-Kaera's POV-

"Tsukibara-san! Recovery Girl was very clear that you weren't supposed to be walking! You could do permanent damage to your foot!" Yagi-san exclaimed, worry apparent in his voice as he picked me up bridal style removing the weight from my foot before placing me on the left side of the couch. He walked over and sat down on the right side of the couch, leaving an empty cushion between us. I sighed, irritated by my current lack of independence.

"Yagi-san," I called quietly, getting his attention.

"Toshinori," he corrected with a small smile before elaborating when he saw the questioning look on my face, "You can just call me Toshinori since it looks like we'll be spending quite a bit of time together." His smile was somewhat shy, and I smiled despite myself. He really was quite adorable, almost like a little kid at time.

"Okay then, Toshinori-san, you can call me Kaera. I'm not a huge fan of the whole last name thing anyways," I admitted as he looked at me, nodding in understanding.

Without warning, my stomach growled, and I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment as Toshinori-san chuckled.

"I'm sure you're starving after having such a hectic day. We can order takeout. I'm not much of a cook, I'm afraid," he admitted sheepishly. I looked at the time. 6PM. Too late to do any shopping, especially with me in my current state, so I nodded in agreement.

"What kind of food do you like, Kaera-san?" Toshinori-san inquired as he pulled out his phone, "I know a great ramen place nearby that delivers." I couldn't help the child-like excitement that I felt. Ramen was one of my favorite foods!

"That sounds perfect! Thank you so much, Toshinori-san!" I exclaimed happily, "I want a chicken ramen with an extra egg!" Toshinori-san chuckled at my childish behavior before calling and ordering the food.

Within ten minutes, the food was delivered and Toshinori-san and I were sitting on the couch, our ramen on fold out TV trays that I kept instead of a dining room table. I never had any guests anyways. I quickly grabbed my Firestick remote and pulled up Netflix, not having the energy to have an actual conversation.

"What kind of movies do you like, Toshinori-san?" I asked, mindlessly scrolling through the different options.

"You can choose. I'm not really picky," Toshinori-san responded with a shrug as he placed a fork on my tray. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Did they not give us chopsticks?" I inquired, already knowing the answer.

"Th-they did. I just thought, s-since you're an American, you might prefer a fork, especially since you're injured," he stuttered , trying to defend himself and make up for possibly offending me. His face was bright red as he was clearly flustered, and I couldn't stop a giggle from escaping my lips.

"That's very sweet, Toshinori-san," I admitted with a reassuring smile before continuing, "But I'm right-handed and have lived in Japan for a few years now. I assure you, I am equally as comfortable with chopsticks as I am with a fork." He smiled and nodded as he handed me a pair of already separated chopsticks, and I thanked him while putting on one of my favorite movies: Thor.

"I thought you didn't like superheroes?" Toshinori-san teased with a smile.

"I don't, but I do like Chris Hemsworth," I answered with a smirk and a wink, making him laugh.

After that exchange, we ate in a comfortable silence before agreeing that he would go to his own apartment to sleep with the understanding that I would call him if I needed anything at all. We exchanged cell phone numbers, and he carried me to my bed despite my protests that I could get there just fine on my own.

After Toshinori-san left, I found myself smiling as I fell asleep. It had been so long since I had allowed anyone close to me emotionally. People tried again and again throughout my time studying for my two masters degrees, but I had always been quick to brush them off. Yet, within less than 48 hours, my overly friendly, skeleton skinny neighbor had managed to force himself into my life. And the weirdest part was: I actually didn't mind that much.

The next few days involved getting into a routine. Toshinori-san would come, help me get around my apartment in the morning before getting to where I needed to go for the day (grocery shopping, work, etc.), go do his heroing thing (at least that's what I assumed he was doing), and then he would come pick me up from wherever I was and usually help me make dinner and then we would eat together. Well, the cooking together part mostly consisted of Toshinori-san being my left hand as I chopped the necessary ingredients for dinner. I quickly noticed that he didn't eat much, so I started trying to subtly add as many nutrients and vitamins as possible into the food while still make it tasty and gentle on the stomach.

Then there was the matter of my job. Toshinori-san had managed to get an official police report of the incident that left out the information about my quirk activating (how he did that, I had no idea. He claimed he had a buddy in the police force). With this document, I had been allowed to start my job with no repercussions and the necessary assistance, aka a white projector screen that I could use as a display so I could write my lessons on the board while sitting in my wheelchair. I was in charge of teaching kids from all three years their English classes. The kids here in Japan were much better behaved than kids in the U.S., at least for the most part.

"DEKU, GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY, YOU QUIRKLESS PIECE OF SHIT!"

Speaking of an exception to my previous statement, the foulmouthed brat responsible for that noise-polluting shout was none other than Bakugo Katsuki, an ash-blonde, loud-mouthed brat with an explosion quirk from class 1-A.

"S-sorry, Kacchan…!" a panicked voice all but whimpered in reply.

I sighed. Midoriya Izuku. Super bright and hard working but terribly shy and skittish. The dynamic of these two managed to trigger a migraine for me at least twice a week without fail. Thankfully, the bell rang, meaning it was time for my class. While Midoriya and Bakugo were polar opposites in almost every way, they at least both took their grades seriously, though you'd never guess that was the case by looking at the damned anger management hedgehog that was Bakugo Katsuki.

Three weeks had passed when I received a text message during my lunch break.

Toshinori: Hey, I have some great news for you!

Me: You finally learned not to put tin foil in the microwave? ;P

I laughed out loud at my own snarkiness, earning me some weird looks from the other teachers in the lounge for lunch break. Toshinori-san had tried to heat up leftovers wrapped in tin foil causing sparks that caused the fire alarm in our apartment complex to go off TWICE. It would have been thrice if I hadn't caught him right before he had pressed start the third time.

Toshinori: That only happened once!

Me: No

Me: That happened twice to the point where the fire alarm went off, and the entire apartment had to be evacuated.

Me: Would've been 3X if I hadn't stopped you the other day.

Toshinori: …you really don't cut me any slack…

Me: That's cause I don't like heroes.

That was only a half-joke. I honestly still did not like heroes as a whole, more so I didn't trust them. It seemed to me that most were just obsessed with rankings and fame; however, Toshinori-san was the exception to the rule. He had been nothing but selfless in helping me even though he gained nothing in return. It confused me, but it made me happy, especially with how much respect he had shown me. Toshinori-san had never once pressured me about my quirk or my past although he had every opportunity to do so.

Toshinori: Fine. I guess I'll really that message to Recovery Girl and you can wait another 4 weeks to get out of that wheelchair instead of getting out of it this afternoon.

Toshinori: And after all that pestering I did so that you would have an easier time…

My heart soared in excitement and then simultaneously dropped in panic at the thought of having to wait even a second longer to get out of this damned wheelchair. My heart racing, I quickly typed my apology. Although I had truthfully been enjoying the time I had been spending with Toshinori-san, I desperately needed my independence back.

Me: Noooooo! Wait, I changed my mind!

Me: Heroes are great!

Me: PLUS ULTRAAAAA!

Me: ...or something like that…

Me: Please take me to Recovery Girl today…

Me: I'll make you bentos for a month!

I was so desperate to get out of this wheelchair, and it was obvious. The two minutes that Toshinori-san left me on read felt like an eternity. That blonde skeleton was probably teasing me.

Toshinori: Just teasing you!

Toshinori: Of course I'll still take you.

Toshinori: I bet sending that Plus Ultra message hurt. ;P

Toshinori: And thanx in advance for the bentos ;)

I growled in annoyance with myself. I should've known. That man did not have a vindictive bone in his body.

Me: …

Me: … I hate you…

Me: -_-

And with that final message, the bell rang and I hurried to teach my next class, eager to get through the rest of the day and finally get out of this wheelchair.