidentally pull his hair and I quickly untangle it from my fingers. "They did! They fed me and I had a bed and they hit me when I was bad-"
"That's not okay," he growls, his own arms tightening. "You don't hit children that have been abused."
"But I was bad!" I cry, frustrated that it's this again. It's always that. Abuse. I hate that word. "They said I was bad. I hurt people! Why can't you just hit me? I'll be good and- and-"
I shake as my words break down, the way they'd been doing more and more lately. He holds me regardless, tears spilling across my cheeks and lips and down his neck. He lets me. He always lets me. Why? Why is he so nice? Why? And when the shakes finally stop, he still doesn't move, fingers sweeping through my hair, one hand against my back.
I close my eyes and sigh, slumping against him tiredly.
His chest moves as he huffs.
"You're not bad," he says eventually. "You're ridiculous and brave and far too naïve, but bad isn't a descriptor of your personality. I would appreciate it if you'd stop describing yourself that way. As for hitting you, I will never lay a hand on you like that. We've been over this before, you will receive time outs and essays. Now, if you're finished, you can have five more minutes. Then you're going to finish that paper."
I groan and he rolls his eyes.
I let go and slide down his chest, wiggling across the sofa until I'm comfortable. It takes a moment to find the right spot, curling with my head on his thigh. He wipes at his neck with a sour face.
"Ten?" I ask quietly.
"Five," he chides without any real heat. "When you finish the paper, you can have another hug if you ask. But you need to ask, don't just throw pencils or stomp around."
I sigh and he sets the timer again.
.
.
.
After lunch and fixing the essay, it's time to get ready to train. I'd never disliked training before, but I hate quirk training. It always starts off the same way, forcing my shadows to the surface and having to acknowledge some sort of fear: my mother's nails, the gray suits that keep showing up more and more, the elephant trunk that wraps around my neck. It always ends with me in tears. Always.
I'm so tired of crying.
I just want to be strong! I promised Kagura I'd be strong!
Sensei thinks it's stupid—illogical.
"You're already strong. You have a quirk more versatile than most with the ability to become more dangerous as you become more emotionally unstable. You hardly need more power; you need to learn to be efficient and control what you have."
It'd be easier to argue if his way wasn't showing results.
But in three days, I'd made more improvements than I ever had alone. I'd learned to form weak shields against my skin, I could make a really long stick to fight with, and I could split at least one tentacle in half without losing control of the other.
"Yeah, but you don't cry!" I sniff, wiping my face to try and hide the consequences of my latest panic attack. Sensei kneels nearby, his shoulder still wet and his arms dragging lazily at his side. It's infuriating, he doesn't even blink in the face of them! Like all this crying is okay.
"I can regulate my emotions."
"Why can't I?" I growl, angry and frustrated and tired. I snuff down the urge to peel off my shoe and chuck it at him.
He'd just dodge it anyway.
"It's not like you don't have the tools," he says dryly, arms crossing as he stands. "You're the one choosing not to use them. Instead of ignoring your emotions, you could try working through them before they blow up."
I glare.
"Like now, for example. You could breathe, try to rationalize why you're angry, and use logic to fix it."
"That doesn't work!"
"Or you could ignore me, pitch a fit, and end up in time out, which is basically the same thing except I have to rationalize it for you, and it takes twice as long."
I scowl, clamber to my feet, and stomp off. His satchel full of water isn't nearly far enough to burn off all my frustrations.
He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.
I grit my teeth.
"You act like you know everything," I grumble under my breath as I drop to the grass, uncapping the water and drowning it.
"I can hear you," Sensei says flatly. "This is your warning."
I've learned to appreciate the moment Shinsou arrives. It's the time I finally get to do something that isn't related to emotions or quirks or anything that makes me cry. Even if it's math, at least it doesn't hurt.
"Hey," Shinsou says, collapsing on my blanket and stealing a cracker and some water. "You look grouchy as usual. What's up?"
"I hate crying."
He blinks.
"Uh… Oh?"
"It's stupid," I tell him, face twisting in disgust as I glare down at my worksheet. "It's the dumbest thing in the world! Crying should be banned. People should have their tear ducts removed. I wish I could never cry again!"
Shinsou blinks some more, twists his arms under his head, and raises an eyebrow.
"That sounds deep."
"You don't cry. Sensei doesn't cry. Why am I always crying?"
"Are you actually mad about this?" he asks, sounding somewhat incredulous. "Because I thought you were joking, but you look kind of serious."
"I don't joke," I scowl.
"Riiiiight. You want me to leave while you tell you're… what are you doing today, decimals? Heh, you want me to leave you and your decimals alone to vent?"
I give him a nasty look.
He grins and lifts his arms as if in surrender.
"Sorry, sorry! It's just kind of funny to see you get all worked up about this. I mean, it's crying of all things. It's not that big of a deal, you know? If your sad, cry. Whatever."
"You don't," I growl.
"I do," he responds, face heating and ears going pink. He looks away and I frown, eyebrows furrowing. "I mean, especially when I was younger. It's normal."
I frown, put down my math, and lean over to look at him.
He raises an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Prove it."
He scowls, pulls himself half up on his elbows so he looks like he's midway through a crunch, and gives me a look. It's the one that says he thinks I'm being idiotic. It's been popping up a lot.
"You want me to cry, to prove that I can cry," he deadpans.
I narrow my eyes.
"You won't because you don't," I grumble.
"You saw me cry in that stupid warehouse. Before Present Mic showed up and-" he cuts off as my lip suddenly quivers. Just his name and my eyes automatically fill with tears. "Awe man, are you serious?"
I can't stop them.
When I hiccup, he collapses back down.
"You want a hug?" he asks in a grouchy voice that tells me he feels guilty.
I nod and crawl over the blanket to curl into the sweaty boy's side. He groans and lets me, probably used to it by this point. I slap his stomach.
"Ow, what the hell is that for?"
"I don't wanna cry!"
"It's not my fault! Eat some damn chocolate or something. Jeez, are you sad or angry? Make up your mind you nut."
"I don't wanna be a nut!"
"What are you three? Do your breathing thing and chill out or I'm leaving."
I breathe deeply and I can hear Shinsou rolling his eyes. But, eventually, I manage to curb the loud, sharp feelings in my chest. I sigh heavily when I do, fingers curling around the end of his shirt.
"I saw you trip earlier," I mumble.
He exhales noisily from his nose.
"See, what's the point of bringing that up? Are you trying to be mean?"
"No. You didn't get tangled up. It was a compliment."
"There's nothing complimentary about telling someone they tripped. Next time go for something that's you know, actually nice. I dunno, like Hitoshi, your arms are bigger or hey, I saw you got your target. Good job."
"Hitoshi?" I ask, sitting up a little to look at him.
"What?"
"Who's Hitoshi?"
He glares and I can't help but break out in a teasing, watery grin. I lean over onto his stomach, amused when he winces beneath my elbows, and maybe dig them in a little harder. I can see him deliberate over pushing me off. He doesn't. I doubt we have much time left before Sensei calls him back anyways.
"Can I call you 'Toshi?"
"No."
"Okay."
He gives me a weird look, but I just smile down, happy to feel anything that isn't sad. He's really good at that.
"I wish I could make you happy," I admit. His weird expression doesn't disappear.
"What are you talking about now?"
"You're my best friend," I explain simply as if that explains everything. It should explain everything. His eyebrows furrow in a way that tells me it might not. "I've never really had a friend before. I mean, I guess my classmates are kind of friendly, but you're my favorite. And- And I want to make you happy too! Do you want a cupcake? I could ask Sensei if I could make some. He doesn't really like sweets. He only likes to eat chicken and bland vegetables. He doesn't like beans either."
Shinsou's lip twitches as I go on. When I take a breath, he pushes me back off, sitting up.
"You're ridiculous," he says smirking. "And I don't need a cupcake."
I open my mouth to respond when Sensei's low baritone interrupts.
"What are you two doing?"
Shinsou twitches and I climb to my knees, smiling. I think he scared him. My guardian smirks as he squats between us at the edge of the blanket, pulling his own water from his bag.
"Sensei! Can I have a hug?"
The man raises an eyebrow and frowns. He'll probably say no. He doesn't like hugging around Shinsou. Of course, I don't think he really likes hugging at home either. He just kind of puts up with it.
"Fine. Shinsou, break's over."
My eyes widen and I giggle at the sudden excitement coursing through my skin. Before he can change his mind, I shuffle close enough that our knees are touching, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Shinsou doesn't move, clearly transfixed by the sight. When Sensei's head turns, probably to tell him to get a move on, I lift my face and kiss his cheek. His facial hair prickles against my lips and I giggle again.
Shinsou's mouth falls open.
Sensei stills.
"Rin, go finish your work. Shinsou, training."
I laugh and go even as the purple-haired boy scrambles up and back to the clearing. Sensei gives me a rather annoyed look and he stands as well. I return to my math.
.
.
.
Our new game nights are the biggest change.
I still don't really understand why we're doing them. I know Sensei would rather be sleeping or napping or doing something productive. The way he always glowers at the board games make that incredibly clear. And he'd bought two more as if hoping to prevent another disastrous attempt at was Uno.
The other games hadn't been much better.
I always lost.
Not even by a little bit either. I'd gotten furious yesterday and just knocked over the board halfway through.
"Do you want me to let you win?" he asked later, scowling.
"Just leave me alone!"
Tonight I wonder what torture we're going to have to sit through together before I end up in time out and he just gives up. So I'm a little surprised to find a dollhouse in the living room when I finally bother to look. I freeze and stare. Sensei, slumped on the floor beside it with his chin in hand, stares back.
"Are you just going to stand there?"
Yes.
I don't take another step.
"That's not a game," I accuse, eyebrows furrowing.
He doesn't look amused.
"Rin, come sit down. It's a dollhouse. Vlad sent it over with Nemuri while we were training."
My lip trembles at the mention of my godmother—especially since it isn't in conjuncture with… I cross the room and drop to the floor beside Sensei, curling up as close to his side as I can. He frowns, moves his arm so it drapes across the couch cushions, but doesn't push me away. I pull my knees to my chest and stare.
"That wasn't the reaction I was expecting," he admits dryly. "Do you have something against dolls?"
"No," I whisper, leaning closer.
He says nothing for a moment and his hand moves to my head.
"Are you going to tell me or pout?"
I don't answer, pressing my face into the side of his chest. He sighs wearily, probably wondering if he can put me in time out and leave.
"Fine. It used to belong to Vlad's daughter when she was younger. He apparently repainted the thing so you could have it. The dolls are inside—Rin, I'm about to leave you to play with Miska if you start crying again. I have no idea what you're upset about now."
"I'm fine!" I grunt, headbutting his chest.
He snorts.
"Then sit up and open the damn thing."
I glare at him and open the dollhouse. It's western styled and… and pretty with tan walls and a blue roof. It's two stories with a front panel that opens up to reveal the inside. It's made of wood, a really thin kind, with a paint that feels dry and uncomfortable beneath my fingers. I avoid touching it, instead, staring at the rooms and the different furniture.
It has four different rooms with a tiny attic compartment for extra storage above. It looked like someone had already set it up. Two rabbits sit upstairs in chairs at a table, the room beside it holding a bed and what looks like a purse with a baby rabbit stuffed inside—I quickly pull it out, uneasy. Downstairs I think one room might be a kitchen, it only has a stove and a counter, and beside it what looks like a baby's room. I put the baby rabbit in the crib, frowning when I notice another baby animal behind it in a smaller crib.
"Why are there so many babies?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me as I look through the attic compartment. I find two more babies there, not really sure what kind of animals they are—one with a pink shower cap and the other wearing overalls. The one with the shower cap looks like Principle Nezu.
"I don't know," Sensei says with a huff. "You tell me."
I glance at him, frowning when I notice his arm still against the couch and his eyes half-lidded. He looks tired.
I rescue all of the babies, counting four total.
"Maybe they're siblings," I suggest. I pull out both of the cribs and replace them with a big bed in the attic. I glance at the big rabbits upstairs and frown. "The Daddy needs a cup."
I pull the Mom rabbit out, put her in the bed, and put all four babies in with her. They don't fit so I stack them together like a little pyramid. It makes me smile.
Sensei sits up.
"Why are they all sleeping together?" he asks, voice low and gravelly. He must be really tired.
"Because it's cold." I find a cup, but it isn't the right kind. It has a handle and it's not small enough. "Now he's happy."
"Why is that one happy?"
"Because he has his drink. Otherwise, he'll get angry."
"What happens if he gets angry?"
I look at him again, he isn't smiling. In fact, he's looking at the Daddy rabbit like he does my essays, eyebrows drawn and lips thinning. I grab the Mama rabbit and move it back beside him.
"How much did you get?" I say in a low voice, shaking the Daddy.
"Maybe a thousand?" I shake the Mama rabbit and frown. Then I pull one of the babies from the bed. After careful consideration, I grab the smallest. "Go wash your face and go to bed."
There isn't a bathroom. I pull the stove out of the kitchen and put the smallest baby there. I pull the largest baby, the one with overalls, out as well. Both of them go to the bathroom.
"It's not enough," I say, moving the Mama again, I make her voice sharper with an accent I barely remember. "We can't even cover the basics! We need to go back-"
"No," I say in my low voice, wiggling the Daddy. This time I make his voice louder, trying to imitate the gruff growl I haven't heard since I was nine. I remember the smell though, cigarettes and his alcohol. I can almost pretend this is the dining table, can almost picture the thick smoke in the air, the yellowed and peeling linoleum. "Twice in a month is too much. You're going to get caught. You know what they do to people like us! We'll figure it out-"
"There's no work!" I make the Mama snarl. My voice pitches up, higher. "You've been looking all week!"
"I said no, woman!" I release the Mama bunny and hold the Daddy, putting the cup in his hand and trying to make him throw it back. He slams it against the table. "I said no. She's only five."
"It won't matter how old she is if we don't eat!"
Daddy throws the glass against the wall. Mama yells and hits the table.
Sensei's hands are there instantly, pulling both bunnies immediately from my hands.
I look at him in surprise.
"What are you doing?" I ask, blinking back into reality.
"Both of these rabbits are going to time out," he says sternly, setting both on the couch behind him. My mouth opens and I gape.
"I… What?" I manage, more than a little confused. He… He just took them! I wrinkle my nose in protest. "You… You can't do that. Why?"
"What they just did was wrong," he says flatly. "Parents shouldn't behave like that, angry or not. They're being put in time out until they can behave appropriately."
I look at him like he's crazy.
"Sensei," I say, slowly. "They're… They're just dolls."
"That doesn't excuse their actions," he says seriously. "That's not how parents behave. Now, what are these two doing in the bathroom? They've been in there for a while."
"She's washing her face, like- like the Mama bunny said."
"What about him?" Sensei says, pointing to the bigger one.
"He came to give her, her flashlight. She wasn't allowed to take it out on the special trips. The Mama bunny thought she might use it and get them in trouble. So the big brother brings it."
I pause for a moment and look for a miniature flashlight. I can't find one, so I grab a plushie carrot instead. I smile at the little face on the side. It's cute.
"You're back," I say, making the boy rabbit stand over to the side. I leave him there and make the baby rabbit pretend to wash her hands. "If you weren't so weak, they could get more. They wouldn't fight."
The baby rabbit sniffs, and I set her on the ground.
"Here." He shoves the carrot into the baby rabbit's hands and I have him walk back to the bed. Before he makes it very far, Sensei plucks him up and puts him in time out as well.
"Sensei," I sigh, leaving the baby rabbit on the floor beside the carrot. I shuffle on my knees and turn to the dark-haired man staring back with a frown and droopy eyes. I put my hands on his shoulders and shake my head. "This isn't how you play the game."
My guardian's lip twitches.
"Perhaps your rabbits should learn to better control themselves."
I sigh and pick up the baby. I hold her out to him. He stretches out his hand, opening it palm up, and takes her, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"You're putting everyone in time out."
He frowns and to my surprise, he leans forward and puts her back in the house in the bed beside the other baby bunnies.
"That one didn't do anything wrong," he says simply.
I stare.
Something twists in my chest, a feeling I can't name that makes me feel both somehow too heavy and too light. It makes my eyes burn with tears I don't want to shed and my throat close as the emotions start to bubble up. I look down, looking at the little babies all in a bed.
I turn back to Sensei.
"Can… Can I have a hug?"
"Yes, Rin."
.
.
.
Monday the routine repeats again, breakfast, an essay—this time about what is personal space and why it's important—and training. I cry, I get two time outs, and I maybe end up rolling around the clearing with Shinsou because he sighed at me.
But when training's over, we don't immediately head home. In fact, Sensei ends up having us walk in a completely different direction and it isn't until we're directly under the familiar building that I realize why.
Yamada-Sensei's apartment.
I dig my heels in and stop.
"Rin, what are you doing?" Sensei asks, eyes narrowed.
"No."
His lips thin.
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"No!" I say, louder. Loud enough several pedestrians turn to look our way. Sensei ignores them, his hands in the pockets of his hero uniform, and his body bent forward. "No, I'm not going! No!"
"Rin," Sensei says, his eyebrow ticking. I can hear the warning in his voice. I ignore it. He's not going to put me in timeout while we're on a public street. A stupid, recklessness fills my veins and I shake. "Calm down."
"No, I'm not going!"
"Why?"
I glare and step back. His hand shoots up to the capture weapon around his neck.
"If you attempt to run, I will restrain you. I'm not forcing you inside, but you will explain yourself."
"He hates me!" I shout, fingers twitching as I wrap my arms around my chest. "He's going to yell at me, and he hates me and I'm not going! You can't make me!"
Sensei scowls.
"He doesn't hate you-"
"He does! He does! He-"
Sensei advances on me and pushes my head down. I don't think he even cares we're in the middle of the sidewalk, that people are walking by, that they're whispering. He just squats down beside me and pushes until we're both kneeling forward.
"Ten deep breaths, now."
I take shaky gulps of air and cry, panic bubbling up at the thought that Yamada-sensei could come out at any moment, that he could see us at any time. He hates me and I don't wanna hear him yell. I don't wanna hear him not yell, to give me that same, frosty glare Yui-san did! I don't want him to ignore me and forget me or give me nasty looks! It takes much longer than ten breaths to be able to breathe again. It takes too long to breathe without the panic, and it even longer until I can breathe without shaking. Sensei releases my neck, but he refuses to let me stand, his hand pressed against my back instead.
"I will put you on that bench for a time-out if I need to," Sensei says flatly. I flinch. He wouldn't. "Now, what is the issue?"
"I don't wanna go," I whisper, reaching out for him. "Please Sensei. He hates me."
"He doesn't hate you," Sensei repeats, eye twitching. "He was upset. He's calm now. You will go apologize, and the two of you can work through your issues."
"No, please Sensei. Please, he's gonna yell at me! Please!"
Sensei scowls.
"Rin, Hizashi doesn't yell at you."
"He did!"
"You mean when you were running away into danger while he was bleeding out and couldn't follow?" he asks, voice dark. "He doesn't hate you."
I don't believe him.
He lets out a long, frustrated groan.
"You either get up and go upstairs on your own, or I call him down here. Which one are we doing?"
"Neither, please Sensei. Please! I'll clean, I'll- I'll write extra essays! I'll train more. Please, I can't. I can't!"
"You can't what?"
"Yui-san hated me!" I sob, stumbling forward to clutch at his clothes. "He'll hate me too. They always do! I can't- I can't- Please! He'll yell or he'll ignore me and I can't!"
Sensei growls, picks me up, and deposits me on a nearby bench. He drags his hand through his bag, pulls out a timer, and sets it for ten minutes. Then, he shoves it in my hand and starts pacing.
I cry on the bench. Legs pulled to my chest, arms holding them tight. I sit and cry and wheeze and plead. Sensei ignores it all, hands shoved in his pockets, body bent forward and looking completely stoic. He glares at anyone foolish enough to linger and eventually goes to lean against a nearby tree and wait. At the five-minute mark I stop begging.
At the three minutes, I just sniffle and stare.
When the timer goes off, he returns, face carefully blank.
I flinch.
He somehow manages to look bored with too-bright eyes.
"Do you need ten more minutes?" he asks shortly.
I shake my head and bite my tongue.
"You have two options. We go up or he comes down. Pick."
My lip quivers. His jaw tightens.
I don't wanna.
"Up," I whisper.
He waits for me to shuffle forward and walks behind me as I lead the way. It's a familiar path. It's never felt so bleak. I drag my feet as long as I can. But eventually, I run out of steps. I sniffle when we finally get to his familiar door. I sniffle and stare and Sensei, impatient from the tediously slow march, knocks for me. I don't look up. I can't.
I don't want to see it.
I don't want to see the hate or the emptiness or the fear or- or-
The door opens and I shiver, staring at his socks, tears already leaking again.
"You're late."
I flinch.
"There was an issue getting inside. Can you take care of this now, before she either shuts down or runs?"
I can hear Yamada-sensei sigh.
Then, he's there. Blonde hair pulled back in a bun, ringed green eyes bright behind light, simple glasses, mustache twitching. He blinks up at me curiously as he squats near my legs wearing a wiry smile.
"Hey there."
My fingers twitch, my lip quivers, and I hurry to bite my tongue, stuffing my hands in my armpits. His smile grows a little more.
"You want a hug Rin-chan?"
My mind blanks.
What?
He smiles back, green eyes the color of freedom, hair the color of sunshine. I tremble as I take a step forward. He doesn't back away, arms opening, long, calloused fingers brushing against my shoulders and back. I fall into him.
He catches me, his body warm and lean and strong.
Safe.
He doesn't hate you.
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Yamada-sensei asks, pulling my head against his shoulder. I wrap my arms automatically around his neck. He doesn't stand, one hand on my back and the other against my head, pulling me close, the smell of cologne in my nose.
"No. She's all yours. I packed extra clothes already, her essay is on the clipboard, and the schedule is behind it. The timer's in the bag if she gets too mouthy or starts a tantrum. Remember it's a warning first and then ten minutes. Ask if she's ready, if she starts it up again, there's not a second warning. It's just ten more minutes."
"I got it. You heading out now?"
"Yes."
I peak from Yamada-sensei's shoulder and glance at my guardian's face. He looks grumpy as usual, hair down in messy waves, eyebrows drawn, and lips twisted in annoyance. He catches my stare and scowls. I flush, but don't look away.
"Rin, I expect you to behave."
I pull away and latch onto his middle.
He huffs.
"What are you doing?"
"Do… Do you have to go?"
"Yes. I would suggest you get whatever issues you have with Hizashi off your chest tonight. If I find out you've been hiding your feelings like this again, you will be writing essays for a week."
I cringe. His hand rests on my head, he leans down to look me in my eye.
"Understood?"
"Y-Yes, sir. Can… Can I give you a kiss?" I ask him quietly.
He glowers.
"Why? You have another touchy person right there."
I pout.
He sighs, looking completely put upon.
"Fine. This isn't going to be a habit. I don't do drawn out goodbyes. I'll see you tomorrow."
He leans forward and I peck his cheek, smiling hesitantly as a soft pink colors the skin just below his scruff. He stands and immediately hides his face behind his capture weapon, eyes narrowed over my head.
Behind me, I hear Yamada-sensei cough.
"Bye Sensei."
He pats my head, turns around, and leaves.
.
.
.
An awkward silence settles over the apartment as soon as the door shuts and the nasty, twisty feelings return twice as strong, wiggling under my skin. I grimace. Yamada-sensei clears his throat, standing to his full height.
"Dinner's on the stove, grab a bowl and you can sit on the couch."
"Y-Yes, sir."
He stands still as I shuffle past, moving through his familiar kitchen and pulling out a bowl. I swallow, get some rice, fish, and utensils, and move to the couch.
It's still the comfiest couch ever.
I sink into the cushions on my corner and lean against the arm rest. I close my eyes and remember the quiet nights during the internship, the way he would drag me into his side, or look up and catch my eye with a smile. I sniffle as I eat my food, wishing I could burn away my tear ducts.
"Hey, hey! What's with the tears? I know my cooking's not that bad."
The familiar joke just makes them come faster.
Sensei pulls the bowl from my hand and sets it beside his own on his coffee table with a sigh.
"Alright, come here. We'll talk first. Why are you crying?"
I clamber over. He pulls down the blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it over my legs. I curl at his side, resting my head on his thigh as his fingers comb through my hair. He pulls out the elastic at the end of my braid and unravels it all.
"You hate me."
"Now that's just not true," Sensei says, his voice rising a little as if affronted. He squishes his nose and makes a face. "I've never hated you! I was mad as hell when you ran off and scared out of my mind when that bastard scientist answered your phone, but I didn't hate you. Why would you think that?"
I bite my lip and shake my head.
Yamada-sensei sighs and chews on his lip.
"I don't even know which one to tackle first. I guess we should start with what happened during your internship. You okay with startin' there?"
I… I stare.
"W-Why are you asking?" I whisper.
"This is a conversation, little listener. You're getting the live show where I expect discourse. Not some lay back and listen kind of deal. If that were the case, I coulda shot a video and saved us both some time. You can hangout where you are, but you better be participating. You dig?"
I blink.
"I… Y-Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, you okay with tackling the internship first? I don't really have a preference, but I'd like to get some misconceptions outta the way first. This whole, you-don't-want-me thing in particular."
"Uh… O-Okay?"
Sensei gives me a half-hearted smile and pats my head.
"See, you're already better at this then when we started. Alright, so here's what we're going to do. You're gonna tell me your point of view of the whole thing, and then I'm going to tell you mine. We'll save the questions for the end so there's no interrupting. Unless you don't understand something, then you can interrupt. You ever listened to an interview, Rin-chan?"
I nod.
"If you get stuck pat my knee or tap me or something, I'll pull yah back on track. Okay? You ready?"
I take a deep breath and nod.
He smiles again, eyes sad.
"Why don't you start at the beginning."
I struggle immediately. Sensei notices. I roll over on my side and tap his thigh, pressing my head against his stomach.
"Alright," he says, and his tone takes on a more teasing quality. "So you got your invitation, showed up at the train station, and followed this crazy cat home, huh? So what happened then? I hear you went into this room he prepared for you and cried."
I pout, remembering that.
"I… I wasn't crying," I grumble. "I was just surprised."
"Why?"
"You bought me things, you painted things blue, and you… you wrote things," I admit, looking out as he strokes my hair. "They were nice. No-Nobody's ever done that before."
Sensei makes a soft noise.
"I see."
"You… You made me take naps and you gave me hugs and- and it… it was amazing," I admit, deciding to just spit everything out as fast as I can before the words disappear. "You let me cook and watch cartoons and taught me even though nobody else ever wanted to. You didn't yell either. You didn't hit me or pour water on me or hang me upside down or chase me. You even bought me a dress and did my hair and I-I-I was selfish. I didn't want to go back and I got upset and-and-and I didn't tell you because I didn't w-w-want to s-s-say g-g-goodbye a-a-and y-you k-k-kept sending m-me to A-Aizawa-Sensei. A-And h-he was m-mean a-a-and y-y-you w-weren't a-a-and-"
Sensei pulls me up into his lap, dragging me off the couch so I'm draped across his legs and my head rests on his chest.
I can hear his heartbeat.
"Hey," he says, voice warbling. I sniffle and look up, surprised to see tears in his eyes. "Shhh, it's okay, take some breaths and we'll come back after a quick break."
I… I laugh.
I sniffle and laugh and rub at my eyes.
"Th-Th-That's stupid," I grumble, burying my face in his chest. "W-W-We're not on the radio."
Sensei makes a grumbly sound and adjust beneath me, resting one arm against the arm of his couch and the other across my legs.
"It's not stupid," he says in English, voice taking on a sour sound. "It's important. You get overwhelmed, you take a break. That's life, not just radio."
He huffs and rests his chin on the top of my head.
"So, just to recap. You cried, I'm sorry, you were surprised to tears that first night because someone put blue things in a room for you. Then, when we got towards the end of the week, you didn't want to go back to the Group Home because you liked being treated like a person and not a punching bag. And you got moody with me and Shouta because he was mean?"
I frown at the weird way he puts everything, but nod.
"Aizawa-sensei made me fight Shinsou," I admit, looking down, embarrassed. "I… I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't know you could fight without hurting someone. I… I tried to bite him."
"I see. And then you went out on patrol and the Nomu attacked?"
I grimace.
"Asp caught me," I admit, swallowing. "He… He grabbed my mouth and pulled me back. He… He injected me. I… I could feel it, it was cold under my skin. And he told me things, he said I was pathetic and that he thought I'd be with you. He… He said he sent a bomb."
Sensei's arms tighten.
"You never mentioned that Rin."
I close my eyes.
"I… I thought you were dead. And then… And then Yui-san was. She was dead, and he cut her and Niko and he killed them and-and I… I thought I was gonna die. I… I thought I was gonna watch them all die. He just laughed and he left and Shinsou came and I couldn't… It hurt, Sensei. I… I never—she was mad at me. She was mad 'cause UA kept calling and she said you'd take me away, that they'd send me away-"
I cut off as my throat closes and the words disappear.
Sensei seems to understand though. His shoulders loosen, his hand moves, and he runs it through my hair. He sighs.
"Then you came back here," he says, voice soft and hollow. "You heard me talking to Shouta."
"Y-Y-Y-You didn't want me," I sob. "Th-Th-They never do. N-N-Not f-f-for l-l-long."
Sensei holds me tighter, his arms pulling me close, holding me so tightly that I almost feel like I could melt into him, like I'm anchored and there and nothing could ever hurt me. But it can and it hurts, because there's a hole in my chest and I can't stop crying.
Yamada-sensei waits.
"Alright, I get it. You think you can listen for a while or you wanna pause and eat?"
I wrap my fingers into his sweater, finally taking the time to notice the color of the soft, warm fabric. It's maroon, the same one he wore that first night.
"Listen," I whisper
"Alright," he says quietly, loosening his hold. "I'm gonna expect you to listen though, no sleepin' on me or I'm gonna make you sit on your own. I ain't a pillow, ya hear?"
I sniffle and smile.
"Y-Yes, sir."
Sensei smiles back.
"So I guess my story starts when Shouta messaged me immediately after your naming fiasco," the blonde says, the hand on my leg waving as he speaks. "He asked if I'd take you on for the internships. One, because nobody was interested and he was setting everyone up with a mentor. And two, because the things he was learning about you were leading to some rather unsettling conclusions. Had I refused, he apparently planned on asking Nemuri."
I… I stare.
Sensei's mustache twitches in amusement.
"I can see you imagining that already," he says with a snort. He swirls his finger and makes a face. "In all honesty, it probably would have been a better choice. But I liked you well enough and I figured it was only a week. I honestly don't know what I was expecting except for it to be an exceptionally tedious week. You were quiet in class, hesitant to engage in any sort of discussion, and succinct with your papers. One in a thousand without anything particularly distinctive in your personality. Except, you know, I watched you save my best friend and spit out some pretty nasty looking snakes. I knew about what your mom did, about the robberies, I knew about the vandalism, and I knew that Principal Nezu was looking into your group home. Thought you'd hate it here, I'm pretty loud. Heh, and then you cried."
I wilt.
He pats my cheek, offering a particularly sly smirk.
"I think that was the first time I saw you; I mean really saw you, the way Shouta did."
I stare.
"What do you mean?"
His smile dims into something sad.
"You weren't shy or really even quiet at all, Rin, you were hurt. I've never had a kid cry because I painted them some furniture. And you were so engaged in the little things, watching that goofy cartoon like you'd never seen something so amazing, you soaked in praises, you caught onto what I taught you like a fish learns to swim. Kid, you were—are amazing. Silly, sweet, and kind. It was like night and day lookin' atcha. Talk about disconcerting, I was expecting a quiet, angry kid that hated the world. I wasn't expecting you."
I flush and slide off his lap, feeling embarrassed at all the praise. He lets me, lets me sink into his side and wrap myself in his blanket.
"It was heartbreaking too," he admits looking away. I stare at his profile, taking in the frown. Yamada-sensei pulls up his knee, resting his arm on it instead of the side cushion. He wiggles the fingers to an invisible tune. "It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. I've seen healing bruises enough to know a split lip and a black eye. There's no way you got those at school. That plus the way you flinched, the way you panicked at hurting someone, they way you stiffened in a hug. I know what abusive situations look like, we thought at first you were being bullied. The way things kept adding up though, that's a very different story. Physical abuse, neglect, and possible emotional abuse."
My lip quivers at his words, at that phrase.
Abuse.
Does it all come back to it?
Sensei glances down, wraps his arm around my head and pulls me into his side. His hand slides down, slipping over my shoulders and to my arm. His side hug is just as warm.
"Shouta and I were in constant communication your entire internship on what to do. He filed the paperwork for an investigation that Wednesday to have you removed from the home. Principal Nezu was looking to try and find homes nearby, my plan was to confront you Friday morning. Shouta had the credentials to keep you for three days in emergency situations if we could get you to admit to any of it. That afternoon I sent you to train with Shouta, when I worked with the police on that case, I also had them pull records of available foster parents. You were never going back to that home."
I… I gape.
"I… I wasn't?"
"No," he says, voice firm. Then his shoulders fall, and he sighs, closing his eyes. His fingers still against his knee, and his face looks away. "That next evening, when you patrolled with Shouta, I did get a bomb. I got two of them, actually."
My fingers twitch and my stomach flips.
I… I'd never asked.
"The villain that sent them, Asp I suppose, filled the first one with some sort of toxic gas and disguised it as fan mail. Shiro-chan, I don't know if you remember her, she worked the soundboard with the mouse quirk, she found it. She heard it hissing, grabbed it because she could hear a countdown ticking inside, and managed to toss it in the bathroom toilet to slow the concentration of the effects. Had she not done that, the explosion would have scattered toxic air through the station and the three other buildings connected through the air vent. Instead, it blasted the bathroom to bits, seeped under the door, and diluted with the water. She had acid burns from the liquid when I found her and was unconscious, but she survived. The second bomb was hidden outside on the roof and that one caused an explosion that sent the entire building up in a chemical flame that water only spread. And of course, it was raining."
I can only stare in horror as Sensei's face twists back into that angry scowl I saw that night. I remember his singed appearance, the way his hair stood up even despite the rain—the way he held himself with barely controlled fury.
"I got Shouta's message when he couldn't contact you but was evacuating the buildings. Then Shouta told me he found you. I came as quickly as I could. And…"
For once, someone else's words fail.
My throat constricts as I can see the emotions choke him up. He stops, face smoothing out into a mask of disgust, fingers tapping against his knee in a quick, steady pace. There's water in his eyes, nostrils flaring, lips thin.
"Probably gonna need that commercial break," he grunts, turning and burying his face in the top of my hair. I can feel his lips there, the brush of his mustache, the heat of his breath. I don't know what to say, to think. Because when his breath shudders out on my hair, I can't think.
It just hurts.
"I thought I lost you," he whispers, a warm wetness dripping onto my cheek. "Rin, I held you and you were barely there. You couldn't speak, you wouldn't eat, you either cried or stared or repeated those same words over and over. And I wasn't sure you'd ever be okay. How could you? You just watched the horrible people that had raised you, that treated you like trash be murdered by a psychopath that had done who-knew-what to you."
I pull my knees to my chest and cry, overwhelmed by his sadness.
"They were going to take you."
He pulls me back into his lap. He wraps me in his arms so firmly that I can't help but shiver. I don't want him to let go. The idea of the gray suits coming, of them pulling me from his home is terrifying.
Mama screaming as she scratches their face.
Suitcase in hand as I wait.
This is the Last One. Don't mess up again.
"Wh-Wh-What?"
"They wanted to take you at the hospital," he admits softly, and I flinch from the knowledge. "They were going to move you immediately into protective custody, they were going to put you in a detention center that could protect you and provide structure."
He shivers and runs his hands through my hair.
"Shouta managed to prevent it. The certification he got after the vandalism allowed us to keep you. But we couldn't find anyone who would fit the new requirements. With an active kidnapping attempt, three murders, two of which being children, you were considered to much of a risk for all of the foster families we'd managed to find up to that point. We had three days to figure out what to do, two really because we spent all Friday at the hospital arguing with the authorities. Two days, Rin, to determine the rest of your life."
I don't let go and he shifts, pulling me back to stare with worn, bloodshot eyes. His fingers brush my cheeks.
"Rin, I never didn't want you. But I'm also not perfect. I don't know how to raise a kid. I work three jobs; I spend more time out of this house then I do in it. I'm lucky to get six hours of sleep at night, I keep ridiculous hours, and it's always changing. I couldn't take you in even if I wanted to. I couldn't give you the stability and attention you needed. So while the idea of you going to a center didn't necessarily sit well, there weren't any other options."
But there was.
He smiles and it's a bitter, terrible thing.
It reminds me of Yui-san, of Daddy at the table, of smoky rooms and cold, hungry nights.
"Shouta is a far better man than I will perhaps ever be," Sensei says sweeping the dark hairs from my face. "His ability to shut down his own emotions and think rationally is one of the many things that make him dangerous. We were running out of time and then, out of nowhere, he offered himself up. I thought he was crazy. You two hardly got along, you couldn't even look him in the eye when we ate lunch together, he set off your first panic attack, and he's not naturally inclined to cuddling. He wasn't the perfect choice. The conversation you overheard was me questioning him. You aren't a small responsibility Rin. Taking you in would mean far more than a week responsibility or even a few years, it would mean a lifetime commitment. It would be a promise to help you through all the garbage those people before you had put you through, it would mean being a teacher even when he left work, it would mean helping you with homework and panic attacks and raising you. It would mean making himself vulnerable for a person in a way he hasn't since we were sixteen. It would mean giving up a career he'd been working towards for over a decade, possibly indefinitely."
I swallow and Sensei sighs, shifting me back onto the cushions as he stands. He towers when he does, long legs in simple tan pants, a maroon sweater, and blonde hair twisted into a now messy bun. He moves, something he used to do during my internship when he'd sit still too long.
I watch as he pulls out the bun, drags his fingers through the strands, and pulls it back up.
"Sensei?"
He replaces the rubber band and returns, squatting in front of me.
"Yes, Rin-chan?"
"A-Aizawa-sensei… he did all that? For me?"
He laughs, short and throaty.
"Kid, Shouta has done that and more for you."
I stare, feeling something incomprehensible in my chest. Sensei chuckles, pulling my bowl off the table behind him and pushing it in my hand.
"Do you have questions?"
I don't know.
I take a bite without really tasting anything, chewing with a mechanical motion. Sensei grabs his bowl, stands, and returns to the kitchen, eating by the sink. I can hear him rinse it when he's finished, can hear him move around and scrape the leftovers into containers.
It takes a moment for me to realize why.
He's giving you space.
Why?
Aizawa-sensei's voice whispers in my mind.
You're not the only one with low self-esteem.
He was talking about Shinsou. But… But I can't help but remember the sad, hurt look on his face at the beach. The pain as he flinched. The tears now dry against my cheeks.
He hates me!
He doesn't.
The paper I wrote Friday morning returns to my mind. How would you have felt if you were in Hizashi's place? I… I don't know. Sensei had asked about running off. But… But I hadn't really thought… hadn't considered how he would feel. He was always happy or silly or energetic.
He didn't do sad.
That's stupid.
I finish my bowl and stand, moving past him to the sink to rinse his bowl. He takes it from me with a smile—it's fake, I realize—and shoos me away. The television turns on, cartoons again. I watch but can't really pay attention. Not when the water shuts off and Sensei still doesn't return.
I turn on the couch, sitting on my knees and peeking over the edge.
Sensei blinks at me and I duck back down, blushing. With a deep breath, I glance back over it again, his lips twitch into a real smile. I can feel my cheeks burn, but I don't hide this time.
"Rin-chan, what are you doing?"
"You're supposed to sit on the couch," I tell him pushing the dark hair behind my ear and ignoring the loud beat in my chest.
His expression turns fond and I quickly slink back in my spot. In a few moments, he sits on his couch, taking his spot like usual. I hesitate only for a moment before I crawl over and pull out his hairbow. He makes a noise of surprise and I take the opportunity to sneak in a kiss.
He turns pink.
"You shouldn't pout," I tell him seriously, putting as much gruff in my voice as I can muster. I give him a look. His mouth opens and then shuts, expression becoming bemused.
"Oh? Why's that?"
"You have to be happy again," I answer promptly. "No sad thoughts allowed."
"Rin-chan, you're allowed to be sad."
"I hate being sad," I tell him huffing. Then I lay down and sprawl across his legs. I roll onto my stomach and glower as the hair falls into my face. I shove it back and rest my head against my arms. "That and crying. Crying's stupid. It should be outlawed. Sensei, you should braid back my hair."
Sensei snorts.
"Should I?"
"Please?" I ask glancing sideways. "I don't wanna. I'm comfy."
He chuckles and his fingers slide through my hair. I sigh in contentment, warm and full and with heavy eyes. Crying always makes me so sleepy. It's stupid.
"Rin-chan?"
I hum, not bothering to open my eyes. He seems to hesitate, and then sighs again, running his fingers across my back. I don't know what he said. I fall asleep against his warmth.
A/N: So, this chapter ended up being really long and really emotional. I feel kind of bad for hitting you all with so many emotionally heavy chapters, but they're kind of important, you know? And I couldn't really justify not having them. Rin's been through a lot and dragging out all those thoughts are hard. They take their toll and she is a teenager, even if she doesn't usually act her age. Moody teenagers are a thing.
Anyways, we have either one or two chapters left before the training camp. I've decided to rename this arc as the Vacation arc because it ended up much longer than I had intended (originally this section would have been 5 chapters, but it's kind of grown... 15! Yeesh...) So we'll have a different arc for the training camp stories, which will be the relationship-building chapters I promised with her peers.
Thank you all for your reviews! :)