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SHE SLEPT IN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WHAT SEEMED LIKE FOREVER. Usually she would wake up early to watch the sky change from a dark blue to a calm, soft orange and pink. However, after a month and a half of rigorous training, her body finally decided to remain asleep until one o' clock in the afternoon on a Saturday.

Her eyes slowly opened, and she stared confusedly at the dull white walls, her mind muddled. Sunlight seeped through the edges of the drapes covering the window, staining the wall with shadows and strips of bright light. There was something wrong, she could tell, curling deeper into the mattress, the comforter enveloping her in warmth. Something was not right.

Noises carried through the apartment, the gurgle of a coffee pot and clink of silverware, she decided. Her uncle must be up and around, making himself a cup of coffee instead of tea because that man never seemed to sleep, he was always going out at night for something that he kept secret, though she didn't care much as it wasn't any of her business --

Her head shot up as she realized why everything felt off. She let out a short gasp as pain swept through her body. Wincing, she sat up and slid off the bed, arms and legs and everything aching. She changed out of her sleepwear and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants and brushed out her hair in record speed, cursing her burning muscles for causing her such inconvenience.

She ran out of her room, hands fumbling to pull her hair into a ponytail, and made a beeline for the front door --

"Stop."

She dug her feet into the floor and spun around. Aizawa stood in the kitchen, arms crossed and a blank look on his face. "Where do you think you're going?"

"The gym," she replied, finally fixing her hair correctly. "The exams are in two weeks, I still have time --"

"You're overworking yourself," her uncle interrupted. "I admit, the dedication you've put into this is somewhat impressive, but the strain you're putting on yourself will do more hurt than good." He pointed at the dining table. "Sit down."

She was still convinced that she should be working out, but her body screamed at her to listen to the man and relax. Not only that, but the flow whispered that it was easier to follow orders. Sighing, she trudged over to the chair and sank down into it, making sure to keep the relief from showing.

Aizawa placed a cup filled with a steaming black liquid in front of her, coffee she decided after taking a sip of the scalding drink, as well as a plate with toast, fried eggs and white rice. She raised an eyebrow at him, confused because for the month and a half she'd known him, she found that the man preferred to not put any effort into trivial things like making breakfast. This was the reason she'd been eating microwaved rice and bananas every morning, because she was exactly the same way.

"You need energy," Aizawa grunted, "and that requires food. Eat." The man slunk into the living room and fell onto the couch, wrapped in his yellow sleeping bag as if by magic.

She watched him for a moment, contemplating climbing out of her window, but the growl of her stomach convinced her to stay seated and eat. It felt odd, having an adult make breakfast for her. Her father didn't prepare meals for her; that ended years ago. She usually grabbed something on her way out of the house, or payed for a school breakfast. To have someone do something like this, even though it was such a normal act, it felt ...

It felt nice.


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