The UA dorms are huge.
Four stories and brick, they line the gated road in neat little cookie-cutter homes, each with a class name carved into the top. Sensei doesn't approve, I can tell from the way his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow.
I suppose it makes sense.
It seems almost illogical, especially with the way our class has been targeted to just label our classes on the front of the building. He doesn't say anything though, and after a few hours, we manage to unload all of the furniture and boxes.
The inside is nice too.
It's probably wrong, but it's kind of comforting that Sensei looks just as out of place as I feel wandering through the pristine building in his dusty, wrinkled hero costume. The carpet is too plush, the windows too large and gleaming, and the walls too fancy with a handsome mix of beige and green. You can't turn a corner without some elaborate plant or shiny wall scone.
It reminds me of the Takamura's.
I feel like I'm at the Takamura's, with skin that feels too tight and emotions that feel too large stuffed beneath my skin, itching in places I can't scratch.
It's a relief that Sensei's apartment is different.
Simple and gray with dark wooden floors and simple wooden cabinets. It's nicer than his old apartment, but not extravagant like the lobby.
It's even more of a relief to release Miska.
The long kitten, thankful to finally be free, batters her head against my arms and legs continuously as soon as I open the cage door. I can't help but giggle at her antics, especially when she starts licking my arm and face. I think even Sensei appreciates it, dropping a few cat treats from one of his utility pockets as he passes by.
"Why do you have cat treats in your pockets?" I ask, curious.
Who keeps random cat treats in their hero outfit?
"In case I need them," he huffs, moving to the kitchen to begin organizing the pans under the sink. He doesn't look my way as he begins to unload one of the boxes stacked neatly in organized stacks. Not that it was particularly hard to be neat when we only had one skillet and two pots.
I wonder if he's ever cooked anything besides rice, chicken, and bland vegetables?
Somehow, I doubt it.
"What else do you have in there?" I prod, feeling more myself as I slide my fingers through Miska's fur. It's so soft and I can't help but smile when her purr turns into a loud rumble.
"Whatever else I need," he answers blandly as he moves to the next cabinet and begins unloading the strainer, a sheet pan, and the cupcake pan he'd probably never touch on his own.
"Like what? Snacks?" I tease. "Extra socks? Needle and thread?"
He snorts and shoots me a look.
I try to smile innocently even as his lip twitches in amusement.
"Try caltrops, a lighter, and some minor explosives," he says pushing back his loose hair. "Have you finished hanging up your clothes?"
I pout.
He raises an eyebrow, obviously reading my hesitation. I'd been avoiding my room since we finished.
"It smells funny."
"It smells new," he huffs, returning to his work. "Go unpack your things. I'll put your bed up once you've hung all your clothes."
I sigh and wrinkle my nose even as Miska clambers for more attention.
"Do we need to talk about it?"
"No," I whine, rolling my eyes. "We don't always have to talk about everything."
He doesn't even bother to turn at that, switching boxes to the four stack of identical, white plates that match the identical white bowls that he uses for coffee. Reluctantly, I stand and return to my room.
.
.
.
After dinner, when all of the new apartment is finally put away and the newness of it all feels slightly less jarring, I curl up beside Sensei on the couch and pet Miska on my chest. Between the heavy vibrations of her purrs and the comforting scent of Sensei's detergent, I can almost pretend we never moved at all.
Especially when I close my eyes and the warmth of our meal settles in my stomach.
He seasoned the food for you again.
And this time, it wasn't because I was sick.
"Thank you for dinner," I say, not looking up.
There's a pause where I wonder if he's not going to respond when his hand settles on my forehead. I smile and pull it down, pressing the calloused palm against my eyes and then moving it to rest against my cheek. It's warm and I like the way the roughness feels against my skin.
"You don't have to thank me for feeding you," Sensei huffs, sounding distracted. A page flips and I blink my eyes open to see him staring thoughtfully at some writing I can't quite read.
I love you.
A quiet glow warms my skin.
He does look over then, raising an eyebrow at the slight shine.
"When will the others get here?" I ask, blushing slightly and turning away. He steals his hand back when I press a small kiss against his knuckles, and I can't help but giggle when it winds up slipping through my hair instead.
"They'll move in on Wednesday. Classes won't start until later, but we'll have a few supplementary lessons before then."
Considering its only Sunday, that feels like forever away.
"Oh."
Sensei sighs and turns the page, removing his hand to make it easier to flip. He shifts a moment later and I glance up to see him highlighting something on the page.
"I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon at three. It shouldn't last more than two hours. I expect you to keep your phone on and charged. After the others move in, you can move around more freely, but until then, I'd prefer if you stayed in the dorms. We may also have a guest for dinner."
I blink in surprise.
"A guest?" I ask, eyebrows furrowing. "Like Yamada-sensei?"
"I believe you stuck him in the family category," Sensei chides dryly. "He's been revoked of all guest privileges, that's why he avoided coming by on moving day."
I blink at that before running through the rather short list of people Sensei might bring home.
"Who then? Aunt Nemuri?" I scowl at the thought of the giant blonde hero we'd spent the last week with. "If it's Toshinori-san then-"
I cut off when Sensei taps my forehead slightly harder than necessary in reprimand.
"Don't be rude. If I invite All Might here, you'll be polite or you'll be grounded. No matter how you feel about him, he's an adult and you will respect that."
I glare.
"Is it All Might?" I sneer.
"No," he responds shortly, returning to his papers. I cross my arms and settle in the uncomfortable silence, scenarios of 'what-if's' running through my head. I fantasize silently about what I might do if he did bring him here. I'd probably glare and maybe refuse to speak.
Sensei turns the page and ignores me, the papers crinkling as he reads.
I abandon the dark thoughts and feel them instead turn to his face, remembering the younger picture in my photo album. He was kind of cute as a kid, with long scraggly hair and a strangely baby-smooth face.
"How come you never shave?" I ask curiously, staring at the dark hairs thoughtfully. "Is it too much trouble or do you like looking scruffy?"
The way his eyes slide towards me tell me he didn't find that question as amusing as I did.
I giggle and make a face, wondering what I should ask next.
"Why are all your clothes black?"
"Have you ever thought about getting a haircut?"
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"A boyfriend?"
I sigh dramatically when he ignores them all, wondering if it wouldn't be better to just go get ready for bed when a different question filters through my head. Surrounded by his comforting scent, I don't even hesitate to ask.
"Hey, Sensei? What are your parents like?"
"Strict," he answers, not bothering to glance my way. He turns the page and I blink, surprised he answered. "They're also both dead. They passed away when I was twenty."
I frown, looking down at Miska as concern blossoms in my chest. His parents died? Shame scratches at my chest and I grimace. I probably shouldn't have asked that so callously.
"I'm sorry. Do… Do you miss them?"
"Not particularly," he says, and he shifts again as he highlights a particular section without looking up. "We weren't particularly close, and while they cared, it was always in a distant way. I doubt they would have known what to do with you and all of your touchiness. Hizashi's parents would adore you though. He's mentioned taking you out to meet them for the winter holidays."
I smile at the thought of Yamada-sensei.
"He said they went to the beach a lot."
He hums, the sound non-committal, and I wrinkle my nose at the underside of his chin.
He could at least pretend to care.
"Sensei, can I see my brothers?"
That, at least, seems to get his attention. My guardian blinks several times before closing the folder and looking down at me. I frown at the sudden onset of his undivided attention even as he slides the folder of papers onto the floor by his feet, leaning forward to the point his clothing rustles, and his shirt brushes against my head.
"I- I mean, please?"
"I'm not saying no, but I want your reason why."
I swallow and scratch at Miska's face.
"I… I just thought that… that maybe they might know. I don't know. Maybe they know why? Why K-Kaito- Why he- why he would-"
I cut myself off and bite my lip, trying to ignore the intensity of Sensei's gaze.
He sighs and rubs his neck, leaning back to look away. The pause between us lengthens, broken only by Miska's continuous purrs.
"They don't."
I still.
Then, when he doesn't go on, my eyebrows furrow. I sit up, Miska tumbling to my lap with a surprised noise. I ignore her, my attention locked entirely on him.
"What… What do you mean they don't?"
"While you were in the hospital, I was at the police precinct. Both of your brothers were detained to answer questions. Neither were determined to have any knowledge or involvement in Kaito's criminal activities, though your youngest brother, Sora, was determined to need medical attention after everything. We learned that Kaito was involved with dangerous people to the last of their knowledge, but none of them have been in touch for the past three years."
My jaw drops.
My… My brothers.
Sensei saw my brothers?
That thought seems to war with the others as Sensei's words slowly register.
Involved with dangerous people.
Medical attention...
Fuck heroes.
I stare at my hands, remembering the horrid note, remembering the anger in the furious scrawl. Had it been about more than just Daddy? Had he been involved with criminals even back then?
The thought makes me suddenly nauseous.
Why?
"Did… Did they ask about me?" I whisper, trying to change the subject.
Sensei sighs.
"Yes. Sora did. Unfortunately, he was also extremely drunk and had been binging for several days. He was not physically or mentally well. Half of the time he thought you were still nine and he spent most of the time cycling between accusing the police of conspiring against his family and the other half becoming overly emotional about random topics. It may be some time before he recovers."
Something strange bubbles beneath my skin.
I scowl.
"Why didn't you mention any of this before?"
Sensei's expression hardens.
"And when should I have told you? While you were screaming at me about All Might or when you were barely able to walk or eat?"
I glare, feeling the familiar anger rise up through my chest.
I latch onto it, anything besides the horrid scratching sensation clawing up my throat.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" I sneer.
His nostrils flare at the disrespect and he scowls.
"I'm telling you now," he says, voice low in warning. "If you don't have any more questions, go get ready for bed."
I don't move.
I have a million questions.
Sora…
Sora drunk? Hurt? Hospitalized? It seems unthinkable. He'd always been mean, and at times even cruel, but he'd hated Daddy's liquor. He'd hated his card games, his smoke, me... Anything, really, that didn't give him all the attention in the room.
Well maybe he changed, I think darkly.
And you haven't?
You went from robbing stores to being a hero student. You don't know anything about them. You haven't even seen them in five years. They never even tried to answer your letters.
None of them but Kaito.
I swallow and breathe deeply, latching onto the name Sensei hadn't mentioned.
"What about Ryu?" I ask, hating the way my voice cracks at the question. Ryu who would wait up for me after a trip. Ryu who would bring me the flashlight every time. Ryu who sometimes stopped Sora. Ryu who had hated me in the end. Should have been me. "Did he…"
I don't need to finish the sentence. I can read the answer on Sensei's worn and scruffy face. No.
I push away from the couch with an angry huff, spilling Miska onto the floor and carelessly pushing past her disapproving noise.
Of course not.
If you weren't so weak, they could get more. They wouldn't fight.
"I'm going to bed," I manage, trying to control the hateful flame swimming just beneath my skin. Smoke curls from my skin and I try to control it, try to walk it off as my face heats in warning.
"Rin-"
I ignore him, ignore the tears burning in my eyes and go to brush my teeth, scrubbing so hard the gums bleed and the metallic flavor fills my mouth. I spit and stare at my reflection, dark hair limp against a tan face. Large eyes, just as dark as Kaito's…
Kaito…
Why?