I wake the next morning in my bed, the one from the internship in Yamada-sensei's house. I yawn and stretch and smile, feeling my skin glow at the reminder of last night.

Rin, I never didn't want you.

I try to muffle my squeal as I wiggle in the sheets, cheeks aching from the smile that stretches across my lips. I roll over and squeal again, feeling too light, too excited by the bright warmth emanating from my chest. It spills across my skin, brightening the point that even with my face pressed into the pillow, I can see the shine. The sheets shift as wings unfurl across my back. I can feel the soft brush of feathers against my clothes.

He did all that? For me?

Kid, Shouta has done that and more for you.

I blush, unable to contain the joy.

"He doesn't hate me," I whisper into the pillowcase, imagining it was my rabbit. I remember his tears, the sadness in his voice, the soft confessions—I thought I lost you. I pretend my rabbit listens, her head nodding sagely with long ears flopping. I liked to tell her all my secrets. "He… he maybe wanted me."

"Rin-chan?"

I smother my face back into the pillow as the sound of Sensei's voice. The door opens and I can hear him snort.

"Yo, I know you're not asleep, you're lightin' up brighter than a stage light. What are you doing in here?"

I twist to look at him. With my quirk going, it bathes the entire room in light. Sensei smirks back from the doorway, hair pulled in a high bun and wearing his casual clothes. He steps in and I giggle, the wings on my back flapping restlessly. He laughs, voice loud and clear.

The bed dips and I partially roll over, unable to help myself when my bright, glowing feathers swipe at his head. He ducks, grabs the edge of the wing, and pushes it back. The wings disappear in an instant. Instead, a carpet of wildflowers breaks out across my skin, covering my arms and legs and making the sheets shine.

Sensei's hand reaches out and pats my head.

"Oi, what are you thinking about you little glow-worm?"

I like that name.

I flush, rolling onto my back, and wiggle under the covers, giggling again. He gives me a funny look when I peak out from under the sheets, caught in his green gaze.

"You."

The effect is immediate. He pulls back, eyes wide in surprise. I nearly apologize, but there isn't time. In seconds he's closing in, his expression breaking off into a grin. It's huge. Bright and adoring and it makes my chest overflow with butterflies. They burst across my skin too, fluttering under the covers.

His mustache twitches, his cheeks color a bright pink, and I squeak and roll back onto my stomach as the wiggling emotion becomes nearly unbearable. I clutch onto the pillow and bury my face.

"You're so adorable," he says in English, laughing as he hooks his hands under my armpits and pulls me up. The pillow comes with me as he sits me upright. Then, he wraps me in his arms, and I abandon everything for his neck. I press my cheek against his, nuzzling against it and curling my fingers in his shirt.

I don't want to let go.

He doesn't hate me.

The relief of it brightens my skin.

"Rin-chan?"

"How come you don't have any whiskers?" I ask, rubbing my head against his jawline. "How come it's smooth like mine."

"What kind of question is that? I shave!" he says, pulling away to make a weird face.

I giggle and squish his cheeks together. He lets me, making fish lips for a moment before swatting my hands away.

"Oi!"

"Aizawa-sensei shaves too," I confess, curling against him again. "He leaves little hairs in the sink sometimes, though they always disappear later. But his face isn't this smooth."

"Yeah, well, I shave every day."

"Really?" I look at him curiously, leaning closer to inspect the underside of his jaw. It looks like it always does—smooth and pale. There's nothing there, not even the little baby hairs like I have. "Why? Do you not like it? I just thought you didn't grow face hair."

He wrinkles his nose.

"I do too! What do you think this mustache is?"

I lean back and hesitantly touch his mustache. I can feel his breath on my palm, the coarse hairs of his mustache under my fingertips. It's like my guardian's beard, but longer and thicker. He makes it wiggle and I jump, pulling away with a squeak. I curl against him again, burying my face in his chest.

"Sensei!"

His laugh echoes in my chest, soothing and warm. I groan into him, gripping his shirt and pressing as close as I can. I breathe, overwhelmed in the comforting smell, in the warmth of his body, in the softness of his shirt.

I feel safe.

He doesn't pull away. Instead, he pulls me close, rubbing my back in soothing circles like he did in the pool. I can't help but sigh against him, muscles loosening, relaxing. I yawn then and close my eyes. The wildflowers disappear and something in my hair shifts. Probably ears.

"You're in an affectionate mood," Sensei says softly.

"I like hugs," I admit quietly, not at all interested in moving. I nuzzle his neck and smile. "I like this."

"Oh? According to Nemuri, your hugs have time limits," Sensei says wickedly. I pout. "Do tell."

"She can hug forever," I grumble. "And she does weird things. Like- Like kissing your face a bunch of times or your stomach."

"I thought you liked kisses," Sensei chuckles. I crack open my eye and pout.

"Not on my stomach," I huff. "Aizawa-sensei says you shouldn't touch people's stomachs or chest or pat down their legs or look in their socks."

He blinks, eyebrow rising.

"That seems a little specific there," he admits. "You been checking Shouta's socks?"

I blush and move to sit on my own.

"Maybe."

Yamada-sensei barks out a laugh. My face burns hotter.

"Sensei!"

"Alright, alright. I'll stop. You hungry Rin-chan?"

At my nod he smiles and stands, reaching out to ruffle my already messy hair.

"YEAAAAH! I'll fix breakfast and you can get started on that essay of yours. Bag's by the counter. Now, are you ready?"

He does a weird dance as he walks out, arms shaking side to side. It's strange. I can't help but smile even as I climb out of bed more sedately. I can hear him as he dances through the apartment, whistling some upbeat, silly tune as he goes through the kitchen. There's a clatter of dishes and a low hum of his oven fan being turned on.

I smile, warm and for the first time in what feels like forever, really happy.

The bag is exactly where Sensei says.

I unzip it and find the clipboard near the bottom. It's already loaded with paper and a bag of pencils. Probably to ensure I didn't throw any—that's not how parents behave. I shake my head, dislodging the thought, and continue to the living room. I stretch out on the giant record rug, kicking my feet as I roll onto my belly, reading through today's question.

In each situation, list out what you should do in order of importance/necessity. A. You recognize a villain in a crowded space. B. You see a person at night stumbling around that smells of alcohol. C. You notice a person choking. D. You see large numbers of bruises on your classmate and they tell you they are from training.

What a weird list.

I pout at the first scenario. There's no question where that one's from. Pulling out my paper, I prepare my paper, folding the sheet so I have two halves. It may say list, but Aizawa-sensei doesn't really like bullet points. He wants sentences that include even the most minuscule things. They're important.

I huff and start writing.

I lose track of time like usual, completely preoccupied with the assignment, and barely finish the first scenario before Sensei's calling me over to eat. I do so distractedly, thinking about all the things you should do when you see a person choking. I had taken first aid in middle school, but I hadn't thought about it in a while. When I finish, Sensei takes my plate and I return to the work, chewing on the eraser as I think. By the time I finish, I'm not really surprised to see it's close to eleven.

I stand, stretch, and reluctantly join Sensei on the couch.

The blonde, who'd only just recently sat down, looks up from his computer.

"What's up?"

"I'm finished."

He throws out finger guns and winks before taking the clipboard. I sigh at the disbelief that immediately etches itself on his face.

Then he stands, clipboard still in hand, and wanders off to his room.

"Sensei? What are you-"

I cut off when he returns a few seconds later with a red pen.

"Not you too," I groan. Yamada-sensei laughs, and I pull at my cheeks. "Really?"

"Sorry kid, some of this stuff's just plain wrong. You see some drunk stumbling about at night, you leave them alone. Not every person you see needs saving. As long as they're getting from point A to point B and not attacking anybody, which they usually manage pretty well, you leave 'em be. The choking piece you got mostly right, but you have to ask them if they want help before you touch 'em. And D. Well, D just isn't right. You see someone covered in bruises and you offer them aspirin? Rin-chan, no. Just no."

I huff and cross my arms, scowling.

"Bruises hurt," I answer, annoyed. "Aizawa-sensei always wants to deal with things like that immediately."

"Yes, and if they have a large number of them, the first thing you do is ask them where they came from. That's suspicious in itself, then you report it to a teacher or a trusted adult."

I frown.

"Why?"

Sensei's expression darkens.

"Rin, what do you mean why?"

"Why would a teacher care if someone had bruises from training?" I ask.

"Because it might not be training," Sensei says flatly. My stomach twists when he says that. Oh.

Oh…

"You mean abuse," I supply, scowling down. My stomach twists. "Why is everything always about abuse?"

This time it's Sensei's turn to frown. His shoulders slacken and he pats the couch beside him.

"Rin-chan, come here." I do. He sets the clipboard on the coffee table and leans back, wrapping me in a side hug. "What do you mean?"

"It's always about abuse," I admit, glaring at the clipboard, arms still crossed, and jaw clenched. "Why is he always going on about this? I… I know it was wrong, but he makes it sound like- like everything was wrong! It wasn't! Daddy… Daddy loved me! The hero took him, but he loved me! He did! And-And-And Yui-san wasn't bad! She wasn't! She kept me! She helped me! She moved me when Niko's prank-when she used the powder. And she stopped them at the school when they sent the notes! She- She grounded her!"

"Hey, woah, woah!" Sensei says, eyes wide. "Breathe. I can see you getting upset, we can shelve this for later. You dig?"

"I'm not upset!" I snap.

Yamada-sensei's frown deepens, and I can hear Aizawa-sensei's voice in my head. Watch your tone. My anger rises at the thought. He always acts like he knows everything!

Smoke drifts from my pores.

"It's a little hard to believe that when you're smoking and yelling. Stop, breathe, and calm down. You go up in flames and I'm gonna stick you in the tub."

I turn my glare to him.

"What?" I growl, incredulous.

His eyebrows lift.

"You go up in flames and you're going in the tub," he repeats slowly. I shove away and he lets me. I stand and stomp several steps away and glare. "I can't erase your quirk, kid and I'm not about to shout you down. Rin, I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. So if you could, I dunno, breathe, it'd be appreciated."

I…

I cry.

I spin on my heels and snarl, shoving my palms against my eyes, furious at the tears.

Sensei sighs behind me.

"Rin-"

"Leave me alone," I snap, disgusted at the crack in my voice.

He says nothing and for a moment I wonder if he's going to try again.

Aizawa-sensei would try again.

But he doesn't.

He just… he just leaves.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't—it wasn't that. The couch squeaks as he stands, the soft pad of his feet as he just… just walks off. I swivel and watch his back as he disappears down the hallway. And it hurts.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

How do you think Hizashi felt when you left?

You're the idiot that told him to.

I swipe at my eyes angrily, snatching his blanket from the back of his couch, and curl up under it. Then, with guilt swimming in my chest, I throw the covers off and storm to where I left Aizawa-sensei's bag. I unzip it noisily, making no attempt to be gentle as I search. When I can't find what I'm looking for, I snarl and upend the stupid thing. The timer beeps when it hits the floor along with extra waters, my clothes, a dirty blanket, and more. I snatch the timer up, set it for ten minutes, and return to the couch.

I don't watch.

I curl on my end of the couch and burrow under the spread. It's hot and the air stales quickly, but I don't pull it away, refusing to come out as I try, unsuccessful, to dry my eyes.

When it beeps, I don't move.

But someone else does.

"Do you need ten more minutes?" Sensei asks, his voice soft.

I drag down the blanket and he's behind the couch, timer in hand, face blank, green eyes bright. It's such a weird expression and I don't like it because it's not supposed to be that way. He's supposed to be grinning like he always does. He's supposed to laugh and dance and make finger guns and-

"No," I answer. "I'll be good."

His eyebrow rises.

"Alright."

I swipe at my face again and frown.

"Go clean up that mess you made with the bag." I sit up. His lips twitch at my lost expression and something hopeful bubbles in the pit of my stomach. Maybe you didn't ruin it. Maybe it's okay. Maybe… "I'm gonna suggest we table any more talk about abuse. That sounds like a Shouta chat anyways. We're gonna hold off on correcting that essay too. I'll make lunch, you can eat, and then we're gonna head to the school."

"Yes, sir."

Sensei gives me a look, like he's deliberating on something, but he swallows it. Turning, he returns to the kitchen.

"Clean up your mess and chill," he says, pulling out plates. I do. I put all of the items back into the bag, sweep up the leaves and debris left behind, and return to my spot. I curl there and Sensei turns on the television, American cartoons playing on the screen.

We eat our food in silence.

.

.

.

Aizawa-sensei isn't at the clearing when we arrive.

Present Mic has me put out the blanket, stretch, and join him in the center of the area. I do so, checking every few minutes for any sign of the dark-haired man. When nearly fifteen minutes pass and my guardian still hasn't shown up, I can't contain myself.

"Where's Aizawa-sensei?"

The blonde smirks and removes his jacket.

"He's got a meeting with Vlad today about camp. They're adding some extra security measures or something. Plus, your classmates are at the pool. Since he signed off on the form, he's gotta stay nearby to kick them out at five."

I frown and look down, surprised at my own disappointment.

"Oh."

"Chin up kid," Sensei says not sounding particularly empathetic. "You'll see 'em next week at the camp. Shouta had planned on letting you go, but you know, you're grounded."

I scowl at his tone.

"I get it," I grumble, uncomfortably. "Then what are we doing? Are you helping with quirk training?"

"Hell no," he says, stretching and jumping from side to side. "I told yah, listener, you and I don't work with quirks. We're gonna spar."

The way he elongates the word makes me uneasy.

He smirks, expression vindictive.

I swallow.

"Defensive stance. Today's lesson is the difference between an amateur and a pro."

I take up my defensive stance and eye the blond warily. He circles my form once, adjusts my elbow and nods. Then, standing several meters in front of me, he takes up his own stance.

"Good, part one, civilians. Defend yourself."

Almost in slow motion, Sensei moves forward sloppily. He strikes obviously towards my face, I block, and he kicks. I dodge left, unsettled at his strange behavior.

"Wh-What are you doing?" I ask, moving backward as he continues to… to flail around. He laughs, his voice carrying in the outdoors.

"This, listener, is the general speed of a fighting civilian. Unless they have some brawling background or some sort of training, they're slow, obvious, and sloppy. This is how you fought when you first came to me."

I glower.

Was that last part really necessary?

He seems to think so. He stops, grins, and gestures for me to do the same. We return to the center of the clearing and he motions for me to take up my stance again.

This is the weirdest lesson I think we've ever had.

What is he up to?

Why is he doing this?

I don't want to know those answers.

We never had that second talk…

"Part two, academy students. You ready, intern?"

He's goading me. I can tell from the lazy way he holds his stance, the superior expression against his face. I glare, grit my teeth, and don't bother nodding. Sensei snaps forward, faster this time. Much faster, and without the sloppy motions. I dodge instinctively, hands moving automatically to defend and attack. He punches at my face, feints, and kicks instead. I roll under it, coming up to strike his stomach. He blocks it, catching my fist. He twists and pushes me back.

It's like fighting Shinsou but different, faster, and with someone more flexible, more aware. It's hard.

Sensei doesn't stop grinning and he doesn't score more than two hits, though I can tell he's holding back. He takes the time to point that out when I try to knee him in the groin, and he flicks my ear.

"That's dirty kid, don't do it again."

After several minutes, he stops and gestures me to do the same. I nearly double over, out of breath and sweating profusely. Most of my fights with Shinsou rarely last more than a minute or two, even knowing each other's moves it only takes one mistake to end things.

Sensei gives me several moments to catch my breath and waits, hands stuffed in his pockets and expression cocky.

Why is he acting so weird?

"You've gotten better," he says in a way that doesn't sound at all like praise. I glare. I can tell he finds it humorous. "In one-on-one combat without quirks, you maybe could take on and win against about two-thirds of your class. The boys would likely take you down just from your lack of stamina, but still better than where you started."

"Thanks," I grind out.

"Oh, you're welcome," he says, the last part slurring out in English. He slides into his stance again and I do the same, trying to calm my still racing heart. "Maybe we'll add a bit of commentary to this next bit, eh? Part three, kid, the general collection of competent villains. Ready?"

He waits for my nod, and with a speed faster than either before, he moves across the clearing.

There's no time to dodge. There's hardly even time to think. I can only throw up my arms in a block as he slams his hands towards my sternum in a closed fist. The power behind the blow sends shockwaves rippling through my bones. It hurts.

I don't have time to shake it off either, I can see his other hand moving.

I can't even block in time-

"Dead," he snaps, voice cold and vicious, his hand tapping gently on my neck.

Dread crawls through my stomach, clawing into my chest.

"Sensei-"

"Get back in your stance," he says, cutting me off. With his sunglasses on, I can't see his expression. His lips are a flat line though, his eyebrows unmoved. Indifferent.

I move automatically.

He lazily shifts back into his stance as well.

"Ready?"

No.

"Sir-"

"I asked if you were ready."

I nod in spite of it. His lips curl.

He moves at the same speed as before, flying towards me with a strength I can't hope to match.

"You'll need to move faster than that," Sensei says, almost conversationally as he knocks me off my feet with a well-placed kick. "You can't just defend. You wanna be a hero, you're gonna need to stop me, not just run away."

I roll and come up blocking. His next strike breaks through my guard, slamming into my side. I shudder as the impact rolls against my ribs.

"That's a side wound, you better hope your partner doesn't leave you."

"Sensei-" I choke out.

"Save your breath kid," he admonishes. "You pass out and you'll be dead. Don't want that, do yah?"

I flinch. He ignores it, moving forward. I manage to defend myself twice, arms shaking under the onslaught. His third hit pushes past my defense like I had his civilian attack. He taps his hand against my neck, deceptively gentle.

"Dead."

I reach up automatically, thinking it's over. It isn't. He sucker-punches me in the gut.

"Hole in your stomach. Dead again."

I kneel over, breath caught and nausea rising. Tears spill over automatically and his hand chops my back across my spine.

"Paralyzed."

I gasp as the blow knocks me to my knees.

He stops, passing in front of me with leather pants and thick black boots. He squats down, bare, muscled arms resting against his legs. We're nearly eye-level with drool seeping from my mouth and sweat slipping down my face. I wheeze even as he pulls off his sunglasses, green eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"What you did Wednesday was beyond stupid," he says, lips pressed into a thin line. "You are an academy student, not a pro. You don't have the skills or the know-how to do shit against a serious opponent."

I don't have the oxygen to think, much less respond.

He continues, regardless.

"I don't care what bullshit people fill your head with, you ever run off from me like that again in an emergency—in a villain attack—and I'll expel you myself."

"S-S-Sensei-"

"I'm not done," he snaps, and I manage to suck in a deep breath, trembling. "I can take a lot, kid. But I had to fucking crawl on that sidewalk as you left. I had to listen to you scream in the background as a villain broke your wrist so I could get an address from the very bastard that started this shit. And I had to call All Might to hope that he could rescue your ass before someone killed you. And considering I was on the fucking line as you were nearly strangled, I know exactly how close that was."

I curl up at the aggression in his voice.

"Well? You wanted your piece? Let's hear it."

"I… H-H-He said y-y-you'd die!"

Sensei scowls before he reaches out and drags me to my feet.

"Yo, stand here and watch, and don't move."

I stand still, breathless and holding my stomach, as he adjusts the dial on his directional speaker. Then, he turns, facing towards the large wooded forest behind us, sucking in a huge breath.

"YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His scream ripples across the landscape and pulsates through my bones. Even behind him, I can feel the power of his voice, the way it thunders in my ears, the way it shudders through my flesh. I can see it too. I can see the intensity of it as it distorts the air like a mirage. Trees crash to the Earth, snapping and booming as their trunks shatter. Winds billow to the side, picking up leaves and scattering debris.

His scream is only a few seconds, but the damage extends as far as I can see.

My jaw drops.

It's bigger than anything I've ever seen. More extensive than even the destruction caused by my behemoth shadow. It's enormous and widespread and…

"Woah."

Sensei turns around, expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a scowl. He's not even winded.

Like it's nothing.

Like he didn't just blow away some untold number of trees with a single yell.

Surprised? You shouldn't be. With offensive quirks like ours, sometimes there are accidents.

Sensei's green eyes scour the streets from a vantage point, his body pulled taut, his smile more a smirk. In those moments, he looks less like a funny, kind English teacher and more like a hero.

"That is the power of a Pro Hero," he says snidely, eyes narrowed and face wrinkled in disdain. "I am a Pro, yeah? I saw the villain's attack. I could have dodged if I wanted, but you couldn't. I took that hit. I took it because even with a side wound, I coulda protected you. All we had to do was wait. Shouta has a freakin' erasure quirk, we were set the moment he arrived."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and glares.

"Had you told us the night of, Shouta would have been there before morning. Had you shown either of us that card creepy gave you, Nemuri and I would have taken you there ourselves. Had you trusted us you would have stayed safe."

I tremble beneath his glare, nausea and fear and something angry rising to the surface.

My shoulders shake as I square them and jut out my chin.

"I'm sorry," I snarl, flames flickering across my fists. "I'm sorry I tried to save you and-"

Sensei cuts me off abruptly with a laugh. Not his normal one, but something loud and derisive that scalds my skin. My hackles rise, wondering if he'll cross the clearing and attack. If he'll break his promise and slap me now.

He doesn't.

He turns his head upward and stares at the sky.

"Seriously?" he asks, expression incredulous. He… He completely ignores me and walks off, pacing towards the destruction. "What the hell… How is this not clicking? It's a live demo! Live! How else do I teach this?"

The flames on my fists flicker and die.

My anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Sensei doesn't look back, wandering off to grumble.

I… I don't know what to think.

I don't know what to do.

Why does he keep walking off?

After several moments of watching him rub his neck and staring at his mess, I sit down. I don't know what else to do. He doesn't turn around, arms moving wildly as he drifts back and forth between Japanese and English. After a while, he stops that too, arms crossing as he just sort of stares at the destroyed trees.

I realize I feel ashamed.

How do you think Hizashi felt?

The shame aches, but I don't cry. Thank god.

I'm so tired of crying.

Instead, I stand, hesitantly making my way to the tall blonde's side. And, reluctantly, I tug on his wrist, staring at his profile. He turns, raising an eyebrow.

"What's up?" he asks in English.

"Are… are you still mad?"

He blinks and then snorts, smiling ruefully. He shakes off my grip and pats my head. I try not to lean into it, something deep relaxing at the familiar expression.

He doesn't hate me.

He doesn't hate me.

"Nah, just thinkin'. Thought you'd get the concept better if I showed yah, you know practical demonstrations and all that. But maybe Shouta's got the right of it and you just need to logic it all out in essays."

I grimace.

The idea of more essays sounds terrible.

"I… I don't. I'm sorry," I admit, looking down at my shoes. "I… I know I shouldn't have left."

Sensei sighs, his hand moving to push my head back and meet his eye.

"I'm not angry that you left—well, actually I am. That pissed me the hell off kid, don't do it again. It's this idea that you had to save me that I'm tryin' to get through to yah. I don't need you to save me."

He moves his hand and gestures towards the destruction.

"Look at this mess, Rin-chan. Look at those trees and tell me you can do the same."

I can't.

"I… I can't," I admit.

"I know!" he says, leaning forward enthusiastically. "I know you can't! That's my point. Why would I need you to save me when I could save myself? You think any villain or rubble or even a building could last against that? Bah! And that's just wide-scale power! There's a reason I took you instead of Nemuri! I can change the frequency, can alternate the wavelength, and as long as I have a voice, speaker or not, no one was gonna touch you. You'd have been safe."

He reaches out and I slip into his arms.

Sweaty, dirty, and disgusting, he hugs me anyways, pulling me into the hard planes of his chest and tightening his arms.

"I'm sorry," I mumble again. "I-I'm-"

"I know," he huffs, chin falling forward to rest against my head. I can feel him swallow, can hear him breathe, can smell the warm scent of his cologne even now surrounded by trees.

After a moment he pulls away, ruffling my messy braid.

"Yo, go drink some water. We got a few hours in this dump before Shinsou-kun shows up and I'm gonna show you how to break some holds."

.

.

.

By the time Aizawa-sensei shows up, I'm exhausted. Shinsou's exhausted. The only person not sprawled out and ready to vomit is Present Mic, who bounces around the clearing with a near endless energy. He'd taken to occupying himself with little dances while we recovered, that and swiping through his phone.

I'm fairly sure he's also been snapping photos. Especially when we sparred.

"Yooooooo! Eraser!" the blonde shouts, waving excitedly. "Finally man! This joint sucks man, why the hell do you wanna practice outside? All these stupid bugs man. Ugh."

Looking as bored as usual, Aizawa-sensei takes in the scene with a rather dour face.

Beside me, Shinsou groans.

I half-heartedly offer a wave.

"I thought I told you to control yourself," the Aizawa-sensei grunts, eye twitching. "They better not have pulled anything. Recovery girl's left for the day."

"What? How rude!" the blonde laughs, grinning widely. "I can't help that they can't pace themselves."

"Right..."

"Aww, don't be like that man! C'mon, I just wanted to check their progress! They've improved a lot!"

My guardian doesn't bother to respond, instead, he turns and heads towards us. He leans forward and toes my side.

I grunt and don't move.

He squats down and pokes my cheek instead.

"Get up you two, you're done. Shinsou, soak your muscles with salt water, and be sure to stretch tonight and in the morning. Rin, we're leaving, grab your things." Aizawa-sensei glances towards the destroyed trees and raises an eyebrow. "Did you two finish your talks?"

"Yep," he says popping the p with a smirk.

I grimace at the memory and roll into the grass. Sensei rises to talk to Yamada-sensei, and I put away the blanket. I barely notice Shinsou waving me an exhausted goodbye, too fatigued to do more than move automatically through my chore.

When I finish Aizawa-sensei takes the bag and Yamada-sensei pats my head.

I lean into him, much to the blonde's amusement.

"C'mon girl, it was only a few hours. We really gotta do somethin' about that stamina. Yesh."

"Knock it off," Aizawa grumbles, pushing me forward. "Rin, walk."

I'm too tired to do much more than nod.

Yamada-sensei laughs, and I slump off in the direction of home, stumbling bleary-eyed to the entrance where we go our separate ways. By the time we get back to the apartment, I don't bother with a shower or a bed. I stagger into the living room and collapse onto the floor. I can feel Miska walk over me, can feel her purr as she nuzzles my cheek.

I don't care.

I'm asleep in seconds.

Sensei wakes me for dinner. I yawn, stretch my sore muscles, and wash my hands before joining him at the table. I eat without paying attention and I'm nearly halfway done before I realize he's got my essay in hand and that he's reading over it like he would at lunch.

"How was training?" Sensei asks, circling some of my answers, likely ones he'll want changed. I'm too tired to be upset by it. I sigh and offer a flat stare. He looks up and raises an eyebrow. "Rin?"

"Lovely," I answer sourly, wondering if I can skip this and go to my actual bed.

He waits for more, but I stuff my mouth with chicken. Frowning, he returns to the essay.

"Did you and Hizashi work through your issues?"

"Yes."

Again he pauses to glance my way, clearly expecting more. I drink my water and he raises an eyebrow, rubbing his neck.

"You're being particularly taciturn tonight."

"I'm tired," I grouse, finishing off my food. "My muscles hurt, and I don't wanna talk about the beach or abuse or essays or anything. Okay?"

I stand, rinse off my plate, and return to my chair.

Sensei gives me another one of his looks.

"Couch," he says simply.

I huff at him, not even bothering to hide my thoughts on the matter. What now? He actually has the audacity to smile. Stupid grin. I stand, push in the chair, and sulk to the couch. I slump in the center and doze.

I just wanna go to bed.

I just wanna sleep…

Sensei arrives several minutes later but doesn't sit.

"What kind of muscle pain is it? Soreness or a sharp pinch?"

I crack open my eye and give him what I hope is a disgruntled look. I don't think it works considering the way he smiles.

"I dunno," I mutter. "Can't I go to bed?"

"You're going to be stiff tomorrow if you don't stretch."

I groan and bury my face in my arms.

"'M already stiff…"

His hand moves against my back and my groan turns into a sigh of relief as his thumb rubs against the sore and battered muscles. I have no idea what he's doing, but it feels amazing. I turn to putty and sag bonelessly against the cushions.

"Your classmates asked about you," he says, squeezing the top of my shoulders. I spasm and he chuckles, somehow managing to move the tension away. "They were concerned after watching the news reports and having nobody answer their texts."

I don't have the presence of mind to do much more than hum.

He stops and I whine as he moves.

"Mmmm…" I mumble, discretely trying to wipe the saliva from my chin. "'at was nice…"

"Here," he says instead, dropping something rectangular by my head. I groan as I lazily reach for it.

It takes far longer than it should to realize it's a phone.

A smartphone at that, not the flip kind he bought me in my internship.

My stomach twists, something warm and bright filling my chest. I sit up slowly to stare at it. It's rectangular, with rounded corners, a camera, and a pretty blue case. I touch it, almost reverently, before looking back. Sensei, still squatting on his haunches, blinks back.

"I… I don't understand," I admit softly.

"It's a phone," he deadpans. I flush and duck my head, staring at it again.

"But… But why?" I ask, rotating it, rubbing my thumb over the shiny case. It's an almost turquoise color and covered in sparkles. "I… I'm grounded. And I lost my other one. And…"

I cut off, not really sure how to explain, not really understanding myself.

"I dislike the idea of you being without a phone," he says simply. "As often as you get into trouble, it isn't logical to withhold one."

I stare, uncomprehending. I don't know how to ask. I don't even know the question for this feeling warm and itchy and scratching in my chest. I look back up concerned. Dark eyes framed by loose dark hair. He looks as bored and unimpressed as usual.

"But… But Sensei, it's… it's like yours. Isn't… Isn't that expensive?"

He frowns.

"If you're asking why it's not a flip phone, I considered it. The main reason I chose that one is because it has tracking features on it and an emergency alert so if there's a problem and you're unable to call, you can have it send out a signal that will instantly alert my phone with your location."

If you run off again, I can find you, is left unsaid.

I nod.

"Tomorrow we will discuss phone expectations. I've already set parental controls on it, but there will be rules regarding social media, the main one being if you don't know them in person, you don't talk to them on there."

"Yes, sir."

He gives me an odd look, almost like he thinks I'm going to argue. I don't. Instead, I lean forward, slipping my arms around his neck. He stiffens at the sudden contact before relaxing.

He pats my back at the unexpected hug, and I smile closing my eyes.

"That was all. Go take a shower and stretch then you can go to bed."

He pats my back again, it's his sign to let go. I don't.

"Thank you," I whisper, kissing his prickly cheek.

He pulls away instantly, scowling with pink cheeks.

"Didn't you say you were tired?" he grunts, moving towards the kitchen. "We'll go over your essay tomorrow. Unless you would rather tonight?"

He did all that? For me?

Kid, Shouta has done that and more for you.

I smile at his antics and drag myself off the couch.

"I'm going."