Learning what it's like to live with a clown

House arrest might not seem to the average person so different than the strange, bird-in-a-cage existence you'd had with Benefactor, but in reality, it was like stepping into another dimension. If you wanted food, you didn't have to beg your tormentor and then watch him send a mental hostage out to retrieve it for you; all you had to do was ask and then get it from the fridge. Soon enough, you learned you were actually allowed to reach in the fridge whenever you wanted! You had the use of the guest room-- sadly barren of personal effects-- and every other room in the house, besides Ms. Joke's personal bedroom. It was a pretty small apartment... "Every other room in the house" really just meant the living room, a small kitchen section, a shared bathroom, and an entrance-way.

You were smart enough to recognize that this was a pretty humble dwelling for one of Japan's greatest pro heroes, but you felt ashamed to ask why Ms. Joke chose to live so modestly. After enough awkward silence, where your care-taker seemed to be respecting your need to explore and take things in, you finally got around to asking her the question. She did a spit-take, showering you with fizzy liquid from the cherry-flavored soda she was drinking as she sprawled over her leather couch. "Ha ha ha ha! Ouch! Those were nearly your first words to me and you're using them to tell me I have a crappy house?!" she guffawed.

You apologized immediately, bowing deeply. What a terribly insensitive thing you'd just done!

The green-haired hero smiled sympathetically then waved one hand. "He he... We're going to have to teach you to lighten up, Ren. I'm actually just glad you're finally talking! It's hard to perform a comedy routine with just one actor," she giggled, as she stood to fetch a clump of paper towels from the kitchen. You followed her there respectfully; Benefactor had been at least enough of a human being to teach you not to drip on the carpet. "Nah, you just have to remember, I'm more of a teacher than I am a pro hero these days. Japan being what it is, you pay a lot for a small place to live. Unless I light a fire under Aizawa or something, I'm a single lady, too! There's no point in me spending booko-bucks for a lot of room I don't need. Besides, I'm almost never here."

Those words caused your smile to drop momentarily.

"Well... Ordinarily I wouldn't be! Right now, you'll be seeing a lot of me, since you're under house arrest and somebody's gotta watch you most of the time, at least until we get a feel for you. Though... it's not like your quirk is really dangerous without other people around. In fact, it's actually most dangerous with just one person around, like right now! Yikes! Ah ha ha ha ha!!"

You knew she was joking, but it was hard to laugh around... the pro hero had a very good point. You thought, if anything, she was being careless. She ought to know better than to treat a groomed disciple of a mind-altering villain so carelessly.

While you worried about that, the kind-hearted lady hero approached you with the towels and pinched your sweatshirt between her fingers, pulling it outward from your chest. With a focused expression like either a mother's or maybe a wife's, she began to dry you down using the towels. It was at that moment, in close proximity to her bare arms and smelling her odd, citrusy perfume, that you thought for the first time... The woman you now shared a home with wasn't just a hero and she wasn't just your savior. She was also a lovely, unmarried woman in her late twenties. How could she be so generous, that she'd accept you into her home and spend this time watching over you? Furthermore, why wasn't she married?

"Haaaah! This old sweatshirt Aizawa lent you stinks like a mummy's tomb! How befitting!" she laughed, playfully holding her nose while pretending to fan away some sort of odor.

... Okay, her at times overly jovial behavior might explain why some people would find it hard to imagine living a married life with her.

Eager to push that question out of your mind, you asked her something else instead: did she normally hang around the house in her hero gear?

"Hm? Well, it is comfy! But no, it just felt comfortable while you're still here on a trial basis. Part of being a hero is being prepared, you know?" she asked, smiling up into your face while her hands focused on the stain left upon the sweatshirt.

Was she prepared? Right now... If you just kept staring into her eyes and thought hard enough, you could probably convince her that it wouldn't be so weird to dry the lap of your sweat-pants. With a lingering touch upon her shoulder, you could persuade her that she'd be perfectly in the right to take off that close-fitting top of hers and wipe you dry with those huge melons of hers, far larger than those of anyone you'd met during your time in isolation.

"... the rest of the people are the toys."

Gritting your teeth, you bit away those thoughts, telling herself that they'd only occurred to you because you were concerned about her safety. You told her frankly that she was being too careless. Nobody fully understood Benefactor's powers.

"Hm hm! You're not too much older than the students I teach, Ren. My quirk, Outburst, is no joke, ironically enough! If you did anything as silly as trying to control my mind, I'd show you something really silly!" your caretaker reminded you with a big grin, as if daring you to try. "How do ya feel about spending the rest of the day in bed from a laugh-induced belly-ache? It's not the ideal use of my powers, but it's well within the realm of possibility~"

She sounded pretty proud of her quirk. Maybe it was okay to trust that faith she had...

The rest of your first day was not just a pleasure, but a treat. Once you finished learning about Ms. Joke-- who insisted that you call her Emi while the two of you were living together-- the rest of the day was spent wandering from one learning experience to the next, all colored by fun-- if relentless-- jokes. You learned how to operate the television set, video game consoles and computer, skills that she assured you would be indispensable during the house arrest period. You learned about how to properly answer the door; it was, apparently, a good idea to pretend to be her out-of-state visiting cousin and a bad idea to pretend to be her scandalously hidden 10-years-younger boyfriend. You learned proper bathroom etiquette, like knocking and raising the seat when you peed. You learned how to fix simple meals.

The one thing you had a hard time getting down was, in her opinion, the most important lesson of all: how to properly react to her jokes.

"Listen... You're like a blank canvas right now that lets me paint whatever I want! An audience I can direct however I choose! But I'm going to use my power for good and tell you what all comedians want: when I tell a joke, you should laugh, but never out of pity! Laugh only as much as is warranted by how funny the joke is, okay?"

You sighed and told Emi that you didn't know how to make or even react properly to jokes.

"I know, I know, but you can cheat! Just listen to my tone. If I raise my voice real high and make a funny gesture, that means it's time to laugh! Or... If I keep a really straight face but I say something super-hilarious, you can laugh too! That's the way jokes work! Oh, and if I say 'knock-knock,' you have to say, 'who's there?' And if I say-" When she saw you grab a pen and sticky note pad from the table and begin to jot down notes, she ended up bursting out laughing herself. "Ba ha ha! I definitely overdid it! Don't worry, don't worry... That was also a joke! You'll understand jokes when you're good and ready."

At least there would be plenty of opportunities to learn the craft.

"Say, I told you about Outburst, but what do you call your quirk, anyway? I mean... I know it might be kinda touchy. But I think it would be better to have a different name for it that's not related to that creepazoid, Salazar."

You agreed, but told her you hadn't thought up anything yet. You told her it would probably come to you in the night.

Speaking of the night, there was only so much daylight you could use for learning and palling around with Miss Joke. Soon enough, night had fallen. Ms. Joke still seemed so wound up she could bounce off the walls, but she raised one finger and imparted a few more lessons to you instead. "This is the most important part about being a house-guest, so listen up! When you're ready to sleep, you go to the nice, pretty guest bed, and you stay there until breakfast!"

You had to ask her what breakfast was.

"... W-We'll go over that first thing in the morning! Trust me, it's an important one! In the morning, you'll feel that in your gut, so to speak!" she laughed, crossing her arms and nodding a few times in succession. "Um, but if you need water or anything, that's fine too. Just get it from the kitchen. I guess what I'm saying is... a good guest doesn't sneak into their caretaker's room at weird hours of the night! You get that, right?" When you nodded, Emi exhaled a breath you thought she'd been holding for a long time. "Great, great! We'll have more fun tomorrow. I've reserved a few days off, with a substitute teacher to fill in! When I'm through with you, you'll be a model citizen-- one who appreciates jokes!"

That seemed like a long road, but you were eager to get started upon it.

... So eager that when the bright, yellow-tinged lights went off, throwing your unadorned guest room into the blacks and blues of nights, you found it extremely difficult to sleep. One might expect you were hungering for the outside, to see everything the world had to offer. You didn't think Ms. Joke had considered how much it might hurt you for her to mention her school-kids, her classes, and that sort of thing, when you'd never so much as stepped foot inside a classroom before. She really didn't know just how deep your sheltering had gone and you hadn't been eager to talk about it.

Contrary to all of that, your thoughts weren't bitter ones focusing on the things you still hadn't seen or done. Instead, you felt excited... you wanted to talk to Emi more and learn everything from her. You wanted to become the kind of person who wouldn't just laugh when she joked, but instead, would trade barbs back and forth like the comedians she watched on TV. You didn't just want to learn about the world; you wanted to embrace the chance to become a new person. Right now, you felt as blank as this room... like she'd said earlier, "a blank canvas." You stared at the ceiling in silence, wishing that you could wake her up and speak to her again...

As it turned out, spending your first day with your senses unlocked had resulted in a sensory overload. It hadn't been that hard to get to sleep after all. You had no idea what the appropriate time was for waking up-- Benefactor hadn't respected things like ordinary day/night cycles-- but when it felt right, you stretched and got out of bed, still wearing the same white tank top and sweatpants ensembled you'd fallen asleep in. It set in slow, but you began to feel a bit helpless. There was probably a routine for waking up you needed to respect, just like there'd been a routine for going to sleep... but Emi was nowhere to be found. Were you supposed to wait for her to appear? Were you supposed to wash the stink off of you, like you had before you went to sleep? Your stomach was rumbling and you still had no idea what this "breakfast" thing was about!

After about twenty minutes, you looked at the clock. The time read 12:05 P.M. That didn't tell you much... you next turned on the TV and flipped to the local news station. It said "News at Noon." That told you a bit more. When you finally wised up enough to think to check the internet, you learned that breakfast was the first meal of the day... and noon was the time where you're supposed to eat lunch, typically. You'd missed breakfast, even though it was supposedly so important!

Growing mildly irritated at this somewhat irresponsible side of your gracious caretaker, you muted the TV for a moment and listened for any sounds of movement from inside her room. There was nothing like that, but there was a loud noise... snoring. She was not a quiet sleeper.

... After slowly fixing yourself what you optimistically hoped was breakfast-- some cold canned beans and a handful of chocolates, washed down with orange juice straight from the bottle, none of which felt like the right combination-- you went and sat with your arms spread behind you on the couch, watching TV and waiting...

... And waiting...

... By the time the clock read 1:30, you couldn't wait any longer. There was no way it was right for her to still be asleep, right? Perhaps it was the impatience of desiring the beginning of a new life, but you were going crazy, waiting for your chance to talk to her!