Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

10

Of course, it all started much earlier than this. But it begins one day at school when Ochako is faking her period to skip PE class. 

This is not unusual. Ochako doesn’t feel like doing PE today just like how she doesn’t feel like doing anything at all on any day ever—so she gets herself a pad from the nurse’s room and proceeds to go to the bathroom for posterity. This is how Ochako finds Chi-chan crying in one of the stalls. 

This is not unusual either. Finding a teenage girl crying in the toilet and Chi-chan crying in any location whatsoever are two events that occur daily all over the world. The first is because the whole affair of being a teenage girl is, on principle, very cryable. The second is because you can find girls like Chi-chan in every school literally anywhere ever. 

And so, hearing sobbing in the girl’s bathrooms is something that every girl in ninth grade has experienced. It’s not really a big deal. But Ochako, who is always bored, decides to intervene for the hell of it. 

She knocks on the door. “Hello?” she says gently. “Chi-chan, is that you?”

It must be Chi-chan, because she is the only girl not present in PE class other than Ochako. Chi-chan plays hooky more often than Ochako, which in itself is an impressive feat. However, while Ochako plays hooky due to her general lack of shit-giving, Chi-chan plays hooky because she hasn’t been picked by anyone to be on the team for fifteen lessons in a row due to her general lack of friends. 

Ochako doesn’t judge. That is perfectly fine—to be friendless and unwanted. After all nobody is perfect. After all they were all born with their own gifts and talents, and lack thereof.

None of them can help being the way that they are.

That being said, Ochako finds people like Chi-chan mildly interesting. Their actions perplex her. If Ochako isn’t picked by anyone to be on the team for fifteen lessons in a row, Ochako would kill herself and take the entire world with her. Yet Chi-chan perseveres. It’s fairly perplexing. 

“Are you okay, Chi-chan?” Ochako kindly asks her.

Beat. There is a wet hiccup before a soft, “Ochako-chan?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Ochako says, leaning against the stall door. “Hey. Are you hurt, Chi-chan? Do you need anything?”

Ochako hears a sniffle, and then another hiccup. “I’m—I’m okay.” More sniffles. “Sorry. This is, um, embarrassing.”

“It’s okay,” says Ochako, even though it is pretty much embarrassing. “I’m here if you want to talk?”

An even longer pause now, long enough that Ochako finally gets bored again and considers just leaving to nick some juice from the cafeteria. But then the door slowly swings open, revealing a crying and sniffling and hiccuping Chi-chan.

Ochako never bullies Chi-chan, because Ochako is a good girl, and good girls don’t bully other girls, they just stand by as the other girls are bullied. Maybe that’s why Chi-chan decides to pitifully sob into Ochako’s arms. After all, Ochako never says mean things about her; she merely listens to them being said. By other girls. Because Ochako is a good girl. And good girls listen to their friends indiscriminately, bullies and bullying victims alike.

Which is why Ochako is listening to Chi-chan right now. Her snot and tears are wetting Ochako’s collars. It’s gross. “There, there,” Ochako says and rubs Chi-chan’s trembling back in an approximation of a comforting gesture. “What’s wrong, Chi-chan? What’s wrong?”

She’s sobbing so hard her whole body shakes with it. “I—I c-can’t,” she says. “My mom will kill me.”

Uh-oh. Ochako looks down at Chi-chan’s tummy. “Are you pregnant?”

“No,” Chi-chan says. “It’s just—” she breaks down again. This time it takes a while. Long enough that Ochako is starting to feel a little bored.

“Shh, shh,” Ochako says as Chi-chan wets her shirt further, burying her head in the crook of Ochako’s neck. Ochako pats Chi-chan’s hair with one hand and checks her watch with the other—still another forty minutes till the end of PE. Damn. “Shh. It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

After five minutes of more tears and intelligible sobs, Chi-chan finally looks like she isn’t going to die from an asthma attack. “I—you can’t t-tell. Please. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course.”

Chi-chan takes a deep, shaking breath. “It’s,” she starts. Her eyes tear up again. “It’s. Taka-kun. Taka-kun, he—”

Chi-chan tells her everything. 

Ochako hums. “That’s so terrible,” Ochako says, after Chi-chan finally stops talking and is now just staring at the tiles of the bathroom floor vacantly. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Is there anything I can do for you, Chi-chan?”

Chi-chan isn’t crying anymore. Her eyes are red and look a little empty. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know.” 

Chi-chan doesn’t come back to school after that, and Ochako forgets about her eventually. 

Ochako forgets about the whole thing, in fact. She forgets all about it until the day the teacher gives out future aspirations pamphlets. 

“You are graduating from middle school soon,” Sensei says. “It’s time for you to consider your career in the future, and your choice of high school will—”

Ochako isn’t listening. Ochako doesn’t particularly feel excited about high school.

She will probably enter some typical high school along with some typical students and live some typical high school life. She will maybe have a typical boyfriend. Or two. Maybe she will be typically pregnant. Maybe she will typically cheat on her typical exams. Or she will fail all of it, typically. Maybe she’ll turn into a typical drug addict. Maybe she’ll be pregnant and turn into a drug addict and fail all her exams, and she will do all of this typically as well. Who knows? Life is just so full of mysteries.

But one thing for sure is that she has decided to end the w—

“Whoa,” some typical student says. “Taka-kun is picking UA.”

Ochako blinks. And then looks up.

Taka-kun is not the class rep—his girlfriend, Akane-chan, is. Akane-chan is Ochako’s friend the same way everybody thinks they’re Ochako’s friend except for Ochako herself. She’s sitting next to her boyfriend, surrounded by the other students as they compare each of their aspiration forms, because this is the type of bonding activity you do when you are a typical middle school student.

“Aim high, am I right?” Taka-kun says, smiling that charming smile of his. “You'll never know before you try. Plus Ultra, eh?”

He says it light-heartedly, as if it's a joke. All faux humbleness. His grades are good, his Quirk is combative—pretty Hero-like. He’s got that sports scholarship as well. There is a fifty-fifty chance Taka-kun will get in and they all know it. 

“Where are you going, Akane-chan?” Ochako says with warm, genuine curiosity. The other kids make a spot for her when Ochako enters their circle. She drags an empty chair to sit down and leans forward, elbows carefully placed on Taka-kun’s desk. “ I can’t decide for myself.”

“I’m going to try for Shiketsu,” Akane says. “I’m so excited.”

“Another Hero school? Wow. Talk about a power couple.”

“Akane will totally get in. Dunno about Taka-kun, though.”

Taka-kun laughs. “Fuck you, Kenta.”

“You’ll be one of those Hero couples in the future with their own Twitter hashtags.”

“Oh, shut up,” says Akane, but they all know she likes the idea of it. 

“Yay,” Ochako says. She looks at Taka-kun, who is sitting next to her—holds her gaze—before looking at Akane. She smiles. “So you two will be in a long distance relationship then.”

“Careful he doesn’t cheat on you, Akane!” Laughter explodes in the circle. “Maybe Akane will cheat first.” 

“Screw all of you,” Akane-chan says. She’s laughing, but she gives Ochako a look—she doesn’t like that Ochako brought that up. Ochako smiles in utter obliviousness, and returns to her desk when the teacher comes back to class. 

The next period, Ochako looks up to find Taka-kun looking at her. She smiles at him. He smiles back. 

Later that night Taka-kun asks her out. 

This is not unusual. Just like how you can find girls like Chi-chan everywhere, you can find boys like Taka-kun everywhere. Boys like Taka-kun are like Seven-Elevens. You can find them within every fifty-meter radius and they are usually open for twenty-four hours. 

Ochako doesn’t judge. It’s how they are. You can’t help being what you are.

Taka-kun asked her out via chat. Loser move. Ochako replies: sure :) see u at 7 tomorrow? I know a spot.

Ochako knows a lot of spots. 

There is a cheap cafe with great pastries at the edge of the city. She gets juice, he gets parfait, and they share a croissant—all on student discounts. He pays. She lets him. They talk. Taka-kun has a dog (labrador) and a sister (two years old and likes vanilla). He likes zombie B-movies, especially the cheesy ones from the last century, because he likes that they’re a metaphor for capitalism. He puts his hand on her knee. She lets him. 

“Aren’t you hungry, Ochako-chan?” says Taka-kun, voice full of concern, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin. “I feel like you’ve only been watching me eat.”

“I love watching you eat,” Ochako replies. She pushes her glass towards him. “Why don’t you have the rest of my juice? You liked it, right?”

“I’m so full—that parfait did a number on me,” Taka-kun laughs. “You said we'd share but I ended up eating a lot of it.”

“I knew you like dark chocolate,” Ochako says, and watches him blush. “That's why I ordered it."

“How’d you know that?”

She knows that because one time she accompanied Akane to buy some for his birthday. Ochako smiles. “I have my secrets,” she sing-songs. “Why don't we go for a walk, then? Stretch our legs out.”

“Oh, sure—”

“You said you were full,” Ochako points out. “Do you need to use the bathroom first? I’ll watch your things.”

He does. Once he’s gone, Ochako takes his phone from the table. She gets in easily; Akane always boasts that they use each other’s birthdates as their passwords. Ochako checks his picture folder. She scrolls, scrolls. And then she checks his chat. She scrolls, scrolls.

After Taka-kun comes back from the toilet, she finishes her juice. “Let’s go,” she says. “I know a spot.”

Said spot is an empty playground near the forests. It’s a long walk—the nearest neighborhood from the playground is fifteen minutes away—they talk and hold hands all the while. The playground is not exactly abandoned, but people don’t use it anymore ever since a kid fell from one of the swings and impaled his neck in a freak accident. Ochako sits down on the very swings where the kid had bled to death. “Come on,” she says, patting the swing next to her.

“This place is a little creepy,” comments Taka-kun. He smiles a lot, easygoing in their conversations—good-natured. He doesn’t just talk about himself, he also asks Ochako questions, and seems like he is genuinely curious about her life. He's funny. Good looking too. The tallest in class. Top spot in PE. All-around picture perfect poster boy. “You’re not scared, Ochako?”

“I like creepy places,” Ochako says. 

“Oh yeah?” he says, with a boyish smile. Taka-kun sits on the other swing, leaning a little closer to her now, invading her space. "You do, huh?"

Ochako smiles. “Mmhm. You know, Taka-kun, you make me want to go to UA too,” she says. “My grades are nowhere near as good as you though. Or Akane-chan’s.”

Something flashes across his face—he isn’t comfortable that Ochako brings his girlfriend up. He covers it up nicely. “I can tutor you,” he offers. He puts his hand on her knee again. “Just hit me up. It’ll be fun. Who knows, maybe we’ll wind up in UA together. Wouldn't that be nice?”

Ochako smiles. “Mmhm,” she says again. “Taka-kun. What kind of Hero do you wanna be?”

“Oh. Mm. Tactical responder. My Quirk is good for close encounters.”

“So cool,” Ochako says. “Why, though?”

“Why? Well, for melee attacks, it’s—”

“No,” Ochako shakes her head. “Why do you want to be a Hero?”

He pauses. “Wow, deep talk, huh?” Taka-kun chuckles, sheepish and endearing. He has a dimple when he smiles. Ochako knows his desk is always chock full of presents every Valentine’s Day. “Well, I mean, come on. Who doesn’t? Everybody wants to be like All Might.”

“Uhuh,” Ochako says, putting her hand above his. Her thumb rubs circles over his skin. She puts her pinky down gently. “Who doesn’t.”

“And I guess,” Taka-kun rubs the back of his neck, still with that endearingly shy demeanor. “I … want to save people too. I’ve always liked to help people, you know?”

Ochako nods understandingly. “Just like how you helped Chi-chan,” she says.

The night is hot—no wind. There is little light in the area now that the sun has set. In the woods, crickets chirp, and above, moths buzz around the flickering street lamps. There are some stars visible in the sky now that they’re far from the city. It’s quite pretty.

His hand leaves hers as if burnt. “What?”

She doesn’t mind. She puts her hands on the chains, swaying on the swings. “Yeah, you gave her a lot of favors, didn’t you? Told her you’re going to share her pics with other boys, oh wow, ” she smiles at him. “Such heroic behavior.”

He doesn’t smile back. But Taka-kun isn’t stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Ochako says. She opens her phone. “But the photos I took of your phone—”

She is almost disappointed when he makes a play for her phone. She tuts. “My, Taka-kun,” she says. “You could’ve hurt me, you know.”

“Fuck y—fuck, it hurts, fuck, oh god—”

Not everyone understands their Quirks completely, but Ochako does. 

Ochako’s understanding is as follows: gravity is in love with matter. So in love, that it holds matter together. Keeps matter from falling apart. And Ochako’s Quirk—well, her Quirk kills the gravity of everything that she touches. 

Matter can be a lot of things. A pebble, a house, a person, a planet—they’re all matter. What people often forget is that matter is made out of matter. Skin is matter. Hair is matter. An eyeball is matter. 

When the threads that keep those matter together start to strain and splinter apart, what do you think happens?

Taka-kun can’t even scream.

“—stop it,” he whimpers. “Stop it —”

“Not until you say sorry,” Ochako says without meaning it.

“—I’m sorry, fuck fuck fuck I’m so sorry—” 

“Say please,” Ochako says, just for the hell of it.

“—fuck you god please please—”

Ochako lets him go only because it got boring. He gasps, falling to the ground, shaking. 

“I didn’t even want to hurt you,” Ochako says, and it’s true. Ochako doesn’t derive pleasure from hurting things, the same way she doesn’t derive pleasure from anything at all. She just does things for the sake of doing things, most of the time. “I thought we could just have a conversation—oh, come on, now.” 

He tries to attack her again, even though his Quirk is useless while she still has a hold on him. He stops when Ochako’s Quirk pulls the edges of him like a rubber band. “Like I said. I didn’t even want to hurt you. I just wanted to talk to you, Taka-kun.”

“Why’re you—doing this, fuck, god, I’ll delete the pictures, I s-swear, I’ll—”

The pictures? He really doesn’t get it. “I just want to know more about you, Taka-kun. I thought it’s super interesting. How you’re hurting people. And yet. You want to be a Hero,” Ochako says. “I just thought. It’s really … what’s the word? Oh. Inspiring.”

“—I never even sent them, I’ll delete them, I’ll delete—”

Ochako lets him go again. “You’re not listening to me,” Ochako says flatly. “I told you. I just want to have a good, honest conversation.”

Now that his blood is flowing normally and the air pressure in his body has returned to a baseline amount, his head clears enough for him to start saying stupid shit. “You bitch,” he says. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll, I’ll report you, you crazy bitch. You used your Quirk. On me. You just watch, you’re going to juvie, I’ll report you—”

“Oh, yes?” Ochako says. “To who?”

“The school. The police—”

“I’ll kill all of them.”

Beat. “What?” 

“I’ll kill all the teachers. I’ll kill all the police,” says Ochako calmly. “And all the Heroes. I’ll kill your parents and your baby sister and your dog. Who’s left then? All Might? I’ll kill him too.”

Taka-kun looks at her like he’s finally looking at her for the first time. As if he finally really, really sees her. He is looking at her like she’s insane.

“You … can’t,” Taka-kun says, almost childishly. His brain can’t comprehend the absurdity of Ochako’s words. “You can’t kill All Might—”

The absence of gravity locks him in place, and he is helpless when Ochako moves forward to hold the sides of his head, gentle as vice. “Are you sure?” Ochako says, and her Quirk flares.

Spacetime stretches and weaves and molds. Its curvature follows the touch of gravity, nulled by the fingertips of Ochako’s hands. “What if I can kill All Might?” Ochako asks him calmly. “Yes. I think that’s what I’m going to do if you report me. I’ll try to kill All Might, and we’ll see if I can actually do it. Maybe I can. Maybe I can’t. Would you take that chance, Taka-kun?”

He seems confused, and terrorized. Being under the influence of Ochako’s Quirk has that effect on people. “Why’re you doing this…” he says. His tears can’t fall from his eyes—there is neither direction for them to fall into, nor weight for them to fall with. The epidermis of his skin starts to splinter apart with no force to hold it together. “I think I’m going to die.” 

He is going to die if she keeps this up. Ochako releases her hold on him. On the ground, Taka-kun jerks randomly, an involuntary reaction as the body experiences becoming proper matter again. And then he bends over to throw up all over the swings.

She waits until he finishes vomiting out the croissant and parfait. She kneels so she can look him in the eye. “Taka-kun?” she calls him sweetly. “Are you done?”

He looks back at her, eyes all glazed and fucked up. “I. Yeah.”

“Great. Like I said, I just wanted to talk to you. And this time, you have to answer me honestly. Let’s have a little heart to heart, Taka-kun. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. So talk to me, Taka-kun! Think of it, as, like, your interview practice for when you’re a su-per famous Pro-Hero one day. Why do you want to be a Hero?” 

He just sobs, so her Quirk pulls at the edges of him again, just a nudge. He moans in pain, and she lets him go. “Why are you going to UA, Taka-kun?”

“I,” his tears do fall this time, now that gravity can reach him. “I. Because. It’s—cool,” he sobs. “I want to be a Hero because. It’s cool.”

Ochako looks at him blankly. “Why is it cool?”

“Because—” his voice breaks. His breath smells like bile and chocolate. “Fuck my head what did you do to me oh god because. Because. It’s cool. To save people.”

“But you like hurting people,” Ochako says. She saw what was inside his phone—Chi-chan isn’t the only one. Ochako smiles. “That’s so funny, Taka-kun.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Taka-kun says. “Please. Please. I’ll delete them. All of it. I’ll delete them, just please—I won’t do it again, I won’t, so—”

He is on his knees, sobbing. Now that she’s got her answer, she’s bored again. Ochako stands up, leaving him babbling on the ground. She walks to the station and takes the train home. 

It’s a long ride returning from the end of the city, but the train is not so crowded on a weekday. She looks out the window and watches as city lights blur together. She puts a hand on the glass, pinky raised, and feels how neurons and protons squirm and shake, begging to be released from gravity’s love.

You can’t kill All Might.

That’s not true. Ochako knows she can kill just about anything. 

But. 

But. 

If there is anyone on earth who has even the slightest chance of killing her … it would be All Might, wouldn’t it? If anyone can kill Ochako, it would be the ultimate Hero.  And didn’t they say All Might is teaching UA this year?

Ochako gazes out the window and smiles at the gaping black of the world.

The next day at school, Taka-kun is late. 

So late that Ochako almost thinks he isn’t going to come at all. But he does, eventually. He barges in the middle of homeroom, looking like he didn’t sleep a wink; hair unkempt, shirt rumpled, eyes crazy. “Finally here to join us, Shirozaki?” Sensei says. “Take a seat. Togeike—well, Togeike is still absent, I see. Now, for the rest of you, has everyone handed in their future aspiration forms yet?”

“Oh, I haven’t,” Ochako stands up from her seat, her form in hand. “Here you go, sensei.”

“Uraraka-kun. You’ve decided, then, which high school you want to go to?” the teacher takes the form from her. “Huh. I see you’ve decided on—”

“UA,” Uraraka says, to the ooooh of the other students. “I’ll be going to UA, sensei.”

The teacher’s eyebrows rise. He nods to Taka-kun. “Looks like you’ve got a rival here, Shirozaki-kun. Heavy competition coming from the entire country aside, UA usually only picks one kid per school, so you two both better watch out for each other, eh?” 

The teacher says it genially, as a harmless, friendly joke. Ochako smiles. “Of course, sensei.” She glances back at Taka-kun, who is pale as a sheet. “You’ll watch out for me, won’t you, Taka-kun?”

Taka-kun doesn’t come back to school after that. And Ochako is going to UA. 

Maybe. 

Maybe she’ll pass the entrance test. Maybe not. But one thing for sure is that she has decided to end the world.

First of all, it’s not out of animosity. 

Uraraka Ochako doesn’t remember the last time she felt anything even close to hate. Mostly it’s out of boredom, and some of it, she has to admit, is out of curiosity.

You know that funny little urge you get when you stare at a fire alarm plastered on the wall, wondering what would happen if you reach out your hand and push? 

That kind of curiosity. Childlike and innocent and harmless in intent—but perhaps, not so much in execution. But to be fair, calling it curiosity isn’t quite right. What would happen next is pretty much obvious. The alarm blares, the sprinkler turns on, and you will receive the scolding of your life on top of several thousand yen fine for intentional misuse. 

Ochako knows what would happen if she nullifies gravity from Earth. 

It’s very simple—rocket science sort of simple, in fact. What would happen is—are you ready? Okay, here we go, what would happen is: everyone would die. 

There. Everyone. Including her, her family, her mom’s pet fish and her dad’s collection of moss balls. Everything will be obliterated. Just like that.

Ochako felt it the first time she touched the ground with her Quirk.

Thumb down, and then her pointer, middle, and ring finger. Her pinky is hovering just a tad over the asphalt. And Ochako could feel it: the stitches of mass and resonance. The push and pull of the tides. Time and space, knitted in a bow, just for her. Just for her. Wrapped around Ochako’s finger is the single thread holding the entire planet together, a mass that she can undo with just a touch of her pinky finger. 

Ultimately, she decides that she will end the world because she simply has to end the world.

This is not a matter of want. Ochako can’t remember the last time she really wanted anything. What this is, is a matter of utility. Ochako simply has to do it because Ochako understands innately—like how a butterfly understands that it has to fly—that this is something she simply does. It’s what she was made for, because it’s what she can do. 

But—hold on. Consequences, right? Cause and effect are very simple, as simple as people running down the halls to evacuate the building as the alarm blares on and on to a non-existent fire.

She knows what would happen: utter annihilation, which is a consequence concrete enough that it should deter her from doing … huh. There is a word for it. A term that describes “an act that derives from the norm of society that could possibly exterminate a large number if not the entirety of said society”. A word like ... misdemeanor? Crime is close, but not exactly it…

Ah. Genocide. Yes, genocide.

Anyway. Back to consequences and morals and—conscience. Yes. The thing that should stop her from misusing fire alarms for her own entertainment and stops her from being the harbinger of the apocalypse, for her own entertainment or otherwise. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Ochako wouldn’t know conscience if it’s on its knees begging her for its life. Because, you see, Uraraka Ochako is what people in the business would call an “absolute nutcase”. 

This isn’t her parents’ fault, by the way.

Or maybe it is. Arguably, it could be. What’s that thing people say—nature versus nurture, something like that? Ochako was nurtured very well. Nice life. Loving parents. Not rich, but loving. And nothing ever really happened to Ochako growing up. Ochako grows up in the ideal way that kids her age should grow up in their current socio-economic climate. She goes to school, she gets her Quirk, she socializes, she doesn’t do drugs, no boys, and she gets home every night by curfew. She has never even been bullied. It’s all as normal as it gets.

Life, so far as Ochako is concerned, is smooth-sailing. Far too smooth—zero bumps on the road, not even a single pebble standing in her way. So smooth that it doesn’t feel like she is sailing at all. So smooth and unobstructed that it barely feels like she’s riding anything at all.

So. Nature. Maybe it’s always been in her, that innate coldness. But Ochako is nice enough, warm enough. She isn’t cold—she just … lacks something. This lackness doesn’t stop her from being a good girl. Ochako is a good girl. A good girl with a smooth-sailing life—that’s her. It’s all pretty boring. Boring enough that she’s considering not dying as one.

So above all, Ochako decides to end the world because really, she has nothing else to look forward to in her boring smooth-sailing life.

Does that make sense? No?

Well, that doesn’t matter. Because Ochako has always been going to end the world. It’s just a matter of when. 

And regarding curiosity, well—okay, while Ochako knows very well that she is capable of obliterating every form of life that inhabits the humble little sphere in the Milky Way called Earth—she doesn’t really know, does she? Not before she actually does it? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

The end of the world, Ochako thinks, can be more than just a thought experiment. It can be a physics problem.

Newton’s theorem on the gravitational attraction between two spherical objects. F = G(M1*M2/R2). 

(Ten.) 

Say M1 is the mass of Earth. M2 is a 1-kg sphere. R is the radius of the earth—approximately 6,400,000 meters. G is the gravitational universal constant—6.6743 × 10-11 m^3 kg^-1s^-2. And F is, of course, the attraction between the two spheres, the acceleration due to gravity—the one and only 9.8 m/s^2.

(Nine.)

From this equation, we know that the Earth has a mass of 6,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 kilograms.

(Eight.)

Physics problem. If the force of gravity is taken out of the equation. What would happen to Earth's mass? And what would happen, say, to the Earth's masses?

(Seven.)

Ochako has never been one for theory. She has always preferred practical lessons.

(Six.) 

But sometimes, when Ochako is feeling especially bored, she would close her eyes and count to zero.

(Five.) 

And she would imagine it.

(Four.) 

Play it all out in her head. A thought experiment. A theoretical equation. She would picture all of it—the unraveling. The snap of the thread. 

(Three.) 

The push. The weightlessness of it all.

(Two.) 

Ochako would close her eyes, and—

(One.) 

“Boom,” she would whisper to herself.

Chapter Text

9

“It’d be bad luck if you tripped, right?” 

The boy looks up at her, beet red cheeks clashing with his freckles. “Oh—um—” he looks away immediately, his eyes as flighty as the rest of his body. Ochako releases her Quirk on him and he proceeds to nearly trip all over again from having his center of gravity restored. 

Gathering himself together by sheer willpower, the boy somehow manages to find his voice. “You’re welcome,” he tells her. He pauses to blush even redder the moment he realizes what he just said. “I mean, I’m fine. I mean, thank you—because you’re the one who—and I was—and I—”

So cute. Like it’s his first time talking to a girl. 

“Well, good luck, yeah?” she says cheerfully, cutting off his stupid blubbering. “See ya!”

The boy sputters, fighting for his life to vocalize any sort of response resembling human words and loses miserably. Ochako turns on her heels and walks away, generously preventing the boy from embarrassing himself even further, because she is such a nice girl and also the most understanding person in the world and she should be given the Nobel Prize Award for this single altruistic act alone.

The UA compound is huge—larger and fancier than any building she has stepped herself into. Marble-floored, high-ceiling, AC on full. There must be thousands of kids in this hall, and Ochako is one of the many wide-eyed youngins tripping over themselves in pursuit of justice, fame, hopefully the free government insurance that comes with being a Pro-Hero and, of course, the extra commissions as well. If you are very good at it, risking your life for the stability of society on the daily can pay quite well. A totally equivalent exchange.

She sits primly in her seat—signed with her exam ID 7154—as the Pro-Hero Present Mic on stage proceeds to explain how the entrance exam works. She had thought it would go something like putting all the candidates into one room and having them beat each other up, but nooo, they’re supposed to fight some robots, apparently.

Ochako shrugs. Eh, sure. 

The entrance exam will begin in a few minutes. Ochako has never felt nervous in her whole life, and today, that still will not change. 

She remembers the first time she had performed on a stage. It was a ballet recital in third grade. Another girl whose name she can no longer remember was crying and throwing up just ten minutes before they got on. She was pretty bad at throwing up, too—it took her such a long time to get it all out. Being the good child she was, Ochako helped her out by sticking her finger down the girl’s throat to help her finish puking. 

Weirdly enough, the girl still wouldn’t get on the stage after that. She wouldn’t talk to Ochako after that either. In fact, she would always run when she saw Ochako in the hallways. Ochako learned a valuable lesson from that incident: people love to make things harder for themselves. They’re funny like that.

Well. No one is really puking right now, as far as she can see, but Ochako has learned to read social cues a long time ago and she can recognize the tension building up in the air. Tension and excitement, like everyone simply can’t wait to blow these robots up. Some of these kids are equipped pretty well—walking around with suits and the like. Dressed up like real Heroes. Some even come here bringing weapons—support items, or whatever it is they’re called. Cool, shiny gadgets. Like real Heroes.

Must be nice to have money backing you up in this Quirk pissing contest. That’s okay. She doesn’t hold it against them. We were all born with our advantages—like having rich parents to help us get into our favorite Hero school so we can just be exactly like All Might, please, Mom? I promise I’ll eat all my veggies.

Oh, look—there is that boy again, the one who tripped and looked at her like she was an angel descending from the sky. Now that is a guy who looks like he is going to puke, green as he is. Poor guy. He catches her gaze—surprise coloring his features, and then recognition, and then bashfulness. The boy gives her a cute hesitant little wave.

Ochako looks away, disinterested. 

The exam begins.

The exam arena is a span of an artificial city—constructed of real buildings, Ochako checked, not styrofoam-made; if one of these fell on top of her she would die. The street is in severe chaos not a minute after the exam started, kids trampling each other to get to their grubby little hands on the killer robots whose death will bring them closer to their dream of becoming just like All Might. Everything and everyone is all over the place. Things are being blown up. 

Ochako considers her situation.

The robots are both smaller and bigger than she had expected. She’ll have to destroy them, somehow. Whatever. She’ll deal with it, or maybe she’ll fail. More importantly, she thinks that this is a pretty exciting situation. Ochako has never seen kids her age act this crazy before. She watches with burgeoning interest as people kick and punch and Quirk their way into killing the robots and/or preventing each other from killing said robots. It’s sort of funny.

Well. Kicking and punching the robot is out of the question for Ochako because that seems a) stupid, and b) like it requires a lot of effort to do, on top of being stupid. She needs to get close to touch the robots and let gravity do the rest, so she needs to get into close-range … huh. Okay. That’s a lot of effort as well. Ochako isn’t sure if she feels like doing all of that. 

But, wait. Idea. She just needs to use objects around her as ammunition. Boom boom, right? That’s quite simple. And the nearest object around her is—

“Get your fucking hands off me.”

She takes her hand off his shoulder, pinky finger still raised. “Sorry,” Ochako says, a soft simper. “It’s just, it’s just so scary.”

The boy is unsympathetic, glaring back at her in something that looks like disgust at her apparent fear of being shot to death by robots. “Fuck off,” he spits at her, his hands still smoking from the power of his Quirk. No longer caring about her existence, he’s off to destroy another bot coming from the end of the street. Ochako stares after him.

No, Ochako decides. People wouldn’t make good ammunition. Their bodies are too low in mass—she would have to increase velocity if she wants them to dent the bots enough to do real damage, which would be a whole thing.  

Well, whatever. A bot is rising from the alleyway—how convenient. Ochako runs towards it, her right hand caressing the wall of the nearest building. Concrete falls from the sky and dust clouds erupt in the alley in soft shrapnels. Boom boom. 

Yep, she thinks, tilting her head at the remains of what once was an artisan, lovingly made ¥ 3,751,405 piece of perfectly functioning giant killer robot. That’s one.

She looks back behind her shoulders. That blonde—the boy who told her to fuck off—had destroyed half a dozen robots in the past, what, two minutes? She has to get at least two, three times that. Aim for bigger robots—the three-pointers. Preferably the ones who are being engaged by other Examinees to give the bots something to shoot at while she dismantles them apart. 

She puts her idea into practice, and what do you know—it actually isn’t all that hard. Smooth-sailing, really, just like everything else in her life. The metal relents easy under her Quirk, helpless in zero gravity. Within no time she is getting bored again with this whole exam thing. 

Is UA just going to be like this the whole time? That’s a bit of a letdown.

“You saved me,” the girl says. “Thanks! That was seriously too close.”

Ochako just took her kill, used her as a shield, and got all of her points—and now she’s thanking her? People are so strange sometimes. “Gosh,” Ochako says with what she thinks sounds like concern. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

The girl stands up, stumbling a little. Her knees are scraped; the blood a stark shade of red against her pink skin. The robot didn’t manage to get her, but she had kept it busy enough for Ochako to sneak behind it—the two-pointer is now smoking behind them, having suffered a five meters fall from the sky.  

She sounds cheerful enough despite her situation. “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about me!” 

Ochako doesn’t understand the concept of worrying if her life is flashing before her eyes. “Are you sure?” she says. The exam is ending soon—real soon. Ochako counts her score in her head. Could she pass the test with just forty points, she wonders?

“Yeah! I’m Ashido Mina, but you can call me Mina,” the girl beams at her, toothy and pretty. “What’s your n—shit, watch out!”

Just like most people, Ochako doesn’t enjoy pain. Mostly she thinks being in pain is pretty boring. But sometimes a new kind of pain can add spice and variety to the great monotonous routine of life. Like now.

It all takes her by surprise. One moment she’s standing and the next she’s buried in the rubble. Her legs are a flash of red, hot pain. Ochako blinks. Dust enters her lungs, and distantly, she hears the ear-ripping sound of something huge and heavy falling apart in a thunderous bang. 

She looks up. Above her, comically humongous at fifteen-meter height, is a zero-pointer robot ready to stamp her flat. 

There are screams all around her, the noisy sound of kids running for their lives. Ochako feels blood trickle down her forehead, sticky and warm. Her life, Ochako realizes distantly, is in danger.

Huh.

Isn’t that something?

Ochako considers her situation.

She can get these rubbles off her and escape. Her legs are fucked, though, so she has to use her Quirk on herself afterward. She’d rather not—she hates using her Quirk on herself, the nausea is annoying. But if she wants to live, that’s what she has to do, because that giant fucking robot is going to trample her soon enough, and that would be a pretty ugly way to die. Closed casket funeral definitely. She can imagine the headlines: Tragic Accident at UA Entrance Exam. A life lost too soon, they would perhaps say. She would be referred to as Child A.

That’s a little interesting. Maybe UA will be fucked after. 

Or not. Maybe kids have always been dying in UA entrance exams. Or maybe her parents will have UA sued—how about that? They could use the money to get a new house. Maybe even a car. Isn’t that something? Maybe after Ochako’s death they’ll even have another child, and that child will perhaps live a richer life what with a bigger house and a car, but tragically, they will never live up to the memory of Ochako, who is totally a much better kid to have. The child will go, you always compare me to my idiot dead sister, who died stupidly in the UA entrance exam for no reason! I hate you! And then kill themself.

Or something. This train of thought is getting away from her. Wait—ah! Nevermind, her parents can’t sue UA. There was that form that they signed for Ochako’s admission to the entrance exam, and one of the clauses was something along the lines of, you can’t sue UA if your child stupidly dies trying to get into UA. Crazy!

That sure blows, doesn’t it? Now back to the robot situation.

The robot moves, its metal creaking heavily, and the ground shakes with it. Death looms on her, figuratively and literally, and Ochako thinks—she thinks that—

She thinks that she is glad she came to this entrance exam, because this is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her yet. 

Ochako considers her situation.

Should she die right now? 

She puts her hands on the ground, pinkies raised—a well-practiced habit. The cement is rough and warm underneath her palm, trembling with the force of the bot’s weight.

Or should she end the world?

She considers the pros and cons.

Ochako knows her parents well. They wouldn’t have another child, really. If she dies here, they would die too, because they would immediately kill themselves. Her mom first—and then her dad following after, because while he could handle the loss of his only daughter, the loss of his wife would be too much for him to bear. Even if they do sue UA that insurance money would go to waste, what with the whole double suicide situation.

Ochako doesn’t have a strong opinion about most things, but she is a staunch believer in not wasting perfectly good insurance money.

So, the end of the world it is. 

She puts her pinkies down.

(Ten.)

It’s immediate, the connection. Immediate and overwhelming in the worst sense of the word, to have the world in the palm of her hand. (Nine.) To cradle mass. To cradle fate, and life, and—should she be willing—death. (Eight.) Ochako breathes, a shudder, and the world follows, its balance just a shy touch away from being fucked over. (Seven.) Straddling a knifepoint. Everything has mass, did you know that? Everything, and mass makes matter. (Six.) To nullify gravity is to take that away. 

(Five.)

To nullify gravity, Ochako has come to understand a long time ago, is to take away everything that matters.

(Four.)

And now we shall begin the countdown to the end of the world.

(Three.)

(Two.) 

(On—)

“Stop!”

That’s when she sees him.

A boy. That boy, the plain-looking one with the wild hair. He’s looking at her, eyes fearful and panicked. And then in the next second, he’s flying.

Tethered free from weight and gravity. Eyes green and Quirk blazing even greener as he soars, soars, fist aimed at the bot—

The sky explodes. 

Ochako watches it all. It’s beautiful. For a moment the air is red, and then burning metal rains down from the sky, like the ashes of a volcano. The boy is plummeting down, down, down, to his sure death. It's all very beautiful.

This is the most exciting thing that has happened to her yet.

Saving him is an immediate decision that she makes without a second thought. Her heart pumps in her chest, giddy, as she holds him in her arms. He groans, and then looks at her—big green eyes amidst the dirtied face, smeared by dust and oil and dirt. She can’t hear herself beneath the ringing of her ears, but she says—

“Hey,” Ochako says.

His mouth moves.

“Hey,” he says.

She gently pulls him down back to earth, gravity curving time and space once again. She can't believe it. She smiles, and it's so real that she could laugh. She could laugh at how much it overwhelms her at the moment, this elation. The exhilaration of almost dying, almost ending the world, and of her world turning upside down. Of this stupid boy who almost blew himself to kingdom come just to save a girl he doesn’t even fucking know. 

It’s all just so fucking funny. It’s the funniest fucking thing that has ever happened to her. 

The boy stares at her, more than a little out of it, seemingly surprised by what he has done. His arms and legs are a mess of red, she can see his bone jutting out from his skin, white beneath the gore. It’s all so hilarious, Ochako could cry from it. For a moment she feels an enormous emotion towards this boy, an emotion that she will never know—something that could be love had Ochako have the capacity to feel anything even remotely like it. Only for this moment, and this moment alone.

Life is certainly full of surprises.

She lays him down on the rubble, her Quirk dying entirely. Nausea coils in her belly. She smiles warmly at him and tells him, “I’m going to throw up.” And then she does exactly just that. 

The boy isn’t even mad that she’s puking all over him—he lies there patiently, just generously letting himself be puked on. Ochako is a great puker, she does it all efficiently and without much fuss. When she finishes she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and beyond the dust and the rubbles, she sees the girl from before—Ashido Mina—panickingly dragging a medic and pointing in their direction. 

She looks back at him. The ringing has subsided a little. “Sorry,” she tells the boy, even though she really isn’t, but she figures it’s the normal thing to say if you’ve just projectiled all over somebody.

“It’s okay,” the boy says, which is incredibly funny at all angles. 

Ochako smiles at him. “You saved me,” she says.

“I—” he looks like he doesn’t even know what’s going on. “I. I did? I—well.” He laughs a little, not directed at her but more at himself, or maybe the world. Ochako suspects he’s hit his head at some point—his eyes are a little glazed. “At least I did something.”

The paramedics have all arrived, separating the both of them apart. “See you in UA,” Ochako says, and finds herself sort of meaning it.

“I don’t know,” the boy says honestly as he’s strapped down the gurney. He’s definitely hit his head—she can see the blood amidst the dark strands of his hair. “I didn’t get to score any points.”

They brought her to a medical tent to fix her up. 

Ochako is crying by the time they finished with her medical examination. “Please,” she sobs to the paramedics. “Please, let me talk to one of th-the exami-i-ners. Please. I need to talk to them.”

It’s a good and impressive cry if she could say so herself. Not too hysterical, not too dignified, just the right amount of sincere desperation as the tears roll down her face. It's a good enough performance that Present Mic himself actually does come to see her in the medic tent. He’s all nervous and guiltily understanding, handing her tissues and asking someone to please can we get some tea here and maybe some cookies and everything? Gosh!

“He said h-he didn’t get any p-points, so he’s going to f-fail the ex—exam,” Ochako cries. “All be-because he saved me. It’s my fault that he’s going to f-fail. How am I supposed to l-live with myself? When I’m only al-alive because of h-him!”

Present Mic seems to struggle to comfort a crying fifteen year old girl, which is a struggle well documented in the history of the human race since 14th century BC. “Rest assured, Uraraka-kun, we will judge all examiners fairly—”

“He was the o-only one who ran to my r-rescue. Nobody else did. Not even the e-examiners”—Present Mic flinches at this—”I felt so alone. I thought I was going to d-die,” Ochako hiccups tearfully. “I thought All Might, All Might would save me, but All Might never c-came. I thought it was the end. I was going to d-die trying to get into UA, failing to achieve my d-dream to be a H-Hero..” 

“Oh, dear,” says Present Mic who looks like he really isn’t getting paid enough for all this.

Ochako pauses for melancholic effect. "This morning I h-had a stupid fight with my parents.."

Present Mic sounds horrified. "No."

“I called them selfish b-because they wouldn’t buy me a new phone. W-when that robot came at me I thought—oh, god, that’s going to be my last word ever to my parents. Calling them selfish because they wouldn’t let me have an iPhone XXI.”

“Oh!” Present Mic lets out a wounded sound. “Goodness, not iPhone XXI.”

“I thought—I’d like someone to at least tell my parents I love them,” Ochako sobs. “I wanted someone to tell my parents I love them even if I only have iPhone XX and not iPhone XXI.”

Present Mic looks devastated. “Oh, dear!”

“But that boy s-saved me. He’s a Hero. He made me believe in Heroes again,” she sniffles, seemingly calming down from her hysteria. “So would you p-please put in a good word for him?”

“Oh dear. Of course, absolutely,” says Present Mic again, patting her shoulders in contrite sympathy. “Look, kid, I can’t share with you the details of our grading system—but I can assure you that the boy’s action, let’s say, will be taken into consideration, and—”

Oh.

“Oh. Okay then.” Ochako wipes her tears and gets down from her medical cot. “Which way is the exit, again?”

When she sees him in UA he’s tripping all over himself again, blushing and stuttering like an idiot, and she feels that familiar well of something. Like she just wants to hold him in her hands so she can feel the fragility of the gravitational threads that hold him together and stretch them out to the brim.

She doesn’t. “Oh my god, you’re here!” Ochako says, warmly taking Midoriya Izuku’s hands in hers. “You got in! Present Mic said you would, but I’ve been so worried. I’m so happy we wind up here together!”

The boy looks a second away from exploding again, cheeks hot. Any wounds that she saw on him from back then have healed entirely. “I—um—”

“If you’re here to socialize, get the hell out,” says the voice coming from a gloomy greasy sleeping-bag-cocooned homeless-looking man who turns out to be their homeroom teacher. 

His name is Aizawa-sensei and he looks to be the no-nonsense kind. He has them line up and do a Quirk test to decide who’s going to get kicked out on the first day, because if your Quirk sucks, what on earth are you even doing here in UA? So Ochako just watches as her new classmates show off their Quirks one by one. 

Ochako remembers when everyone in her class first got their Quirks. 

It was kindergarten. She remembers that there was a trending Hero anime at the time, Ice Princess, something like that—and Ochako used to beg her parents to buy her a lunchbox with the heroine’s face on it, because everyone has got one too. She remembers how Quirks and Heroes were all everyone was talking about. The kids who haven’t got their Quirks would stand on the sideline in deep jealousy watching the other Quirks-blessed kids play Heroes-Villains, acting out their heroic endeavors and villainous demises respectively. Ochako remembers being one of these poor Quirkless kids for quite some time.

One day, Ochako’s seatmate Aisha started screaming in the middle of arts and crafts. Ochako remembers the desk toppling over, glitter spraying in the air when Aisha fell to the floor. She had crumpled on her sides, moaning and gasping, threads of silk growing out of her skin and covering her up in a cocoon within seconds. Ochako remembers the way Aisha tried to claw her way out of it, tears and blood coming out of her eyes, desperate hands reaching out of her chrysalis. She only stopped screaming when silk started coming out of her mouth too, encasing her face until all was still. Ochako remembers how Aisha came to class the next day with the most beautiful butterfly wings growing out of her back. 

That very night Ochako threw a tantrum at her parents asking if she’ll have a Quirk as pretty as Aisha’s, or if she won’t have a Quirk at all like Shiro-kun from class B who keeps having mud all over his shoe locker because he’s a stupid Quirkless freak just like his mom and everybody hates his guts for it. 

Ochako’s Quirk came only a little after. Ochako has no recollection of how it first appeared—she only remembers snapshots of the week her Quirk first developed.

She remembers how everything felt too hot and too cold, and too little and too much. She remembers feeling a lot of things. She remembers her parents having to take her out of school for a week. She remembers lying down staring at the hospital ceiling with her arms strapped and suspended in the air. She remembers how stars inflate and deflate and how gravity felt like a marble, turning and turning in the topographical curve of time and space. She remembers how the fabric of the world stretched and folded and choked. She remembers screaming and not hearing her own voice. She remembers clawing bloody lines at her neck as she tried and failed to pull oxygen into her lungs because nothing would tether them to the atmosphere.

When the hospital released her and she could go to school again, everyone asked her what her Quirk was like. She told them it was heavy.

Ochako never threw a tantrum again after that. She never cried or complained about a single thing. Her parents always told everyone what a good girl Ochako became after she got her Quirk. As if she got an early puberty and became so much more mature for her age.

The Quirk test is basically a physical test, only that they can use their Quirk to cheat their way through it. Ochako dearly wants to play hooky because this is basically just PE class, but getting kicked out on the first day seems anticlimatic. So Ochako throws the baseball the teacher gave her and watches it fly through the stratosphere with little care and much faux humbleness.

That should be enough for her not to get kicked out. If she actually gets kicked out by the end of this, though, she’ll make sure that Aizawa-sensei will be the first to go. She goes to sit down and continues to watch as other students desperately try to prove that they are deserving of UA education by throwing a baseball as far as possible.

Her UA classmates’ Quirks don’t interest her much. There is that boy—the blonde back at the entrance exam with the explosive, candy-scented Quirk. He had blown the baseball sky high and glared heatedly at Ochako when she beat his records by infinity. Ochako can’t care less. She is starting to lose interest. If the entire school year is going to be a Quirk pissing contest, she’d rather everybody just dies now. 

When Midoriya Izuku breaks his finger throwing his ball Ochako feels just a little less genocidal.

At period break the girls have decided to walk together to the cafeteria. “Heya,” Mina says, coming to Ochako’s desk with a toothy grin. “I didn’t have the chance to talk to you before, but you’re the girl who saved my life, right?”

Ashido Mina is the type of person who is popular without putting in a single effort due to her genuine extroversion and innate confidence—the latter part is especially important. Girls who have this kind of self-assured confidence lack the cruelty only insecure people have. It makes them kind, because they don’t need to be mean.

“Hey,” Ochako says, mirroring her smile. “Glad to see we’re in one class!”

“This is awesome. Ochako-chan, right? We’re basically besties for life now.”

Oh, totally. “Oh, totally,” Ochako says. 

They all seem nice. Asui Tsuyu, Hagakure Tooru, Yaoyorozu Momo, Jirou Kyouka. With Mina and Ochako, there are six girls and fourteen boys. “There’s not a lot of girls,” Jirou drawls, with a passive derisiveness. “As expected.”

“All the more reason for us to stick together, right? Let’s show the boys up at their own game, huh?”

“They seem pretty tough,” Tsuyu comments. “That Todoroki and Bakugou kid. Tokoyami and Kirishima too.”

“I agree,” Yaoyorozu says, a little nervously. She is the prettiest—tall like a model. “It’s not going to be easy to be top of class.” The way she says it makes it clear that that’s exactly what she’s aiming for.

Ochako has never cared about being the top of the class, but she does like getting along with people who do, especially ones who are generous in sharing their homeworks and test answers. “I’m sure you can breeze past those boys,” Ochako says. “You did amazing just now, Yaoyorozu-san. Right, guys?”

“Oh, no..”

“Yeah, what are you even talking about, Yaoyorozu? Your Quirk is so OP, you can literally make anything,” Jirou says, deadpan, but not unkind. “If there’s anyone to watch out for, it should be you.”

Yaoyorozu blushes. Despite her cool demeanor, she seems to be unexpectedly down to earth. Definitely a home-schooled kid. “Oh, I’m flattered, but Jirou-san’s Quirk is..”

Ochako couldn't give less shit about this Quirk version of you’re so pretty-no you’re prettier-no you. This is all starting to bore her. Maybe she made a mistake coming here if all they talk about is Quirks, as if it’s kindergarten all over again. Then again, it is a Hero school. What else will they be talking about if not Quirks? 

Oh, no. The idea of being in UA is starting to look less and less appealing. 

She should drop out. No, she should just fake a Villain attack and destroy the entire school ground and then enroll in another less annoying school. And repeat the entire process all over again, if that next school turns out to be annoying as well. 

“—when Ochako’s Quirk is so cool too! When the baseball throw count showed infinity? That was so crazy.”

Ochako finds the other girls looking at her. “Aw, thanks,” she says sheepishly, waving away the compliment. “That was all I could do! I scored really low in tracks just now..”

“How does your Quirk work exactly, Ochako-chan?” Tsuyu says, who is the kind of girl that goes by her first name on the first day. “Honestly curious.”

Ochako smiles. “I negate gravity,” Ochako says simply. 

There is an oooh. “Damn, that’s cool,” Jirou says. “You can fly? Wait, can you make me fly?”

“Yep.” To infinity and beyond. Travelling through the cold dark space forever in zero gravity, just like that poor baseball.

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

“That is impressive,” Yaoyorozu says, watching Ochako with a look of wonder. “Considering the force of gravity isn’t even wholly understood yet scientifically … what would that entail, to ‘negate gravity’? Such a fascinating prospect. How wide is the range of your Quirk I wonder—could you perhaps create a zero gravity field? Oh! How about time dilation, would that be possible as well for you to do?”

The other girls seem a little taken aback by Yaoyorozu’s sudden talkativeness. Jirou raises a brow. “Whoa, there, Einstein.”

“Sorry,” Yaoyorozu says, blushing suddenly. “I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries. It just sounds like an exciting Quirk, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Yaoyorozu’s eyes are intelligent. Ochako smiles. “I don’t really get all that physics stuff,” she says. “Speaking of, how difficult do you guys think the lessons are gonna be? The written entrance exam almost killed me.”

The conversation takes a turn to the curriculum. Like Ochako, Mina’s grades are apparently not doing too hot either. They manage to make Yaoyorozu admit that her grades are pretty good, and she promises to tutor them if they need her too, although she’s confident that they can handle themselves just fine, because with hard work and determination of course anything is possible. 

So true.

Overall they all really do seem nice. Even Jirou, who’d looked unfriendly back in class, turns to be bubblier when it’s just between them girls. Ochako might even be able to tolerate them for the rest of the school years. 

Like the rest of the school, the cafeteria is well-furnished—clean and grand with the smell of food and air freshener wafting in the air. There is enough space here for hundreds of kids, and there are indeed hundreds of them—all engrossed in conversation with a tray of hot food sitting in front of them. Right when Ochako thinks the school can’t get any fancier, she is proven wrong. What kind of cafeteria serves wagyu to its students? 

Ochako is fantasizing about robbing this place when something—someone—catches her eye. “Hey guys, I need to talk to someone,” Ochako says. “I’ll come back to you guys in a bit.”

When Ochako taps his back, Midoriya Izuku jumps in surprise and Ochako has to use her Quirk on him again so that he doesn’t spill his food all over the floor. “Oh!” he looks at her, face heating up once again. “Uraraka-san! Um, sorry, I—uh—“

Ochako wants to stretch the edges of him out. Pull him this way and that and fold him like a t-shirt. “Wanna sit together?” Ochako offers, setting him gently back down. “You looked a little lost, Midoriya-kun. It’s a big place, isn’t it?”

Midoriya stammers some assent, mostly out of reflex, and when she brings him back to the girls’ table he looks like he’s going to piss himself out of fear. He goes quite literally shock-still. The girls seem fine with him though, because Midoriya looks like the kind of guy that is easy enough to push over if he tries anything funny.

He doesn’t. Mostly he just seems like he's trying to disappear into the floor.

“Hey, Midoriya-kun, right?” Hagakure says, beckoning him all friendly-like. “Come sit with us!”

Tsuyu waves, eating her pocky. “Hello. Call me Tsuyu.”

“How’s your finger?” Mina says, chewing on her wagyu. “Y’know, what you did was insane, dude. You’re nuts for real.”

“Yes, Midoriya-kun, how’s your finger? It looked quite painful.”

Midoriya seems lost again, but manages to seat himself down without further embarrassment. Now that Ochako has more time to observe him, she isn’t sure if Midoriya’s skittish demeanor is because he never talked to girls—judging from the way he acted the whole day, it’s more like he never talked to anyone. Ochako recognizes the type. There is always one in every class. Chi-chan is an example.

“Um, it’s okay,” he says. His voice is so soft, like he’s trying to make his presence as small as possible. “Recovery Girl fixed it.”

“Whoa. It looks like it never broke at all.”

“Oh, Recovery Girl,” Mina sighs dreamily. “I remember seeing her on TV when I was like, five. She was so cool and so pretty.”

“She was pretty hot, yeah,” Jirou waves her chopsticks. “She was in that band-aid commercial, do you remember? When we were like five.”

“Oh yeah, that band-aid commercial. I begged my mom to buy me a band-aid for weeks.”

“Maybe I should break my finger too so I can see her. And get a band-aid.”

“Breaking your finger is crazy,” Tsuyu says, stating the obvious. But Tsuyu turns out to be the type of person who only knocks you down to bring you up. “You can go to the nurse’s room and ask for a period pad or something.”

“Naw, I don’t do periods.”

“Then just pretend to pass out. Easy peasy.”

“Oh my god, you genius,” Mina says. “Yes. I’ll try that next class.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jirou says. She seems dead serious.

Hagakure raises her hand. “Me too, me too!”

“Let’s all pass out together in the next class. It’s math too, so perfect timing.”

“Um,” Yaoyorozu says, looking a little concerned by her new friends’ behavior. “What if you just meet her after school..? Normally..?”

“So, Midoriya-kun,” Ochako says, turning to look at Midoriya who has been chewing his food silently. “What was she like? Was she nice?”

Midoriya seems taken aback that he is being addressed in the conversation again. “She was, uh,” Midoriya pauses. “She was a bit scary … actually…”

The girls look at each other. “Awesome.”

“..Yeah,” Midoriya says, after another pause. “It was. Pretty awesome. She, um, fixed me twice..”

“Twice? ” The girls sound jealous of Midoriya’s broken bones escapades.

“Yeah. I, uh. Broke my arms. And legs,” Midoriya is cringing to himself now, like he regrets bringing this up. “Back at the entrance exam.”

“Wait a minute!” Mina gasps. She points at him, even though he is sitting right in front of her. Midoriya’s eyes cross together looking at her chopsticks. “Oh my god. Was that you? The one who cannonballed into that giant one-pointer bot and broke their entire body? Dude!”

“Oh, I heard about this,” Jirou says. She didn’t seem to care much about Midoriya before, but now she is looking at him with a kind of newfound respect. “Bro.”

“You were insane for that,” Tsuyu says. Wisely, she adds, “I wish I could have seen it. You should do it again sometime.”

Midoriya looks deeply ashamed. “Um.”

“He saved my life, basically,” Ochako says cheerfully. “It was so cool. Thanks again, Midoriya-kun.”

"No, you—um.." He blushes hotly for the nth time. "You saved me too. Uraraka-san." 

He looks like he's about to die from embarrassment. Ochako can't have that. Not so soon. "Hey," she says, a friendly jibe. "Saving people is what all this Heroing thing is supposed to be about, right?"

Midoriya’s mouth twists into something that could perhaps be a smile in another parallel universe. He ducks to his food. "Yeah," he says, soft. "It is."

The conversation shifts to Heroes, and then the Hero teachers—“I can’t wait to meet All Might!”—and then lessons, and then the current Hero trends. It’s all very pointless and boring, which is to say it’s exactly like every conversation Ochako has ever been involved in her entire life. Ochako makes a quip once in a while so she doesn’t look like an anti-social freak, while Midoriya just nods and blushes and doesn’t really say anything else because he seems to be very bad at not looking like an anti-social freak. That's okay. That's just how people like Midoriya are like. She doesn't hold it against him.

Ochako is in the middle of arranging her watermelon cuts into a house when she notices Midoriya staring at her. “Want some?” she says.

“Oh, no, um.” He glances at her tray. There isn’t a lot of food there, and most of it is untouched. “Um. Uraraka-san. You’re—you’re not hungry?”

Ochako stares at him blankly. Midoriya immediately looks like he regrets asking at all. “Uh, sorry, you don’t have to answer, I—I didn’t mean to—“

Ochako smiles. “It’s okay,” she says. She pops a slice of watermelon in her mouth. It goes down like a piece of razor. “I just don’t have a big appetite is all.”

“Oh. Um. Okay,” he says. And then the alarm blares because there are Villains who apparently have intruded UA’s compound, or something along that line, which is reason enough for the students to scream and trample each other trying to get out. It is all quite funny. To Ochako this is a clear sign that these people will totally be great Heroes one day and the future of society is totally in great hands.

After the whole affair is done, the teachers tell them that no, it’s just a false alarm, and no Villains are coming over to kill them all. Ochako feels something close to disappointment. But most of all she doesn’t really care. 

Her first day in UA isn’t all that exciting other than Midoriya breaking his finger. She hopes things are going to get interesting soon. But if they’re not, that’s fine too. She’ll just end things early.

Chapter Text

8

Ochako suspects she was right—today is another pissing contest yet again. They’re supposed to beat each other up while play-acting as Heroes and Villains. On another note, they are also finally getting their Hero costumes in the purpose of being able to play-act Heroes-Villains more realistically. By beating each other up in costume. Basically Ochako is living the dream of every four year old on planet earth.

The girl’s locker room is in a bit of chaos because fitting yourself into a skin-tight suit should be a five-hour ordeal and not a ten-minute thing. “This is hell,” says Mina, sweating profusely after only managing to get in her costume. “Whoa. Tsuyu-chan, your goggles! So cute!”

“Thanks. I like the furs on yours. Do you need some help with that zipper?”

“For the love of god, yes.”

Ochako hadn’t specified much in her costume submission form. The suit is tighter than she thought it would be and emphasizes parts of her that, honestly, she really should’ve expected. She supposes every hero costume is always like this anyway. What did she expect?

She stares into the mirror for a little while. She doesn’t look intimidating. The costume is all rounded edges, soft curves in light pink—it makes her look cute. Fun. Harmless. Like a mascot. A cartoon character. A doll.

She doesn’t mind.

Something catches her eye in the mirror. Now that’s your classic Heroine costume. “Are you okay, Yaoyorozu-san? Need help with anything?” 

“No, I’m fine.” Yaoyorozu looks uncomfortable, shifting in place and fiddling with her suit. “It’s just—it’s…”

Ochako can see her problem. She asks anyway. “It’s?”

Yaoyorozu’s face is red. “Is it—is it too revealing?”

Ochako has been alive for fifteen years on this planet. In those fifteen years, Ochako has come to understand that this is the kind of question that has no right answer. “Mm,” Ochako says, giving her a thoughtful once-over. “You look like a proper Hero to me.” It’s not even a lie. Ochako has seen Heroes her whole life. This truly is, actually, your typical Heroine costume. Which doesn’t help the matter, of course. 

Ochako looks back up at her face. She smiles. “It’s normal I think?” Ochako says.

“..Some Heroes wear less,” Mina offers, in a tone that suggests she doesn’t know whether she is being helpful or not but hopes that it is the former regardless. “You look great, though!”

“Oh, thank you…” Yaoyorozu does not look thankful.

“Well, I’m not wearing anything. How do I look?” says Hagakure to the laughter of everyone. “Just kidding. If you feel uncomfortable you can just wear the sports uniform?”

Yaoyorozu looks a little conflicted. “This … does … support my Quirk better.”

“Doesn’t mean the design can’t be improved,” Tsuyu says. “I wouldn’t be comfortable if I was you.”

A beat of silence after Tsuyu voices out loud what they’re all thinking. Ochako claps her hands. “Yeah, this isn’t the final costume design as well—you can ask for revision later on, I think?” She says. “Right, guys?”

There are murmurs of agreement. “Aizawa-sensei did mention that..”

“They’d definitely let you ask for an amendment, don’t worry.”

“You can borrow my jacket if you want,” offers Jirou, whose costume looks the most casual and comfortable of them all. 

“Thanks, everyone.” Yaoyorozu relaxes a tiny bit. “It’s okay, Jirou-san. I’ll give it a try first.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Offer still open,” Jirou says. “Everyone ready to go?”

The boys have finished changing first, chattering among themselves on the training field. Most of their costumes look flashy and a little comical, like proper Hero costumes are. “Watch out for that short kid,” Jirou tells Ochako. “That dude is weird as hell.”

Ochako knows immediately which one she is referring to. “The one who sat next to Yaoyorozu-san in class?”

“Yeah. He came up to Mina and Yaoyorozu and said all this weird shit … see, he’s doing it again!” Jirou clicks her tongue, glaring from afar as the short boy makes his way to bother Yaoyorozu who looks uncomfortable by the approach. “I’ll go save her. Hey, Yaoyorozu!”

Jirou pulls an uncomfortable Yaoyorozu away from the boy, scolding him all the while. Ochako looks away, disinterested—and spots Midoriya.

He’s wearing a mask but she recognizes him by his dejected mannerism alone. He’s standing all by himself away from the rest of the class, looking down at the grass. His costume is moss green and looks different from the others—less furnished. He looks up in surprise when Ochako approaches him. 

“Hey,” Ochako says.

“Hey,” he says shyly.

“Cute suit. Love the bunny look.”

Ochako can see him blush even with the mask in the way. He brushes the bunny ear on top of his head, a shy, self-conscious movement. “Oh. Thanks.”

“It looks handmade,” she says in a way that makes it sound like a compliment. “Did you make it yourself?”

“My, um, my mom made it for me..” it’s said softly but without embarrassment. Maybe even with a little pride, if Midoriya is capable of feeling anything of that sort. “She’s—she’s an engineer.”

“Wow,” Ochako says, sounding impressed. “That’s amazing.” 

He seems to have now remembered that in a proper conversation you are supposed to compliment the person who compliments you as well. “I like—um. I like your suit too..” Now he sounds embarrassed. “It looks. Good.”

Gee, and here she thought she looked absolutely hideous. “You think so?” Ochako smiles sheepishly. “I feel it’s a bit too tight.”

“Hero class is awesome,” a new voice says.

Ochako stops. She turns to glance blankly.

It’s the freak short purple boy that Jirou warned her about, whose existence is so insignificant in Ochako’s mind that she’s forgotten him completely. He seems to have been banished from the girls’ circle and is now wandering around aimlessly before deciding that Ochako is a great new view for him to ogle. There is a familiar look on his face that she recognizes. It’s a look that she sometimes sees on men sitting across from her when she takes public transport. It’s a look that she sees on men looking at any girl at all.

Ochako crouches down so she can be at eye level with Mineta Minoru. Not that he is looking anywhere near her eyes. “Hi, Mineta-kun, right?” Ochako says sweetly. “I love your suit.”

Now that’s a boy who has never been approached by a girl before. He sputters some overly excited response that Ochako barely hears. She only smiles blandly at him and then walks away, disinterested once again.

When All Might shows up on the training field, Ochako’s heart skips a beat. She thinks, faintly: This is it. This is what she came here for. 

(Ten.)

He is out of costume and wearing some typical teacher get-up instead, but even like this, All Might is still larger than life. As shiny and golden as he is on TV. As grand and unshakeable. 

But not untouchable. Not anymore, no. 

(Nine.)

He is saying something about being their teacher of the day and explaining all these rules that they have to follow when they start beating each other up in their Heroes-Villains play-acting—Ochako isn’t listening. This is her chance. She can reach out and touch him if she wants. She can kill him.

(Eight.)

And maybe—just maybe—he can kill her.

Her heart picks up in her chest. That sensation again—excitement. 

(Seven.)

Ochako wonders how she should go about it. Maybe she should kill one or two of her classmates—surely that’ll get him going. Maybe all the other Hero teachers will get on it too and try to kill her all together. And if they fail, she’ll end the world. Doesn’t that sound like a plan?

(Six.)

Yes, it does. 

(Five.)

They are doing some lots and they’ll be paired up to roleplay Heroes and Villains (four), or something along that line (three), Ochako is barely paying attention (two). Ochako reaches for the nearest kid next to her.

(On—)

“The next pairing,” All Might announces, “is Uraraka-kun and Midoriya-kun.”

—Oh?

“Ochako-chan? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Tsuyu-chan,” Ochako says, brushing her classmate’s shoulder, pinkie raised. “You just had a lint on your shoulder is all.”

Midoriya doesn’t look exactly excited to be paired up with her. 

“Must be fate, Midoriya-kun,” Ochako says, walking up to him. “It’s going to be fun! We get to be Heroes.”

“Yeah,” he says. Always so quiet. Always looking like the world is going to come down all around him. 

“Are you feeling nervous? It’s normal to feel nervous,” says Ochako who has never felt nervous her whole life. 

“Sorry,” he says. He looks embarrassed again. “It’s just, we’re up against Kacch—I mean, Bakugou, and he’s … tough.” He pauses. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound so—” he pauses again. Going redder and redder. “It’s—sorry. Forget I said anything—”

Bakugou. The explosive blonde who told her to fuck off at the entrance exam. “Do you two know each other?”

Midoriya hesitates. “We were in the same school.”

Ooh. Ochako recognizes drama when she hears one. “No waay,” she says. “Really? You’ve got to know each other pretty well then.”

Something flashes across his face—a fucked up, complicated expression that picks up Ochako’s interest. He looks away, and for a moment Ochako thinks he isn’t going to respond, but then he does. “Enough that … I have an idea of what we should do to beat him,” Midoriya says quietly. “Uraraka-san … would you be okay with—with following my plan?”

Ochako blinks. Now that’s a surprise. She hadn’t pegged him as a leader. “Okay.”

He tells her all about his plan. It sounds like a decent plan. The thorough explanation of how Bakugou Katsuki’s Quirk works is certainly good intel if only Ochako is the type who gets excited over winning some stupid battle game, which she isn’t. But okay. Sounds good. They should be ready to roll. Whatever. She is just along for the ride. She even wants to see how this thing is going to turn out.

The moment the battle begins, Midoriya and Bakugou start yelling at each other like a couple on the brink of divorce. 

Well, Ochako’s parents have an all right marriage, but she’d bet on anything that this is how an explosive divorce would look like. A divorce that’s been a long time coming at that.

Ochako watches, both entertained and transfixed on the drama unfolding right in front of her. Midoriya’s mask has been charred away from Bakugou’s Quirk and from his expression it’s clear that he’s going to start crying anytime soon. 

Ochako will give him some credit—fighting wise, he has been faring well against Bakugou, and he hasn’t even been using that bone-breaking Quirk of his. Bakugou’s Quirk isn’t the only thing he knows inside out; he seems to be pretty much used to dealing with Bakugou’s punches as well—so much that he could guess every single one of Bakugou’s movements. While crying.

“I’m not going to be your punching bag forever. Not anymore,” Midoriya tells Bakugou with a wet, shaky voice. His face is green, like it’s taking all his might standing up to who obviously is his former bully and not throwing up doing it. “I’m—I’m going to be a Hero, Kacchan. Just you watch.”

Wow. Getting real personal there. Ochako looks at Bakugou to see his response.

“You’ve been fucking with me. The whole time—you’ve been fucking faking it, haven’t you, acting all Quirkless since … this entire fucking … you fuck…!” Bakugou is so angry that he can’t speak. His entire body is shaking and his face is twisted into an ugly look of hatred. “Fine. Fine! Quirk or no Quirk, doesn’t fucking matter, asshole—you’ll always be a fucking loser! Useless fucking Deku, that’s all you are, that’s all you will ever be. Try all you want—that shit’ll never. Fucking. Change.”

Wow. Some interesting tidbits there. Ochako looks at Midoriya to see his response.

“You’re wrong, Kacchan,” Midoriya says. Quiet, shaky, tearful—but there is something else there, a bitterness more complicated than just hatred. “You’re wrong. And I’m going to prove it to you.”

Ochako looks back at Bakugou.

Bakugou barks a nasty laugh. “Oh, sure you will. Break a few bones and you think you’ve made a Hero out of yourself, huh? That kind of naive thinking is just like you, Deku! You’re so beyond idiotic it pisses me the fuck off,” he bares his teeth in a sneer, hands alight with his Quirk. “All right then. I’ll show you your place, Deku. I’ll beat you just like how I always have.”

Ochako looks back at Midoriya.

He shakes his head. “No, Kacchan … you won’t,” Midoriya says, that fucked up look sweeping across his face again. Not quite hate. Something more complex. Something like determination, if it’s ever so bloody—the kind of blood that comes from broken glass, jagged and branched. “Not today. Not ever again. Today..” he pauses, breath shaky. “Today. You lose.”

Bakugou laughs again, a harsh noise. “Oh yeah? All right. Remember. You asked for it, Deku.” His face is white with rage. If looks could kill. His Quirk sparks in the palms of his hands and Bakugou says, rough, “Fuck. You.” 

Midoriya’s lips are split, Bakugou managed to get a hit in—he spits blood to the side. He is shaking his head again as he looks at Bakugou.  “No, Kacchan,” Midoriya says, soft. “Fuck you.”

This is the kind of conversation they have as they continue beating each other up.

This back and forth between the both of them goes on for quite some time (while beating each other up). They’re both so into it, Ochako is pretty sure neither of them remembers the nuclear plant situation, too immersed in their whole childhood (?) rivalry melodrama situation.

Midoriya’s short summation of their history turns out to be a severe understatement—it’s obvious that they’ve known each other for a long time, and totally for the worst. Anybody can see that these two have some unresolved stuff against each other. Ochako watches as the fight goes on and on and on.

Okay. Well. Hm. 

This is all getting a bit boring actually.

While it was kind of interesting to watch for the first few minutes, this entire thing is going monotonous real quick. If Ochako wants to watch boys beat each other up she doesn’t have to go to UA to do so, any school at all will do. Hell, give her five minutes and she can just make any two boys beat each other up at any moment. This isn’t a UA special. This is just a typical chicken fight, only dressed-up in latex.

She ignores them and walks away. 

She’s walking aimlessly but finds the nuclear plant thing that she’s supposed to secure eventually. As expected, Bakugou’s other team member Iida Tenya is safeguarding it inside the room. He’s talking to himself while he’s at it, which is hilarious. 

“..Bakugou’s personality leans towards troublemaking, so this exercise is perfectly suited to him. I suppose I must also take the role of a Villain. Though it brings shame to the Iida family name, this training will help me become a better man! I must commit! I must cloak myself in the darkness.” Iida pauses. And then, with a comically villainous voice, he says, “I … am the dark. I … am the ultimate Villain.”

Holy shit. This school is full of cringe freaks and weirdos and people with some kind of mental problem. 

Ochako can’t help it, she laughs and laughs and continues to laugh even when Iida spots her. She continues to laugh when Iida continues his Villain roleplay and begins to attack her villainously.

Ochako could very well be wrong. Entering UA might not be a mistake at all—this entire thing is actually very very funny. This school year is looking up to be a bit of fun after all.

The battle is over when Ochako gets her hands on the nuclear weapon thingamajig right when Bakugou blows up the entire building in an attempt to kill Midoriya. Midoriya is sent over, once again, to the nurse's office.

Just another day at UA.

The entire class proceeds to roast their battle performance. Ochako was too “distracted”, Bakugou was too “hot-headed”, Midoriya was too “reckless”, and Iida was “pretty good, actually, the only one who was in character”. Ochako isn’t really listening, instead just idly ping-ponging all the heartfelt insults and confessions she eavesdropped between the two boys in her brain.

She stays in class for a bit to watch her other classmates go at it. But other than Midoriya, no one seems to be in danger of getting blown up to bits, so it’s a pretty tame watch. Bored again, politely she walks over to All Might and asks if she can be excused so she can visit Midoriya-kun in the nurse's office, please, because she’s just so worried about him and she feels so guilty that he got hurt so bad and it’s all her fault because she isn’t a good enough teammate and oh my god what if he doesn’t want to be her friend ever again—

“All right, all right,” says All Might. It’s mildly surprising to see that All Might is capable of looking guilty, as if he is an actual person and not a Hero. “You may go, Uraraka-kun.”

“Thank you, All Might,” she says. She’ll just try to kill him after recess or something, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe in five minutes.

On her way out of class, she catches Bakugou brooding alone against a wall—standing apart from the rest of the class like a freak. He’s been doing that for a while, just silently fuming while everyone critiqued his murder attempt towards Midoriya. Judging from the tense, nasty look on his face, he is either having some kind of mental clash in his head or experiencing the most lethal constipation of his life.

Because Ochako is such a nice girl, she approaches him genially with open arms and open heart and so on. “Hi, Bakugou-kun,” Ochako says, sidling up to the wall next to him. “Nice to finally talk to you—great fight just now by the way, no notes! Anyway, I’m going to go visit Midoriya-kun at the nurse’s office. Do you wanna tag along?”

If Deku looked surprised that she was talking to him, Bakugou looks downright insulted. “Shut your shit and get the fuck out of my face.”

“Aw,” Ochako says, a disappointed coo. “Well, okay, Kacchan.”

The effect is immediate. That constipated look is now infused with an emotion that can only be described as homicidal. “What’d I just say, huh? Did you shit your brain out of your ass or were you just born without any? Get the fuck. Out of my face.”

He is downright growling at her. Teeth bared in non-stop yapping, like a scared, angry, neurotic rabid dog.

Ochako knows his type—there is always a boy like him in every class too, one that always needs to prove something. “Oh, so only Deku can call you Kacchan,” Ochako says. She tilts her head. “It’s so cute that both of you have nicknames reserved just for each other. You guys must be so close.”

For a second Ochako thinks he’s going to punch her, or something like that. He doesn’t though, which is too bad. Ochako has never been punched before. It’d be an interesting experience. “Mind your own fuckin’ business or I’ll make you. Fuck. Off.”

What a nice, sweet guy. Bet he’s popular with girls and punched-in drywalls. “Okay then. See ya,” Ochako says and feels his glare on her back when she leaves.

She finds Midoriya-kun all sad and depressed in the nurse’s office’s bed. They’ve cleaned him up; his face has some scratches on it, but no more of the grime and dust from Bakugou’s explosion. The entrance exam hasn’t been that long ago, but it’s almost nostalgic to see him looking all fucked up like this. 

“Hey,” Ochako says from the doorframe. 

He looks up at her. He has this hunted, hollow look in his eyes like he’s a second away from attempting suicide. “Hey,” he says. 

His voice sounds scratchy like he’s been yelling and screaming and crying for an hour. Which, well.

She lifts a can of Milo and a packet of pocky she nicked from the cafeteria. “Got you a little something.” She puts her loot on the small table next to him and drags a chair to sit by his side. “Hey,” she says again, softening her voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he says. 

She smiles tamely. “Oh yeah? No broken bones whatsoever?”

He recognizes the joke for what it is and attempts for what is probably a smile. So he isn’t completely hopeless at human communication after all—though he certainly needs to practice more on that smile. Ochako doubts his smile can even convince a blind person that he's felling okay. “Well,” he says. “Maybe one.”

Ochako hums. She glances at his slinged arm. “How’s it doing?”

“It’s okay … Recovery Girl said I just. I just need to rest up for a bit before she can fully heal it.”

Ochako watches his face. What a pair he and Bakugou make. Bakugou looks like he’s so angry he could kill, and Midoriya looks like he’s so sad he could die. 

Midoriya is funny. But Midoriya and Bakugou altogether at the same time is even funnier.

“Why so down?” Ochako says, gently bumping his good shoulder. “We won, hey? All thanks to you.”

He looks at her blankly like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “No, I—I messed up?” he says, with a question mark at the end. “It was all you. We won thanks to you.”

Ochako can see that Midoriya is exactly the kind of person that she thought he was. He will never accept any compliment from anybody, and will never give himself any merit whatsoever. This type of person perplexes her. If you trip people like Midoriya down the stairs they’d say sorry that they’d dirtied your shoes. If you give people like Midoriya a shovel, they’ll go ahead and try to bury themself with it…

No, Kacchan. Fuck you.

..Huh.

Or maybe not?

She puts a patient smile on her face. “You analyzed his Quirk and devised a plan for our team,” Ochako says matter-of-factly. “You distracted him long enough for me to get to the nuclear thingy. You did all of that. I was basically just moral support.”

Well, Ochako doesn’t understand morals if it’s tied up on a railway track begging to be saved from an upcoming trolley—but hey. Nobody’s perfect. 

Midoriya still doesn’t look convinced, but he does that thing again with his face, that poor impression of what a proper smile looks like. “You were more than just moral support,” he says. For a moment Ochako thinks he’s going to start on another tirade on how he’s the most useless teammate in the world, but he seems to realize how annoying he would sound if he does just that. He settles for: “Thank you, Uraraka-san.”

“No problem, Deku.”

The effect is immediate. His face has this shocked, fucked up hurt look as if Ochako just stabbed him in the guts and twisted the knife. 

Ochako smiles. “It’s a cute nickname,” she says. “What does it mean?”

He blinks. He looks down at his hands. They’re calloused, and the nails bitten. His voice is a little hollow when he answers. “It’s. From the kanji of my name. It can be read as—”

“Good for nothing,” Ochako says, and he flinches. Ochako watches him, fascinated, mapping every change that occurred on that freckled face. “So Bakugou-kun was bullying you.”

That stricken face again, like Ochako just stabbed him the second time. It’s an interesting look. More interestingly is Midoriya’s response to her statement—it is one of immediate denial. “No,” he says. “He’s not … he wasn’t…” 

He stops. His throat bobs when he swallows. “It’s a nickname,” he finishes lamely. “It’s just a nickname.”

“But it’s not a nice one.”

She can see it in his face when he relents. Eyes downcast, lips shaking. So expressive, and so effortlessly. It’s incredible. This kind of show of vulnerability is especially hard to imitate. “No,” he says. “Not really..”

“He’s not very nice to you, is he?” Ochako says. “Bakugou-kun.”

Another denial. “No, he just—it’s just. It’s just that. He just doesn’t like me so much,” Midoriya says. And then, as if he needs to defend Bakugou and validate Bakugou’s treatment of him for whatever crazy reason, “Kacchan’s just—he’s angry. That I’m here. That’s why he … got rough.”

Got rough? That’s a hilarious way to describe blowing up a fucking building. “He could’ve killed you,” Ochako says.

Midoriya isn’t looking at her. He’s fiddling with his blanket like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. “He wouldn’t,” he says softly, as if Bakugou-kun didn’t just basically put him in the hospital. “He’s … rough … but. He’s strong. He’s really, really strong.”

Ochako stares at him, saying nothing. But Midoriya doesn’t need her encouragement to elaborate further on what an incredible person his bully is. “His goals, his—his confidence. Everything. He’s better than me in every way, he … he makes me want to be better. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t—” he stops. Says nothing. 

Ochako thinks back to when Midoriya shared his plan with her. He had explained to her, thoroughly, everything about Bakugou’s Quirk. And Bakugou’s fighting style. And he had handled those two things well enough that they’d won the battle. The details that Midoriya had on Bakugou—it was obsessive. Could it be—?

“You..” Ochako squints, watching his face intently. Maybe he likes him—? No, no. It’s something similar, but fundamentally different—

—oh. She got it.

“You want to be him,” Ochako says.

Midoriya stares at her. She stares back. Wonders what he’s going to say—another denial, maybe. Or tell her to leave and mind her own fucking business, if he has the backbone for it. But there isn’t any of that. He says eventually, with that quiet voice, “I thought I could never. Be like him. But now that I have a—but now. Now, I have a chance. So. I have to beat him.” He pauses. His good fist clenches the fabric of the blanket. “I—I have to win.”

“Even if it hurts?” 

Midoriya blinks. “Huh?”

Ochako glances at his bandages. The entrance exam, the Quirk test, and now the battle practice. “Your body can’t handle your Quirk, Midoriya-kun.”

Midoriya tenses. So tense that he goes shock still. It’s kinda funny to see. “The stronger the Quirk the heavier the burden," Ochako says, reciting Quirk 101 that they all learned in primary school. "And yours is pretty good."

Midoriya stays quiet, stiller than stone. That's fine. She stretches out her hand, as if to touch him, but stops just shy of. Her hand falls back to her side. She looks at him. “Doesn’t it suck?”

“..What?”

“Your Quirk,” Ochako says, curiously. “It breaks you every time you use it. Doesn’t it suck?”

“No.”

It’s said without hesitation, without pause. It’s the surest she has heard him. “Why?” she says.

He looks at her like he doesn’t understand her question. “If … if it wasn’t for this Quirk,” he says, confused, “I wouldn’t be here … that’s why…”

Ochako looks at him. She finds that he completely means it. 

The pause goes on for too long. Midoriya looks away, weakly flustered all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—talk so much, I don’t know why I—“

“I don’t get you, Deku-kun,” Ochako says. 

Deku looks at her, taken aback.

Ochako smiles. “But that’s okay. That’s not your fault. You can’t help it,” she says, tapping her lips thoughtfully. “Oh, right. I can call you Deku too, can’t I? It just sounds so cute.”

The surprised expression is gone, replaced by something more complicated, hurt and most of all confused. “I—um—”

“I thought it sounded just like dekiru—I can do it,” Ochako says sweetly. “Deku-kun. Deku-kun. Deku-kun. I love saying it.” She smiles at him brightly. “I’m sure you can beat Bakugou-kun. After all, you already did it once today. You can do it again. So. Can I call you Deku?”

Deku stares at her for a long time. And then, “I. Okay.” 

“Oh, yay,” Ochako says at his consent. “Really?”

He blinks. He looks somewhat astonished, either at Ochako or at himself. She beams back at him, sunny. He says again, “Okay. No problem. I mean—I’m fine. I mean—thank you—”

“That’s the spirit,” Ochako kindly cuts off his stupid blubbering once again. “Plus ultra, right? Say it with me, Deku-kun.”

He looks confused again, like he isn’t sure what to do when people smile at him, or say nice things to him, or not call him useless to his face. “Um … plus ultra..” 

Such a silly catchphrase. “So true,” Ochako says.

He’s blushing again. It’s less interesting than that fucked up expression he had on his face, which is now entirely gone. Ochako appraises him once more. Deku-kun … is still funny overall, but not that funny. Mostly, now he’s just weird. 

Well. He can’t help it. She doesn’t judge.

She pops open the pocky box she stole, shoving it under his nose. “Eat up,” she says. “You need the energy. So you can use your Quirk again.”

And destroy his body in the process again. 

That part is still sort of funny.

“Uraraka-san, you’re..” his words are a bit muffled from the pocky in his mouth. He sounds so shy still, despite. “You’re. Really—really nice. Thank you.”

“Mhm,” Ochako agrees, already over this entire experience. She glances at her watch—twenty minutes before the next class. What should she do now? Nick something else from the cafeteria? Explore the school grounds? Look for All Might and get herself killed? Look for All Might and get All Might killed? 

So many possibilities.

“I’ll see you later in class, okay?” she says. “You just rest up for now, Deku-kun.’

“Okay,” he says, with that shy, soft demeanor. A drastic change from back when he looked like he wanted to bathe in Bakugou’s blood and drink it too. “See you. Uraraka-san.”

“See you, Deku-kun,” she says. She walks out to find Bakugou-kun standing in the hallway.

She wants to laugh. Wow. Just wow.

These people are insanely funny.

“Hey, Kacchan,” she says, just to watch him get angry again. “Were you eavesdropping on us?”

He’s not even blushing—not a trace of shame from being caught red-handed. “Go fuck yourself.” 

How nice. 

Bakugou Katsuki has clearly been terrorizing Deku for the longest time, but his records must be clean. UA wouldn’t give him a chance otherwise. 

Ochako understands. She can imagine all the circumstances—all the excuses that people give for him. Maybe his grades are just so good, or his Quirk is just so cool, or he’s just so popular with everyone that his … personality … can be excused. After all, he’s a boy. Boys like Bakugou, they can just say anything. They can just do anything. He can attempt to blow up someone and he would just be “hot-headed”. 

But when Ochako does it she would be “mentally disturbed”, “exhibiting signs of sociopathic tendencies”, and “in severe need of psychiatric help”. 

Don’t you just hate double standards?

“He’d be so happy if you go and see him,” Ochako says, pointing to the closed door of the nurse’s office. “You two are such best friends after all.” 

“Kill yourself,” Bakugou says, and her smile widens. This is kind of fun.

“If you’re too shy to wish him a get well soon, I can do it for you,” Ochako says, moving to open the nurse’s office door. “Deku-kun, Bakugou-kun said—”

He’s fast. His fingers are around her wrist, harsh, as he yanks her back before she could get to the door. “Fuck off!” he tells her, furious and low. “What the fuck is your problem, asshole? You—”

Ochako grips him back, pinky down. 

It happens quickly. She only holds him for barely a second, but it’s enough. Bakugou gasps as he stumbles back, eyes wide, holding the part of his wrist where she just touched him like it burned. There is a tense moment where they both look at each other. “It’s not nice to touch a girl without permission, Bakugou-kun,” Ochako says calmly.

His face is white, but this time it isn’t just from anger. His voice shakes. “You—the fuck did you just—”

“What,” Aizawa-sensei says flatly, “is going on here?”

They both turn in surprise—neither hears the teacher coming. Aizawa-sensei’s presence is stark, a dark silhouette against the excessive cleanness of UA hallways. “Well?” he says. “Are you not supposed to be in class, or did the school end early without my knowledge?”

Ochako doesn’t miss a beat. “Midoriya-kun is hurt from All Might-sensei’s battle practice, so both Bakugou-kun and I are visiting him in the nurse’s office,” Ochako says. “Right, Bakugou-kun?”

When Bakugou-kun doesn’t reply, Aizawa-sensei looks at him. “Is that true, Bakugou?”

“..Yes, sensei,” Bakugou says. He looks angry again now, but his expression is a little flatter as he returns Aizawa-sensei’s dark, burrowing stare. “It’s true.”

“I see. I’ll confirm both your stories to All Might,” Aizawa-sensei says. “Might I remind you—no running, no fighting, and least of all no Quirk use in the hallways. No Quirk use at all without permission on the school grounds.” Is it her imagination, or does his gaze lingers a little too long on Ochako? “Or you’ll be expelled. Understood?”

He leaves after they voice their assents. They watch him go. “Aw, Kacchan,” she says, turning to look at Bakugou. “You didn’t tell on me. I’m touched.”

He glares at her. “That’s nothing to do with you,” he says. 

His voice isn’t shaking anymore but the hand where Ochako has touched him still is, curled into a fist by his side. He’s still pale, and she can spot a bead of cold sweat running down his forehead. She must’ve hurt him quite badly, but there is no fear in his gaze. Just anger and something else—something cautious, but cold. Calculating. Like he’s sizing her up.

Interesting. UA kids are built different, she guesses. 

Bakugou walks up to her in a manner that he must think is intimidating. He doesn’t yell for once; his voice is low and serious. “You want a fight, Uraraka? I’ll fucking give you one.”

Ochako smiles at him. “Mm, I dunno,” she says. She’s really feeling that juice, now. Should be plenty in the cafeteria since they haven’t had their recess. “Maybe next time, Bakugou-kun. See ya next class.”

She turns on her heels, but not before giving him a wink because she knows it’ll get him angrier.

“Bitch,” cusses Bakugou behind her.

Ochako smiles. He’s so funny. Maybe even funnier than Deku, if he keeps this up.

“Field trip!” Mina exclaims. She shakes Ochako’s shoulders. “Field trip! Field trip!”

“Yay,” says Ochako, letting herself be shaken. “So exciting.”

Ochako doesn’t particularly feel excited about field trips. Not that she has had bad experiences with it (Ochako has never had a bad experience with anything). It’s just that being stuck in a tin can on wheels with nineteen stupid teenagers is a good way to make her start hearing voices in her head. 

But hey, this is UA! Who knows what they have in store for her? With any luck someone is going to die today. And after all, she is—

“So excited that All Might is gonna teach our class again! Fuck yeah baby!” Kaminari Denki says, shaking Kirishima Eijirou’s shoulders, who is shaking him back in the brotherhood of excitement. “Fuck yeah baby!” Kirishima says. They both say it together for the third time just for emphasis because it truly is Fuck and Yeah and Baby: “Fuck yeah, baby!!”

So, who knows? Someone might actually die by the end of the day. It could be All Might. It could be her. Whatever.

“Aw, Deku,” Ochako says. “Why’re you not wearing the suit your mom made you?”

Deku does that startled thing again, like he can't simply comprehend that people want to talk to him. He relaxes when he sees it’s her. “Oh. Um, my suit got … torn from the battle trial, so. Aizawa-sensei said I can just wear gym clothes.”

“That’s too bad,” Ochako says. “I hope they fix it for you soon..” she trails. At the back of the bus, she sees Bakugou looking their way—when Ochako notices him, he immediately looks away. His face is twisted in some kind of disgust as if Ochako is the ugliest person he has ever seen in his life and he wants her dead so bad, or something. 

He’s been doing this since the battle trial—watching from afar and glaring daggers. Though honestly, sometimes Ochako isn’t sure if he’s glaring at Deku or at her. 

So cute. It’s like he’s got a crush, if crushers are homicidal in nature.

The USJ is huge and impressive, just like how everything is at UA. The vastness of the place reminds her of theme parks. Ochako likes going to theme parks—she does so in her spare time. Her favorite attraction is the Ferris wheel. It’s nice being so high up, so cut off, knowing that gravity could kill her if only she’d allow it to. 

This USJ place has “attractions” too, different arenas with different types of rescue simulations they can use to train themselves. There is a forestry area, a lake, even a mini volcano. Crazy.  Ochako wonders how much power is used to run this place. They are essentially located in a glass dome, the sun shining down on them through the transparent windows, but the temperature is perfectly cool with the air cons running on high. The entire place must be using a shit ton of electricity and generating another shit ton of heat.

Oh well. Can’t make an omelet if you don’t break a few eggs. Can’t practice Heroism if you aren’t killing the earth on taxpayers’ money.

“All right, some news,” Aizawa-sensei says, after gathering all of them to the entrance podium. “All Might is held up on some Hero business, so he’s not coming.”

Huh?

Around Ochako the students express their disappointment. Ochako sighs to herself. What a letdown. Another day where nothing happens and nobody dies. Just great. This is going to be so boring.

“Settle down,” Aizawa-sensei says flatly, ignoring the kids’ disheartened faces. “Today, you will be taught by a Hero who has had decades of experience in rescue missions. Thirteen-sensei, go ahead.”

She looks up. 

Ochako feels it immediately, even before Thirteen-sensei steps into the podium: Thirteen’s Quirk. Pulling at the edges of space—a stretch in the fabric. Their Quirk makes the marble of gravity grow heavy and heavier. It’s a little annoying. Like having a hoard of ants nibbling at your skin. 

But at least it’s making her feel something.

“My Quirk is called Black Hole,” Thirteen-sensei says. “The vortex of my Quirks attracts materials and turns them into dust.”

The kids oooh. Deku makes a quiet, interested sound next to her. “I’m sure you can imagine how my Quirk would be useful in removing wreckage and saving people in disasters, just as I’m sure that you can imagine how it could easily hurt and kill people.”

Thirteen’s tone is calm and cheerful. Their expression is obscured by their Hero suit, specifically designed to encase their entire body so they don’t accidentally suck everyone in the vicinity into the vortex of their Quirk. “In this case, my Quirk is no different than yours,” Thirteen-sensei says. “At any point in time, any of you could do irreparable damage to others—and yourself—with your Quirk. Such is nature. Such is the world that we live in and the body that each of us inhabits. But that doesn’t mean your Quirk exists to hurt people.”

There is silence in the entrance podium. Ochako looks around. Deku looks transfixed, staring at Thirteen-sensei with heartfelt awe, or something else equally earnest and impossible for Ochako to feel. The same with all of her classmates—they all seem enraptured by the Hero’s speech, even the pervert who sat next to Yaoyorozu-san in class. All of her classmates are listening intently except for—

Bakugou isn’t looking at Thirteen-sensei. He is looking at his watch with a look of pinched impatience, one foot tapping rapidly on the ground. Once he notices Ochako staring at him, he glares at her. 

Ochako winks. Bakugou glares harder.

Thirteen continues, “What I want to do in this lesson is to teach you how your Quirk can help people. I hope you will leave this exercise having understood that. That is all.”

Her classmates cheer and clap. “That was so good,” says Mina next to Ochako, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my god. I actually feel kinda touched by that, no lie.”

“I know, right,” says Ochako. “So inspiring.”

“All right,” Aizawa-sensei. “Pipe down. We’ll start the lesson soon, but first thing fir—Thirteen, protect the students! Everybody huddle together and don’t move, those are Villains!”

This is how Ochako reiterates it to the police later: Oh, Detective. It all happened so fast. 

It didn’t, really. Just like how she could taste Thirteen’s Quirk, she could taste this one, too; another ant nibbling at her skin. A rip in the fabric of space as a portal appears in the USJ to spill Villains out of it. 

“What the hell,” one of the Villains says, the one with white hair and dismembered hands attached all over him like a freak. “After all that fucking trouble, All Might isn’t even here yet? What a fucking letdown..”

Red, sallow eyes traverse the room. He smiles when he sees the 1-A kids huddled together just for him. “Maybe we should kill one or two of his students first, huh?” Shigaraki Tomura grins, manic and wide. “That’ll surely get him going.”

Chaos erupts. Her classmates scream and run. Aizawa-sensei and Thirteen-sensei activate their Quirks. This and that. And Ochako thinks, huh. She was right after all. Someone is going to die today.

UA truly does not disappoint.

Chapter Text

7

“Fuck, are we all going to die here?” Sero Hanta says. “Fuck!”

“We are not going to die here,” Mina says, her face a pale shade of lilac. “All Might is coming. He’s going to come and get us, he's going to save us and—”

“How long do you think that’ll take? Nobody even knows what’s going on in here!” Sero says. Suddenly he’s halfway to laughing—manic and crazed. “Fuck, Thirteen-sensei is dead and—”

Mina breaks into half a sob. “We don’t know if they’re dead—”

“—Aizawa-sensei is—he’s being ripped apart by that thing— ” 

“Calm down, Sero!”

Ochako says nothing, she just watches as her classmates shout and panic and throw up all over each other. They’re all acting a little cuckoo, if you ask her, and that’s a lot coming from Ochako.

Sero breathes shakily. “I’m sorry. It’s just. What should we do? What should we do?”

To Ochako, it’s pretty obvious what they should be doing. She rather thinks that it’s the whole point of the exercise—the whole point of enrolling in UA at all, in fact. They’re supposed to be … well … Heroes. Which means that they totally have to kill all of the Vill—

Mina turns to Iida. “Iida, you have to get out and call for help,” she tells him. Tears are running down her cheeks but there is a wide-eyed, hardened look on her face. Like she has just decided that she does not want to die here. “The entrance isn’t locked—you have to go. Now!”

Iida blanches. “I can’t possibly leave all of you here—” 

“No, she’s right,” Sero says. He’s coming up to Iida, face white, but with that same determination Mina has. “She’s right. You’ve got to get out of here. We can distract the fucking Villains or something, whatever it is they usually do on TV—”

“I’m the class president, I can’t simply escape on my own and—”

“God, are you kidding me!” Sero hisses. “You’re the fastest out of all of us, don’t you fucking see that? It has to be you!”

Iida still doesn’t look convinced. “But..”

Mina grabs his shoulders. “Iida, listen. Listen! Do you hear that, huh?” Mina says. “That’s the sound of our impending fucking doom if you don’t get the Heroes’ asses over here stat. So please. Do this.”

They continue arguing. Ochako watches them do so, feeling like she’s been robbed.

Ochako, Mina, Iida and Sero are the unlucky four who got left out when that spacetime-user Villain teleported the students in a divide-and-conquer-these-fifteen-year-olds tactic. You can hear explosions and screaming and what not going on in the other parts of the USJ where death battles (presumably?) are taking place between the kids and the Villains—and yet here she is. An honest to god Villain attack in their first week at UA and she is stuck on the bleachers. Just her luck that she’s completely safe and sound in the middle of a terrorist attack.

Mostly safe and sound, anyway. That teleporter Villain is still here, watching them from above silently and creepily like a stalker butler in his three-piece suit. 

Ochako looks far ahead, where they can see the central plaza where Aizawa-sensei is fighting off what looks like a dozen villains at once and a monster at it too. He doesn’t look like he’s winning. Not that Ochako is particularly going to miss him. 

Ochako wonders distantly how her other classmates are faring—is Deku dead yet, or has he broken every single bone in his body? Now, Deku—that’s someone she’ll dearly miss. Probably.  

Maybe. Sort of. Kinda. 

Not really.

Her classmates are still arguing about their escape strategy. “You heard what Thirteen-sensei said. We need reinforcements!”

“Make for the door, dammit, we’ll support you! Right, Ochako?”

“Uhuh,” Ochako says. She’s kneeling in front of what’s left of Thirteen-sensei. Sero was wrong—Thirteen-sensei is not dead yet. 

Thirteen-sensei’s Quirk and hers are the exact opposite. Black hole is so dense with gravity, it sucks everything in—while Ochako nulls all of it empty. Thirteen-sensei pulls, Ochako pushes. Even like this, she can feel their Quirk buzzing at the edge of her skin, calling, calling. Just waiting to be unraveled. Waiting to be heartbroken. With a touch, she can release Thirteen-sensei from their suffering.

Ochako doesn't. She gets back up.

“All right,” she hears Iida say. His voice is shaking a little. “I understand. I’ll—I’ll do my best.”

Her classmates seems to have reached an agreement. “Okay. Okay. We’re doing this,” Mina says like she’s trying to convince herself. “Sero, me, and Ochako—all three of us are gonna have your back. All you need to do is to get out. Okay?”

“Discussing strategy within enemy’s earshot. You children underestimate me.”

The Villain is standing among them without warning, close enough to intimidate, close enough to touch. His voice is calm and deep with a touch of impersonality—the sound echoes strangely, coming from somewhere in that distorted, hazy swirl of a face. 

What a convenient Quirk, Ochako thinks. Transporting the cluster of matter of your body from one point on the xy axis to the next in a beat of a heart. A jumping anomaly in the great fabric of space. Like a flea.

What an annoying Quirk.

The Villain says, “You wish to call for aid. I will not let you do that.”

In light of this declaration, her classmates tense—the air is taut with a silent, rigid anticipation. And the engine of Iida's Quirk pierces the air like a racecar's as he makes a run for it.

Several things happen in succession. 

Mina dashes to catch the Villain to no avail—he diffuses through the air like smoke, seemingly intangible as he teleports once again. But then Mina yells, “Sero, now!” and Sero’s Quirk sprouts forward to immobilize the Villain. 

For a moment it looks as if their plan works. The Villain even says, “Well done, children,” like an asshole. But then he says, like an even bigger asshole, “However, I can use my Quirk long range.”

They look to see a warp gate gaping open right above Iida-kun, ready to swallow him whole and teleport him to who knows where. But that doesn't matter, because Ochako has already had her hold on the Villain.

“I’ve always wondered how teleportation works,” Ochako says, her pinky pressing down.

What happens next is difficult to explain. Not for Ochako, but for some.

All four of them, including Ochako, will be undergoing a police interrogation in a few hours. In a few hours, Mina will say that the air feels “fuzzy” for a moment. Sero will say that the Villain “distorts”. Iida will say that the warp gate disappears and he manages to get out to call for reinforcements. While Ochako, of course, will say that she killed the Villain.

At the current moment, Ochako says, “I’ve just always wondered, when you teleport, where do all that mass go? I’m not smart enough to understand quantum entanglement. But..” Ochako smiles. “Now that I know you have a body, this gets pretty simple.”

The Villain tries to speak, but he can’t, not now that he is under Ochako’s hold. Really, it’s so funny that the Villain marks his weak spot just like that. His neck armor is cool under her hold, and underneath, she can feel his particles vibrating with each other. Embracing. Being. She can feel the entirety of this flea of matter cluster that she will stop from jumping around for the rest of time.

She can feel the Villain’s body, the Villain’s Quirk, at the tips of her fingers—the way she can feel every spacetime-altering Quirk she has ever encountered in passing. Like featherlight beads circling around her marble. Infinitesimal dots pulling on the threads of space needily as if they matter even a little bit, even at all.

Ochako always finds all that quantum stuff so unnecessarily complex when she can make it all so simple. When she can tug at the thread until it all unravels. When she can just rip it all apart. After all, she only has to push.

“You see,” Ochako informs the Villain helpfully. “You have mass.”  

She pushes.

When she’s done, Iida-kun is already gone, while Mina and Sero look at her with some sort of blank, shocked faces. Sero says, “Uraraka, what did you just do to that Villain?”

Ochako looks at him patiently. It seems rather obvious, but she doesn't hold it against people when they are being silly. “I killed him.”

“Oh,” Sero says. Long pause. “Shit, man. Oh wow.”

“Are you—” Mina looks like she doesn’t even understand what she’s supposed to say. “Are you—okay…?”

“Okay? ” Sero echoes. “She just pulverized him!”

“I’m good,” Ochako says, and then remembering her manners, “Are you?”

“With one hand!” Sero continues.

“..I’m...” Mina shakes her head. She laughs, the same laugh that Sero had, cracked at the edges. “Sorry. I just—there is too much happening and I can’t fucking process any of this..”

“There isn’t even anything left of that guy,” Sero says, his voice tainted with morbid curiosity. He uses his Quirk to grab the Villain’s neck armor from the pile of clothes that the Villain left behind; dress shirt, dress pants, vest. The ugly tie. “Holy shit, Uraraka. How’d you do that? I thought your Quirk is just..” he looks at her. “Sorry, what’s your Quirk again?”

“Zero Gravity,” Ochako says.

“Well, I’m never going to fucking space, then,” Sero says. “No offense, Uraraka. I mean, you were great.”

“Thanks.”

“Just absolutely fantastic.”

“Thanks.”

“Fuck!” Sero says, seemingly to no one, or maybe to god.

“We..” Mina seems to have gotten her shit together, or maybe has decided to insert this particular moment into a drawer in her mental palace labeled open never. She looks at them. “Guys. I know we need to wait for the Heroes, but we need to—we need to help the others.”

“Yeah, can’t just stay here and hang around, can we?” Sero says. “That wouldn’t be Heroic.”

They were so lonely up at the entrance area, but when they come down they start to bump into more Villains and even other kids, like Bakugou and Kirishima. “Oh hey, guys,” Kirishima says, grinning from ear to ear as he always does, waving at them. “Glad to see you’re all good!”

Bakugou says nothing, but he does throw Ochako another one of his nasty glares, which is like a flying kiss at this point. His face is covered in soot—he’s been using his Quirk—but like the rest of them, he is unscathed.

If every one of Ochako’s classmates is faring this well, then either Villains aren’t all they’re cracked up to be or UA kids truly are built different.

“We had Iida get out to call for help,” Mina says. “You guys okay?”

“We’re good. You guys are the first ones we bumped into,” Kirishima says, fist-bumping her in greeting. “We’re trying to go to the central plaza—watch out, incoming!”

The incoming Villain is quickly blown to hell by yours truly Bakugou motherfucking Katsuki, all fire and spit and the stuff that makes violence a glorious thing to behold and men, men. “If you’re going to have a fucking group discussion, shit yourself a time machine and get the fuck back to third grade,” Bakugou snaps, digging his boot into the Villain’s solar plexus. “We’re in a fucking terrorist attack and I’m done dealing with these small fry Villains—oh, fuck off.”

They watch Bakugou blow up another Villain with the annoyed indifference of someone having to do the dishes. “That ringleader hand fetish guy needs to be dealt with—but especially that fucking warp gate Villain. Take him out and these fuckers will lose their personal fucking Anywhere Door—”

“Uraraka killed him,” Sero says.

Silence. Bakugou stops in his tracks, looking at Ochako with a complicated, pinched expression. “What,” he says, a growl.

“She—“ Mina’s eyes dart to Ochako. “She … incapacitated ... That warp gate Villain.”

“He’s dead,” Sero says.

Silence again.

“..Oh,” Kirishima says finally. “Oh. Well, damn.” Several expressions pass through his face as he scratches his head. “I mean. Is that—that’s like a, uhh, a—”

“—a good thing, or a bad thing?” Sero says, shrugs, laughs that crazy laugh again. “Well. I mean, I’m fucking alive right now, so that's a fucking win. Thanks, Uraraka.”

Mina sounds defensive. “We had to get Iida out,” Mina cuts in. “We had to call for reinforcements, and that Villain was—was in the way, so Ochako did … what she had to do...” 

Silence again for the nth time. Ochako finds all of them looking at her and understands that they would like her to participate in this social pass hide and seek where she has to convince them that she is a normal person. “It was a tough call to make,” she says in what she thinks passes for sincerity. “Our lives or his? Such an impossible choice. But what can I do; I still had to pick one at the end.”

“That seems fair,” Kirishima says. 

“She killed him with one hand,” Sero says.

When they arrive at the central plaza, Aizawa-sensei is either dead or about to be in a minute—the pool of blood is a pretty good visual cue, and the giant monster standing on top of him is an even better one. But that’s fine, because in the next second All Might proceeds to show up in all his Plus Ultra glory. 

Or not. 

“So our intel’s right,” Shigaraki Tomura says, so gleeful his voice is slick with it. “You are weakening, All Might.”

All Might doesn’t reply, clashing toe to toe with the monster in the world’s deadliest MMA fight. The Villain’s smile is palpable underneath those dismembered hands as he watches them with the sadistic fondness of a child and his new toys, teeth like a gleam of a knife in the dark. “Magnificent creature, isn’t it? We designed the Nomu specifically to counter you, All Might! It has shock absorption, super regeneration, super strength, super speed, super senses, su—”

The Villain proceeds to superly narrate the rest of the super Nomu’s super Quirks but Ochako isn’t superly paying attention. She is having some kind of mental clash in her head. Ochako is thinking to herself: This isn’t right.

It really isn’t. No. This isn’t right at all. All Might is supposed to kill her. And now All Might is going to die? How does that work? Is the sun going to set in the east too? Has world hunger suddenly been solved? Has sea temperature gone back to normal? 

Because All Might isn’t winning. All Might isn’t winning. It’s not like on TV, where he gets rid of the bad guys in one punch. Ochako is astonished by what she's seeing here, because this is so not right. That Nomu thing is matching him fist to fist, and Ochako can see the struggle evident on the taut lines of All Might’s muscles. Maybe the Villains actually are all that they’re cracked up to be—maybe they’re even good. Good enough to kill All Might. 

But if All Might dies, who’s going to kill her? Villains?

Ochako thinks about it.

..Huh. That could work, actually.

Her gaze moves to the Nomu. That monster? Or—she looks at Shigaraki Tomura—that Villain freak?

Well, whatever. She doesn’t have a particular preference. Everybody can give it a shot, it’ll be an Ochako buffet right here for all she cares. Honestly, her best option is just to jump into the battle currently ongoing in front of her right now, head on, and may the best man/monster win. That’s right, she should just—

“All Might!”

Ochako watches Deku appear out of nowhere to jump straight into battle, Quirk and broken bones blazing. 

He isn’t the only one. Bakugou, Kirishima, and that elemental Quirk kid—Todoroki—have shown up and jumped straight in, too, like a suicidal lineup of a superpowered boyband group. Impressively, they are actually helping All Might out pretty well. Assisted with the power of friendship and encouraged by the fiery spirit of underage school-sanctioned vigilantism, All Might starts to turn the tides around, and the monster is done for. 

There is silence following All Might’s apparent win. And then the Villain says, “Well, this fucking sucks. Can’t even kill the final boss. Gotta get back to fucking saving point. Well shitfucknuts, this fucking sucks. But can’t help it, huh? Can’t fucking help it. We’ll take our leave then, Kurogiri...” a pause. “Kurogiri? Kurogiri? Kurogiri!"

Bakugou puts two and two together on who this Kurogiri person might be because he is so smart and so quick-witted. “Oh, shiiit,” Bakugou says. He’s grinning—it’s the first time Ochako has seen him so happy. “Aw, did someone lose their fucking portable getaway car? You’re gonna spend the rest of your days in jail, you anti-social fucking sicko—”

“Bakugou,” All Might says, a warning, but Bakugou isn’t done with the sound of his own voice. 

“—piece of shit. You absolute failure of a terrorist!” Bakugou says. “Such a fucking shame we don’t do death penalties anymore! ‘Cause you’re gonna look so fuck ugly in orange, they’re gonna have to kick it out of the color wheel.”

Who would’ve known Bakugou can be such a chatty guy? All you have to do is give him some villains to beat up and his day is made.

“Kurogiri..?! Fuck!” The Villain looks like he is getting even crazier than the already fucked up baseline amount of crazy that he already was. Shigaraki Tomura scratches blood into his own skin in a pathetic frenzy equal to a baby getting its pacifier taken away from it, muttering to himself like a man posessed. “No, no, no … this isn’t right … this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong this is wrong this is all fucking wrong..!”

“Enough,” All Might says. He doesn't look particularly weirded out by the Villain's antics, maybe because breaking into hysterics is what typical Villains do in your typical Villain fights. “You have lost, Villain. You will face your crimes in the eye of justice—”

“Kurogiri that fucking bastard,” the Villain says. He doesn’t even seem to be listening to any of them, or aware of his own surroundings. “Did he ditch us did he run away that fucking fuckshit traitor that fucking fuck how dare he do this to us—”

“He’s dead,” Ochako says. 

Silence. Once again in the span of fiteen minutes Ochako finds everyone to be looking at her. Beside her she hears Mina hiss in panic, "Ochako!"

The Villain seems to be aware of Ochako’s existence for the first time. “What’d you say..?”

“He’s dead,” Ochako says calmly. She scrounges the pocket of her Hero costume and lifts up the ugly tie she nicked off the lack of remnants of the Villain's body. “See?”

“Child,” All Might says, tight. “Do not aggravate the enemy further—”

“Why do you have that..?” the Villain says, turning around fully in her direction. “Why do you have that?”

“I killed him,” Ochako explains patiently.

The Villain moves, but All Might is faster. Much, much faster than she’s ever seen him throughout this fight, and much faster than she thought possible. In a blink of an eye he has the Villain under his powerful pin in one fluid, swift movement. Shigaraki Tomura looks like a limp doll under his hold, one pale hand reaching out to her in vain.

The dismembered hands previously covering his body have all fallen away in the attack, allowing her to see his face fully for the first time. He looks exactly like the type of guy you’d expect to fail a terrorist attack on a bunch of fifteen year old kids.

“It’s you,” Shigaraki says, growls, spits. “It’s you, it’s all because of you, it’s you, it’s you, I’m going to fucking kill you, you little bitch, I'm going to rip you apart limb by limb I'm going to cut you up—”

And this and that, but Ochako isn’t listening anymore, because all is right in the world again. Ah, Ochako thinks, almost pleasantly, if such a thing is even possible for her. It’s still All Might, after all.  

All Might won. It seemed so effortless, the way All Might had saved her. Sure he’s weakening—we all get old, don’t we? Bodies fail eventually! But still, All Might wins in the end. He always prevails. All Might punted the so-called artificial human designed to kill him like a baseball home run. All Might beat this incel that just tried to kill her like it was nothing. 

All Might is still the best. All Might is still the one who has to kill her. All is right. And to think just five minutes ago she thought she should just drop out of UA and start a killing spree.

“Ochako!”

“Uraraka-san!”

She blinks to find both Mina and Deku surrounding her, their faces pale. “Are you okay?” Deku says, the same time Mina blurts, “Are you crazy, why did you say all that?”

Ochako looks at their tense faces, and then to her hand where she still has the dead teleporter’s tie gripped in a fist. Distantly she can hear the other Heroes arriving somewhere in the USJ, sirens roaring outside the building. Ochako looks back up at her classmates.

Ochako’s lips shake. “I-I don’t know,” she says. “I was s-so scared.” 

Mina’s face softens, and she looks like she’s going to cry again. “Oh, Ochako, I know,” she says, hugging her tightly. “Me too. I’m so glad we’re all right.”

“Uhuh,” she says, patting Mina on her back as she starts to shake, her tears wetting Ochako's suit. "Me too, Mina." She catches Deku’s eyes. So Deku survives after all. He looks all right, though wet for some reason. She can only spot some broken fingers, bruises and scratches, but nothing else. She smiles at him. “I’m glad you’re all right too, Deku.”

Deku smiles back, wobbly. “So am I,” he says. And then, “I mean, I’m glad that you’re all right. Not that I’m glad that I’m all right. I mean, I’m also glad that I—that I’m all right, it’s just that what I meant to say is—”

While the Heroes detain the Villains, ambulances and paramedics fill the dome. They put a shock blanket around her and tell her that your parents are already informed, everything is okay, you’re safe here in the place where you just got attacked by a bunch of Villains and hand her a warm cup of green tea that tastes bland. 

Ochako sips her shit tea while watching her surroundings. It’s pretty orderly for a terrorist attack aftermath. She sees the other kids get escorted out of the zones they were trapped in and wonders if anybody died, but a medic told her they’ve done a headcount and apparently nobody did. 

They make the students line up to exit the building “in orderly fashion”, as if they’re doing some sort of earthquake drill. Her classmates seem fine mostly. Nobody looks hurt, really.

Actually, isn’t all of this pretty disappointing? 

Like, it’s a Villain attack. That guy was saying that they were going to kill All Might. And yet they couldn't even kill a single kid? On top of that, they didn't even manage to get away?

The media has been lying to her all her life—this Hero-Villain stuff is nowhere near as exciting as it’s all cracked up to be.

Ochako wonders distantly what’s going to happen to the artificial human monster that tried to kill All Might. But then again, if it didn’t manage to do its job, what use would it be? That hand fetish Villain guy was either in over his head, extremely delusional, or just plain stupid. If Ochako is capable of feeling secondhand embarrassment, she would feel it right now. That guy is probably going to get a life sentence for this, and that’s…

It’s you, it’s you, I’m going to fucking kill you—

..such a shame.

This is the first time anybody ever said they wanted to kill her. Such a pathetic, useless, stupid Villain, and he wants her dead so badly, she could see it in his eyes. It’s such a waste, she realizes, that he is going to be sent to Tartarus for life. It's too bad.

Oh well. 

Ochako doesn’t hold it against Shigaraki Tomura. He can’t help being an incompetent loser who can’t even kill a single teenage girl let alone the best Pro-Hero in the current era. And after all, life is full of surprises ever since she got into UA. Who knows what the future holds? Maybe he'll get out of jail and try to kill All Might again. Hell, maybe he'll even try to kill her.

Oh, yes. Ochako smiles to herself. So many things to look forward to in her life—she simply can't wait.

Ochako walks around because everything has started to become boring when she sees Deku pacing here and there.

“Deku?” 

He starts, nearly dropping his tea. Ochako catches his shock blanket with her Quirk and hands it over to him. “Uraraka-san,” he says. “Oh, thank you..”

“You seem anxious,” she says, smoothing the blanket over his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing..” 

Ochako looks at his broken fingers. “Did you tell the paramedic about your fingers yet?”

He hides his hand underneath the blanket even though it's way too late to do that. “Um,” he winces. “Not yet..”

Ochako looks in the direction Deku was looking at—the cluster of Pro-Heroes and the police. “Who’re you looking for?”

“No, I was just—nothing..”

“Is it All Might?”

She’s right—Deku tenses up immediately. Ochako looks at him, curious. She saw Deku coming up to All Might after it was all over, before the paramedic usher them away. The both of them had exchanged words—quick, but they did. It was interesting enough that it'd picked Ochako's attention because it had seemed—well. Strangely personal. Something in the way All Might looked at Deku, Ochako has seen in the way her dad looks at her. Fatherly.

It was so quick, she isn't sure if she'd misread it. But judging Deku's current reaction, maybe she hadn't.

“..No, it's just..” he flusters. “It was a, a really tough fight, and he just seemed—” 

“Uraraka Ochako-kun?”

She turns. It’s a tall, clean-shaven man in his thirties flanked by two policemen by either side of him, but Ochako can tell that he’s one too even if he isn’t wearing uniform. Something about the way he walks.

“Yes,” Ochako says. “That’s me.”

“Hi there. My name is Detective Tsukauchi, from Musutafu Police Department,” he says. His voice is gentle. He looks between her and Deku. “You two kids all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” says Ochako.

“I’m fine..” says Deku. And then, impressively because Ochako knows people like Midoriya could start hyperventilating if they had to ask for an extra packet of ketchup, “Detective, is—is, um, is All Might all right?”

The man smiles. “You are Midoriya Izuku-kun, I believe?”

“Um, yes,” Deku says, surprised. “You know my name..?”

“He’s fine, kid,” he says in lieu of answering Deku’s question. “All Might is just fine, Midoriya-kun. Now, may I see your hand, please?”

Ooh, sharp. 

Deku is blushing when he shows the detective his broken fingers. “This doesn’t look good, kid. We’ll need to patch you up, okay? Sansa, please take Midoriya-kun here to the paramedic..”

“See you, Deku,” Ochako says as Deku is being herded out of the conversation sheepishly. 

“Um, see you, Uraraka-san..”

The detective turns back to her after Deku's gone. There is some kind of plain clarity in his eyes as he kneels down to talk to her. His voice soft, as if he is addressing a traumatized child. “Uraraka-kun, we understand that you were one of the students who were trapped at the entrance area with one of the Villains.”

“I was.”

“And that you were involved with the death of the Villain known as Kurogiri.”

“I was.”

He pauses for a bit before he continues. “I’d like to let you know that we are doing everything we can to take care of the situation and you can be rest assured that you are safe now. It must’ve been a shocking incident, and if you aren’t ready to talk about it yet, we can give you more time to do so..” he watches her carefully. “How are you feeling, Uraraka-kun?”

“I’m fine.”

Something flashes in his eyes, then; a gentle, understanding look. “Uraraka-kun,” he says. “You do know that it’s okay if you don’t, right? Feel fine, that is.”

Ochako blinks. “Okay,” she says, a little confused. “But I feel fine?”

He frowns a little, but it’s not an unkind look. In fact, he looks deeply empathetic, as if Ochako is crying her eyes out tragically at the moment, which she is not. “I understand the need to appear strong,” he says. “But this is a safe space, kid; you don’t have to hide your feelings. You do know that considering what you have just gone through, it’s completely normal to not feel fine.”

Ochako stares at him blankly. She is feeling like how she always feels. What in the world is this man talking about? “I’m fine?”

“You know what,” he says, patting her sympathetically on her shock blanket-clad shoulder. “Let’s wait until your parents get here and then we’ll take you to the police station, okay? Take it one step at a time.”

“Okay?” Ochako says.

Ochako has entertained the possibility that she might one day enter a police station, but never had she thought that they’d be so nice to her.

The officers all said hi to her and asked her how she was doing. One of them even pulled the chair out for her to sit in. They brought her snacks and drinks and asked if she wanted more. It's crazy. And here she thought that her incursion to the police station would involve things like handcuffs and warrants and life sentences.

What do you know? Things really aren’t like how they are on TV.

After the police let her go home, her parents asked if she wanted to quit UA and go to another school because of this incident. She said no. Like, no way. This is literally the peak of her youth.

The next day, she is somewhat surprised to see that Aizawa-sensei is in fact alive and not well. He walks to the class looking like he’s got one foot in the grave, but homeroom continues as per usual. He’s going to talk to all of them one on one in some kind of post-trauma consultation; he’s saying something about how he’s sorry on behalf of the school that it all happened and that they’re providing “mental help” for anyone who might need them and to please be rest assured this incident will not happen again. 

Ochako sure hopes that’s not the case.

After that, he tells them about the upcoming UA sports festival that’s going to happen in a few weeks and everybody, forgetting the “deeply traumatic incident” that happened literally last Friday, proceeds to clap and cheer.

In the first period, Mina comes up to her. “Hey,” Mina says, leaning on her desk. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Ochako says, smiling up at her. “What’s up?”

“Just checking up on you.” There is a searching look on Mina’s face, like she’s looking for something on Ochako’s. “You feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, why?”

“..Last week was—well, it was … a lot,” Mina says. 

Oh, that. “Oh, that,” Ochako says. “I’m fine, why?”

Mina stares at her for a bit too long for it to be an acceptable social interaction. And then Mina shakes her head, her mouth twisting in some kind of grin. “You know, Ochako, you’re tougher than you look. Remind me not to mess with you, huh?'' She bumps Ochako’s shoulder, a genial move. “Wanna get juice downstairs? Hey, Tooru! We’re getting juice, wanna come with? Hey, Momo, we’re getting juice—”

While Mina is wrangling all the 1-A girls together, Ochako walks over to Deku’s desk.

Deku notices when she’s coming immediately, judging from the way he blushes and scampers to close his notebook like a first grader caught drawing boobs. She smiles at him, and then at the occupant of the desk in front of Deku’s. “Hi, Mineta-kun,” Ochako says. “Can I take a seat here for a bit?”

Mineta-kun babbles some crazy degenerate shit about having a girl sit in his chair and moves away immediately. Ochako ignores him and sits down. “Hey,” Ochako says.

“Hey,” Deku says. He isn’t as tense as he was when she talked to him on the first day. 

“You feeling okay?” Ochako says. “Last week was, well. A lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” Deku says quietly. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Uraraka-san.”

There is genuine concern there for some reason. Ochako laughs. “Oh, thanks. I’m glad you’re okay too. I heard you and Tsuyu-chan had to deal with a lot of Villains—it must’ve been so scary.”

“I was there too,” supplies Mineta to the acknowledgment of nobody. 

“Amazing that you got out safely,” Ochako says, because Deku breaking fingers is basically baseline normal.

“No, it was..” he trails. He looks up at her. “I heard about what happened,” he says nervously. Blushing. “With you, and that—that Villain in the entrance area. It’s really … messed up. I think you were really, um, brave. Uraraka-san.”

“Aw, thank you,” Ochako says. “It was nothing.”

Deku blinks at her, silent with a slight frown on his forehead. “Oh..” he says then with a weird, confused tone, so Ochako says, “You know, I’m still processing the entire thing,” and then he says, “Oh,” with a more understanding tone.

Huh. These people are all acting weird all of a sudden. It's so annoying having to recalibrate all her responses in light of this entire event. “How about you?” Ochako says. “Feeling okay? You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine.”

Such a bad, bad liar. “Deku-kun,” Ochako says. “It’s okay if you’re not, you know.”

He blinks at her. “Huh..?”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel fine,” she explains. “We were literally in a terrorist attack. You can admit that you’re not fine. It’s normal if you don’t.”

“Oh,” he says. Flustering again. “Yeah, um. You’re right..”

“So?” Ochako leans forward. “Are you still worried about All Might?”

He looks at her with surprise, like he didn’t expect her to remember that. “I—um—” he relents. “A little..” he admits. “I’m—I’m sure he’s fine, though.”

If All Might dies the whole entire world would hear about it unless the government has another 220 cm tall superpowered mythical legend to spare. “Uhuh,” Ochako says. “I’m sure. So what’s up?”

“..Nothing. Sorry,” Deku apologizes for god knows what. “Sorry. It’s just. Everybody did so much—” He pales and pauses and says nothing else. 

So predictable. Ochako has got him down pat. “Hey,” Ochako says again. “You helped All Might too—”

His response is always so quick when he's shooting himself down. “No, that was Kacchan. Kacchan and Todoroki-kun and Kirishima-kun, I … didn’t really do anything.” 

He pauses again. Awkward. Sad. Depressed. And look! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Ochako coming to the rescue of Midoriya Izuku’s self-esteem. “Tsuyu-chan told me everything. She said she only got out safe ‘cause you were there with her.”

Beat. “She said that?”

“Yep,” Ochako says. “You were useful, Deku-kun. Isn’t that great?”

Deku stares at her. She smiles at him as she stands up. “We’re getting some juice,” Ochako says. “Wanna come with?”

Deku doesn’t reply—silent for a moment. But then, quietly and with a smile, “Okay.”

“Can I come?” says Mineta to the acknowledgment of nobody. 

When Deku leaves his chair to tag along, Ochako notices the occupant of the desk behind his staring at her. Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t avert his eyes when she catches him looking—no bashfulness whatsoever on that intent, acute-bitch-face face. Out of reflex, Ochako winks at him.

To her surprise, Bakugou looks away with a blank face. Not even a glare. Not even a curse, or a middle finger.

Huh. 

“Ready to go, Ochako?” Mina says from the door.

“Yep,” she says, turning away. “Only if you’re buying.”

“Oh, come on!”

The teacher’s office is not what she expected. Ochako supposes she expected something more corporate, but the space is unexpectedly homey; it resembles a messy hotel room than anything. There is a scent of air freshener and coffee in the air and something doughy and sweet—bakeries sort of sweet. The room is empty save for Ochako and Aizawa-sensei.

“You can sit right here.”

Ochako obeys obediently. Aizawa-sensei’s desk is organized—something that Ochako didn’t expect either. There are unlabeled books and documents lined neatly on the shelf behind him, and stacked on his desk; they seem to be color-coded. There is a tabby cat sticker on Aizawa-sensei’s coffee mug. 

Aizawa-sensei opens a document with one bandaged hand, and holds a pen in another bandaged hand. A police report, or a counseling assessment sheet—she doesn’t really pay attention. “How are you, Uraraka?”

His face is obscured by all the bandages, but in the past week where she has known him, he has only ever had a single expression on his face: mild annoyance. Even having had half his life beaten out of him, Ochako is sure that does not change. “I’m fine, sensei.”

“Detective Tsukauchi has informed me regarding your interrogation,” he says, flipping through the documents. His voice is as deadpan as always. “This will not be a repeat of that. But as your homeroom teacher and the representative of UA, I do need to discuss the matter with you. ”

“Okay.” 

“Your case in particular is complicated.”

“Okay.”

Aizawa-sensei watches her. Sharp and bland. “One Villain was neutralized in the incident—the Villain that you, Iida, Ashido, and Sero engaged with. Officially, this Villain was terminated in self-defense.” His gaze flicks back to the document. “Following protocols regarding underage non-licensed Hero students, the details on the Villain’s death will not be released to the public.”

He cuts the point, no sentimentality whatsoever, but still—this is useless. The police have told her all this. “Okay.”

His eyes are barely perceptible beyond the bandages, dark and unreadable. “However, under internal record, the Villain known as Kurogiri was neutralized by you.”

There is another cat sticker on the back of Aizawa-sensei’s laptop—a calico. “Okay,” Ochako says.

“The authorities are still conducting the investigation in regards to the incident. Normally,” Aizawa-sensei says. “Fatally using a Quirk on another person would result in penalties—a lifetime ban on Hero license is the lightest of it, from a perspective. However, the circumstances of this incident are unorthodox, and while the incident is still under review—they’ve thus far determined that your actions were justified.”

“Okay,” Ochako says.

“What else did they tell you, Uraraka?”

Ochako blinks. “What do you mean, sensei?”

Aizawa-sensei puts down the document. “Everything I’ve reiterated just now—the police have already informed you and your parents. I believe they’ve told you other things as well. What were they?”

It was a long affair at the station. There were a lot of papers, some signings, hours of discussions and copious legal terms being thrown around. Ochako remembers being bored out of her mind. “They told me Kurogiri was the League’s escape plan,” Ochako says. “They said the League was captured only because Kurogiri had been incapacitated.”

“Did they tell you that you did the right thing?”

“They didn’t, sensei.” They didn’t have to. 

“I see,” Aizawa-sensei says. “Do you think that you did the right thing?”

This school, Ochako thinks, is full of very funny people. “Have I done something wrong, sensei?” Ochako asks. A very genuine question—one from the heart, if she has one. “Am I going to be punished?”

Aizawa-sensei does not console her despite her simpering tone. He considers her coolly. “I’m not punishing you, Uraraka. I’m only asking you a question.”

She considers him back. “He was a Villain,” she says, a prod from a student who isn’t quite sure what the correct answer to this particular problem is.

Aizawa-sensei’s gaze doesn’t budge. “Yes, he was.” He says it like a teacher not quite willing to give his student a clue to answer this particular problem.

“He was about to kill us.”

“That was most likely the case,” Aizawa-sensei says. “But in the end, he didn’t. Why is that?”

“Because I killed him.”

“That’s right,” he says. “So. Did you do the right thing?”

Distantly and apathetically, she feels out of her depth, a little off-kilter. This conversation is a little confusing—he isn't giving her anything to read into, no hints to grasp. “Isn’t saving people the right thing?” Ochako says, a genuine, honest question. “Isn’t that what Heroes do?”

Aizawa-sensei doesn’t reply. They look at each other in silence. And then he says, “Do you like donuts?”

Ochako stares at him. “Okay,” she says. 

She watches him get up from his chair—not with a small amount of effort—and limp to another desk. Present Mic’s, judging from the merch decorating the cubicle. Aizawa-sensei brings back a box of donuts and puts it in front of Ochako. “Take whichever you want. Tea, coffee?”

Ochako stares blankly as Aizawa-sensei makes her tea—no sugar, no milk—and puts it in front of her. She sips it after thanking him. It tastes good. Aizawa-sensei is still unreadable as he watches her nibble her donut.

“Tell me, Uraraka,” Aizawa-sensei says, leaning back to his chair. “What do Heroes do?”

There are many things in the world that Ochako has a skewed and differing perspective compared to other people, whether she is aware of it or not. This one, however, is not one of them. In this particular area, Ochako has a rather simple and precise view that is also adopted by at least ninety percent of the population in her current society.

“Heroes save people,” answers Ochako simply. 

He hums. “What else?”

Ochako isn’t sure why she’s being asked to play 20 questions with the dullest topic in the world. “Heroes stop Villains.”

He hums. “I see. Do you think Heroes do the right thing, Uraraka?”

These are brainless questions. “They’re Heroes,” she says, patiently, because Aizawa-sensei is either being deliberately slow or he got hit in the head harder than she thought. “Of course they do the right th—”

“They don’t."

Ochako blinks. “Heroes can’t do the right thing,” Aizawa-sensei says, “Because they don’t have the right to decide what’s right. That is why we have the law. That is why we have the HPSC, the regulations, the Hero acts,” without a segue, he says, “I have killed people in this line of work.”

Aizawa-sensei’s voice is inflectionless as he continues, almost casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “These people were Villains. And each of these Villain deaths that I have caused is all a mistake—even if their deaths meant lives saved. Even if I could not see another way out other than their deaths. All mistakes. Even if I thought that their deaths were justified. Every single one is a mistake.”

Aizawa-sensei puts his own cup on his desk. His smells of coffee, thick and rich. “And I have thought that. I have thought that ending a Villain’s life was the right thing. But that is not what it means to be a Hero, because being a Hero is not doing what you think is right.”

Ochako stares at him. His gaze is steady as he watches her watching him. “No matter how heinous you think the crime is, how irredeemable the Villain may seem to you—as a Hero, you do not get to decide whether a Villain deserves a second chance or not,” he says. “Because that is not Heroism. That is playing god.”

He pours more coffee into his mug. “The Hero license is not a license to kill. We don’t have the jurisdiction to decide who gets to live and who doesn't. Capital punishment should never be decided by a single person, Pro-Hero or not. And..” Aizawa-sensei pauses for a moment, leaning forward so he’s at eye level with her.

“Uraraka,” Aizawa-sensei says calmly. “You are not a Hero.”

The silence that ensues is only broken by the hum of the AC. Aizawa-sensei’s voice isn’t derisive as he continues—just like how it's been this entire conversation, he sounds rather plain and matter-of-fact. “Until you have your license, you are a student. No more and no less. You are here to learn to be a Hero, but you are not expected—officially nor unofficially—to be a Hero. That is my job as your Hero teacher. Do you understand that?”

“Okay,” Ochako says.

“You weren’t supposed to kill that Villain,” Aizawa-sensei says. “I understand the urgency of the situation and I’m sorry that this has happened. But I need you to understand this: what happened was a mistake. The attack, and the Villain’s death, they are mistakes—not yours, understand, but ours. Still. I need you to understand that it was a mistake.”

Ochako looks at him again. “What do you mean, sensei?” Another genuine question.

“You are a child, Uraraka,” Aizawa-sensei says. “You shouldn’t have to kill a person, Villain or otherwise. You shouldn’t have to do that ever. Nobody should—even Heroes.”

“Oh,” Ochako says. “Okay.”

For a moment, Ochako thinks she sees something in those eyes. The bandages on Aizawa-sensei’s face twitch when he frowns ever so slightly. “Uraraka, in good faith I believe you did what you could, and what you did did save your classmates—and me. Despite it all..” Aizawa-sensei looks into her eyes. “You do understand now that it was not supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” she says obediently. 

“Right.” His words are slow and cool, but there is something guarded there now, a measured carefulness. “Let me ask you this. How do you feel about what you did, Uraraka?”

“How do I feel,” Ochako repeats, mimicking Aizawa-sensei’s careful tone, “about killing that Villain..?”

“Yes.”

“I feel..” she stops, pauses for a long time. Her fingers grip tight around her cup until her nails are white. “I have a hard time,” Ochako begins slowly, “showing what I feel. Ever since—since forever, I’ve always just..”

Aizawa-sensei doesn’t reply. Ochako continues eventually, her tone wavering a little. Unsure. “I’ve always found it difficult to … to express myself. To even know what I’m. Feeling. Sometimes—” she pauses. Her voice drops to a whisper like she’s telling him a secret. “Sometimes I feel like I’m crazy. Like I’m … like I’m out of my mind…”

She looks up at him. He’s watching her, silent and emotionless, and her face suddenly heats up. She looks away, abruptly losing confidence. “I’m—I’m sorry, I really don’t know why I’m saying all this I’m sorry if I’m not making sense—”

“Uraraka,” Aizawa-sensei says. “It’s all right.”

She looks down. Her eyes stare back at her, reflected on her tea—that mirage blurs when Ochako’s tears start falling into it, rippling the dark surface. “It just—” her voice is a soft, broken thing. “I scare myself sometimes, sensei, I. The things that I think, they're so.." she shakes her head. "I feel trapped. Sometimes. Trapped in my own head. I feel like. I'm always different ... from everybody else. Like I'm an outsider. Like I’m such a f-freak, like I’m some kind of—” she takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Uraraka—”

“I killed that Villain,” she says emptily. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know if I meant to. It just all happened so fast, and I, sometimes I think I’m a m-monster—”

“You are not a monster, Uraraka,” Aizawa-sensei says, his voice firm, but not unkind. “You were only scared and confused.”

“I thought my friends were all going to die,” Ochako’s lips tremble so hard she’s having a hard time saying words. “I thought he was going to k-kill all of us. I thought—I thought you were dead, sensei, and I was just—I couldn’t think, I just—”

She can feel his eyes on her, sharp and scrutinizing. But there is a warmth there, now. She is pretty sure it's not just her imagination. “I see.”

“I’ve been trying,” Ochako sobs. Her voice hitches in her throat, shaky. “To act strong, ‘cause I don’t want to make my parents w-worried. But. I just. I just don’t know. I don’t know why I—why we … h-had to go through that.” She hiccups, her fists trembling, digging into her skirt. “I don’t know why I had to do. What I did. Every time I close my eyes, I just—” she squeezes her eyes shut, her tears salty in her mouth. “My brain just keeps replaying that moment. Over and over again, and I’m just so … so tired, I don’t know what to do..”

Aizawa-sensei hands her some tissues and Ochako receives them with shaking hands. “Am I—am I going to get into trouble?” Ochako sniffles. “For k-killing that Villain? Am I going to get kicked out? My parents worked so ha-ard to get me here. So hard. If I’m kicked out, what are we e-even going to do?” 

“As I’ve mentioned before, this incident is entirely our fault, not yours,” Aizawa-sensei says, refilling up her cup of tea. “Drink this—take a deep breath. Good. Uraraka, your studentship will not be revoked. Whatever is the result of the investigation, should there be further consequences down the line due to your action, I will personally make sure that it will be fair. Be rest assured.”

"Okay," she sniffles.

“Now—take your time to gather yourself. When you’re ready, you may leave," he pauses. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Uraraka. My door is always open whenever you'd like to talk. Understand?"

“Thank you,” she says to her tissue. “S-sensei. Thank you.”

The time that she took to gather herself is five minutes, and then she excuses herself. She has reached the door when Aizawa-sensei calls out to her one last time. “One thing, Uraraka.”

Ochako turns. “Yes, sensei?”

His eyes are dark. Still unreadable even now, just like his voice. “Why did you take that Villain’s tie?”

Ochako doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t know, sensei,” she says. “I was so scared, I couldn’t think straight.”

“I see,” he says. “All right. You’re dismissed.”

After she is excused from the teacher’s office, Ochako is still sniveling, holding a pack of tissues that Aizawa-sensei gave her. She walks into a nearby girl’s toilet, puts down her backpack on the basin, and proceeds to throw up what little donut she had eaten in the closet. When she's done she returns to the basin and splashes cold water on her face.

Ochako calmly looks into the mirror. Her reflection stares back, flat and unbothered. Clinically, she inspects her puffy eyes, massaging the area to relieve the swelling. She wipes her tears away, fixes her lip balm, and throws the tissues into the bin.

They won’t kick her out. It’s ridiculous even as a notion; things will leak and the media backlash would be too much. On top of that, people would support her. After all, she’s only a scared little girl who wanted to save her classmates and succeeded in doing so—she’ll be Japan’s victimized sweetheart in a heartbeat. Not to mention the entire incident on its own is already a shitstorm for UA—they’d want to keep a tight lid on the details. None of this is a concern. However…

Too much attention, she has found, isn’t good. 

She opens the tap, starts washing her hands. Killing Villains isn’t good. Feeling fine after killing Villains isn’t good.

And here she thought being a Hero is all about getting attention and killing Villains. False advertisement much?

Uraraka. You are not a Hero.

She isn’t a Hero, but she thought that she could be. She thought that anyone could. But this Heroism thing might actually be much more complex than she pegged it to be. You don’t get to be right, and you certainly can never be wrong. But if right is this hard to define, how do you know what’s wrong?

Ochako dries her hands and tosses the tissues into the bin again. She looks back, one more time, at her reflection in the mirror. She smiles. She stops smiling. She smiles again. She stops smiling. She smiles again.

She has been a good girl all her life because it’s simpler that way. But now, being good doesn’t seem so simple anymore. And isn’t simple just so dull?

Ochako stops smiling. She picks up her backpack and walks out.

Chapter Text

6

“I’m going to kill him,” Kyouka says. “I’m going to kill that purple fuck!”

“Kyouka,” Momo says. “It’s fine. I’ll just—”

“It’s not fucking fine, he can’t just say that to you. Hell, he’s been saying shit to every single one of us! And what he did to Tsuyu in fucking USJ? Fucking insane. We were all in the middle of a life or death situation and he was still thinking with his dick!” 

“And to think a guy like that aces all his tests,” Mina says. “Sometimes I think god doesn’t exist.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If you ask me,” Kyouka says, “We should just cut off his purple fucking dick.”

“God,” Tooru says. They can hear her sigh. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

It’s PE and they’re watching the boys run their laps—it’ll be their turn after. The reason why they can’t all run together is unclear since there are only six girls anyway, but they aren't complaining. “It’s fine,” Momo says again, somewhat pensive. “I’ll. Talk about him to Aizawa-sensei. See what he does.”

“I can accompany you.”

“Me too.”

“We should all go. We should call a strike.”

“Aizawa-sensei, we demand that you get rid of this piece of shit at once or we’ll write a call out on social media. UA isn’t providing a … what’s its nuts, a good, uh, area or something—”

“A safe space.”

“UA isn’t providing a safe space for us beautiful, independent, powerful young women.”

"How dare they."

"What does this say about the current state of Hero society?"

They laugh again. And then Tsuyu says, “Do you think Aizawa-sensei will actually do something about it?”

There is a pause in the conversation. 

It’s a beautiful day, sunny, the sky bluer than blue. Some of the boys have decided to go shirtless and dump the content of their water bottles to their faces and at each other. They all watch the boys laugh and banter, as boys do—roughhouse each other.

“..Well…” Tooru says. “He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who’d let this kind of thing slide.”

“But he is a guy."

Another pause. They look at each other. “Come on..” Tooru says. “No way, right? He’s a teacher..”

“..believe it or not,” Mina mutters, “girl teachers aren’t always better either.”

“Yeah, teachers are shit,” Kyouka says. “Gender neutral. But guys are worse in general.”

"I can't argue with that," Mina says.

“He’s a Pro-Hero, guys. Come on.”

“Let me teach you a cool trick. Open up google dot com and insert the keywords ‘Hero’ and ‘scandal’ right now.”

“All right, all right, damn.”

“..I’m sure he’ll do something about it,” Momo says. She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “Tooru is right—Eraserhead is a respectable Hero. I’ll file an official complaint to him. I'm sure it'll get sorted out in no time.”

“And then what?” Kyouka says. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound like a bitch—”

“Oh, is that right?” Tooru says.

“Fine, I love sounding like a bitch, bitch. But fucking anyway—look, Momo. You file a complaint, then what? You think they’re going to kick him out? Move him to another class? Or are they just going to give him a warning and we’ll have to continue looking at his stupid face for the rest of our school year?”

“Well,” Momo says, and then neither she nor anyone else says anything for the next few seconds.

Tsuyu breaks the silence. “I think we all know the answer to that,” she says calmly.

“You’re being pretty chill about this, Tsuyu.”

She shrugs. “He’s a boy.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me. That’s not an excuse.”

“No, it’s not,” says Tsuyu plainly, and nothing else.

“..I don’t know, guys,” Tooru says again, but she’s sounding more and more unsure by the second. “Aizawa-sensei seems pretty no-nonsense, though, right? He might expel him. He was threatening to expel someone back on the first day after all...”

“But he didn’t. Maybe he’s all talk.”

“Okay, that’s not fair, he literally almost died for us—”

“First of all, he’s a Hero, so that’s his job —”

“It is, isn’t it? Man,” says Mina to no one in particular. “The hell did I sign up for?”

“—second of all, I’m just saying, he’s not actually that hard on us, is he? He’s actually, you know. Pretty nice.”

“Nice enough that he’d let things slide, you mean?”

“Kyouka might have a point. Yeah, sure, he’ll die for us—but would he get rid of a porn-brained student for us? It’s two entirely different things.”

Beat. They look at each other. “Fine,” Tooru finally says into the silence. “Fine. Okay. We should just totally kill him and cut off his purple dick.”

This breaks the tension. "Not in that order," Tsuyu says, and they all laugh again.

Mina grins. “Fake an accident, or something. Sorry, Aizawa-sensei, I think he slipped down the stairs...”

“Aizawa-sensei, I swear, I have no idea how he fell off the window..”

“Aizawa-sensei, I think the wind flew the knife out of my hand and into his stupid ugly face..”

“Aizawa-sensei, don’t mind the blood on my hands..”

Even Momo is cracking a smile at the murder fantasy jokes. “Come on, guys,” she says, half-heartedly. But her friends aren’t done with their imagination exercise of the Mineta Problem.

“Let’s lure him,” Tooru says. “With our feminine wiles.”

“Come up to him and be all like. Mineta-kun. You’re sooo hot.”

Laughter.

“Mineta-kun, you’re sooo smart.”

“You’re sooo tall.”

“You’re sooo funny.”

“You’re sooo cool.”

“Mineta-kun, do you know the answer to this problem? I’m just sooo stupid.”

“And you’re sooo much smarter. Than me.”

“Do you wanna go on a date, maybe?”

They all laugh again. “You know,” Kyouka says. “That might actually work.”

“Bring him to a secluded place. Get him to a second location..”

“This is so fucked up,” says Mina, who sounds gleeful by the fact. 

“And then kill him.”

“Oh, you guys,” Momo says, but they all can hear the smile in her voice.

“Let’s do it,” Kyouka says.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

They aren’t serious, of course. None of them are. It’s only a thought experiment. A power-trip fantasy that'll never happen, or be achievable.

“We can’t all do it,” Tsuyu says. “We need alibis. Some of us have to stay behind.”

“Aw,” Tooru says. “And here I thought collective murder can be a great bonding activity.”

“Someone gotta do the alibi. Someone gotta do the murder. Someone gotta do the body disposal. Teamwork, baby.”

“I can burn the body.”

“Dump it down the dock. Always a classic.”

“Melt it down with acid. Yet another classic.”

“Or we can feed it to the pigs. Didn’t Koda-kun say his family has a pig farm?”

“Cook it into stew,” Mina raises her hands defensively when everybody gives her a look. “What? I’m not gonna eat him. Nobody’s gonna question it if you throw out some leftover stews. It’s a good body disposal plan!”

The boys have finished their laps. Ochako watches Deku, who is trailing a little behind the group, shoulders raised. He couldn't beat Iida's speed, but he was one of the fastest runners—he’s probably staying behind on purpose to hide from the rest of the world or something like that. He’s been doing that every period. Look, now he’s gonna go sit down sadly on his own and drink his bottle of water sadly on his own—

A boy comes up next to Deku, bumping his shoulder. Ojiro Mashirao-kun. He’s smiling at Deku, open and friendly, saying something to him. And to Ochako’s mild surprise, Deku smiles back; in that weird way of his, like he isn’t quite used to doing it. The both of them seem to be having a conversation, unintelligible from this distance. And then Iida-kun shows up, and the three of them exchange words. Banters. Deku doesn’t speak much, but she can see that his shoulders relax just the tiniest bit. That small, crooked smile stays on his face.

Huh.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Ochako says, turning to find Mina standing next to her. “Has the lap started yet?”

“About to! Come on.”

They walk to the track lines together. The grass is lush under Ochako’s feet, the air smells fresh. From the other end of the arena, another class is having PE class as well—maybe the upperclassmen, or one of the general classes. “Ugh, look. He’s bothering the girls again,” Mina says, frowning. She cups her hands around her mouth like a cone. “Hey, Mineta! Fuck off!”

They watch as Mineta finally leaves the girls alone. Kyouka—and Tooru too, judging from her gestures—are yelling something at him, shooing him away from the girl’s bathroom entrance. “Can you believe that guy? He just won’t stop.” 

“He won’t, will he,” Ochako says.

Mina glances back at her. “Hey..” she says, carefully. “You were kind of. Quiet back there. Did all those ... jokes bother you? Since—” she cuts herself off, looking both awkward and uncomfortable. “Since, uh..”

She looks nervous; it's a rare look on Mina. It’s a little cute. Ochako smiles at her. “Since I killed someone?” Ochako says helpfully.

There is a mixed look on her face. Mina is so expressive, it’s a feat difficult to mimic. But Ochako will get there one day. “Yeah,” Mina says, sounding both sheepish and apologetic. “I just thought maybe, you know—”

“Yeah, they bothered me.”

Mina goes still. “Oh. Um, I—”

“Your plans were all too complicated,” Ochako says. “I’ll just make his body disappear.”

Mina stares at her, surprised. And then she begins to laugh. 

See, so expressive. Nothing kept away whatsoever. Deku is all hidden, unsure emotion behind a triplex-thin veneer, but Mina is without shame. She wears her heart on her sleeve, without hesitation, without doubt. Open. It makes people put their complete trust in her. Ochako doesn’t remember the last time she admired something this much. “You’re so...” Mina shakes her head. “You’re crazy, Ochako-chan. I like it.”

Ochako curtsies. “Why, thank you, Ashido-sama.”

Mina curtsies back. “You’re welcome, Uraraka-sama.”

There is a moment where Mina just stares at her, her laughter having faded into a faint smile. And then she says, “Can I ask you questions? About it?”

Yet another interrogation. Ochako prepares herself for another session of crying and saying things like oh, I was so scared, I didn’t know what I was doing. “Sure.”

“Can you really do it?” Mina says. “Make someone’s body disappear—like you did with that Villain?”

Ochako blinks. She looks at her. Mina returns her gaze back, steady. Open. Ochako considers her for a moment. “Depends,” Ochako says then.

“On what?” She sounds curious—the morbid kind. But there isn't fear there.

“On the makeup of the person’s body. And also. On what you mean by disappear." Ochako looks up at the sky. So hot, even though it’s still a few weeks before summer. “For example, I might not be able to make Mineta-kun disappear the way that Villain did.”

“Oh…” Mina says. “Why?”

“The Villain’s body was partially gaseous, and his Quirk was a bad match to mine. His ‘disappearance’, on the most part, was the result of the interaction between both of our Quirks.”

Mina hums, like this is all so fascinating. “Did you know that … that the Villain would disappear?” Mina says. “If you. Used your Quirk on him?”

“No,” Ochako says.

And she’s honest. She isn’t lying. She didn’t know. Sure, she had some kind of hypothesis, a picture of what would happen in her head, but she wouldn’t have known, would she? Not before she actually did it? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

“Okay,” Mina says. There is a long pause where they just walk next to each other, and Ochako already thinks that the topic is closed when Mina suddenly says, “That’s too bad about Mineta then.”

The quip catches her by surprise. Ochako turns to look at her, almost startled. And then Ochako laughs.

A real one—head thrown back, all that. When she’s done, she looks at Mina like she’s seeing her for the first time. “You’re funny, Mina." Ochako says. Quite funny. How had Ochako missed this? "I like that.”

Curtsy. “Why, thank you, Uraraka-sama.”

Curtsy. “You’re welcome, Ashido-sama.” And then Ochako says, informationally, “Mineta-kun’s body is solid matter. If I do the same thing I did to that Villain to Mineta, it won’t disappear the same way because it would be very messy.”

Mina looks at her. Ochako looks back. “But I can always fly his body beyond the exosphere,” Ochako says. “It’ll travel forever through space in zero gravity. Forever. No fingerprints. No witnesses. No trace. How does that sound for a good body disposal plan?”

They stare at each other. And then Mina starts to grin. “You know, Ochako,” Mina says. “You’re really funny too.”

They get to the tracks, kneeling down. The lap is starting soon. Without looking at Ochako, Mina says next to her, “We are all going to make really good Heroes someday.”

It’s said like a joke. “The absolute best,” Ochako replies.

After PE, the girls hit the showers. Showers take a while, because UA’s hot water is excellent, and the school fee is expensive, so they might as well take advantage. There is even a hairdryer and a bunch of toiletries kits with high-end hand lotions in it. 

“Can I borrow your shampoo?”

“Only if I can copy your chem homework.”

“You really think I did the chem homework?”

They wait for each other to finish, because solidarity is a good excuse to be late after class. When everyone is finally done taking turns with the hairdryer and is on their way to class, Ochako stops abruptly. “Aw, shoot,” Ochako says, turning to the other direction. “You guys go first. I forgot a thingie. Tell sensei I’ll be a little late.”

“Want us to accompany you?”

“Nah, it’s fine—see ya in a bit.”

Ochako re-enters the girls’ locker room. Calmly, she walks to the wall next to one of the lockers, and crouches down so she can be at eye level with a little dent on the wall.

It’s small, but unmistakable—there is a hole in the wall.

She squints. Across the opening, she can see a good view of the boys’ locker room, empty.

She leans back, staring at the hole for a thoughtful, silent moment. Then Ochako stands back up and then walks out to follow the others.

When Ochako gets paired with Mineta for a group study in physics class, Ochako’s phone vibrates like crazy.

JK: wtf … ask for a change!

YM: Are you okay with this? You can talk to the teacher.

AM: this is srsly messed how could they do this

AT : are u ok?

HT: kill him

YM: I can talk to the teacher for you if you’d like!

AT: yeah i’ll convince the teacher too

JK : kill him

AM: kill him

AT: kill him

AM: seriously though ask for a change

HT: yeah srsly

UO: lol

UO: its ok its just gross lol but whatever

UO: im good dw

YM: Okay, if you’re sure. 

JK: kill him

AM: kill him

AT: kill him

HT : kill him

UO: I will!

For a second there is a lull in the chat group as the implications sink in. Ochako stares at the seen by five people text before she decides to type again for need of clarification.

UO: Im just kidding :)

AM: haha

UO: Not really, I’ll make sure to lure him with my feminine wiles :)

JK : LMFAOOO

AT: LOL

HT : real

UO: I’ll ask him out on a date

UO: and then fuck him up :)

HT : this is dark lol… love it

JK: youre crazy

JK: youre my girl fr

AM: ok but let us know if he does anything we’ll srsly kill him

JK: just give me a signal and i’ll blow up his dick 2 kingdom come

She puts her phone back inside her blazer when Mineta finally comes to her desk, zero charm and all indecent thoughts. “Hi,” Ochako says sweetly.

“Hi,” Mineta says, looking like he could just about die happy right now.

And he really could. Die, that is. Not sure about the happy part.

The teacher assigns them a booklet of physics problems that they have to solve by next week and, to ensure that they’re really getting all that physics stuff drilled into their heads, each team has to present one solution in front of the class. Ooh, a presentation. The scariest thing a 15 year old has to face. Top three, really. Seconded perhaps only by terrorist attacks and acne.

The pairing is based on the exam they took last week, which is to say, a high-scoring kid paired with a lower-scoring kid because while we should all believe in equality, there is just no helping a dummy. Hence Mineta and Ochako, because Ochako is a dummy according to her score, and also because she can’t give a shit about physics class if it’s threatening to kill her in her own house.

The teacher continues to explain formula this and formula that, and how important it is for them to score well in the exam next month because obviously being a Pro-Hero requires you to be able to calculate the centrifugal force of a flywheel. She isn’t listening. Ochako is looking at Mineta, who doesn’t notice, because while Mineta is also looking at her, he is looking at other parts of her that are not her face. 

It’s the kind of person Mineta is. She doesn’t judge. “Mineta-kun.”

“Yeah?” he is still not looking at her face. “What’s, uh, what’s up?”

“You’re so smart, Mineta-kun,” Ochako smiles. “Much smarter than me. I think I’d need your help … a lot … for this assignment.”

Mineta blushes at the compliment. “Oh, uh, of course, Uraraka-san—” and then he proceeds to say some crazy perverted shit here that Ochako blocks off her mind.

“I was thinking,” Ochako says on top of Mineta’s crazy pervert monologue. “Maybe you could do all of the questions. And then explain the answers to me afterward?”

“Oh, totally,” Mineta says, pausing from his nasty shit. 

“Yay,” Ochako says. “You’re the best.”

“Wow,” Mineta says, what with it being the first time he’s ever complimented by a girl who is not his mom.

“So, where do you wanna work on it?” Ochako says. “I know a lot of spots in town.”

This particular spot is a cheap Starbucks rip-off south of Musutafu. Ochako smiles at Mineta when he comes in, waving at him in case he gets distracted by any other female-presenting person in five meter radius. 

He finds her table. It’s cute how he dressed up for her—he’s wearing a nice button-up, a stylish sling bag and what looks like a pretty expensive pair of shoes. Mineta sits down in front of her, barely able to rise above the table, and looks at her like he’s going to heaven soon.

And who knows? He could very well be right.

Mineta-kun is an excellent student, proven by the entirely filled-out answer sheets that he’s given her, and he isn’t a half bad teacher either, although he is still having difficulty in finding where exactly Ochako’s face is positioned. “The acceleration of both objects would be 9.8 m/s^2. So both objects would land at the same time. But the paper has a greater surface area, and so will be affected by air resistance more.”

“Wow,” Ochako says. 

“But by reducing the surface area—like say, by crumpling the paper, it’ll land at the same time as the 10 kg brick.”

“Okay. So the velocity after one second would be..”

“-9.8 m/s^2. After two seconds it would be -19.6 m/s^2, and so on.”

“Awesome,” Ochako says. “Do you want me to be your girlfriend, Mineta-kun?”

Mineta-kun falls from his chair and is only saved from hitting the floor because Ochako uses her Quirk on him. “You okay, Mineta-kun?”

“Yeah,” he says. Mineta doesn’t seem to even realize that he’s being floated back to his chair by her Quirk. His eyes are a little glazed and he’s looking at her with some kind of awe, like he doesn’t really believe this is happening, or maybe because he had hit his head at the corner of the table. “Yeah...”

“Yeah as in you’re okay, or yeah as in you want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Mineta-kun says.

“Okay,” Ochako says, closing her notebook. “Let’s go on a date.”

Mineta follows her obediently to a theme park just a few blocks away from the cafe they were in, a Disneyland copycat that costs 4,000 yen per entry with a student discount. 4,000 yen that, as Ochako kindly explains to Mineta, neither of them needs to spare.

“You just need to climb up there,” Ochako says, pointing to the rooftop of a parking building connected to one of the rides in the park. “There is an opening through the window that goes directly into the theme park staff’s bathroom.”

Mineta doesn’t exactly look unconvinced, but Ochako can see his hesitance. Ochako smiles at him. “C’mon, Mineta-kun,” she says sweetly. “Don’t you wanna have some fun?”

The opening is still there. Mineta climbs first. Ochako watches him struggle to get to the window, pausing in hesitation when he has to jump across the gap between the buildings. Aizawa-sensei, I swear, I have no idea how he fell off the window…

“You did it, Mineta-kun,” Ochako says, clapping for him as a reward when he got across safely. “Wow! You’re so cool! I didn't know you could do parkour.”

“It’s n-nothing,” Mineta says, cold sweat running down his forehead.

Ochako crosses over. Mineta touches her inappropriately the moment she does because that's the kind of person he is. But Mineta-kun, despite his flaws, proves to have some parts of him that yearn to be an upstanding citizen after all. When they get into the “official” theme park area, he sounds paranoid as he asks for the umpteenth time, “Uraraka-san, don’t you think we’re—we’re gonna get caught?”

Ochako looks around. The park is still the same as the last she remembers it—which is, what, last week? She points in a direction. “I want ice cream,” Ochako says. She looks at Mineta. “Get me some ice cream, Mineta-kun.”

The ice cream cart is right across a Hollywood-fashioned street. It has a long queue, mostly of children and their guardians. There is a group wearing kindergarten uniforms—maybe a study tour of some sort. “Um, okay,” Mineta says. He starts to pull out his wallet and Ochako says sadly, “Oh no. They ran out of chocolate.”

They watch as the shopkeeper crosses out the chocolate option on the menu signboard. “We can go to a convenience store and get a cho—”

“I don’t want chocolate ice cream from a convenience store.”

Mineta looks at her. She looks back at him, smiling. “I want chocolate ice cream from this store.”

“Maybe, um, maybe we can go another day—”

Ochako shakes her head. “No, Mineta-kun,” she says. “I want chocolate ice cream from this store. At this moment. Now.”

“..But, but if they ran out then there is nothing we can d—”

Ochako points at the line of kindergarteners sitting on the benches. “Take it from one of those kids.”

There is a pause. Mineta-kun huffs a disbelieving laugh, but then it’s gone the moment he sees she’s serious. “Um. Uraraka-san, you’re kidding ... right..?”

Ochako looks at him sadly. “Mineta-kun,” she says. “Aren’t we boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Uh. Yes..”

“Then you should be willing to do anything for me,” Ochako says. “Because I would do anything for you.”

Mineta hands her a cone of chocolate ice cream he snatched out of a four year-old's hands. 

He looks pale, rushing her along to get as far away as possible from the four year-old's cries. “Mm,” Ochako says, giving it a taste as he shoves her around. “Yummy.” Without giving it another lick, she throws the ice cream into a nearby trash can.

Ochako has always thought boys like Mineta are boring. 

She’s met boys like him since she could walk outside the house. They’re everywhere—in school, in buses, in malls, in the streets. But she might finally change her mind; Mineta is being so completely hilarious right now, she could cry. 

After a while, Mineta seems to have reconciled with the fact that he’s illegally trespassing a theme park and seems to be excited with the idea of enjoying the park despite the illegal circumstances. Mineta asks if they can go ride the rollercoaster and Ochako says no. Instead they go cart racing, where Ochako crashes the hell out of Mineta’s cart five times until he looks all pale and sick. They go to the haunted house, where Ochako can feel Mineta sidling up to her like he did to Tsuyu in USJ and touching her without permission. Once they’re out, Ochako takes him to the souvenir shop.

The shop is of decent size. It’s not so crowded since it’s a weekday. They sell ugly mugs and hoodies with the theme park’s ugly mascots on them, but there is some good stuff—keychains and merchandise of Heroes and Heroines, both real and fictional, special playing cards, stuff like that. One catches Ochako’s eye—a keychain of that Heroine from the famous anime back when she was a kid. The keychain is a special edition too—pricey enough that it’s out of a rich student’s weekly allowance money.

She points at it. “Mineta-kun,” says Ochako. “Get that for me.”

“..Sorry, Uraraka-san, I don’t have enough money for—”

“I know,” Ochako says. She smiles at him. “Get that for me.”

It took Ochako a long time to understand people. Years, really. But Ochako has found that understanding people is a continuous, ever-evolving thing. She can’t stop learning—she has to keep learning it.

This doesn’t make Ochako any different from her peers.

You see, a teenager’s understanding of the world is often poor, whether said teenager has a conscience or not. Ochako might not understand empathy if it’s standing in front of her selling a box of baby shoes, never worn, and this doesn’t make her any less adept at socializing than the other teenagers around her. Empathy, like socializing, is a difficult concept for her to learn—but that doesn’t mean she can’t learn it. Sure, she may never be able to feel it, but she can learn it.

“What’s wrong, Mineta-kun? Are you scared you’re gonna get caught?” Ochako asks him empathetically. “It’s okay. You’re standing at the camera’s blind spot. Nobody will know.”

There is a flash on his face, and for a moment, she can see the moment where he actually is considering it. There is a moment there, she sees, where Mineta actually thinks that he could do it. Then that moment is gone.

“I can’t do that,” Mineta says.

“Why?”

He looks at her like she’s crazy. His voice is pinched down, scared. Anxious. “Stealing—stealing is wrong.” 

“You stole that ice cream from before, though,” Ochako points out.

He blanches. “That was … different … and you, you asked me to—”

Ochako laughs. He looks so panicked and scared and stupid, it’s a little funny. “I was just joking, Mineta-kun,” she says, genial and kind. “You should’ve seen the look on your face—you took it so seriously. I wouldn’t ask you to steal something so expensive.” She smiles. “Nothing more expensive than ice cream, anyway.”

He swallows. “I think,” he says, warily, “I think maybe I should go. It’s getting, um, late, and—”

The girls were wrong. While Mineta Minoru’s blood might often circulate south, it does make its pitstop at the northern parts at times. How else would he ace those tests otherwise? “Not before we go on to the Ferris wheel,” Ochako says. “It's a must-go. Aren’t we a couple?”

Mineta seems to brighten up at the idea, because being in a confined space with a girl for seven minutes isn’t something that’ll likely occur to him again for the foreseeable future. 

The Ferris wheel is Ochako’s favorite attraction. She doesn’t do high-speed rides, like roller coasters, because they feel too much like her Quirk. But a slow, silent ascend to the top of the sky—it’s nice. Even calming, if Ochako is the kind of person who needs calming. She likes how everything feels so cut off and apart from up above. 

Ochako seats herself primly across from him. “Isn’t it so romantic?” Ochako asks him.

“Yeah, it is.”

He’s squirming in his seat, face red with fucked up excitement. So simple. Ochako has got him down pat. Ochako smiles. “Is this your first date, Mineta-kun?” She asks him. “Am I your first girlfriend?”

He's blushing harder. “Yes..”

How very adorable. “Do you wanna hold hands?”

Mineta looks like he’s about to pass out from happiness, Ochako’s previous antics long forgotten. “Yes.”

His hand is small and clammy and sweaty in her grasp. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes, Uraraka-san.”

“Good,” Ochako says sweetly. “Now that we’re boyfriend girlfriend, I can take a look at your phone, right?”

Their cart rises higher and higher. Beyond the windows, the sun is setting, bathing golden lights over the city. It’s beautiful. Mineta tenses under her hold. “Uh..”

“Come on … Minoru-kun. I can call you that, right? I just love saying it. Minoru-kun. Minoru-kun. Minoru-kun.” She tilts her head. “Minoru-kun. I just want to check if you’re texting other girls. Is that so wrong?”

“That's ... I’m, I’m not—”

“You see, I’m a pretty jealous girl, Minoru-kun,” Ochako says. “I don’t like to share.”

“Uraraka-san—”

“Do you remember what you taught me today?” Ochako says. “You said. If a 10 kg object and a 5 kg object fall from the same height, due to gravity, they’d hit the ground at the same time. Right?”

The tense look in Mineta’s eyes is clouded with confusion. “Uh, what—?”

“But if one of the objects has a greater surface area, it’d be affected by air resistance more, and therefore both of them will fail to hit the ground at the same time. I find that so sad and so unromantic,” Ochako says. “Minoru-kun, if you don’t let me take a look at your phone, I’m going to use my Quirk on this Ferris wheel and kill everyone in it including us. Do you think both of our bodies will hit the ground at the same time from this height?”

Mineta stares at her. And then his eyes dart to the door that, if he tries to open, will greet him with a thirty-eight meters free fall to his death. His eyes dart back at her again, his face white with fear and finally, a sort of terrorized understanding. As if he has just understood, at last, the gravity of his situation.

Ochako has no problem in helping him to understand it more. After all this is a group study.

“I have a physics problem, Mineta-kun,” Ochako says. “And a solution to it. Do you wanna check if I solved it correctly?”

Mineta doesn’t answer. Ochako stops smiling. Flatly, she says, “Mineta-kun, you promised you would teach me physics. Are you going to break your promise to me.”

He pales further. Mineta stumbles over his words. “No, of c-course I’ll—I’ll help you out—”

Ochako smiles again. “Great,” Ochako says, clapping her hands together. “Okay. Here goes. My height is 156 cm and I weigh 45 kg. You’re 108 cm and you weigh 24 kg. I’m bad at physics, but I’m guessing there is a chance both of us won’t land at the same time. And that is so sad. Because we are boyfriend girlfriend. We should be inseparable.” She pats his hands lovingly, keeping them clasped tight in her grasp. “But don’t worry, I found a solution. We just need to reduce both of our surface areas. So if the rest of our bodies are destroyed, save for our heads, I’m sure our heads will hit the ground at the same time. Won’t that be so romantic?”

Mineta stares at her for a long time. When he speaks, it’s shaky and broken, his eyes wide. "This ... Uraraka-san, this isn't funny.."

"Of course not," Ochako says, who in fact does think all of this is very very funny. "Do you think my feelings for you is a joke? That's terribly mean. I'm your girlfriend, Minoru-kun."

“You’re crazy,” Mineta says. “You can’t—you won’t ... do that. You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m in love,” Ochako says, and then her Quirk flares.

Just a little nudge. Not a push. 

Mineta Minoru starts screaming when their cart stops, finally reaching the peak of the Ferris wheel. His voice echoes loudly in the small, confined space, to the absolute apathy of one Uraraka Ochako. He starts to retch, sobbing. Her hands stay on top of his. Inseparable. 

She waits patiently until his screams die down. “Now,” Ochako says nicely. “Will you let me take a look at your phone? I won’t be long, Minoru-kun. I'll give it back to you right after, m'kay?” His other hand shakily hands her his phone. “Unlock it.” He unlocks it. “Good boy.” Ochako opens the media folder. “Oh, no, Minoru-kun. It seems I’m not the only girl you like after all.”

“It’s—it’s not what you think, please, it’s not, it's—”

“It’s exactly what Momo-chan thinks, though,” Ochako says. “You’re pretty bad at this, Minoru-kun, did you know that? She had a feeling that you’d been taking pictures up her skirt since the first time you sat next to her in class. But she didn’t want to accuse you based on baseless assumptions, or something. Isn’t that very nice of her.” Ochako scrolls, scrolls. “Oh, look. I’m here too.” Parts of her, anyway. She scrolls, scrolls. “And every other girl in 1-A.” She scrolls, scrolls. “And 1-B. Wow. Looks like my boyfriend is a real ladies’ man. Whatever should I do?”

Mineta is crying. “Please.”

“Were you the one who made that peephole in the locker room?”

“No! No, that wasn’t me, it’s always been there! I think, I think it’s the upperclassmen who—”

“Oh, so you’re only using it, but you didn’t make it. Gotcha.” 

“What are you doing?” Mineta says stupidly, when Ochako begins taking photos of Mineta’s phone with her own cell. “Please no, please—”

Ochako shushes him gently. “Shh, shh. It’s okay, Minoru-kun. I’m your girlfriend, remember? What's yours is mine. What’s mine is yours. I love you and you love me. Right?” 

Mineta doesn’t answer, too busy sobbing into the air. That won’t do. Even Ochako knows you’re supposed to say I love you back. “Minoru-kun. Say you love me.”

His face is running with snot, tears, and vomit. “I love you.”

Ochako feels nothing hearing it, so she tries saying it. “I love you too.” She still feels nothing. She frowns, trying again. “I love you very much.”

“I l-love you too.”

“Say it back full,” Ochako tells him.

Mineta obeys tearfully. “I love you too v-very much.”

Still nothing. “I love you very very much,” Ochako says again. 

“I love you very v-very—very much,” Mineta cries. “God please.”

"I love you so much I can't live without you."

"I love you so m-much, I can't l-live with.." he breaks into a sob. "Can't live. Without you."

"I love you so much, I would die for you, I would kill myself for you," Ochako says. Mineta sobs and sobs. "Say it."

"I love you s-so—" Mineta is crying so hard he's gasping for breath. "So. Much. I would d-die for you, I would k-kill myself for y-you..."

Still nothing. Huh. She heard hearing all this is supposed to make you feel something. Maybe love is overrated, just like Villains. Just like everything else in life.

That's okay. They can't help it.

She looks back at his phone. “Well, now that we both love each other very very much, so much that we would die for each other and kill ourselves together and all that stuff, why don’t we die together here so we can be with each other forever ‘till the end of time?”

“Please, I—I—I don’t want to die, I’ll do anything—please, can’t you just please leave me alone please—”

He keeps babbling, standard stuff—all pretty cliche actually. It’s all quite boring, so Ochako isn’t really listening. The cart is starting to move again, beginning its descent slowly. “Aw, Minoru-kun. Are you not happy with me? Do you wanna leave me?” Ochako says, still having fun scrolling on his phone to see all kinds of nasty stuff Mineta has gone up to. “Do you want to break up with me? That hurts.”

“Please, please, I’ll, I’ll delete them all, I’ll, I’ll leave you alone I won’t do it anymore so please—”

“You're breaking my heart. That makes me so sad,” Ochako says. She closes his phone, and softly squeezes his trembling hand. “But why, though? If you want to break up with me you need to give me a reason. I deserve a reason. I hate boys who ghost.”

“I just—I—”

“Is it my personality? Is it my looks? Am I not pretty enough? Not hot enough? Not good enough for you?”

“No, no, you’re—you’re p-pretty, you’re really, really pretty—”

“Bullshit.”

Mineta looks at her. Ochako smiles. Calmly, she says, “Bullshit, Minoru-kun. The truth is, it doesn’t matter to you, right? It doesn’t matter if I’m pretty, if I’m skinny, if I’m hot, it doesn’t matter who I am. Because it only matters that I’m a girl, right?” Ochako watches him. “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s girls, right? Any girl would do, right?” 

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re—”

“Minoru-kun,” Ochako says. “Am I not girl enough for you?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Mineta cries.

When the cart reaches the bottom, Ochako’s grip on his hand tightens harder so he doesn’t make a run for it, and Mineta doesn’t. It’s funny. It’s not like he can’t try—if he makes enough fuss, there is a chance people outside will notice something’s up. But he doesn’t even try. People are funny that way—they like making things harder for themselves.

Of course, if he tries it Ochako will probably just kill him for real and everybody else too or whatever, but. It's the principle that counts, you know?

The cart crawls upwards again. One more rotation before they get off. “Aren’t I giving you what you want?” Ochako says. "Minoru-kun. Why do you want to be a Hero?"

"What..?"

Her grip tightens. "Answer me."

Mineta chokes. "Because—because I want to save people—"

"You're lying. I don't like it when my boyfriend lies to me."

"Because Heroes are—please, please—because people—love Heroes—because—"

"You want to get girls, right?"

"Yes," Mineta says. "Yes. Yes."

Ochako gestures to herself, like tadah. “So here I am. Isn’t that nice, Minoru-kun? You got your wish. So. You don’t have any reason to break up with me. Right? Because I'm your greatest wish. So we are going to be boyfriend girlfriend forever, it seems. So fun.”

Mineta just keeps crying, even though Ochako isn’t using her Quirk on him anymore. “I’m going to sit next to you in class every day so I can make sure you aren’t looking at other girls,” Ochako says. “I’m going to get paired up with you every lesson and we are going to have lunch together every period. You’re going to tutor me for every exam and you’re going to do all my homework for me. I’ll walk home with you after school and we’ll go to this theme park and we are going to ride on this flywheel every weekend and you’re going to get me chocolate ice cream every time, without fail. Wouldn’t that be so romantic?”

“Please,” Mineta begs. He sounds a little empty, and a lot stupid. “Let me go, let me go, please, I’ll do anything...”

“It’s really such a shame, though,” Ochako says. “It’s too bad that you’re going to leave UA.”

Mineta stops his dumbfuck babbling. Slowly, he looks up. He looks up at her like he doesn’t get it. Like he doesn’t get what she’s saying, and he doesn’t get why he has to be in this position and why he has to go through this. “What..?”

“You’ve trespassed, shoplifted, and taken non-consensual photos of fellow minors,” Ochako says, counting on her fingers. “That’s three crimes. It’s too bad, but you can’t continue to stay in UA with that track record, right? What if they find out? ”

Silence as it all sinks in. And then he breaks into fresh tears and snot. “I didn’t—you were the one who, you asked me to—I—” his sob wracks his whole body. “I never s-stole anything, it was all you —”

“Doesn’t your bag feel a little heavy, Minoru-kun?” Ochako says. "Go on. You can check."

Slow and horrified, Mineta opens his bag. Inside are keychains. A good dozen of them, all limited edition. “Why are you doing this to me?” he says when he finally can speak again. He sounds almost astonished, like this horror he is experiencing awes himself. “You’re—you’re ruining my life—I don’t —I don’t deserve th-this—”

Ochako has a very clear understanding of the current society as she knows it.

This society, she understands, wants to get rid of bad people. How do you know what is bad and what is good, you ask? Well, to quote Aizawa-sensei, that is why they have the law. People who break the law—like trespassing and shoplifting and taking pictures up people’s skirts—are bad people. And bad people are Villains.

But bad people can’t help being bad. Nobody can’t help being the way they are. Therefore, the perfect logic that exists in Ochako’s mind is this: the only correct way to deal with Villains is to kill them.

“Are you going to kill me?” Mineta says.

“Of course not, silly,” Ochako says.

But Ochako is not going to do that.

“I don’t have the right to decide whether you deserve a second chance or not—even if I think you don’t. And I do think that you don’t. Oh, please don’t take it personally, Minoru-kun,” Ochako says, a coo at the pathetic look on his face. “It’s not personal. It’s not you, it’s me. You’re getting this all wrong, okay?” Ochako leans so she can look Mineta in the eye.

“You have to understand this," she says gently. "I’m not judging you, Minoru-kun.”

She isn’t. Honest.

Mineta-kun can’t help being the way that he is. That’s why reporting him to Aizawa-sensei would never work. Sure, maybe he'll lay down for a while, but he would still do the things that he does eventually. And he'll do it again and again and again, because he can’t help it. And that’s not his fault. She understands perfectly that people like him are just … like that. They can’t help it.

Ochako doesn’t judge him. She doesn’t hold it against him. 

“I understand. I get it. We were all born with our own thing, weren’t we? Your thing is that you’re a perverted peeping tom piece of shit who likes to sexually harass girls. As for me, well..” Ochako leans back, tapping a thoughtful finger on her lips. “Let’s just say, for the sake of brevity in this conversation, my thing is that I don’t think anyone deserves a second chance. After all, we were all born this way. Don’t you agree? I can't help being me. And you can’t help being a perverted piece of shit.”

“Yes,” Mineta cries. “Yes.”

See? Someone gets it after all.

Ochako snaps her fingers. “Exactly! However. You see. I’m learning to be a Hero, Minoru-kun. And Heroes don’t get to take anyone’s second chances away. This is something new that I've been told, and it's a difficult concept for me to learn," she says. "But I’ve always been better with practical lessons. And so here we are, Minoru-kun. I’m practicing being a Hero with you. Isn’t that great?"

“Yes,” Mineta says, and she realizes at this point he's just saying anything to agree with her. That's fine. That's the kind of person that he is.

"This is why I’m not going to kill you," she says patiently. "In fact, Minoru-kun, I’m giving you an option to decide for yourself whether you deserve a second chance or not."

"Oh, god," he says. "Oh, god.."

"So play along with me, m'kay?” She pats his hand lovingly again. “This is after all a group study. We have to work together to understand the lesson.”

“I don’t understand,” Mineta sobs. 

“You don’t have to,” Ochako replies. “You just have to play along. Please, Minoru-kun? Won't you do it for me?”

“Okay,” Mineta says.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

“That’s a good boy,” Ochako says. “So tell me, Minoru-kun. Why are you leaving UA?” she aims her phone at him. "Say it to the camera please."

“Because,” Mineta says. "I’ve—I’ve trespassed..”

“Uhuh,” Ochako says. “And?”

Mineta sniffles. “And, and I’ve shoplifted..”

“Uhuh,” Ochako says. “And?”

“And I’ve—” Mineta breaks into another wet sob. “I’ve taken non-consensual p-pictures of my c-classmates..”

“Other students,” Ochako corrects him. “You did it to 1-B girls too, remember, Minoru-kun?”

“I’ve taken non-consensu—non-consensual pictures of, of other students,” Mineta chokes. “Who are m-minors.”

“Oh, Minoru-kun. How awful,” Ochako says, sounding real disappointed in her boyfriend’s misdemeanor. She puts her phone back. “That’s just too bad. You’re my boyfriend. I want nothing more than to have you stay in UA with me. Forever.” 

“Please, please—”

“In fact. If you’re leaving UA..” Ochako shakes her head sadly. “That’s going to be a real problem for our relationship.”

Mineta stops. He looks up.

Ochako smiles at him. “You see, Minoru-kun, I’m not a long distance kind of girl.”

Mineta Minoru isn’t stupid. Ochako knows that. Understanding enters the boy’s face. Sobered up by the option that she has given him. 

“If you’re leaving UA,” Ochako tells him. “Then I’m afraid we’re gonna have to break up.”

He isn’t stupid. He leans back, pale, understanding completely what she means. The cart reaches its peak once again—the sun has fully set now, and the lights of the city call out to them. They’re so far away, so cut off from the rest of the world. It’s all very beautiful. Very romantic. Very empty.

“So what do you think, Minoru-kun?” Ochako says, rubbing her thumb on his skin. “Do you still want me to be your girlfriend?”

Chapter Text

5

“There is a maniac on the loose.”

“That’s a great band name,” Kyouka says. “‘There Is A Maniac On The Loose.’”

“No, seriously,” Mina says, showing her phone. “Some guy’s cutting up random Heroes in the central area. It’s all over socmed.”

“Oh, I know about that—the Hero slasher or something."

"Hero Killer."

"Yeah, that."

"It’s been going on for a while, no?” Tsuyu says. “Like, for two months already.”

“Yeah, but the pics finally got leaked—”

“Let me see?” Tooru takes a look. “Ew!”

“Yeah, it’s kinda gross. Hey, Ochako, can I borrow your lipbalm?”

“Tinted or non-tinted?”

“Tinted is fine—thanks.”

“Ew,” Kyouka says, squinting at Mina’s phone. The brightness is turned all the way up, but the screen is still hard to see in the afternoon sun. “Oh well. Haters gonna hate.”

“Real.”

“You know, I think I’d be really pissed if I got killed. But stabbing’s not a bad way to go.”

“Bleeding to death isn’t a bad way to go?” Tooru says. “What are you on, girl?”

“Better than getting burned to death.”

“Death by drowning or death by fire? Pick one.”

“I’d rather just not die,” Tsuyu says calmly and intellectually.

“Drowning would suck, actually,” Mina says thoughtfully. “Not being able to breathe sounds like it’d hurt a lot.”

“Nah, I’m still on team Fire Sucks,” Kyouka says. “If I ever get killed, I hope the bitch who did it gets burned to death after.”

“That’s a great band name,” Tsuyu says. “‘If I Ever Get Killed I Hope The Bitch Who Did It Gets Burned To Death After.’”

“I don’t know if I wanna burn, but I for sure don’t wanna drown,” Mina says, still thinking about it seriously. “I don’t wanna hang either. Yeah. Maybe stabbing’s good.”

“A freak accident would be cool,” Tsuyu says.

“What’s wrong with you guys?” Tooru says. “Momo, what’s wrong with them?” Momo just laughs.

“What d’you think, Ochako?” Mina says. “Fire or water? What’s your death?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“My mood,” Ochako says, to Mina’s raucous laughter.

“Hey, wanna make a band?” Kyouka says suddenly. “Momo, you can play the piano, right? Mina can do drums, and—”

Tooru raises her hand. “I rip like crazy on the recorder.”

“You just stay put. Pass me the sunblock, though.” Kyouka squints, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Oh, look. The guys are all there. Hey!”

Far ahead at the beach, beneath some palm trees, they see the boys setting up mats and foldable tables and everything. Kaminari is waving his arms at them. 

“Hey!” Kaminari’s voice yells. He’s already in his swimwear and is, for some reason, holding a bat. “Over here!”

Kyouka shapes a cone with her hands. “What are you guys doing?!”

“We’re going to beat the shit!!” he yells back. “Out of some watermelons!!”

“Well!!” Kyouka yells back. “Wait for us then, damn it!!”

“Okay!!” Kaminari gives a thumbs up.

“Let’s go,” Kyouka says to the girls.

Someone brought a volleyball too, so after they beat the shit of watermelons (and eat them, and throw the meat at each other, and then eat them again) some kids go to play volleyball and others go for a swim in the sea. Or climb the windbreaker and look at the sky, which is what they're opting to do. “I heard it gives you cancer,” Mina says next to her. “The sunlight.”

“You’ll be fine if you use sunblock.”

“I heard sunblock gives you cancer.”

“The two cancers cancel each other like PEMDAS, so you’re good, bitch.”

“There is no medical evidence that sunblock causes cancer,” Momo informs helpfully. “UV rays from the sun do damage your cell, that is indeed true, but that does not necessarily increase your chance of getting cancer...”

“Yes, it just means you have the same chance of getting cancer as everyone else,” Ochako says, and they laugh.

“Which means we are all getting cancer.”

“Okay, that’s totally cool.” 

“Whose idea was this outing anyway? Wasn’t it you, Mina?”

“Huh? I thought it was you. No, no, maybe it was Kirishima?”

“A little class bonding right before we beat each other up in the Sports Festival, huh?” Kyouka says. “Neat. Is everybody here?”

“Not everyone. Sato had some cousins coming over, Bakugou said fuck no—”

“To nobody’s surprise.”

“Todoroki didn’t exactly say fuck no, but he said nothing, and he isn’t here, so that’s also a fuck no...”

“What’s that guy’s deal? He’s kinda cute though.”

“If you’re into the Sasuke type, yeah. But anyway, more or less everyone’s here.”

“Nice.”

They fall into a pleasant silence. And then Mina abruptly says, “He really quit, huh?”

They all know who she is talking about immediately. “Hell yeah,” Kyouka says. “Small blessings. If he was here I wouldn’t have come to this outing.”

“...I wouldn’t either,” says Momo softly.

“Wonder if he changed schools or what.”

“Didn’t you know?” Kyouka says. “Ochako killed him.”

There is a tell-tale pause that happens after a joke where its listeners aren’t sure if it’s appropriate to laugh. Up above a seabird passes. The sun is blinding from this angle, even with Ochako’s sunglasses shielding her eyes. The air tastes of salt. It's a beautiful day. “Yeah, I killed him,” Ochako says, and the tension breaks. They all laugh. 

“Okay, for real, Ochako,” Kyouka says. “Did you kill him? I won’t judge. I’ll be your alibi.”

“Of course I didn’t.”

“Oh, sure you didn’t—”

“I just took him on a date.”

There is a beat of silence. And then they all laugh again. Hard. “Oh, man,” Kyouka says, still giggling. “With your feminine wiles, huh?”

Ochako smiles. “With my feminine wiles,” she confirms. “I also made him steal an ice cream from a kindergartener for me to prove that he loves me.” Her classmates laugh harder. “And then I took him on the Ferris wheel. At sunset.”

“Stop,” Mina says, between gasps. “My stomach hurts.”

“Ochako, please...” 

“It was so romantic,” Ochako says. “I said. Mineta-kun. Let’s die together so we can be with each other forever.” 

Kyouka wipes tears from her eyes. “Ochako, you’re fucking hilarious,” she says. “Okay, but seriously. Jokes aside. Did you kill him?”

“No, I just framed him and blackmailed him into leaving UA,” Ochako says. “It’s not a lot of work honestly, most of the blackmail stuff is already there. I did use my Quirk on him, but just a little. Otherwise he wouldn’t think I was serious.”

The three of them are looking at her. No one is laughing anymore. Momo says, “What?”

“Just kidding,” Ochako says. 

“...You know, Ochako,” Kyouka says. “That sense of humor of yours needs a trigger warning. Never change, you hear me? Never change.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Ochako smiles. “I could never.”

Ochako gets bored of lying in the sun after a while and excuses herself to the bathroom ("Just pee in the sea," Mina suggests), which means she proceeds to walk around the seaside to see if there is anything interesting to do. Who knows, somebody might be drowning, a jellyfish-themed Villain might show up, a mermaid might wash up ashore to get a true love’s kiss—whatever the fuck. 

Nothing, though. It seems like a peaceful day. Kids are running around with kites in the sky. Happy families building sandcastles together. Old couples suntanning under floral umbrellas with coconut drinks in hand. The scenery around her is picture-perfect, one that could’ve been taken right out of an insurance ad. 

How nice. Should Ochako start blowing bubbles and chasing butterflies as well? Or should she fill up her pockets with stones and walk into the sea to change the trajectory of everybody’s lives? So many options, she simply can’t deci—

“Uraraka-san?

She turns. “Ojiro-kun,” she says. 

Ojiro-kun smiles at her—not too brightly, and a little awkward. The apprehensiveness isn’t out of real dislike; it’s the hesitance of someone interacting with a person they never interacted with before. “Hey,” he says. “Uh. Nice weather out, huh?”

“Just incredible.” A few more of this incredibly insightful exchange and she will try and see if her Quirk can create levitating tsunamis.

“Yeah! Um, anyway. Just wanted to tell you Midoriya-kun was looking for you. He was right over, uh—” Ojiro-kun squints into the distance, shielding his eyes from the sun. “He went in that direction, but, well, as you can see the guy’s pretty quick…”

Ochako walks aimlessly on the shoreline for ten minutes before she finally spots Deku. He’s bent down, picking plastic bottles and someone’s broken slippers and putting them in his big trash bag like the good boy that he is. Any second now he’s perhaps going to save cats from trees and help grandmothers cross the roads. 

“Hey,” Ochako says.

Deku turns. “Hey. Uraraka-san,” he says.

He’s sweating, freckled cheeks flushing under the sun. “How—how is it going?” he says. “Um, nice weather out, right…”

That’s what happens when you copy people whose social skills aren’t that high above yours. “Looking for treasures, Deku?”

“Oh, um...” he makes an awkward, aborted movement, as if trying to hide his Good Samaritan tongs and plastic bags out of view for some reason. “Just, you know. Cleaning up a little bit.”

“That’s nice,” Ochako says. “Saving the earth one sachet at a time, huh?”

There is a moment of pause where Ochako wonders if he would misread and take it as an insult. But then he cracks a smile. He’s getting a little better at that, she finds—at understanding that not everyone is out to get him. “I hope so,” he says. 

Hmm. How very adorable. “Ojiro-kun said you were looking for me?”

“Oh! Yes, yes I was, um—” he looks around. “Ah, I left the thing in my bag...”

Ochako watches him flounder around. “You got something for me?” 

“Yes, I did,” he says. And then realizing how it comes off, he becomes redder than he already was. “Oh, it’s not, um, much, it’s just a little something I made...”

Ochako tilts her head. “You made something for me?”

“I—”

Whatever embarrassing thing Deku is going to say is cut off by a stranger intruding into their conversation in the next second. 

He is a very tall man, even skinnier than he is tall. This tall stranger comes looming with a bottle of water in hand, saying, “Son, I really do think you need to take a break—oh.”

The man stops. He looks at her. She looks at him. He looks at Deku. Deku looks at him.

“Uh,” Deku says intellectually. Something flashes across his face: panic. “Um. Uraraka-san, this is, uh, this is—”

“Hello,” Ochako bows politely. “Are you Deku-kun’s dad?”

The man trips.

It’s like watching a giraffe sway and fumble. He catches himself—and the water bottle—at the last moment, however. “Excuse me—I’m fine—” he says, to Deku who has come to his maybe-father’s side. He looks at Ochako, and really, the resemblance is astonishing. Down to the awkward smile and the aura of severe depression radiating off him, it all must be genetic. “No, I’m not Izuku’s—”

“Yeah, no, he’s—” 

“I’m his, ah, teache—”

“He’s my, um, uncl—?”

“Mentor—?”

They even stutter in the same way. How very, very adorable. Bad at lying runs in the genes. 

Ochako nods understandingly. “He is your uncle who is also your mentor and your teacher by extension?” she says.

They go silent. They look at each other. And then they look back at her. “Yes,” they say pathetically.

Whatever is going on here—it’s mildly funny. Only mildly. Not funny enough for Ochako to give a shit, that’s for sure.

The teacher-mentor-uncle person recovered first. “My name is Yagi Toshinori,” he says. “Hello. I believe you are Uraraka-kun?”

“Yes,” she says. He is pale and sallow under the sun. Skeletal. Like he’s terminally ill or something. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Pleasure’s all mine. Well, I’ll … let you both go and have fun, now,” he says, with that unpracticed smile. He hands Deku the water. “Take a break, son. See you, Uraraka-kun.”

“See you,” says Ochako, who for the life of her cannot think up a possible situation where she would ever see him again. “Your uncle seems nice.”

Deku is tying up the plastic bag of his garbage haul. “He’s—yeah, he’s very nice.”

“He drove you here?”

“No, uh—we just bumped into each other. We used to frequent this beach a lot..”

“Like when he’s mentoring you?”

Deku turns to look at her so fast it’s a wonder his neck doesn’t fall off on the spot. “What?”

Ochako smiles. “He said he’s your mentor, right? What’s he mentoring you on?”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh. He’s—he taught me.” he pauses. “Swimming.”

They’ve begun walking back together. “Oh yeah? Like breast strokes.”

“Yeah. Like. Butterfly strokes..”

“Uhuh.”

Deku opens his mouth, but closes it again, seemingly aware of his own worsening lies. He’s blushing in shame and everything. It’s a lame, pathetic look on him, which is to say it isn’t a stretch from what he usually looks on the daily. Ochako kindly changes the topic of conversation because she is just so nice. “Here,” Ochako says, gesturing to his tongs and trash bags. “I’ll help you save the earth.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Who are you from stopping me to save the earth, Deku?” He gives her one of his tongs and trash bags.

The sun has mellowed down, a little. Around them is the sound of the waves crashing, children laughing, winds blowing. Seabirds up above. The trees rustling. The earth turning. Gravity, humming. Deku watches in silence as Ochako leisurely picks up any trash she comes across and puts it inside the floating plastic bag carried by her Quirk. Plastic bottle. Cigarette box. “You do this often?” Ochako says conversationally. “Cleaning up.”

“Sometimes..”

Sachet. A random slipper. “With your mentor slash uncle?”

He’s practically glowing red in her periphery. “S—sometimes.”

“How fun,” she says. Ew, this one looks like someone’s vape coil. Now that’s the kind of cancer you should worry about. “I don’t have a cool uncle. Is he from your dad’s side or your mom’s side?”

Deku’s voice adopts the wavering quality of someone who is circumstantially forced to burrow deeper into their own lies. “Oh. Um, mom’s side...”

“How fun,” Ochako says again, watching Deku squirm from the corner of her eyes. So cute. “Is he your mom’s older brother? Do you take from your mom’s side more?” Ochako continues, knowing full well she is doing something cruel by pushing him around like this. “Is his Quirk like yours?”

“I—yes—no, it’s,” Deku looks so helpless under the barrage of questions, it’s adorable. “I guess. Yes. A little bit..”

“How fun. So other than breast strokes, does he teach you to use your Quirk as well?”

He pales. Bingo. Honestly, Ochako hasn’t a clue why he’s making such a big deal out of this. “Sometimes,” Deku says weakly.

“How fun. I never had anybody teach me how to use my Quirk,” Ochako says. She had to learn it all by herself. With the help of nearby objects and people and the hum of the entire existing universe, of course. She nods at the trash bag. “Where are we supposed to throw away all these?”

The day ends with a bonfire, barbecue grills and marshmallows on sticks. Nobody has gotten into fights or broken into tears yet, which is too bad, but she understands that this is a sign of a successful outing, which is also too bad. Kaminari and Kirishima are shotgunning milk tea cans with Kaminari coming out as the winner and receiving ten marshmallows on a stick as a reward.

He brandishes it like a sword. “To the Sports Festival!” He looks around at his classmates. “C’mon, man. To the Sports Festival!”

“Kinda cringe,” someone says, but they all end up brandishing their sticks anyway. “To the Sports Festival!”

“May we get good internships!” says Kaminari. “And maybe someone will notice me and scout me to model for a magazine or something!”

“Okay.”

“And may I win,” Kaminari adds. “Because it would be so cool if I do, can we toast to that too?”

“Sit down and eat your damn marshmallows.”

“Okay,” he sits down.

They split up at the train station, everyone hugging and fistbumping each other goodbye—typical stuff. Ochako says all the mandatory phrases religiously. We should do this again, This was so fun, Thanks everyone. 

Oh, right. She almost forgot. “By the way, Mina, you said you put the lipbalm in my bag, right?”

“Yeah! Why?”

Ochako zips her bag close. “Oh, nothing,” she says. She steps on her train and waves. “See you tomorrow. This was so fun!”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki Shouto says.

Like every other class, 1-A is assigned a waiting room before they come out to face the music and to enter the Who’s Got the Best Quirk competition on live television. This room descends into silence after the quietest kid in the class speaks up.

Deku has that terrorized deer look on his face that always comes out whenever he is being addressed. “Oh, um. Yes? Todoroki-kun?”

Todorki’s eyes are cold and the definition of unfriendly. He is the tallest in class, even taller than Yaoyorozu, and he hasn’t spoken a single word in the entire first month of UA until this very moment. “On an objective basis,” Todoroki says, “I am above you in terms of practical strength.”

Everyone goes even quieter, astonished at Todoroki’s abrupt statement. Deku is starting to go red. “W-what?”

Todoroki’s tone is inflectionless, as flat as his icy expression. “But I won’t underestimate you. After all, you’ve managed to get All Might’s eyes on you.”

Deku pales. Ochako watches as he does—the way he stiffens up, the way he goes stiller than stone. Todoroki doesn’t seem to give a fuck that he’s somehow Medusa’d Deku, however. “It doesn’t matter,” Todoroki says in his deadpan way. “I don’t care if you’re his secret love child—”

Deku chokes.

“—Or his prized pupil or whatever. Either way I’m going to beat you.”

“..Hey, man,” Kirishima says, breaking the stunned silence after Todoroki’s statement. He reaches for Todoroki’s shoulder, brows knitted in a frown. “What’s up with you? Don’t spring this up on him right before the tournament, c’mon, where’s your bro code—”

Todoroki shrugs his hand off. “I’m not here to make friends.”

Kirishima laughs, a pissed, bewildered sound. “The hell? Okay!”

“Kirishima-kun, it’s okay,” Deku says suddenly. To Ochako’s surprise, he looks Todoroki right in the eye—his gaze calmer than she expected, and while his voice is quiet, it's clear and sound. “Todoroki-kun, I have … no idea why you’re telling me all this, but..” he takes a deep breath. “Looking at it objectively: yes. You’re stronger than me. And probably a lot of other people too. I’m no match for you.”

“Oh, Midoriya, don’t say that,” Ojiro pipes up. “You’re—”

“No, it’s okay. I just want to say. Even—even if Todoroki-kun is strong, everyone—every kid from the other departments are fighting with all their might, everyone is fighting to be on top, everyone—”

Ochako’s focus kind of breaks down at this bit, Deku’s words blur over in her ears but she does catch things like All Might, and doing their best, and dream, and Heroes, Everyone this, Everyone that, stuff like that. She tunes back in after a while.

“—So I’m going to go for it,” Deku declares, shaking like a leaf but with fire burning in his eyes, accompanied by the spirit of youth and justice. “With all my might too. I'm not going to l-let you beat me.”

Another silence. Then the boys ooh and break into cheers and claps and Way to go, Midoriya! as if Midoriya had just made the best Ted Talk speech in the whole wide world. Todoroki-kun says nothing, just looks at Midoriya with that flat gaze and leaves. Deku sits back down, face red, with Ojiro and Kirishima patting his back on either side of him.

“Wow,” Kyouka comments next to Ochako. The girls have been watching everything go down with some kind of apathetic entertainment. “It’s that serious, huh?”

“Boys,” Mina says, shrugging. 

The sun is high in the sky and the stadium is bigger than what Ochako expected—there are people all around for what feels like miles, their cheers and excitement vibrating down to the ground underneath her feet. It’s heavy, the weight of them all. Present Mic’s voice echoes throughout the arena: “Welcome to the UA’s Sports Festival, where the Hero world’s inchoate little eggs aim for each other’s throats—and the top! Here begins our grand yearly melee!”

This is it. The UA Sports Festival.

Ochako watched the Sports Festival for the first time when she was maybe four, or five. It’s aired on national television, as it has been for fifty years and will perhaps be for another fifty years. She remembers the cheering. She remembers the kids fighting in it. The Quirk showdown. The blood splattered all over the screen and then—again—the cheering.

Some of those kids must be Pros by now. Or permanently disabled. Or maybe dead in an alley somewhere after a Hero killing maniac has got their hands on them. 

Oh well. That’s Heroics to you, yes? Worth the pension and glamor, she’s sure. 

“..But let me guess, you miscreants came here to see them, right?! The freshly-formed miracle stars that shrugged off a mass Villain attack with wills of steel—The Department of Heroics freshman year, Class 1-A!”

“Goddamn, we have to fight all of these people?” Kyouka says as they all walk into the arena, surrounded by pissed off students from classes who didn’t get as cool an introduction from Present Mic. “There are like a hundred kids here.”

“A hundred and twenty-three students,” says Momo helpfully.

“Now, the tradition for a player representation to give a speech—” Present Mic says. “Please welcome Bakugou Katsuki of 1-A, who scored top place in the Entrance Exam of 2XXX!”

Bakugou Katsuki walks up the podium with the confidence of a boy whose world is his oyster and he is its pearl, while everybody else would be lucky if they could get their hands on some supermarket-grade crab sticks. His blonde hair is blinding underneath the noon sun atop that permanent bitch face, and there isn’t a single hint of insecurity in his demeanor as he looks at the crowd and the millions of people watching all over Japan. He says to the mic, “I’m going to step all over you third-rate Hero wannabe motherfuckers.”

And then he walks off the podium.

The boos and jeers that follow are deafening, especially from other side character classes who are enraged by the modern day Nike shoes-wearing Prometheus’ arrogance. “Great, now everyone’s gonna hate on us,” Tooru sighs. “Oh well.”

“All right!” Present Mic says, cheerful and unbothered by Bakugou’s declaration of war. “Now we move to the preliminaries event, the first step towards a series of tests to climb to the top! As you are aware, contestants will be weeded out one by one until only the ten of you are left to participate in a one-on-one fight. Are you ready, freshies?”

“It’s starting, it’s starting!” Mina jumps in place as Present Mic lays out the rule for the first event. She looks excited, as do the rest of them, eyes glittering and teeth bared in a grin. “Gosh! Ready, Ochako?”

“So ready,” Ochako says.

Present Mic’s voice pierces the air. “Let the first round begin!”

Seven hours later Ochako finds herself getting pushed against the wall of 1-A waiting room so hard, everyone present can hear a crack.

“You bitch,” Bakugou hisses to her face, soot-covered hands tight around the collars of her uniform. “You think I’m fuckin’ stupid?”

There is a stunned silence before the class goes into chaos.

The girls come to Ochako’s side immediately. Mina seems to have lost her cool, yelling at Bakugou and moving forward to shove him, with Tooru attempting to pull her back. Meanwhile, Kirishima and Kaminari are holding Bakugou back, yelling at him about how he can’t hit a girl. A funny thing to say right after the Sports Festival Tournament where everyone was just beating everybody else up, gender roles be damned. 

“Ochako-chan, are you okay?” Tsuyu says. “Is your head fine?”

“I’m okay,” Ochako says, but her statement drowns underneath the yelling of the class. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you, Bakugou?!” Mina snaps. “She’s still hurt from the tournament—you both are!”

“Get the fuck off me!” Bakugou snarls, yanking off the boys so hard they stumble back. “And you,” he stalks towards Ochako again, his fists fizzling by his sides. “You arrogant motherfucker! You think you could hold out like that on me and I wouldn’t fuckin’ notice? I’ll show you, you bitch—”

“Kacchan,” Deku’s voice says. “Stop it.”

Ochako blinks. Deku is suddenly standing between her and Bakugou—faster than she thought possible. One of his arms is in a sling, and his head is bandaged. He must’ve just gotten back from Recovery Girl after his match with Todoroki. 

The interesting thing is, Kacchan actually does stop.

There is a difference between the way Bakugou looks at Deku and everyone. Bakugou looks at everyone with equal hateful fervor, but with Deku, there is something else there. Something angrier and colder than just disgust. “Playing hero again, Deku?” Bakugou says. “Maybe if you didn’t lose to that hot and cold fuck I could show you what’s up once and for all, huh?”

“Why don’t you just try and do that here?” Deku replies.

Huh.

Deku is all beaten up from his fight—that much is clear. But the lines of Deku’s back, while tense, aren’t hunched. They look tough. Immovable. His voice when he speaks again is as quiet as it always is, but this time, there is a clear taunt there. “Or are you too scared, Kacchan?” 

Huh, Ochako thinks. Huh.

“Oh, okay. You think you're all big and strong now, huh? Useless fuckin' Deku?” Kacchan laughs, furious. “All right, then, I’ll fuckin’ show you scared—”

The door slams open and a hush falls over the room as Aizawa-sensei walks in.

“That’s enough,” Aizawa-sensei says. Behind him are Iida and Yaoyorozu—they must’ve called for him. “Bakugou—come with me. Midoriya..” he pauses, looking at Deku with a cool consideration. “Are you planning to cause trouble as well? If so, feel free to come along. The both of you can show each other up in my office.”

“No, sir,” Deku says.

“That’s what I thought. The rest of you—settle down. Everybody can hear you from the hallway, it’s a disgrace.” He makes for the door again. “Bakugou, now.”

Bakugou walks out of the room to follow the teacher, but not before one last look at Deku—that cold, nasty look he always gives him. And then, just before the door swings shut, his gaze falls on Ochako. Ochako winks at him. 

The door closes with a bang.

Ochako is in the middle of playing with her food when the nursing room door opens. “Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Deku says. He still looks all banged up, worse than Ochako, even. “Can I come in? I, uh..” his good hand waves a juice box. “I got you some juice.”

“Sure,” Ochako says. “Come in.”

Deku limps inside, sitting on the chair next to her bed. She doesn’t even need to be in bed, truthfully—but Recovery Girl insisted on it, and Recovery Girl’s demands are not to be refused if the student knows what’s good for herself. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Ochako says. The juice box is cool in her hand—it’s the brand she likes. “You’re not watching the rest of the match?”

Bakugou should be fighting Todoroki right about now. “No.”

“You’re gonna miss writing notes on the fight,” Ochako says. They can hear explosions from far away, the audience cheering and clapping. “It sounds pretty intense.”

“No, I..” Deku shifts in his seat. “I. Wanted to see how you were doing.”

Ochako blinks. “Oh,” she says, picking at a piece of broccoli with her chopstick. It’s gone cold, just like the rest of the plate. “That’s sweet, Deku-kun.” She can feel his eyes on her food. “My Quirk makes me nauseous. That’s why I don’t like to eat.”

Deku looks away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare—”

“It’s okay.”

Beat. And then, “Is it—is it only when you use your Quirk or...?”

“All the time.”

He stares at her, and then seems to understand. “Oh.”

He sounds a little sad, or something. Ochako pops a straw in the juice box, smiling at him. “This fixes it all, though.”

It takes him a second to realize that she’s joking. He smile is small. “I’ll take note of that, Uraraka-san.”

Ochako glances at his arm. She saw the fight. It was fierce. Todoroki-kun was good—very good. But Deku held his own, though with a cost. If Deku’s uncle is the one who teaches him how to use his Quirk, he isn’t doing a good job. “You were incredible,” she says kindly. “It was a good fight.”

He’s nowhere as expressive as Mina is. But there are subtle changes in his face—murky notes, when one expression shifts to another, with some shaky hesitance in the undertone. It makes him look incredibly genuine. Ochako doubts she’ll ever be able to emulate that. “Thanks.”

Ochako watches him. “Are you okay?” she says. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Ochako hums. “Deku-kun,” she says. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He blanches.

“It’s okay,” Ochako assures him. “That’s not your fault. No one started out good at lying, you know.”

“I…” Deku says, and nothing else.

Oh well. Might as well give him some tips. “People say you have to slip some truths in your lie so you sound like you mean it, because you would mean some of it,” Ochako explains. “But that’s not necessary. It doesn’t matter if you mean any of it. You just have to think that you do.”

He looks at her, eyes empty and not understanding. She smiles. “Like this,” Ochako says, then exaggerates by taking a deep breath before she speaks again. “Deku-kun, I truly believe that you’re so totally completely 100% fine that you lost a fight on national television.”

He stares. She says, “Totally. I really think you aren’t going to cry because you lost to Todoroki-kun. I think you really don’t mind that he beat you up in five minutes and that all your efforts were for nothing. Getting your ass handed to you in front of all of Japan? No big deal.”

He stares and stares. And then, abruptly, he laughs—a watery, broken sound. Ochako continues, “You must be totally okay with him taking all the glory and fighting against Bakugou-kun. It really doesn’t bother you at all.”

Deku keeps laughing, long and hard, his face covered in his hands. Shoulders starting to shake as his laughter shifts to tears.

Ochako waits. Deku stops after a while, finally lifting his face—eyes red and watery.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice hoarse. “Sorry, it’s just—it sucks to lose, I—sorry. Sorry, Uraraka-san, I came here to see you but now I’m—”

“I get it,” Ochako lies. “I get how you feel. It’s normal to feel that way, you know? You don’t have to be sorry.” Ochako sips her juice. “With any luck, those two are gonna blow each other up to kingdom come.”

Deku huffs something as close to a snort as it can get. He’s always so sad. Always so quiet, even when he’s laughing. Ochako never saw someone so ... pressed down. “Yeah,” he says. “Probably not.”

“Who do you think will win?” Ochako says, just to pass the time.

“Kacchan.”

It’s said quickly, without hesitation—like Deku doesn’t need to even think about it. “You believe in him a lot, don’t you?” Ochako says. “You really think he’s the best in our class.” 

Deku doesn’t reply for a while. “He’s always been the best,” Deku says, then. Soft and truthful. “But. He won’t be the best forever.”

Huh.

He’s changed, she realizes. 

…No. He didn’t change. People don’t change. Ochako was just wrong about him. But she isn’t sure if he’s more boring or more interesting than she thought. 

Not yet.

“I’m sorry that he did that to you earlier.”

Ochako looks up at that. Deku is looking at her in the eye for an impressive five seconds before averting his gaze. “I—I know how it feels like when he … comes at you like that,” he says. “He shouldn’t do that. To anyone.”

Ochako considers him, saying nothing. 

“I know that I’m … I’m not much of a help..” Deku says. He looks at a spot on Ochako’s blanket with his big, sad eyes. “But if he ever bothers you—if anyone ever bothers you. I’ll try to help, Uraraka-san. You can, um. Talk to me.”

Yes. She was wrong about him.

“Why did you save me?” Ochako asks him.

Deku looks confused by the question. “Um, I mean. It wasn’t right that Kacchan—”

He’s getting it wrong. “Back at the entrance exam,” Ochako says. “Why did you save me?”

“Oh.” Deku pauses. Surprised by the clarification. “Because…” He trails, frowning. “It was—you were—”

“I was going to die,” Ochako says. “But you saved me. Why?”

He stares at her. Looking at her all confused, like he still doesn’t understand her question. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” 

Huh. “Wow,” Ochako says. “Natural born Hero, huh?”

He blushes a little when he realizes she’s making fun of him. “No, I just mean that—”

“Heroes are supposed to save people no matter what, huh?” 

He goes even redder. “Please, Uraraka-san,” he pleads. 

She stops teasing him. She pokes her broccoli with her chopstick again. “I’m having a lot of fun at UA.” She looks at him. “Are you?”

“..Yeah,” he says. “I think I am.”

“Threatened to get expelled,” Ochako says, counting on her fingers. “Almost killed by a bunch of Villains. Blown up by a jerk in front of a live audience. All very fun stuff.”

Deku huffs that almost laugh again. He’s quiet for a while. And then he says, “That day..” his cheeks shine red again. “You saved me too. At the entrance exam. You saved my life.” 

That’s right. She did do that, didn’t she? “Just doing what Heroes are supposed to do, am I right?”

He recognizes the tease, the joke in it, and he laughs softly. But then he stops, hesitating a little before he speaks again. “I’m—I’m glad you did. I’m glad I’m. Here.”

Ochako stares.

He’s getting all embarrassed again, but he pushes through. “On the first day, you said that … you’re happy we’re in one class together. That meant a lot to me.” He looks at her, shy, red, but honest. “I just want you to know that. I’m happy too. Here, I mean.”

He is so weird.

He is so strange. So weird. The weirdest. And Ochako isn’t sure if he’s funny anymore—he’s just … strange. 

She doesn’t get him, she thinks. She thought she did, she really thought so, but she was wrong about him. Completely. 

Oh well. 

“I’m so happy to hear that,” Ochako says. 

When school starts again the class is still basking in the leftover, excited buzz from the festival. Everybody has band aids and a wide grin on their faces, talking about Do you remember when we did this and that? Do you remember when this and that happened? Someone recognized me on the train, can you believe it?

Ochako isn’t completely detached from reality. She understands all the excitement they are having from the glorified Quirk Pissing Contest. Getting beat up was quite an interesting experience, after all. Ochako idly presses on a yellowing bruise as Aizawa-sensei drones on and on in front of the class. The pain is a little interesting; a different kind of sensation.

Still. It wasn’t the real thing, all those fights. Some of the battles were vicious, sure, but it wasn’t the real thing. There was no real danger there. It was like getting on an attraction—the thrill was manufactured, and they were all wearing floaters and safety belts. 

Something comes to mind. USJ. White hair, red eyes. It’s you, it’s you, I’m going to fucking kill you…

Now that. That was real.

Ochakos sighs. If only Kacchan would try to kill her for real. If only Kacchan could try to kill her for real. Maybe Ochako would be somewhat more excited…

…Oh.

“...For those of you who did not receive nominations,” Aizawa-sensei’s voice comes through, “There are forty agencies across the country to choose from. You may only choose one. Turn them in by the end of a week.”

Ochako barely gives the list of agencies wanting to scout her a glance. She’s flipped out her phone, typing, typing. Sent. She closes her phone, waiting, and—bingo.

From the other side of the room, Bakugou’s eyes catch hers. He has his phone open in one hand and this pinched, bitchy, serious look on his face. Ochako returns it with a smile and a wiggle of her fingers. And, of course, a wink. He looks away.

By the end of the school day, they’re the only two people left in the class.

After the last student is out of earshot, Bakugou says, “Where the fuck did you get my number?”

“I have my ways,” Ochako says.

He scoffs. “Okay, freak,” Bakugou says.

They’re both still seated in their respective chairs. Ochako turns a little, so she can see his face from his corner of the class, amused by what she's seeing. For most of her life, people have always liked Ochako. This is the first time a classmate has ever looked at her with this sort of hatred. It’s sort of interesting. “Fuck you want?” Bakugou says, rough. “If you wanna go torture your choice of small animals or whatever the fuck else nasty crazy shit that you do in your spare fucking time, leave me out of it.”

She smiles. Gosh, he’s so hilarious. More hilarious than Deku now, definitely.

When she stands up, his face changes. The expression there is not wariness, exactly—there is no caution there. Instead there is this hardening, focused look, like he's getting ready to beat her up at the drop of a hat. So funny. She sits in Deku’s empty chair, right in front of Bakugou’s. “You know, Kacchan,” she says, just to see him get angrier. “That should be my line.”

He doesn’t flinch from their close proximity. “What? I’d rather blow up a baby than cut up some fuckin’ insects.”

She laughs, twirling her hair. “You’re so funny,” she says. “And tall too. Did you know that?”

“Cut the shit,” he says, disgusted by whatever it is she's doing. “The fuck you want, Uraraka?”

She smiles sweetly. She leans on his desk with her elbows, watching his brows twitch. “Exactly,” she says. “The fuck do you want? Or did you throw a tantrum just for the sake of throwing a tantrum?”

Pause. An understanding enters his face. He says, flatly, “Is this the moment you drop your sweet traumatized girl act and go all fuck up ballistic? Oh wait, do we need to stick a pig and dump a bucket of blood on your head first?”

Oh, Bakugou. Where has he been all her life? If only she’s met him sooner, maybe she wouldn’t have been so bored all the time. “Fuck up ballisitic?” she echoes. “Whatever do you mean?"

"You're a crazy psycho bitch."

Ochako blinks, and then smiles again. "Ouch," she says. "What makes you say that."

“You were the one who made that fuckin’ grapeball quit, didn’t you?”

Oh?

Oh.

Ochako’s smile drops off her face. “What?” Ochako says. “What are you talking about?”

“Drop the act. He got paired up with you and the next day he’s fuckin’ gone. Finally got sick of his shit, didn’t you?” He smiles at her silence—a mean thing. “What’d you do to him? You wouldn’t kill him,” Bakugou says. “If you have half a brain, you wouldn’t—it’s too obvious. But then again, who knows? You’re probably such a nutcase you’d do anything you feel like in the fuckin’ moment. Did you threaten him? Blackmail him? Or just waterboard the shit outta him for your fuckin’ entertainment?”

Ochako stares.

“Not that I care,” Bakugou says. “Good fuckin’ riddance. One less good-for-nothin’ shithead to worry about. But if you think you can act dumb with me, you’re dead wrong. You really think I’m a fuckin’ idiot?”

Ochako doesn’t. Not really. She knows Bakugou is smart, and more than that, she knows Bakugou is good. Good enough that it makes sense for him to beat Ochako in a match. Good enough that it’s unquestionable if she loses to him at the Sports Festival.

“I’m not stupid like the rest of this fuckin’ class, Uraraka,” Bakugou says, looking straight into her eyes with that cold, red gaze. “No. They think you’re such a goody fuckin’ two shoes, but I see you as the psycho bitch you actually are. Because that's exactly what you are.”

For a moment, silence fills the empty class. Then Ochako says, slowly and softly, “That’s not very nice, Bakugou-kun.” Her face twists, her bottom lip trembling. “How ... How could you say that to me?”

Bakugou blinks, momentary confusion colors his face as he watches Ochako’s eyes tear up. When Ochako starts to sob, that confusion disappears and Bakugou rolls his eyes, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh, come on!” Bakugou says viciously, but Ochako has only just begun.

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you, Bakugou-kun,” Ochako hiccups. Her tears fall on Bakugou’s desk, one droplet after another. “But you keep saying all these messed up things about me—what did I ever do to make you h-hate me so much?”

Bakugou stands up so quickly his chair falls over. “Stop it,” Bakugou hisses, slamming his hands to the desk. It smokes a little from his Quirk. “Stop that.”

Ochako stands up too, matching his energy. They glare at each other—Ochako looks into his eyes through the tears clouding her vision. “Bakugou-kun, please!” Ochako cries, midway to hysterics. “I—I—” Ochako covers her face, her voice breaking, shoulders shaking. “Don’t you u-understand? I’ve—I’ve never told anyone this, I’ve … never felt like this with anyone, but … ever since I saw you…” 

That same confusion flashes across Bakugou’s face again just for a second, mixing with the ugly anger. “Shut up, I swear to fucking god, Uraraka—“

She is not shutting up. She is not gonna let him stop her from saying her true feelings. “I’ve never felt anything like this before—ever!” she gasps out. “But you, Bakugou-kun, you—every time I look at you … every time you look at me…”

He seems speechless. "What the fu—"

“Bakugou-kun,” Ochako says tearfully. “I think—I think I have feelings for you.”

Stunned silence follows Ochako’s heartfelt declaration. “Don’t you see,” Ochako says, desperate, so desperate for him to understand. “Everything I did—every word I said, every look I gave—I did them all because .. because I want you to notice me. I want you to see me for who I truly am. Don’t you see?” She wipes her eyes furiously with the sleeves of her blazer. “But—but now I know … that you think I’m such a—a horrible p-person, and, and I just…” she buries her head in her hands once more. “It just hurts so much I could di-ie.”

Seconds pass. Between her fingers, Ochako manages to see the funniest expression on Bakugou Katsuki’s face that she has ever seen on any human being on the planet in her fifteen years of life. 

She can’t help it. Ochako throws her head back and laughs.

She laughs long and hard. Beyond the tears, Bakugou has lost that funny expression from before and is now back to the standard hateful expression he has always thrown in her direction. He takes a long look at her, filled with all that hate, as he watches her laugh herself sick. “You bitch…” he says, slow and grinding. “You fuckin’ bitch.”

Her mirth finally dissipates, and she looks at him calmly. “Misogynist much?” she says, wiping her tears away. “Not a good look for an upcoming Pro-Hero, Bakugou-kun.”

“Rich coming from a fuckin’ headcase,” Bakugou snaps back, and oh. Oh. Ochako smiles. This is such a special moment for her. He doesn’t even know it, but Ochako treasures this moment as much as she is able to treasure anything. Which is not much at all, admittedly. But the sentiment counts.

See, the thing is ... Ochako has never been made before.

Throughout the years, there have been people who looked at her and saw her for what she was, yes—there have been people who saw that lackness in her. But never without Ochako wanting them to see her that way. 

This time, though—Bakugou caught her. I see you as the psycho bitch you actually are. He sees her; really sees her. 

Ochako smiles. She looks at Bakugou Katsuki and she feels that something again, the thing that she felt when Midoriya Izuku almost died just to save her at that exam. She feels that elation. A lightness in the pit of her chest. Something that could be affection, or love, if only she is capable of feeling anything remotely like it. 

This is the most exciting day of her life yet. 

“So,” Ochako says, all trace of tears having disappeared. “What do you want, Kacchan?”

Bakugou doesn’t miss a beat this time. “I want a fuckin’ rematch,” he says, flat. “No holding back. If you underestimate me again, I’ll kill you. ”

“Promise?” 

He makes another disgusted face. “You crazy fuckin’ bitch.”

Ochako grins. How cute. She walks back to her chair to pick up her backpack. “C’mon. I know a spot.”

They leave the school together.

Bakugou doesn’t talk to her the whole journey, but he follows her obediently and without question. They stand next to each other on the train, dead silent, as the people around them go on about their day. Some passengers recognize them—telling them how good their fight was. Ochako just smiles and nods, Bakugou scoffs and says nothing.

After half an hour on the train, they arrive at Chinatown station. Bakugou still doesn’t question her when she walks for fifteen more minutes, bringing him through the less savory parts of the city, and finally, a burnt-down building at the corner of a quiet street.

The building has been there for years, unrenovated. There are still police lines covering the entrance, battered, their yellow color having faded away a long time ago. Ochako ducks under them to enter the building and Bakugou follows.

This place used to be a factory. The remains of the structures are still there, either blackened or painted over with graffiti. They walk through the broken down halls and machineries until they reach the center of the place, which is what used to be an open space for workers’ cafeteria. Grass and vines have overgrown the thing, nature beating man-made disaster.

Ochako puts down her bag at a spot on the broken down floor before taking off her blazer, draping it on top of her bag. Bakugou does the same. They look at each other, standing across in that open space. Bakugou sizing her up. Ochako smiling. “Winner gets ice cream?” Ochako says.

“Fuck you,” Bakugou says.

He keeps a distance, just like how he did back at the tournament, because Ochako, as everybody well knows, would need to go melee to use her Quirk on him. Technicalities. As far as they know, anyway. 

Bakugou attacks without a preamble. There is a familiar, deafening bang, and the scent of caramel is immediate in the air. But the fire never reaches Ochako. Instead Bakugou’s flame shimmers, its orange hue shifting to soft indigo as it curls into a beautiful curve—something only possible in zero gravity. This phenomenon lasts for a quick second before the fire dissipates entirely, unable to light without any reactant in the space it occupies.

There is a split second where Bakugou stares in surprise at the unforeseen malfunction of his Quirk. And then he falls to his knees so he can choke on empty air.

Ochako watches him gasp, writhing, attempting to reach for O2 that’ll never come—at least for a while. “Gh—” his face is pale, veins popping, but his eyes are on her—shocked and terrorized and furious. “Ugh—f-fu-ck—”

Ochako says nothing, just watching him as he struggles to live. Seconds pass. And then a minute. She waits, patient. But Bakugou, she sees, doesn’t manage to get up or try to kill her. He just lies there, spasming and dying. He can’t kill her. He can’t fight against her Quirk.

It’s not a surprise, of course. But it’s still disappointing nonetheless.

Ochako reins back her Quirk once Bakugou starts to look a little blue. Able to breathe again, he coughs and wheezes, still curled up on the ground. Ochako waits until he’s done, until he’s gone a little still, panting and grasping at his own lungs. “You should drink some water,” Ochako informs him helpfully. “It helps a lot.”

“…Fuck you,” Bakugou says when he manages to speak again, his voice painfully hoarse. He half-crawls until he can stand, his legs wobbly. Ochako watches with some amusement as he reaches for his backpack and takes out a water bottle, gulping down harshly, getting some oxygen into his brain. 

“Feel better?” Ochako says sweetly.

Bakugou is still panting, but his pallor has turned to normal. He wipes his mouth, looks at her. “You’re such a fuckin’ asshole,” he says, and she smiles wider.

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser.”

He doesn’t snap at that, surprisingly. He drinks more water, finishing his bottle, and when he does he just says: “You didn’t give a shit about the festival.”

Ochako blinks.

His gaze is clinical, piercing. “You undo the gravity of everything you touch—including the fucking atmosphere. You could’ve won the festival right off the bat,” he says flatly. “But you didn’t. Because you didn’t give a shit about the festival. Why would you? When you can suffocate everyone to death in a mile radius if you fuckin’ want. It’s all just child fucking play to you, is that it?”

Those red eyes are searching her face. “Is that why you’re here?” he says. “In UA? Just to fuck around?”

Ochako just looks at him. "So what?" she says.

In the next second he has her pushed to the ground, fists ablaze just inches from her face, his weight pinning her down—

Ochako does nothing. She lets herself be held down, watching him rage. His eyes are furious, almost even murderous. “Fight back, damn it, you arrogant son of a bitch,” he says, the heat of his Quirk a threat stinging on her skin. If he hits her she’d be lucky to get away with a lifetime scarring. “You can kill me. You can beat me, stop fucking around with me.”

Behind him she can see the blue sky. The weather is great again today—not too hot. Underneath her the ground is hard and cold and she can hear the humming of everything that intertwines into the framework that is the world. Nibbling at her skin, as it always is. The push and pull.

“That’s my line, Bakugou-kun,” Ochako says calmly. “You promised, didn’t you?”

Something flashes across his face at her sentence. And then just like that, he gets off of her. His face is twisted with that now-familiar disgust. “Ugh,” he spits. “Psychopathic fucks like you piss me the fuck off.”

Ochako glances at the sky again. It’s still evening, the sun won’t set for a few hours yet. Someone might have heard the boom of Bakugou’s Quirk—though she doubts people in this neighborhood would call the cops unless the building catches fire again. She gets up, patting dust and grass off her skirt. “We should leave,” she says, walking to the spot where she had put her backpac—

Huh. 

She looks at her backpack for a second before picking it up, slinging it over her shoulders. Ochako turns back to look at Bakugou and adds, hopefully, “Unless you want a round two?” 

“Shut up,” Bakugou says. His legs appear to still be a little shaky, and he seems annoyed at the fact. He puts back his empty water bottle, slings his own backpack across his shoulder. “Don’t get cocky, Uraraka. I’ll fuckin’ beat you one day," he says. "I’ll make you fight me, and then I’ll beat you. Just so you watch. You and Deku and All Might—just so all of you fuckin’ watch, I’ll fuckin’ beat you one day.”

How adorable. She smiles. "Promise?" Ochako says.

"Crazy bitch," he says.

They walk out of the building in the same stoic silence in which they entered it. The street is a little more filled in now, mostly with men sitting on the sidewalks watching them as they pass by. One or two whistles at Ochako, calling her names. Ochako doesn’t give a shit and neither does Bakugou, walking without pausing or acknowledging any of it.

After a few blocks, Bakugou stops abruptly in front of a convenience store. The door jingles when he opens it. He glances at her with some annoyance when she doesn’t follow him right away, just staring at him from the sidewalk. “Come inside." He nods at the street. “No way in hell I’m having the cops on me if you kill one of those shitheads.”

Ochako follows him inside. Bakugou walks with purpose, off to find whatever it is he wants to buy. Ochako lingers near the cashier, wondering if she should nick anything just for the hell of it. Her attention moves to the TV hung on the wall, its volume low but audible. Breaking news. “The Villain responsible for UA terrorist attack has escaped Tartarus—Heroes dispatched on the scene—twenty casualties and rising—”

“Take the change,” Bakugou tells the cashier. He walks out immediately, this time barely glancing to check if Ochako is following him. But once they’re outside, he tosses something to Ochako. "Here's your shit."

She catches it by reflex, glancing down. It’s an ice cream cornetto. Strawberry flavored, still sealed in its packet. She looks up at him but Bakugou already continues walking in silence on the sidewalk.

She walks behind him, idly unwrapping the cornetto all the while. Ochako doesn’t like ice cream, just like how she doesn’t like food in general, but she takes a small bite. Too sweet. 

Bakugou stops abruptly once again at an intersection. “I’m going this way,” Bakugou tells her, nodding in a direction. “If you dismember anybody, I’m not fuckin’ involved.” With that, he starts to walk away.

So funny. So funny.

“Bakugou-kun,” Ochako calls out to his back. “Why do you want to be a Hero?”

For a moment she thinks he’s not going to answer, but then he glances at her, rolling his eyes. “So I can be the fuckin’ best,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Fuck kinda question is that?” and then he leaves.

Ochako walks in the opposite direction, and—for the first time in a very long time—eats the ice cream until nothing is left. 

She throws it up after, of course, but it’s the sentiment that counts.

Ochako has expected the Hero internship to be at least some kind of fun. Perhaps that Hero Killer will show up in some random alley and try to slash some interns, hopefully with Ochako included. Wouldn’t that be something?

She has been proven wrong so far, however. The internship has been quite a non-incident.

The Battle Hero Gunhead has her train and train. Ochako had picked him at random but he seems to be taking Ochako’s internship seriously, having her participate in various hand-to-hand combat exercises, and going out on patrols. It’s a funny thing, patrolling. They walk around in costume and have people take selfies with them so that they feel safe. Should they stumble upon any knife-slashing maniac, they’d spur into action. But there is no knife-slashing maniac, meaning Ochako is feeling so bored she is considering becoming that very knife-slashing maniac.

So when she receives that weird text message from Deku, Ochako immediately tells the Pro-Hero Gunhead that her special time of the month has specially arrived unexpectedly for no special reason so can she please be excused to get herself some special little packets that one would need at these trying times? And also can she please just excuse herself in general, please. Because her tummy hurts and everything, and she’s suddenly having a horrendous urge to cry and eat chocolate or whatever it is people do on their periods, please.

Once she is honorably discharged, Ochako is on the move. She looks at Deku’s text again—it only says his location and nothing else. Could he be in trouble? Could he be facing some enemy?

Maybe even a Villain? 

Maybe even the infamous Hero Killer?

How exciting. How—

“Oops, sorry!”

“That’s okay,” Ochako says, and the girl who’d bumped into her shoots her a bright smile. Ochako sees her entering a Seven-Eleven from her periphery before she looks at her phone again. 

Maybe Deku just pressed the wrong button, which would be hilarious too. Oh well. She’s missed this, anyway—ditching classes. She hasn’t been doing that much since she came to UA. 

Let’s see, Ochako thinks, scrounging for her train card. Deku-kun is at Hosu, so if she takes the train to the blue line and switch to the—

Ochako stops walking. 

She turns back.

She finds the girl still inside the Seven-Eleven, sitting in one of those seats behind the glass window facing the street. When she sees Ochako, the girl smiles, and wiggles her fingers in a wave. And then she winks.

Ochako enters the store.

The girl isn’t eating anything, but she seems to have gotten herself some mints which she is currently arranging into shapes on the table. The mints turn into a house. A hiragana. A heart. “Hi,” the girl says cheerfully when Ochako sits next to her.

“Hi,” Ochako says just as cheerfully. “Will you give me back my wallet please?”

Beyond the glass window people are walking past, living their lives. It’s a gorgeous day out as it has always been this past week; not too hot, not too cold. In lunch hour, people are filling out cafeterias across the street and strolling around with their groceries and pets. 

“Mm,” the girl hums contemplatively, like she's really thinking about it. “No.”

“Okay,” Ochako says. “How about my lip balm and my UA blazer then?”

The girl stops rearranging her mints. She turns in her seat to look up at Ochako, her chin resting on her elbows. And then she smiles. It’s a bright smile, showing a row of pearly canines. “I love that lipbalm,” she says, a drawl. Her voice is high, feminine. Her eyes are cat-gold. “It’s a nice color.”

Ochako’s eyes flick to the girl’s lip, a soft pink. “It looks good on you,” Ochako says nicely.

“Aw, thanks.”

Ochako smiles. “Of course. So. Can you return my belongings please?”

“Mm,” the girl hums, one of her fingers playing around with those mints scattered on the plastic table. “That depends.”

“On?”

She taps a finger on her lips. “On what you’re giving me in return.”

Ochako’s smile stays on her face. “You stole from me,” she reminds the girl, her words slow and patient, as if explaining the concept of theft to someone who is hearing it for the first time. “You took from me. You should be giving those things back. That's how it works.”

“You didn’t give those keychains back, though,” the girl says.

Ochako stares. 

“Or those juice boxes,” the girl continues. “And the lip balm ... You stole it too, didn’t you?” she grins. “I can tell. You’re just like me.”

Ah. Ochako understands now.

Ochako is dealing with a crazy stalker bitch.

That’s fine. Some people are just born that way. It’s not this girl’s fault that she is a crazy stalker bitch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ochako says, smiling still. “It’s not nice to follow people around, you know. And getting into their businesses. It can get you in trouble.”

The girl shrugs. “Maybe I like trouble,” she says, with that canine grin. “Do you?”

“I don’t like anything,” Ochako says.

The girl considers Ochako's answer. “That’s weird,” she says then ponderingly, those strange eyes picking apart Ochako’s expression. “If you don't like anything, what do you even live for?”

Ochako’s smile is stuck on her face like a plaster. “Live for?” she echoes.

The girl stares at her for a moment. And then she breaks into another brilliant smile, impossibly brighter and wider than the last. “Oh, I know. Why don’t we have some fun? And then we can find out what you like. How about that?”

Ochako ignores the crazy stalker bitch’s nonsensical words. “I want my things back.”

The girl pouts. “And I said you need to give me something in return,” she says, sounding petulant.

“Okay,” Ochako says, wondering if she should just kill this girl and be done with it. “What is that?”

“Well, I wanted you to give me some of your blood,” Toga Himiko says. “But now I’m thinking why don’t we go have some fun first, and then you can give me some of your blood? It’s gonna be so much fun, I promise,” she smiles that sweet, brilliant smile once again. “I know some real fun spots in town, y'know?”

Chapter Text

4

“My blood?” Ochako says.

“Just a teensy bit,” Himiko says. “Maybe half a cup. Or two halves of a cup. Maybe a cup?”

The refrigerators inside the Seven-Eleven hum lowly. From the corner of her eye, Ochako can see the cashier playing with their phone behind the counter, not giving a single shit to the little convo happening on their table. 

Ochako’s gaze flicks back to those gold eyes. She considers the crazy stalker bitch standing in front of her. “You want a cup of my blood.”

“Yeah, how about it?”

Ochako considers her again for a moment, before looking out of the window. The light from outside enters the store—it’s a languid noon. She watches people passing by outside once more. An entire world beyond the glass, a shadow against her own murky reflection. To her silence Himiko says, “Pretty please?”

Ochako glances back at her. Himiko’s eyes are big and doe, unerring, strange. She is close enough that Ochako can count her eyelashes along with the clumps of mascara clinging to them. The slightly smeared eyeliner. There is a strangely endearing quality to her—a kind of pity that thrown-out Barbie dolls tend to compel out of you. If only Ochako is the kind of person who can feel endeared. “If you don’t get my blood you won’t give me my things back,” Ochako asks, a sort of confirmation.

“Oh, I will get your blood,” Himiko says. It’s not a threat—it’s a statement. “ Maybe I’ll give you your things back too. But we can have some fun about it, you see?”

“Stalk people and steal their things and take their blood, that kind of fun?”

Himiko smiles sweetly. “You’re so funny,” she says. She’s returned to arranging those mints again. “I know what your kind of fun is like.”

Ochako says nothing. Himiko says, “You like to mess with boys, don’t you?”

“Not really.”

Himiko sends her a sly, knowing look as if they’re sharing an inside joke. “C’mon. I don’t judge. I love boys. They’re so cute. So, so, so cute. Don’t you think?”

“Not really.”

Himiko smiles. “Liar,” Himiko says. 

Ochako says nothing.

“That boy you walked with by the beach…” Himiko sighs dreamily. “That’s the kind of boy I’m talking about. Is he single?” she watches Ochako’s face, mirth shining in her slitted pupils. “Oh. You wouldn’t mind sharing, would you?”

“I don’t care,” Ochako says.

“Mm. Not the jealous type, huh,” Himiko comments, somewhat curiously. “So it’d be fine if I play with him?” As if Midoriya Izuku is some kind of rag doll. “I just know he’d look so good in red.”

Ochako stares for a beat, then two. Considering everything. Himiko’s nonsensical words. Her ragged sweater. Her high school uniform. The rosy blush on her pale, sick, sick face. “How long have you been following me.”

“Mm,” Himiko plops a mint into her mouth, her words slightly stifled. “Two, three weeks or so?”

Okay. “Why have you been following me.”

“Well, you’re kind of my type too,” Himiko says, twirling a lock of blonde hair, looking up at Ochako under her lashes. “You’re pretty, did you know that?” she says, with a sick longing in her voice. On the desk the mints have been carefully arranged into a butterfly. “I’d kill to look like you.”

Everything about this situation is off-kilter. Everything in Ochako’s understanding of social cues points to the fact that this girl in front of her is abnormal. Perhaps clinically insane—that much is clear. In fact, the girl’s insanity is the only clarity Ochako is comprehending at this moment.

Which begs the question: how should Ochako go about this?

Speaking to Aizawa-sensei felt like trying to solve a puzzle with no clue, and speaking to this girl is the complete opposite—there are blatant clues here, but Ochako has no idea what the puzzle exactly is or if this elusive puzzle even needs to be solved. 

Ochako has no idea how to calibrate her response. She has no idea if there is even a need to.

So she doesn’t.

Ochako’s smile drops off her face. No use for that sort of gesture. Ochako asks her, “Are you with the League of Villains.”

The mints stop moving. Himiko’s nails are bitten badly. The parts that aren’t are colorful with garish, chipped polish. The manicure looks cheap, the fake imitation diamonds pressed on them glimmering under the noon sun. Himiko lifts her face to look at Ochako for a second, and then two, and then three. And then that bright smile shows its teeth again.

“Isn’t that so cool?” Himiko says. “League of Villains. Gosh. It’s so cool. Everyone’s like, Oh, I’m gonna be a Hero, I’m gonna go to UA, I’m gonna, like, save people! Psh,” Himiko twirls a finger to her forehead as if saying, Crazy. “And I’m like, uh, no. I’m a Villain. I’m gonna be in the League of Villains. Like, it’s way, way, way cooler. You know what I mean?”

“You want to be a Villain because it’s cool.”

“Well, I’ve got to use the cards I was given,” Himiko says. “Wait, that’s not how the saying goes. I’ve got to play the cards I was handed. I’ve got to play the cards I was dealt with? Eh,” she shrugs, smiles again. 

A loon, Ochako thinks. She is speaking to a loon.

Isn’t this kind of interesting?

“Are you here to kill me,” Ochako says.

Himiko laughs. A high, girlish sound, exuberant with the kind of real glee that has always been infinitely foreign to Ochako. She wipes tears off her eyes. “You’re so funny,” she tells Ochako. “Why, do you want me to?”

How very interesting indeed.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re cute and all,” Himiko says. “But maybe we should get to know each other better before we commit , don’t ya think?”

Ochako says nothing. “Just kidding,” Himiko sing-songs, hopping off her chair. “We can be a li-ttle naughty if we want to.” Ochako is silent as Himiko leans forward to circle her fingers around Ochako’s wrist, pulling her to the door. Ochako lets her. “C’mon. Told ya I know a place.”

Her fingers are warm against Ochako’s skin, and they stay there as she takes Ochako out to the street, a comical pep in her step. “This is going to be so fun,” Himiko gushes. “It’s like, our first date. Shall we go to a theme park?”

Ochako glances at her. Himiko looks back, with that saccharine grin on her face. “Ferris wheels would be so romantic,” Himiko says, her fingers slipping to curl around Ochako’s. “But I’m a little scared of heights.”

Mineta Minoru. “Is this blackmail.”

“Maybe,” Himiko sings. “If it is, would you be mad at me?”

Why would she. “Not really.”

“Not even a little bit?”

Ochako doesn’t bother to reply, and Himiko doesn’t seem to care. “Ooh!” she exclaims, stopping in her tracks to jump excitedly in place despite Ochako’s silence. “Why don’t we go watch some movies, and then do some shopping? That would be so fun, wouldn’t it?”

Ochako finds her mannerism cartoonish and overboard, yet strangely natural all the same. Like a wind-up doll doing what it’s supposed to … like a cartoon character … like. A deliberate play-acting, or rather, the most original version of the act itself… 

It’s hard to explain, but Ochako can see that what this girl has is something impossible for Ochako to replicate, let alone achieve. 

Himiko has grabbed hold of Ochako’s hand again, swinging it back and forth as they traverse the sidewalk. “And then you’ll take my blood,” Ochako says.

Himiko yanks her hand suddenly—not to hurt Ochako but to spin her into a fucked-up ballroom twirl. The impromptu dance stops with one of her hands around Ochako’s waist, the other intertwined with Ochako’s fingers. She’s just slightly taller than Ochako—her face is close enough that Ochako can smell the mints in her breath, and another scent that seems to be permeating off her—something sharp and chemical that Ochako can’t yet put a finger on. “Would you be mad if I do?”

“I wouldn’t,” Ochako says.

Himiko starts to smile, a slow spread, like the way skin parts once you drag a blade over it. A sanguine gap. She lets Ochako go only to swing their intertwined hands as they begin to walk once more. “Not even a little bit?”

No, because Ochako isn’t even remotely capable of such a thing, but she suspects nobody could ever understand that. Ochako has never been very interested in explaining herself, and given the circumstances, she has concluded that there is absolutely no need for her to calibrate anything in this interaction. Thus. “No.”

“You have got to be my best friend,” Himiko says. 

Ochako has never known anyone so talkative. 

Himiko talks to Ochako all the way to the train station, and still chatters until the moment they arrive at a rundown mall at the edge of the town. Ochako knows this place in passing—she’s been here a few times. It’s the kind of mall that has no security cameras but it will have women showing up the moment it gets dark to stand in front of massage parlors offering sleazy discounts. That’s okay.

Inside, the floors are layered with dust and grime. Some of the stores have their shutters down, and the rest are devoid of customers. Empty eyes of mannequins in various states of decay follow them around, along with the gaze of disinterested shopkeepers. The cinema on the top floor ranks of mold and stale popcorn. No one is around aside from a bored man behind the ticket counter. 

“Ooh,” Himiko says, skipping from one poster to the other. “How about this one?” She reads the blurb. “‘ Amidst the fateful final battle, the Chosen Hero discovers that his Archenemy is his birth father! Is blood thicker than destiny?’” Himiko tilts her head, looking at the poster appraisingly. “I guess the actor’s kind of cute. Oh, this one looks interesting … ‘Based on a true story—the first ever assembled team of Heroines, the fate of the universe rests on their shoulders!’ … the actress is kinda cute too, huh?”

Ochako looks up at the poster. Three Heroines standing fiercely, looking slightly scrapped here and there with strategically torn Hero suits. Himiko is still walking around the hall, reading off each line of copywriting on shitty B-movies. “ ‘An orphan from the street, he has no idea that inside of him rests the power to bring about world peace’ ... ‘Born from a Heroic father and a Villainous mother, she is the daughter of two worlds’ … huh? That’s just the same premise as that other one.”

Ochako follows Himiko to the counter and watches her pull out a wallet—a stolen one, judging from the stranger’s ID inside of it—and buy tickets for all of those movies, even ones with conflicting schedules. The ticketer doesn’t question it. Some of the movies are M-rated, but the ticketer doesn’t bother to card them either.

They enter the theater. The movie begins. Himiko makes comments non-stop, her voice buzzing in Ochako’s ear throughout every scene. “Wow, she is so skinny. Oh, I think he’d look so good with a better wig.”

Ochako blandly watches each movie play out, colorful frames and flashy CGIs and conventionally attractive people emoting on the projector. The actress is crying right now, confessing her love to the Hero, begging him not to go and sacrifice himself for the Villain. Her mascara stays intact as she sobs beautifully, a perfect drop of tear rolling down a pale cheek. “Please, you don’t have to do this, ” she begs, grasping the Hero’s hands. “You can choose your own destiny, don’t you see? It’s you. It’s always been you, you are the one to decide your own fate…”

The Hero shakes his head, cutting his love interest off. “I have a duty to fulfill. A role to play in the grand scheme of the world—”

“But—”

“This is what Heroes are supposed to do,” he says, cinematically handsome and inspiringly heroic. “ This is what I was meant to be. Just this.” In the next second, both characters embrace in a tearful, PG-13 kiss.

Ochako turns when she hears a hiccup to find Himiko full out sobbing. Ochako turns back to look at the screen again. The actor and actress have separated, eyelinered sad eyes locked to each other. “Just this,” the Hero says once more. “Just this.”

“This is sooo good,” Himiko says. She blows her nose. “Oh … my eyes hurt from crying so much. This is. So, so good.” Ochako watches as Himiko rubs her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater, smearing her mascara even more. “Isn’t it so good?”

“It’s okay,” Ochako says. The scene has cut to the Hero entering the Villain’s lair. Action music has picked up pace, staccatoing in the theater room. 

“I’m bored,” Himiko says as the Hero meets his demise. “Let’s watch the next one.” 

This goes on for a while. The both of them would sit in a corner of the theater until Himiko announces “I’m bored,” and then they’d try the other cinema. The theater room is cold, and the audience is nearly non-existent, though Ochako does catch unemployed couples making out in the dark once in a while.

“The last one really grew on me,” Himiko says as they walk out. “That Heroine was so hot. It was really good when she powered up. But that second one, do you remember? The one with the parallel between the Hero and the Villain—”

Ochako doesn’t know what she expected in this outing. 

A murder spree, maybe. She expected that this girl would drag her to some downtrodden, dingy back alley where this girl would strangle Ochako to death and snort up some cocaine after. Or to raid a petshop and dismember the animals one limb at a time. Or perhaps to do something as simple as torching down an orphanage, maybe even an old people’s home as well if they’re feeling especially heinous.

She didn’t really expect to sit at a shitty cinema for hours and then listen to rants about B-rate Hero movies as they try shitty counterfeit makeup. The kind that’ll cause cancer or something. 

“This’ll give us cancer or something,” Himiko says, blowing sparkling powder on a shitty brush before brushing them on Ochako’s eyelids. It’s ticklish. “Okay, okay, now eyeliner. And ohmygod, that plot twist? So cliche. I love it. ”

The lipgloss is put last. From the corner of her eyes Ochako can see the shopkeeper watching them from a corner, displeased that a bunch of teenagers are playing around with tester makeup without an ounce of shame. “Tadah. Look,” Himiko puts her fingers on Ochako’s chin, facing her to the mirror. “What d’ya think?”

Ochako looks at herself. Her face is now flushed, with pink glitter dusking the skin around her eyes—which now seem wider, more open. She looks contradictorily younger, in a mature way. Open. Soft-mouthed. Next to her Himiko is smiling, tilting to rest her head on Ochako’s shoulder. “Beautiful,” Himiko says, her breath dusting over Ochako’s hair.

Himiko walks through the aisles, pulling Ochako’s hand. “This one is good for T-zone types, but your skin is a little dry so you should use this one ‘cause it’s more moisturizing, see? It’s a dupe of this other brand— which, by the way, had that actress as an ambassador, you know, the one with short hair that played the Villain in the second movie? She actually used to have this Youtube channel—”

She shoves her phone to Ochako’s face—video playlists of makeup tutorials, outfit matches, get-ready-with-mes. “She was nicer before she made it big,” says Himiko, manicured nail scrolling on a cracked screen. “But now she’s way hotter. See?”

Ochako glances at her screen before looking back at the mirror, where Himiko is also looking at her. “She’s pretty,” Ochako says flatly, the first words coming out of her mouth in hours.

“Like you. You’re pretty.”

“Oh, you’re way prettier,” Ochako replies without any inflection whatsoever.

Himiko’s eyes shine. “No, you.”

“No, you.”

“No, you,” Himiko says, stretching her arms to hug them around Ochako and for a moment Ochako wonders at her complete ease at that gesture—zero inhibition in this display of naked affection. Ochako wonders idly, for a moment, how it would feel to grasp something with your bare fingers without counting numbers down. 

Are there, she wonders, numbers being counted down? Ochako turns to look Himiko in the eye. They both smell like cheap makeup. Ochako looks at her and tries to find any indication of whatever calculation Toga Himiko might be making at this moment. Ochako can find nothing but unabashed glee. “You have such naturally thick lashes,” Himiko drawls. “Lucky you. I have to work a little harder for mine.”

Ochako blinks.

“I love girls,” Himiko says. “They’re so cute. So, so, so cute. Don’t you think?”

“Not really,” Ochako says.

Himiko’s smile spreads slowly. “Liar,” Himiko says. Her eyes drift to the side. “That girl. The one that’s been staring at us—yeah, the shopkeeper, that one. She’s pretty cute. You also think so, right?” 

The shopkeeper looks away when Ochako glances at her. Her expression is unfriendly underneath her bangs, bored. Her face is rouged up with some make-up that’s meant to make her look older—dark eyeshadow, thick, plastic fringes of lashes above hazel eyes. But no amount of contour can hide the soft round of her baby fat around her cheekbones. 

“She’s a whore,” Himiko says. 

The shopkeeper would be early twenties, at most. Maybe even just a few years older than Ochako. She’s wearing a trashy pair of low-rise jeans, her nails painted black as she taps away on her phone.

“She works at the club above after hours,” Himiko says. “Oh, I don’t mean she’s pretty because she’s a whore—there are a lot of whores working here, some are pretty ugly. She’s just one of the prettier ones. This store is her day job on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

Ochako tears her gaze away. “Do you steal her things too.”

That knife-grin flashes itself again. She walks backwards in the direction of the cashier, winking at Ochako. “Why? Jealous?” She grins wider at Ochako’s blank expression. “Don’t worry, Ochako-chan. You totally have better cheekbones. Hi! Yes, I’d like to get this lipstick and this palette and—whoops—”

Himiko’s stolen wallet drops on the counter, blatantly showing ID that is not her face. The shopkeeper just glances at it blankly, seemingly unimpressed. She and Ochako watch as Himiko titters and giggles, her face flushed, as she hands out yen bills. “You can, um, keep the change,” Himiko says almost shyly.

“Kay,” the shopkeeper girl says with no inflection whatsoever.

“Ugh, she’s so my type,” Himiko gushes when they walk out. Ochako says nothing but Himiko elaborates anyway. “Dark hair,” Himiko winks.

They visit another makeup store, then a small bubble tea shop—Himiko got herself a cacao berry macchiato while Ochako just had plain tea, no sugar. Then they start to enter the boutiques.

Himiko is talking about the movies again. “I think if they’d just slow down the pacing a little it could’ve been so good. I’m not really satisfied with the narrative conclusion. Ta-dah!” Himiko says. “How do I look?”

Ochako watches her walk out of the fitting room, which is just a curtain set around a mirror at the corner of the store. “It’s cute,” she says.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Himiko says, checking herself out in the mirror. The dress is cheap polyester, the kind that’ll tear after a third wash—but it does its job well enough under the dim lights of the shop. “It hangs a little weird on me,” Himiko turns around in a twirl. She looks at Ochako, eyes curved. “I think it’ll look so much better on you.”

A few minutes later Ochako is the one wearing it. She pushes open the fitting room door, and the moment Himiko sees her the girl stands up and claps in delight. “Oh, it’s perfect ,” she says, her words so sweet it could almost be mistaken for sarcasm. But she means it, Ochako thinks. And if she doesn’t Ochako doesn’t give a fuck either way. 

“You know,” Himiko says, her face right beside Ochako’s. “You look a little like that Heroine from that last movie.” Himiko’s reflection smiles at Ochako. “See that? The eyes? The nose?” She tilts her head, inspecting Ochako’s face in the mirror. “Exactly like her if she was brunette.”

Himiko combs through her hair, pulling it up into a bun and checking how it looks in the mirror. “She had her hair up like this…” she braids Ochako’s hair. “This style fits your face shape so well.” 

“Okay,” Ochako says.

“You don’t like it?”

Their eyes meet. “It’s okay,” Ochako says.

Himiko’s fingers stop moving. “Do you like the dress?”

“I don’t like anything,” Ochako says.

Himiko laughs, shakes her head. “This again. Ochako-chan. You’re so funny. Everybody likes something.”

Ochako says nothing. Himiko’s gaze is curious, now. Her smile slowly dissipating into something a little more confused. “Everybody likes something,” she repeats, with a matter-of-fact conviction. “Like … bubble tea. Or. Chocolate.”

Ochako stares.

“Movies. Everyone likes movies. Weren’t the movies great?”

“They’re okay,” Ochako says.

Himiko looks more confused than disappointed by this admission. “But movies are so good,” she says. “They’re fun. And sad. And romantic. And pretty. Don’t you like pretty things?” 

“I don’t like anything.”

“...That’s weird,” Himiko says, like she’s just now realized that Ochako is being serious. “You have to like something.”

“Why.”

The bewilderment on Himiko’s face is awfully genuine, like she doesn’t quite understand Ochako’s question. “You just do,” she says with that same puzzlement. “It’s all about what you like. Everything. That’s why you do anything at all.”

Ochako doesn’t like eating, but she still does it. Ochako doesn’t like going to school, but she still does it. Ochako doesn’t like walking or talking or smiling or laughing or crying, but she does them anyway. “Why would that matter.” 

“Because…” Himiko’s hands have moved again, brushing across the strands on the nape of Ochako’s neck. “Like, I do what I do because I like what I like, you know? Because I want to like what I like. Because I’m what I like.”

“You are a Villain,” Ochako points out.

“Exactly,” Himiko says. “If all Heroes die I can be me. See?”

From the speaker at the corner of the ceiling, an auto tuned pop song sings underneath the sad, gravelly hum of the dying air conditioner. Here behind the bug-mottled curtain, it’s just the two of them and a cheap polyester dress. Pretty things. “Okay,” Ochako says.

“Gosh, you’ve got to get this dress. It fits you to a T..” Himiko has finished braiding her. She turns Ochako around, holding her shoulders, admiring the other girl’s reflection in the mirror. Their eyes meet again. “I could just fall in love with you right now.”

There has not been a single lie.

Not one. Throughout all of this, whatever this is, everything that this girl has told Ochako has been genuine. 

And it’s wrong. Because everyone lies. 

It’s the baseline standard. A normal person lies at least once in every conversation they have, and sometimes, the other people in the conversation would know that you are lying and they lie too and that is all completely normal, because it’s simply courtesy. Telling the truth unabashed and unfettered is deeply frowned upon. You have to lie. That’s how it works. That’s why people who aren’t good at lying like Deku and Chi-chan get into trouble—they failed to pass that test.

But Toga Himiko, Ochako sees, doesn’t even try to pass the test. Everything that she is is what she is. What Ochako is seeing right now is what she truly is. Whole. Bare. Truthful.

Ochako finds it odd. Ochako finds it impossible. Ochako finds it—

Insane.

Ochako turns to Himiko. Raises a hand to comb through locks of golden hair before it rests on one side of Himiko’s face, pinky raised. (Ten.) Ochako looks into those cat eyes, at the run-down eyeliner, the clumpy mascara. (Nine.)

But that’s okay—it’s not her fault she’s insane. (Eight.) Toga Himiko simply can’t help it. (Seven.)

Nobody can.

(Six.)

Ochako takes her hand away from Himiko’s face. “I saw a skirt that’d really suit you,” Ochako says. “Wait here.”

They spend at least another half an hour sifting through clothes, taking turns styling each other until the shopkeeper kicks them out for real this time, cussing them out for buying nothing. Himiko just giggles as they’re being yelled at, before pulling Ochako to another boutique, then another, then another.

“I’m beat,” Himiko yawns out and she stretches. They both have found a public seat—a sad, chipped-away bench at the corner of the floor—watching the sun setting from the window. Himiko bumps Ochako’s shoulder, grinning at her. “Hasn’t this been fun?”

“It’s okay.”

Himiko pouts. “You play so hard to get,” she says. “I’m gonna go to the toilet for a bit, okay—and then I’ll take your blood and we can both go home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay!” Himiko stands up. “Can you hold these for me?”

Himiko bounds away and Ochako looks back out to the window. The mall is quiet. Everything is quiet. She feels the weight of the shopping bags on her lap, quietly. 

The skyline has begun to blush, the yolk of the sun a brilliant orange. Shimmering like glitter behind the dirty glass. Like cheap makeup. Pretty things … filthy things.

Ochako glances at her phone. There are a thousand messages in the class group chat. She scrolls through them impassively—Villain attacks. Nomu sightings. Hero Killer. Deku-kun. Ochako has missed a lot, it seems. 

There were fights, there were … murder attempts, there were Villains, and Heroes, and … well. She’s missed a lot.

Hasn’t this been fun? 

Ochako puts her phone back in her pocket. She looks to the window again. They are only on the third floor—it’s not that high up. If she jumps there is a chance that she’ll make it alive. Behind her the hallway is empty, but it won’t stay that way come night. Himiko was right—Ochako can see the club signs now, the neon lights dead and the doors shuttered still. She can imagine the girls standing at the doors just in a few hours, posing and waiting like mannequins. Pretty, filthy things. Strangely endearing in their unwanted ways.

Minutes pass. Ochako glances at the goods inside the shopping bag—eyeshadow palettes, highlights, shitty perfumes, shittier clothes. Things she would never wear.

More minutes pass. The sky is getting dark, and Himiko is not coming back. Ochako looks at her watch and wonders if she has been ditched. Which is interesting. She has never been ditched on a date before. 

Ochako stands up and smoothens down her skirt. The shopping bag falls to the side, unwanted. 

She can catch a bus from here. Or maybe she’ll walk. It’s a dangerous neighborhood—it might be an interesting walk. Maybe someone will try to mug her, or worse. She looks out the window again. She—

“Help,” someone says, right before Ochako feels a pair of slender hands gripping her shoulders.

Ochako turns. It takes her a beat to recognize who she is looking at—the pretty shopkeeper girl from earlier, with the dark hair and hazel eyes that are now wide with fear. Her mascara is smearing down her face with her tears, mixing with the splatter of blood on her face. “Help, please,” she says. “Please, I think—I think she’s going to kill me, please, we have to run, hurry!”

The girl drags Ochako to the fire stairs; her heels clicking frantically against concrete. She is both taller and thinner than Ochako. Ochako stares at her hold around Ochako’s wrist—the way her black nails dig into Ochako’s skin. Her grip is stronger than Ochako expected. 

“She had a knife with her,” the shopkeeper babbles. “She kept saying, saying all these crazy things —” 

The door to the fire stairs bangs closed behind them. It’s a sordid part of the building, dusty and uncleaned; cut off from the rest of the mall. The stairs are brutalist below them as they stumble down in a frenzy.

The shopkeeper keeps looking behind her back as if expecting the murderer to come bursting in at any time. Her eyes are crazed with fear, distorting her attractive features into a frenzied look. “You have got to help me. You have got to help me, please, please, oh—”

Her legs are shaking so much that they eventually fumble and she sways, hitting the wall behind her before sliding down, helpless. “Help me,” she says, even though it seems like she has lost the drive to even try running. “Help—”

The girl breaks into a sob as she buries her face in her hands. Her words stutter with the force of her gasps. “I don’t deserve this,” she weeps. “I don’t deserve any of this. All my life—my life, it’s never been easy, it’s never been fair. Why is this happening to me? Why?” 

Ochako looks down at her from the top of the stairs. At her trembling frame, the ripped stockings underneath her short pants, the tears slipping from her fingers stained with tar. “Is that true, Himiko.” 

Beat. 

“Do you have a knife with you,” Ochako says.

The girl stops shaking. Another beat passes, and then she looks up, her face blank—and then those tearful hazel eyes flash yellow. A familiar canine smile appears. “How’d you find out,” the girl says with Himiko’s voice.

There are no windows here. The lighting is fluorescent above, weak and humming. The air is dead inside the enclosed space.

“Your scent,” Ochako says. She’s managed to put a finger on it. “You smell like hydrogen peroxide.”

Himiko blinks. And then she throws her head back and laughs. It echoes in the confined space—an orchestra of mirth. Then. “I like you, Ochako-chan. I like you. I really, really do.” 

She stands up, almost gracefully, and with every step she takes a shade of her melts back into the Toga Himiko that Ochako has come to be familiar with in the eight hours they’ve been acquainted. The click of her heel stops into the soft tap of a school shoe. The tips of her hair are now blonde bleeding back into the dissipating dark as Himiko says, “Are you scared?” 

Ochako says, “Did you kill that girl.”

“Why, jealous?”

Beat. They look at each other. Himiko smiles, coy, “You are, aren’t you. Well. I don’t kiss and tell.” There is a flick of her wrist, and Ochako sees the needle of a syringe flash in her grip. “But I do have a knife with me, yes. That’s not what I’m using for this though.”

Ochako stares at her passively. When her gaze moves to the spot at the ceiling where a camera sits docile, Himiko says, “The cameras aren’t working. I’d know. Does that scare you?” Himiko takes another step closer, close enough that Ochako can smell it again—the chemical. It’s stronger now, as if she’d just freshly handled the substance. And from Himiko’s breath when she speaks, underneath the mint, there is a hint of iron. “You’re not scared,” Himiko notes. 

She sounds like she’s fascinated by the fact. “You don’t want anything. Are you not scared of anything, too?” Himiko wonders aloud. She seems to find her answer in Ochako’s blank expression. “That seems wrong. Worse,” Himiko adds, head tilted. “That seems boring.”

“It’s okay,” Ochako says.

“Liar,” Himiko says. “You know what, Ochako-chan? I think I figured it out.” 

Himiko leans forward, her hands cradling the sides of Ochako’s face. Ochako can faintly feel the tip of her needle tangling with her hair. “I think, Ochako-chan, what you need is love.”

“Love.”

“Mhm. Love.”

Ochako thinks of a sobbing Mineta Minoru and a flywheel and her short-lived relationship. She thinks about her parents and their perfect humble life. “Love’s okay.”

Himiko laughs, letting go. “Love’s not just okay. Love’s the best. If it’s just okay then you’re not in love. Love’s like…” Himiko grasps Ochako’s hand in hers again, fingers entwined as her voice attains a dreamy, sweet-sick quality. “Your heart beats real fast. And you can’t think about anything else. Because everything is clear. Because you want, want, want so bad...”

Ochako thinks of watching a boy flying in the air as the sky rains concrete and she thinks of a hand around her neck and her skin splintering apart and she thinks of You think I’m fuckin’ stupid? 

But Ochako doesn’t want anything.

Does she?

“And, and so, you know exactly what you should do, and nothing else matters, and it’s the best, best thing in the world. Trust me. I’ve been in love a lot of times…” 

She says it like it’s a tidbit of gossip, in an Oh, pshaw, kind of way, in a giggly, endearingly shy mannerism, but it’s not just Toga Himiko who laughs. In the span of a second, what’s on her face is the grin of various beautiful people—boyish and girlish alike, brunettes and all shades of dark hair, the colors of their skin flashing so quickly it almost alights. Himiko’s face eventually stops morphing, settling on that of a blond teenage girl. The one that looks like a thrown-out Barbie doll.

“It’s a beautiful way to live,” Himiko says, though Ochako does wonder idly whose vocal chord it is that she uses. She wonders idly to whom this endearing pitiful face belongs. “Finding people you can understand inside and out. Who will stay with you forever and ever. Don’t you want that? To never be alone, ever?”

Ochako just looks at her. 

A beat. And then two. And then three. Himiko’s smile drops, replaced by a somewhat confused stare. She tilts her head at Ochako, her gaze searching, honest, and clear. Her expression still holds that same confusion for a moment, but then something else colors it—understanding. And then some kind of—

“...Oh, Ochako-chan,” Himiko says sadly. “That’s so sad.”

—Pity.

“Come here,” Himiko says gently, leaning in fully now to give Ochako a hug. Ochako stays still as her arms close around Ochako’s back, as Himiko buries her head in the crook of her neck, as the plastic of the syringe presses into her scapula like a kiss. “Oh, Ochako-chan. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, you know? It’s not you . It’s not us. It’s not us.”

Himiko leans back, forehead still touching Ochako's. “It’s them,” Himiko says, still with that understanding gentleness. “There is nothing wrong with us. They made the rules. They made the world this way. They are the ones who made us different. And that’s okay too. ‘Cause we’re going to redo everything. Okay? We’re going to remake all of it. Our way.”

Ochako watches silently as Himiko pulls back to take Ochako’s arm, a finger tenderly tracing an invisible from the soft open of her wrist to the crook of her elbow where a vein lies. She watches silently as red fills the syringe, as Himiko’s eyes flash with some kind of hunger. A kind of love, perhaps. One of many kinds that Ochako would never understand.

They part ways on the street. Himiko hugs her once again. “These are for you,” she says, putting the shopping bags inside Ochako’s hands. “See you soon.”

When Ochako gets home, she shifts through the contents of the bag to find her lip balm. Her UA vest. A keychain—the one with that Heroine from the show. A hair tie that Ochako never noticed she lost. 

She lies in her bed. Looks at her phone again. The messages have calmed down—Deku-kun, Todoroki and Iida have all been released from the hospital, and there was a whole thing with the police or something like that—but they are doing well, more or less. Ochako starts typing in a private chat window to Deku: Hey I heard about what happened, are you okay? 

Her finger hovers above the send button. She never presses it.

Things seem fine the next morning at school. Ochako arrives at class to see Deku, Todoroki and Iida surrounded by other kids as they discuss the events prior. Bustling as per usual. Ochako has just sat on her desk when Mina shows up. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing much.”

“You okay?”

“Okay.”

“Nice.”

Ochako says nothing back. They look at each other for a while. Then Mina asks, “Internship all good yesterday?”

“Okay,” Ochako says.

“Nice,” Mina says. They look at each other before Mina starts talking once more. “Well, in case you didn’t see the group chat—just wanted to make sure that we’re still on tonight? You know, staying over at Momo’s house. And then the whole class is going to the mall the next day to get supplies for camp, that whole thing?”

Oh. Right. That whole thing. “Sure,” Ochako says.

“Okay. You didn’t reply so I thought your phone died or something,” says Mina. She’s dragged a chair so she can sit down next to her, leaning her elbows on the desk. “Going MIA is kinda scary, you know. You could be kidnapped by Villains, or something, and we wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, I was hanging out with one at the mall.”

Mina laughs. “Yeah? Watched a movie?”

“Some,” Ochako says.

Mina shakes her head. She seems more relaxed. “Well, invite me out too next time, would you? I’d love to hang.”

Ochako thinks of Himiko’s face glistening pink, her scleras dripping black into Mina’s. “We’ll see.”

The rest of the class goes on without much to note. As per usual. So does the rest of the school day. As per usual. She has juice at recess. She does her work. She listens to people. She talks to people. As per usual.

After school, the girls get on the train together, chattering up a storm stop after stop. Some people still recognize them from the tournament, clamoring to ask for pictures. Before they reach Momo’s house they make a pitstop at a supermarket.

“I do have the ingredients at my house, everyone, we don’t really need to purchase—”

“Shopping for the ingredients is an essential part of baking together,” Mina interjects, to the agreement of the others. “It’s bonding, Momo, bonding.”

“We can’t make you pay for everything on top of sleeping in your bed.”

“That’s right. The least we can do is buy—” Kyouka squints at the list on her phone. “Vanilla extract, cream cheese, and graham crackers.”

“I have graham crackers at home…” Momo says, a half-hearted suggestion.

“We have graham crackers at the store,” Kyouka says.

The grocery shopping was a success, the baking part is arguable. The pie crusts end up a little burnt, and some of the middle parts are a little too gooey to be considered “not raw”, but. “It’s about the journey, not the destination.”

“I think it tastes pretty good,” Tooru says, somewhat defensively. “I mean, the whipped cream helps. It’s the fruits of our labor.”

Mina lifts up a piece of burnt raspberry with her fork. “Literally. Sorry about the state of your oven, Momo.”

“Oh, please, it’s quite all right.”

“We’ll clean the mess up after this.”

“Yet another bonding activity. Burning cheesecake pies and cleaning up ovens.”

“Really, it’s all right,” Momo says. She only speaks after she has daintily chewed and swallowed her food. Her slice of pie looks perfectly cut on the ceramic plate, half-done. “I’ve never had people stay over before all of you … your company … is something that I treasure greatly…” her words falter when she realizes how opaque she is being. “W-what I mean is, a little mess is truly nothing—”

Kyouka slings an arm around her shoulder. “That’s sweet, Momo. Oh no. She’s getting shy. She’s going red in three, two—yep, there it is.”

“That is cruel,” Momo says, her voice muffled as she buries her face in her hands.

“Aw, Momo!”

“We’ll dirty up your oven anytime, Momo. Don’t you worry.”

The kitchen is big—easily twice Ochako’s bedroom—so they separate duties on kitchen cleaning. Mina and Ochako get the oven, Tsuyu is doing the dishes, Tooru is cleaning up the kitchen island. Momo and Kyouka are upstairs getting the board games ready.

Mina passes Ochako the sponge and they start scrubbing. Kyouka’s rock playlist floats in the air alongside Tsuyu and Tooru’s conversation. “Can you pass me the spray—thank you. Did you like the cake?”

“It was good.”

“You didn’t eat much.”

Ochako looks up at Mina. Mina’s expression is mostly casual, but deliberately so. Like she is trying her hardest to sound casual. “I never eat much,” Ochako says, matching her tone.

“I know,” Mina says. Her eyes stray to Ochako’s hands. “Those wristbands…” there is a pause. Ashido Mina isn’t someone who is used to walking on eggshells. Her attempt to be sensitive, at the moment, is clumsy at best. “They’re. For nausea, right?”

Ochako looks at the acupressure bands around her wrist, the nylon soft and lilac on her skin. “Yes.”

“They look new.”

“They are.”

Another pause. “If you have stomach issues…” yet another pause. Mina is having real trouble with this. “I mean, we could’ve done something. Other than baking, you know. Especially if you have dietary restrictions, or anything like that.”

“Okay,” Ochako says. The oven is now squeaky clean. They look at each other again. After a beat, Mina says, “Ochako, are you feeling okay? It’s just that—you’ve been really quiet the whole day, and just…”

Ochako watches her. Ochako has been too passive—Mina looks a little frustrated. “You’ve been a bit quiet,” Mina says again.

“Oh,” Ochako says.

“Is everything okay?” Mina says. “Are you okay?”

“I am."

Mina looks frustrated by her answer, because being truthful is always the wrong answer. Ochako rectifies her answer: “But I am on my period, so.”

Mina looks understanding suddenly. Her frown increases, but tension releases out of her. “Ah.”

“Yeah, feeling a bit moody,” Ochako says. “You know how it is. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, sorry for pushing, it’s just—” Mina shakes her head. “I just thought you weren’t, you know, acting like yourself.”

Ochako smiles. “You know how it is,” she says.

They play various board games for an hour or two before they get bored and decide to bust out the suspiciously cheap face masks they got earlier. They’ve shifted to playing Tooru’s playlist, some lo-fi RnB music, as they sprawl around Momo’s bedroom waiting for their faces to moisturize. 

Momo’s bedroom is big enough for all six of them—too big, even. Her bed is the kind that Ochako wanted when she was a child, with canopies and pretty wood carvings, like what princesses would have in cartoon shows. The floor is covered by lush, expensive rugs that match the bed and the cream wallpaper, lit gently by the chandelier from the ceiling. 

“Momo, I owe you my life. Who do you want me to kill? ‘Cause I’ll do it.” 

“That is absolutely unnecessary,” Momo says.

Mina waves her phone, where they can see the email of her test results. “Look at this. You got algebra through my head. Do you know how many teachers have given up on that? I’m like the Excalibur sword of stupidity.”

“You’re not stupid,” Kyouka says from where she’s lounging on Momo’s sofa. “You got into UA. That’s the baseline of smart.”

“Me getting into UA was a miracle,” Mina says, jumping on the sofa to lay her head on top of Kyouka’s lap. “I think they wanted to diversify the IQ of their students, that’s why I got in. For population control, you know. Anyway, now that I’m not failing anything—I’m gonna go to the summer camp too! Hurrah! Banzai! Etc.”

“You know, Mina, Aizawa-sensei never actually said that you can’t come if you don’t pass.”

“What?” Mina sits up abruptly. “No? He did.” She pauses. “Wait, did he? What the hell, did I study my ass off for nothing?”

“Yes,” Tsuyu says gravely, right when the alarm beeps signifying that their faces are totally moisturized now and they can be free from the wet paper hell. “And now we shall dye our hair with suspiciously cheap hair dye.”

The girls cheer. “Let’s fucking gooo!”

They take turns dyeing each other’s hair in Momo’s bathroom, which is nearly as big as her bedroom. “This is definitely not gonna show on your hair, Momo-chan,” Tooru tells Momo, combing the dye into the other’s hair. “Your hair is going to look slightly brown at best.”

“Definitely not gonna show on my or Tsuyu’s hair either,” says Kyouka. “Not unless we bleach ‘em first.”

“Well, it’s more about the spirit of it,” says Toru, whose dye is definitely not going to show either. “You know? It’s the journey, not the destination. Or whatever it is All Might said.”

“That’s not All Might. That’s like Sun Tzu or something.”

“Might work on Ochako’s though, her hair is the lightest. Not sure about you, Mina...”

“My hair is pretty tough,” Mina admits. She squints at the dye box. “There better be some borderline illegal chemical in this ‘cause I know I’ll rock as a blonde.”

In the end, Mina’s hair turns into a confusing shade of salmon (“Nooooo!” Mina mourns at the mirror). Kyouka’s and Momo’s turn slightly brown at a certain lighting, while Tsuyu’s stays jet black. Ochako’s turns somewhat blonde. 

“Ooh,” Toru comments, standing behind her in the dresser. “You look like a mean girl from those Hollywood movies.”

“She’s right. You look bitchier.” Kyouka pats her arm in approval. “I like it.”

“I’ll start shoving people into lockers,” Ochako says, and the girls laugh.

They turn off the lights and call it a night precisely at midnight. Soon everyone has started snoring, leaving her to stare at the blackness of the room thinking about nothing at all. They went to bed at around one after they cooked and ate instant ramen, so maybe it’s about two, two thirty in the AM. Aside from her classmate’s breathing, Ochako can hear the hum of the air conditioner and the soft ticking of Momo’s clock. And then she feels the bed dip.

Ochako stays quiet, watching Momo tiptoe across her bedroom and gently open the door to leave. Ochako watches the ceiling for about ten more minutes before she follows suit.

This is the third time they’ve had sleepovers here. Her family’s estate is large, comically so, consisting of gardens and gym and pool and a personal theater, complete with security cameras everywhere. Heroics pay well. Ochako finds Momo in the bathroom on the first floor near the kitchen.

“Oh!” Momo jumps when she opens the bathroom door to find Ochako standing outside of it. “Good God, Ochako-chan. It’s you..” she pauses. “What are you doing down here?”

Nothing. Fucking around. Bored. “Looking for you,” Ochako says.

“Oh,” Momo says. “You should go back to bed, though—you’re going to the mall tomorrow with the others, right?” 

Ochako doesn’t answer her question. “What are you doing down here.” 

“I was feeling a little thirsty,” Momo says. “Do you want a drink? There is still some apple juice—”

“Drinking juice isn’t good after vomiting.” 

The silence that follows is deafening. Momo stares at her—blank. Ochako stares back, equally still. 

“I know,” Momo says then. Her voice is as blank as her face. She adds, “Electrolyte drinks would be better. After vomiting.”

They look at each other.

“But we don’t have any,” Momo says finally, crushing the stilted silence.

The one thing that her household doesn’t have. “Do you have baking soda.”

They go back to the kitchen. Ochako mixes some water with the baking soda and hands the glass to Momo. “Rinse.”

Momo takes the glass and looks at it, saying nothing. “Stomach acid messes your teeth up,” Ochako says. “The baking soda neutralizes the pH.”

Momo’s expression is muted. “I never thought of that.” She rinses her mouth with the mixture. Ochako watches as she does so. Watches as Momo takes a glass of plain water for herself, then for Ochako. 

They drink their plain water. They sit on the kitchen table for a while, wordless. And then Momo says, “How did you know?”

Ochako thinks about it. “You carry your toothbrush with you everywhere. You’re always last to leave the washroom...” Making sure she’s always alone. Like now. Momo is using the first floor bathroom so they can’t hear her puking. People can be simple. “But I wasn’t sure until now.”

Like the other girls, Momo can be expressive sometimes, too. When she’s excited to explain things she likes, like biology and chemistry. Now is not one of those times. “I see.” Her face is passive, closed off. “Do you also..?”

Ochako shrugs. “Not anymore.” 

It’s too much hassle, especially the clean-up part. Though Ochako doesn’t think she did it for the same reason Momo does it—whatever her reason is. After all, Ochako’s Quirk doesn’t let her keep food in her stomach, while Momo’s Quirk requires her to do the opposite. “Easier if I just don’t eat.”

“Oh,” Momo says. Her face turns unreadable again, shuttering off. It’s a little interesting to see—she’s never seen Momo like this before. “The class is meeting up at 11, right?” Momo says, her voice thoroughly neutral. “Let’s go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them moves. They just look at each other. Momo’s glass clinks when she puts it down, her eyes never straying from Ochako’s face. It’s her who breaks the silence. “Are you going to tell anyone,” Momo says.

“Would you be angry if I do.” 

“I would,” Momo says. And then, “I don’t know.”

Ochako’s glass clinks. She just looks as Momo takes it along with her own and proceeds to wash them in the sink. The sound of running water fills the room. Momo says, so softly it’s nearly inaudible under the rush of the tap, “Can I ask you a question.”

“Okay.”

She turns the tap off, turning to look at Ochako, leaning back at the sink. She looks more mature like this, with her hair down. Paler. “Did you actually do something to Mineta?”

Ochako considers her. “Would you be angry if I did,” she says again.

That neutral mask breaks, and for a second what Ochako sees on that face is—disbelief, and something more complex than that. Then Momo breaks into a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re—Ochako. Please.” The laughter vanishes. “Ochako. Did you?”

“Is it good.”

Momo looks at her. “I’m sorry?”

“Momo-chan,” Ochako says. “Is it good that Mineta-kun is gone.”

Beat. Droplets of tap water hit the sink—drip, drip. “Yes,” she says.

“If it’s good,” Ochako says. “Then it can’t be bad, can it?”

Momo doesn’t say anything for a while. “Let’s go back to bed,” she says eventually.

They walk in silence to Momo’s bedroom, climbing up the bed carefully. Ochako stares at the darkness of the room again. She can hear Momo’s breathing beside her. She hears Momo ask after a while, a quiet whisper. “Ochako. Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Do you want me to,” Ochako says.

“No.” There is a long pause. “I don’t know.” A longer pause. And then, so quiet Ochako can barely hear it: “Sometimes I want people to know.”

Ochako stares at the darkness. “Sometimes I really want them to know,” Momo says again. Ochako says nothing.

Ochako thinks of Taka-kun. She thinks of Mineta-kun. She thinks of Bakugou-kun. I see you as the psycho bitch you actually are. She thinks of Toga Himiko. You’re just like me.

Ochako isn’t sure if she actually is a psychopath. 

She isn’t sure if there is a name for something like her, really. Because if Ochako is a psychopath, or a sociopath, or any labels arbitrarily branded on people with her tendencies—that would mean Ochako is a person. But she isn’t sure if she is a person either.

Most of the time, she feels like a person-shaped hole. Most of the time, she feels less like a girl and more like a negative space. A void. 

Everybody wants something. Ochako isn’t everybody. Sometimes she wonders if she is even anything at all.

“I get it,” Ochako says. “I get how you feel.”

No answer. For a moment Ochako thinks she is never going to get a reply. But then Momo’s voice says, “Really?”

“Of course,” Ochako says.

She would wonder if she’s being truthful at this moment, but she knows better. She told Deku that the key is to think that you are, but really, the key is that none of it ever matters.

“I think everyone feels that way at some point or another,” Ochako says. “It’s not you.” It’s not us. “There is nothing wrong with you.” It’s them.

It doesn’t matter. 

None of them can help being what they are.

“Thanks,” Momo says.

A lot of people came to the mall outing but to Ochako’s mild disappointment, Bakugou isn’t one of them—but everyone else is more or less present. “I need,” Mina announces, “new shoes. And whatever thing that can undye my hair, because this isn’t a good look for me.”

It’s crowded on a weekend, as expected. The mall’s air conditioning is working hard to ensure that none of its visitors have even an inkling that summer has arrived. It’s the fancy kind with tall ceilings, bouldering slab walls, and at least two high-end gyms. The air smells like lilac and credit cards.

“Uraraka-san?” She hears Izuku call her, and she turns to smile. “Hey.”

He’s dressed casually in a shirt and cargo pants, hair messy as it always is. He looks somewhat surprised, looking over at her with a confused frown. “Um..”

“I dyed my hair,” she informs him.

“Oh!” 

Ochako looks over his reaction. “Is it bad?”

“No, no—” he looks flustered. “It’s just, um. Different.”

Kyouka swats his arm, coming up next to him with Momo. “C’mon, Midoriya, just tell her she looks good.”

Deku’s face burns. “It, um, looks good.” 

“Wasn’t so hard, was it, big guy?” 

“Kyouka,” Momo chides, empathetic to Deku’s sputtering.

“Me and Momo here are gonna look for a hiking backpack. You guys coming?”

“I’ll pass, I’m bringing my dad’s with me—”

“I’m gonna get some hiking shoes!”

“Me too.”

“Why don’t we all just split up and meet here again in a few hours?”

Ochako listens idly as her classmates suss out the timings rowdily, debating where they should go for lunch and catch a movie too, while they’re at it, and did you know they have three different karaoke places? 

“Uraraka-san, are you, um. Looking for anything specific?”

Ochako glances at him. “I’m looking for some wrist weights,” Deku adds. “I was thinking of checking out the sports places. Do you wanna—um, come with?”

Around them, their classmates split like terrible tourists. There is a pause as Ochako considers him. His awkward, mollifying way. But he is looking in her eyes, properly, and even if he stumbles his words, he is standing his ground. As he asks her if she wants to join him in checking out the sports places.

“Okay,” Ochako says.

They find a directory together. There are several sports shops and they go to the biggest one. It’s a nice shop, with a mock industrial interior, crowded even with the big area. The goods gleam shiny under the bright white lights. There is a weird plastic smell fighting with the air freshener. 

“Thanks, Uraraka-san,” Deku says after a while. “For accompanying me.”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you have anything you need to get?”

“Bug repellant,” Ochako says.

They walk together to the grocery store on the basement floor and bump into Kaminari’s group, who seem to have forgotten supply-shopping entirely and are now busy debating which chip flavor is the best. “Sour cream,” Ochako says when prompted.

“See!” Kaminari says, triumphant. “See! I’ve been saying.”

“It’s obviously seaweed,” Ojiro says. “Right, Deku?”

“...I also like sour cream,” says Deku apologetically to Ojiro’s betrayal.

“If you’re into sour cream you’re a masochistic nutjob,” Kyouka says solemnly. “You, Deku—I know you are a masochistic nutjob.” Deku blushes and sputters. “But I expected better from you, Ochako. I thought you were a sane person. And yet…”

“Oh, no,” Ochako says, twirling a finger to her head. “I’m absolutely cuckoo, truth be told.”

They bump into Satou, Tokoyami and Shouji, all three looking at ice cream flavors. They also pass Koji, Mina and Tooru in the perfume section, where the girls take turns pitching which would be the best scent for him. 

There is silence between Deku and Ochako as they walk from aisle to aisle. But Deku seems okay to let that silence hang. 

“Is this your first time,” Ochako says, crouching down to inspect the various brands of bug repellents in front of her—lowest prices are usually placed on the bottom. 

Deku blinks at her. “Huh?”

“Shopping with friends."

To his credit, Deku doesn't seem abashed by this accusation. The expression on his face can only be described as accepting. “Is it that obvious,” Deku says softly.

“I don’t know,” Ochako answers honestly. “Maybe.” She notices things. Sometimes other people do too, sometimes they don’t. It’s a fifty-fifty chance. She looks over at him. “Do you like movies."

Deku doesn’t seem bothered by the change of topic. “Yes.”

“What kind.”

“...Documentaries,” Deku says, after a pause. Ochako realizes some time ago that Deku’s pauses aren’t always coming from insecurity or awkwardness. Deku really thinks about his answers before he replies, as if it’s important for him to deliver the truest thing from his mind. “Action. Hero genres, too, but—I guess that’s obvious.”

“Hero genres.”

He smiles, a little bashful. “They’re always the same cliches over and over again,” Deku admits. “But. They always make me cry.”

I just know he’d look so good in red.

“What about you, Uraraka-san?” Deku says. “What kind of movies do you like? Ah, here...” he hands her a bug repellant. “This one is cheaper.”

Ochako receives it. It is cheaper. “I don’t like movies.”

Deku blinks at her. “Oh,” he says. “Do you prefer to read?”

“Not really,” Ochako says. Then, “I don’t like anything.”

There is a baby crying in the next aisle. An old woman passes with her trolley, picking rat poison from the shelves. “Oh...” Deku says. Silence. “Okay. I see." More silence. Then. "Does it help?”

Ochako knows what he’s referring to. She touches the wristband circling her wrist. “Some,” she says. She adds, since it seems appropriate, “Thanks.”

“Is it too tight?”

“It’s fine.”

Deku nods. “What’s your favorite color?”

Long pause. Ochako looks down at the bug repellant, then at her shoes. Then at Deku. “Pink,” Ochako says, surprising herself. 

“What kind of pink.”

“...Like the sky,” Ochako says. “At dusk.”

“Okay,” he says, softly. “I’ll ... make some more in that color ... so that, you know. So you can have a spare.”

Ochako stares at him for a while. And then she looks down, scrounging her bag for some cash before handing it to Deku along with the bug repellant. “Do you mind getting it for me. I need to go check out something. I’ll meet you with the others later.”

Deku says something that Ochako doesn’t bother to hear. She walks out of the store and to the elevator. It’s still crowded—more so now that it’s lunch hour, but not to the point of discomfort. She walks past luxury stores. Brunch cafes. Families and tourists.

The first floor is an open space. Ochako spots a fountain in the center, the kind that you can sit on. She walks over and patiently waits.

Shortly, a person sits down next to her.

“Oh. It’s you,” Ochako says. 

She expected blonde hair, golden eyes—but instead, this stranger is all ashen skin and pale, stringy hair. He looks like he hasn’t showered in days. He looks like the kind of person who follows around minors. Helpfully, she informs him: “It’s a crime, you know, to follow around minors.”

“You killed Kurogiri.”

“I did,” she agrees. 

An arm slings around her shoulders. She can feel his fingertips on her neck—four of them, cold and rough against her skin. Shigaraki Tomura tells her: “I’m going to kill you.”

“Right now?” Ochako asks him, and then she can’t breathe.

“Not now, you cunt,” Shigaraki Tomura says. His voice is so far away, so distant. So full of hate. “Not here. I’ll do it slow. I’ll make you suffer. Bleed. I’ll disintegrate you fucking apart bit by fucking bit. Limb from limb from limb from limb. He told me I can. I can. ”

Ochako wheezes, bleary eyes looking out at the crowd. For a split second she thinks she sees her own face in the crowd, smearing into Toga Himiko’s face, smearing into hers again. For a split second she sees stars.

His grip loosens and Ochako can suddenly breathe again. “But not now,” he says.

Air floods her lungs. She coughs—

The reprieve only lasts a second. The fingers are back again, digging into her windpipes. “Look at them. Look at all these people,” he says, voice dripping with disgust. It’s not a command, the way he says it—it’s more like a sullen commentary. He’s not even looking at her. He’s looking out, at the people going on their way, talking to each other, arguing, laughing, off to spend hard-earned money on a hard-earned weekend. 

“It’s fake. This is all—papier-mache.” He licks his chapped lips. His eyes are clouded with hatred, dazed by it, so much so that Ochako wonders if he still remembers that he has his hand around her neck. “They think—no one would ever take this away. But they’re wrong. They really are. So. Stupid.”

He’s rambling. His words drone. He’s done this spiel before, over and over again, to anyone who would listen. 

“They think. This thing they’ve made. Will be here forever…” Shigaraki Tomura turns to look at her, as if just now remembering that she’s still here. His grip loosens, and Ochako’s lungs spasm for air.

Hazily she thinks a stranger is turning to ask if she’s okay, and Shigaraki replies with something unintelligible, his tone mollifying. When the world comes back again, Shigaraki is looking at her and saying, “Aren’t they so fucking stupid. Anyone could kill anyone at any moment and ruin their perfect little life. I can kill you right now and all they do is gape stupidly like a stupid fucking fish and call for All Might. Aren’t they so fucking stupid.”

Around the both of them life goes on. A dad and his daughter are getting ice cream. A couple is fighting in front of the washroom. A group of teenagers going to watch the newest blockbuster. People living their lives. “All Might is not going to be here forever,” he says. “We’re going to fucking kill him. And when that happens. You’ll all s—”

“Just get on with it."

“...Fuck you say?”

Ochako levels him with a flat stare. “Get on with it. Either you do it or you don’t.”

The novelty is fading out. It's all starting to get so boring, this: UA, USJ, Bakugou Katsuki, Toga Himiko. And now this incel second-year syndrome. It was cute at first, she admits—it was fun, even. But now Ochako has come to realize that all of them talk too much.

Ochako’s voice is badly hoarse and she can feel a chain of bruises forming around her neck. Her throat hurts as she speaks, “You want to overthrow the system. But you haven’t actually done anything.”

His nails dig to the skin of her neck, like needles. “You—”

“You said you’re going to kill me. But you haven’t actually done that either.”

It’s all just a thought experiment. It’s all just—a hand hovering over the fire alarm. Childish voice in one’s head insisting: I could do it if I want to. But does it matter if you haven’t done it? Does it all matter if the tree never falls in the first place?

No. It doesn’t. 

All these things have been happening to her and at first it all seems so exciting. It feels like something is going to happen, something big, something huge, something catastrophic, something potentially lethal. But that’s all there is—just build up, and no boom.

Or maybe that’s the thing. Lately her life has been so exciting. She’s had a taste of it now, excitement. And she needs more than that, see. More than all these fucking teasings, she needs more, she needs the main fucking course. The fucking boom. She’s had a taste and she—none of them are really giving her what Ochako truly—what she truly—

This isn’t a want. This is just simply how Ochako was made. 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” he says, hold tightening again, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough. Ochako pushes her neck into his grip, choking herself. 

He flinches, almost in surprise, and Ochako’s hands fly to his wrist, holding him in place. Ochako gasps as her oxygen is cut off once again. She waits. But he doesn’t kill her.

Boring. She looks flatly at him. She rasps, with pure, undiluted honesty: “You are full of shit.”

That look returns in his eyes: pure, undiluted hate. Hot white rage, so ablaze with it that Ochako wonders how it must feel like, to be able to feel so much. To want so much. Maybe murder is a kind of love too. His grip is iron and she can’t breathe and she knows, then, instinctually, that this is it, that it’s for real this time, and Ochako wants to laugh and laugh and laugh. She chokes instead.

She thinks: It’s been a while. This particular sensation of losing air, the light-headedness clouding her head. The muted panic and the loss of control. It makes her think of hospital rooms. White sheets. The straps on her hands as she struggles to kiss oxygen again, to regain gravity. Begging it to come home. It’s been a while.

The tournament with Bakugou—that was nothing. The exam battle with Thirteen-sensei—just a thrill ride. Simulated danger. USJ was disappointing; Kurogiri, dead from nothing but a touch. That moment at the entrance exam, now, that was real. She could feel it. She knew. She was going to die. 

That too was nothing compared to this.

The entrance exam was an accident, a mere misfortune, but this—this, what Shigaraki is doing to her right now, it’s completely intentional. Her heartbeat picks up in her chest, her stomach cold like ice, excitement runs high to the point of nausea. Right now, it’s real. This, Ochako thinks deliriously, is the boom.

Shigaraki Tomura is looking her with so much hate and anger—so much that it could maybe compensate for the lackness in Ochako, if he would just actually—yes, yes, if he would just—

“Let her go, Villain.”

Ochako blinks black spots out of her eyes. Deku is standing in front of them, looking at Shigaraki Tomura with a hard look on his face. He is holding a phone. “The cops are here,” he tells him. “You’re surrounded.”

Shigaraki lets her go. 

Without fear, or panic, or anything at all—one moment he’s choking her, the next he isn’t. “Sure, Midoriya Izuku,” Shigaraki drawls. “I bet All Might is coming to apprehend me too, ain’t he?”

“Leave her alone,” Deku says, slow, clear, almost soft. His knuckles are white around his phone. “Now.”

“For now,” Shigaraki says, standing up. He doesn’t spare another look at her, but she knows what he says next is aimed at her. “Next time we meet, you’ll die.”

Both of them watch him leave. Shigaraki doesn’t even rush—he just walks, all casual, hands in his pants—and then he disappears into the crowd. Ochako hears Deku let out a slow, shuddering breath before he comes to her side, sitting carefully next to her. “Your neck,” he says, and it’s incredible how much emotion is present in his voice all of a sudden. “Oh, god. Uraraka-san, are you okay? How long has he been—he was hurting you—” he makes an aborted movement like he wants to touch her, but doesn’t. “The Heroes should get here soon, I’ll, I’ll call the rest of the class—”

“You ruined it.”

For a moment it’s like Deku isn’t sure what he’s hearing. He pauses, looks at her. Confused. “...Sorry?”

Ochako’s neck burns hot. Her skin is soft under her fingers, yielding easily, like paper pulp. She looks down at her fingers to see blood—Not a lot, just brushes of soft orange, the kind that comes out when your skin barely breaks. So Shigaraki did use his Quirk on her—perhaps just for an infinitesimal second, but he did. Here is proof. 

“...Uraraka-san,” Deku’s voice registers in his head, and she realizes that he must’ve been calling out to her a few times already. He still doesn’t touch her, but his presence is solid next to her, human. “Uraraka-san. Are you … all right?” 

She was so close. So close. It could’ve happened, for real, but he—but Midoriya had, he just had to—

Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?

—save her.

Ochako looks out to the crowd, looking for traces of Shigaraki Tomura, or her own face, or any signs at all of the League of Villains or any fucking thing that’s going to give her that euphoric jolt of fucking feeling something. 

But there is nothing. It’s a beautiful mall, full of beautiful people, full of beautiful, expensive things. Living their perfect papier-mache life. She never notices before, but there is a huge digital banner showing various movie posters—some of which she watched just some times before, the heroines, the doomed hero, the predestined villains. Some passersby are now looking at them, finally noticing that something isn’t right. Ochako’s bleeding neck is probably a pretty damn good social cue for that.

Not that she gives a shit.

She looks back at Deku. Blank. “You fucked it all up,” Ochako says. “You just couldn’t help it, could you.”

He blinks back at her. That confusion still on his face, but there is something else now, something blanching. “What..?”

It was so close. So fucking close.

Everybody wants something. Ochako isn’t everybody. But this is how she was made. She couldn’t fucking help it.

Just like how Deku couldn’t fucking help but ruin everything again and again.

“I could’ve died,” Ochako tells him. Flatly. Emptily. “If it wasn’t for you.”

She’s forgotten about this—this lackness that she has. She forgets how empty she feels right after she finally feels something. It grows in her, the gap. Like ink. Like oil. Like blood spill. She’s a person-shaped hole, this is simply her nature. 

When will she ever be that close again, to the end of it all? To lose control, just like that? When, when, when?

Next time we meet—

Oh. Right. Maybe he’ll have the balls to actually kill her next time. Maybe not... 

More teasing again. Isn’t this all just pointless?

From far away, sirens howl. Midoriya Izuku is looking at her— really looks at her—for the first time. He stays silent, hands falling by his sides. He looks at her like he really isn’t sure who or what he’s looking at.

Ochako doesn’t care. She’s bored again now that it’s over. She looks at Deku’s other hand, the one holding grocery bags. “Is that my bug repellant?” 

Midoriya stares at her. And then, still wordless, he hands her her bug repellant and some change, loose coins. Ochako takes them. She’s putting the change inside her wallet when the police arrive at the scene. Her classmates are making more fuss than the policemen; Mina screams when she sees the blood on her neck. Momo is saying something to Ochako, her face white as a sheet, her hands warm around Ochako’s shoulders.

It’s all so insignificant and not the slightest bit interesting. She ignores all of them and lets the paramedic take her away.

Right before the ambulance door closes, she catches someone staring at her. Midoriya, standing at the fountain—now criss-crossed with police tapes. There are officers talking to him, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention; his eyes stay on her. Looking at her.

Ochako looks away, disinterested. 

The next day, Ochako comes to school with bandages around her neck. They are annoying and uncomfortable, getting in the way of her tie. The moment she enters the class Ochako finds someone standing in the way of her seat. “You should’ve killed that fucking Villain but you didn’t, you crazy fuck.”

Ochako looks at him passively. “You are fucking ridiculous,” Bakugou spits in her face. “Honestly, you should just get the fuck outta UA.”

“Bakugou, what the fuck is your problem?” Mina snaps. Some kids have also stood up at the commotion, crowding Ochako’s desk. “Can’t you see she’s hurt? No, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? She was attacked just yesterday—”

“Oh, she was attacked, was she?” Bakugou snarls, face inches away from Ochako’s. “Just took it nicely like some helpless fucking victim, did she? Absolute fucking hypocrite—”

“Bakugou-kun!” Iida-kun is next to him, face tense, a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder that the latter brushes off immediately. “if you lay a hand on her, I’m afraid I must interfere—”

Bakugou laughs, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh god, would you fuckin’ look at that, Uraraka?” he says. “All these people. Just dying to save you.” His smile shuts off. “Uraraka. I mean, what the fuck are you even doing here?”

“Ochako, just ignore him, he’s being fucking insane—”

“What do you mean, Bakugou-kun,” Ochako says. 

Bakugou isn’t being fucking insane. In fact, there is a clear-headedness in the way he looks at her, a calculated coldness in his voice. “I thought, you’re a crazy bitch, but what does it hurt if we have psychos like you killing more psychos out there? But now, now you let Shigaraki Tomura walk scot-free?”

“You’re being ridiculous, she was attacked!” 

It’s Momo. She’s as tall as Bakugou, standing between him and Ochako. It’s the first time Ochako has seen her look so angry, or hear her raise her voice. “Why are you saying all of this as if it was her responsibility to apprehend her assaulter? It’s preposterous.” She seems to calm down a little, breathing harshly.  “Stop bothering her. She needs time to recover.”

“Recover!” Bakugou rolls his eyes. Always so explosively expressive. “Okay Jane Austen, does she need to go to heal her ails by the seaside while we’re at it too? Should we Chicken Soup for the Soul this shit up, Nepo Baby-sama?”

Kyouka’s table scrapes the floor as she stands up. “Don’t you fucking talk to her like that.”

“God fucking damn, what the fuck’s up all of your asses? This isn’t any of your goddamn fucking business, why the fuck are all of you up on my fucking dick for—”

“You are disrupting the classroom—”

“Then close your fucking ears,” Bakugou seethes.

“You’re the one who keeps bothering her, you always—”

“Bakugou-kun, you are acting out of hand, you should—”

“Dude, can’t you just sit back down and—”

“Shut up,” Ochako says. 

A surprised beat. 

Her classmates look at her. Ochako looks back, blank. “We are talking,” she says. “And it isn’t any of your business. You were saying, Bakugou-kun?”

Bakugou-kun doesn’t seem grateful for her intervention—if anything, he looks annoyed. “You’re just fucking around at UA—fine. Because you’re a sick fuck, or whatever the fuck else it is that’s wrong with you, I don’t give a shit. But we both know that you could’ve ended that Shigaraki fuck and you fucking didn’t. Why?” 

Behind Bakugou, looking at her, is Midoriya Izuku. He is looking at her with a look on his face. A look that—that means—

Ochako isn’t sure what the look on his face means.

Bakugou scoffs at her silence. “Are you even interested in killing Villains? No, hold on, sorry—the real kicker is this. Do you even want to be a Hero?”

Ochako just looks at him, and that’s an answer enough for Bakugou.

That coldness persists in Bakugou’s face, but there is something else now, slow but sure, coloring his expression like blood spreading in the water. Bakugou starts to smile, something manic and without humor. “I knew it. You fucked up son of a bitch, you truly just don’t give a fuck. About anything at all. Do you?"

“Bakugou, what the hell are you saying? What are you fucking talking about?” Mina says. So confused. So angry. “Just, just stop saying all this baseless—”

“Shut up, you heard her, we are having a fucking conversation and you’re not invited. And you,” he points a finger at her, walking forward. There is some kind of awe in his voice now, a messed up admiration that’s saturated by resentment. “You’re in UA just because you’re bored.”

He sounds so disgusted, spitting out the word like venom. “This is why I hate people like you. You’re worse than Villains, do you know that?” Bakugou says. “At least Villains stand up for something. But you? You’re fucking empty, aren’t you…” he shakes his head. Laughs, something quick and sharp. “Goddamn. Your life is fucking meaningless.”

Bakugou stops right in front of her, looking down at Ochako. There is, Ochako sees for the first time, some kind of sympathy in his eyes—one that's reserved for her.

“Oh, man,” Bakugou says. Sneers. “Fuck. It must be awful being you.”

“That’s enough.”

Everyone except Ochako turns to see Aizawa-sensei standing by the door. “Everybody, back to your seats. Bakugou, I will have a conversation with you later. Uraraka—with me.”

Ochako obeys. She puts down her backpack and then walks out of the class with Aizawa-sensei. 

The bell rings while they walk through the corridor, passing other students entering their own homeroom classes. Aizawa-sensei’s pace is brisk; Ochako finds herself having to catch up. They enter the teacher's office. It’s empty, what with all the other teachers having gone to their respective classes. “Sit.”

She does. 

“Tea?” She doesn’t reply, but he hands her a steaming mug anyway. And then he goes straight to the point. “Shigaraki Tomura is on the run, and we have reasons to believe that he and his associates will be after you. Therefore we have taken precautions to keep you and other students safe on the camping ground. We are not using our usual accommodations and the location of the training ground is top secret. We will have police escorts accompanying you to the trip on top of the Heroes that will be present. But the trip itself is not canceled and we will be business as usual. All this information will be relayed to the class, but I want to let you know in person that we’ll do our best to keep you safe.”

“Okay,” Ochako says.

“I want you to know,” Aizawa-sensei says. “That I will do everything in my power to assure your well-being. But most importantly, I want you to know that should you feel unsafe at any point in your study here, training camp or otherwise, you have the option to opt out. I want you to know this.” He pauses. “Do you understand that, Uraraka?”

“You don’t want me to come,” Ochako says.

The tea is good, just like how it was good a few weeks back after she killed Kurogiri. Same blend. There is another cat sticker on Aizawa-sensei’s laptop—a tortie. Aizawa-sensei’s gaze on her is even. 

“This class has caught the eye of a dangerous assortment of Villains,” Aizawa-sensei says. “In USJ, we Heroes have failed to protect you. Yesterday, you were harmed by a Villain we failed to stop. That’s two times we’ve broken your trust. You have the right to act upon that broken trust. Do you understand that?”

He does not deny it. 

It’s strange. Teachers have always liked Ochako, all her life. There really is a first time for everything. “Aizawa-sensei,” Ochako says. “Have I been a good student?”

Aizawa-sensei doesn’t seem affected by the impromptu question. “You have been well.”

Ochako looks into his eyes. Searching. Reading. “No,” Ochako says. “If I’d been a good student. You wouldn’t encourage me to quit UA.” 

“I am not encouraging you to quit UA.”

She puts her mug on his desk. “You are unhappy with me.”

He does not seem rankled by Ochako’s thrown indictments. “I’m not unhappy with you, Uraraka.”

“You think I won’t make a good Hero,” Ochako points out. 

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t backtrack, or even lie. He looks at her head-on, with that clear look on his face. “As of now, not one of you will make good Heroes. That’s why you are here—to learn to be one. Eventually.”

Ah. That’s right. That is right, isn’t it?

That’s why Taka-kun wanted to go to UA. That’s why Mineta-kun was here, that’s why Bakugou-kun, Deku, Momo, Mina—every single one of them all are here. They all want to learn to be a Hero.

Because to be a Hero is something that can be learned. Because to be good is something that can be learned. Because anyone can do it. Doesn’t matter if you like to hurt other people. Doesn’t matter if you’re a bully. Doesn’t matter if you touch girls even when they say no. Doesn’t matter, even, if you’re a person-shaped hole who can’t feel anything but pain. 

It doesn’t matter. Ochako is here to learn to be a Hero—she is here to learn to be good. 

And yet.

“When I killed that Villain,” Ochako says. “You told me that didn’t make me a good Hero. You said that it was a mistake.”

“It was.”

“I did not kill Shigaraki Tomura,” Ochako says. “I learned my lesson. Was that good,” Ochako looks up at her teacher. “Or was that a mistake.” 

For the first time, there is a change in Aizawa-sensei’s expression—Ochako isn’t sure what it is. But the way he looks at her is sharper, now, harder. Like he’s really looking at her, this time. Ochako doesn’t bother to wait for his answer. She says, “So I really don’t understand, sensei, why you’re so unhappy with me. After all, I’ve only ever done what you told me to. But your lack of faith in me to be a good Hero one day … well. It hurts me.” 

Lie. She thinks over her words, looking for something a little more truthful. She finds it: “It confuses me.”

It does. Because now it’s starting to look like being a Hero isn’t for her after all. Being a Hero, it seems, is not something that she can just learn. It seems like it involves something more than just stopping Villains and profiting off of it. 

“Uraraka,” Aizawa-sensei says. “As I’ve said before. I am not unhappy with you. You are welcome here. You, like every student in this school, have the potential to be a good Hero. And my duty is to see and build that potential to fruition. I never meant to make you feel like anything less. I have reason to believe that you will make a fine Hero one day.”

“But?” Ochako says.

Aizawa-sensei seems unimpressed. He pours tea into her mug, all while gazing sharply at her. There really is something else now—something a little more calculating. Something very, very close to caution. “But,” he says, putting the teapot down. “There is a difference between a hero and a Hero.”

There it is.

Ochako has been thinking about it, really. Ever since the idea formed in her mind—ever since Midoriya Izuku saved a girl he didn’t even know in the entrance exam. Ever since she stepped foot into UA. Ever since she saw the look in Mina’s eyes when she killed Kurogiri. Ever since—Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?

“My duty is to teach my students to understand that difference,” Aizawa-sensei says. “And I will teach them how to be both without compromise.”

She really thought it was possible. 

She really did. If people like Taka-kun and Mineta-kun could do it, why couldn’t she? But she may have been wrong about this. Maybe you truly can’t help it. After all, neither Taka-kun nor Mineta-kun made it in the end.

So why would Ochako?

“Do you understand that, Uraraka?” Aizawa-sensei says. “Do you understand what it is that you need to understand?”

Being good, Ochako has started to think, might not be for her after all.

“Yes, sensei,” Ochako says, and it’s not a lie. Ochako understands perfectly what Aizawa-sensei wants her to understand. “I do.”

That’s precisely why she doesn’t.

“Your parents and doctor have contacted me—you were not supposed to come to class yet. Go home for the day and recuperate. If you’re coming to the camp, you need all your strength because we will not go easy on you.” Ochako obeys, but as she opens the door Aizawa-sensei says, “Uraraka.”

She turns. “Yes, sensei.”

“You are safe and alive,” Aizawa-sensei says. “That is not a mistake.”

He doesn’t understand her either, of course. “Thank you, sensei.”

Her classmates approach her the next day the moment the first period bell rings. They’re reticent about it, almost reluctant. Mina, Momo, Tsuyu, Kyouka and Tooru crowd around her desk, their demeanor a little off, as if they don’t want to startle her. “Hey,” Mina says.

“Hey,” Ochako says.

The girls look at each other furtively. And then Mina says, gently,  “Ochako, you haven’t answered any of our texts.”

Ochako doesn’t reply. Kyouka says, more than a little concerned, “Ochako. Are you—are you okay? After yesterday, you just. You just shut down. Tell us what’s wrong.” Ochako ignores her. It’s funny—as she does so, she can feel the impatience radiating off Kyouka. “Ochako, would you just—”

Momo puts a hand on Kyouka’s shoulder. To Ochako, she says, “Ochako … if you need space, you can just tell us.”

Always the eloquent one. “It’s just—you’ve been … very quiet. And we’re worried. We understand what happened in the past two days—well, okay, the past months. It’s all been … traumatic, so you don’t have to talk to us about it if you’d rather not.” Momo smiles—unsure, but genuine. “We’d just like to know if you’re okay, Ochako.”

“Why.”

Confusion flashes across her face. That unsure look again, coming to the front. “We are your friends,” Momo says, slow, careful. “Aren’t we?”

She really believes that. Ochako can read that in the way she says it. But Ochako feels nothing hearing it. “I’m your friend,” Ochako echoes, and finds that she feels nothing saying it either. “Why is that.” 

In the background the rest of the class has gone silence, listening in. Ochako doesn’t really care, as always.. She looks up at them: Momo and Mina and Tooru and Kyouka. “Why,” Ochako says. “Just because I’ve stayed over at your house. Just because we did homework together, and dyed our hair together—that makes us friends? Just because we’re girls?” Ochako looks at Momo. “Just because we’re both anorexic?”

Momo blanches. 

Something happens, then, to the classroom. Something leaves it. Whatever’s left now is a quiet, wriggling ugliness. Like a maggot. 

“Just because we throw up every time we eat,” Ochako continues. They are looking at Ochako like Ochako just killed a baby in front of them. “Just because Mineta saw us naked. Just because we are in the same class. Just because we are UA. Just because we went to the beach together just because we talk about boys—”

Mina’s voice shakes, her face pale with disbelief and some kind of horror. “Ochako, what the hell are you saying…”

“—Just because we were in the same Villain attack just because we go get juice together just because we are going to the same industry. Just because of that. We are friends?”

“Ochako,” Tsuyu says. She sounds both calm and deeply hurt. “That’s too far. We care about you. That is all.”

Not a single one of them gets it. They think Ochako is asking all of these questions because she wants to hurt them. Ochako doesn’t really care about hurting them. In fact, Ochako doesn’t really care about them in any way at all. What Ochako is doing, at the moment, is asking genuine questions. But they don’t get it. They never do. 

All this pretense—all this meaningless build-up. She’s bored with it.

“I don’t,” Ochako says. She smoothens down her skirt before she stands up, looking at her classmates in the eye. “You’re in my way,” she tells them politely. “Move.”

They move wordlessly. She walks past them, going to the canteen. She’s thinking of getting herself some juice. 

Chapter Text

3 

The weather is beautiful the day they all go to the summer camp. It’s the bluest, Ochako thinks, the sky has looked in sometime—the shade a scorching hot blue. The air smells like leaves. And sunshine ... and anticipation. If there is anything worth waiting for, here.

A bead of sweat rolls down Ochako’s neck as she climbs up the bus. It’s still empty inside. Both 1-A and 1-B kids are having a fight in front of the bus because they hate each other and have nothing better to do, or something. No one seems to be dying, and thus whatever is happening is nowhere near interesting enough for Ochako to pay attention. 

Aizawa-sensei is yelling at everyone to Sit down, get inside and sit down, seats are meant to be sit in, you rowdy lot, but Ochako is already seated in the seat farthest back. She looks out the window. There is a dot amidst all that blue, up there. A bird—a bulbul, maybe a bunting. It’s soaring in a smooth, looping pattern, unbothered. Pretty, and unbothered. If Ochako reaches out she could perhaps feel the invisible threads of gravity entwining those wings, undulating in the spread of space, negated with each flap of feather.

Ochako doesn’t. The bird flies farther and farther until she can’t see it anymore, disappearing behind the clouds. Ochako imagines it out there, existing without sound—floating forever and ever in outer space. In the void. 

When Mina appears in a huff to sit beside her, Ochako doesn’t budge.

Mina puts her bags in the compartment overhead, fussing with the sweater tied around her waist before she makes herself comfortable next to Ochako. 

Well, comfortable might be pushing it. Mina seems the farthest from comfortable at the moment. Her movement is erratic, awkward, agitated. Emotional. Ochako can smell Mina’s shampoo from this distance—a familiar scent, now. It's been a constant scent accompanying Ochako in the past few months, after all.

“I’m sitting next to you,” Mina announces, even though she already is sitting next to her. 

“Okay,” Ochako says. 

Outside, some of the kids are still fighting it out—that noisy blonde from 1-B is having a mouth-off with Kirishima-kun. Deku-kun is between the two, seemingly trying to calm things down. Unnoticed by all parties is Aizawa-sensei, walking over with a dark expression, ready to heartlessly berate everyone involved and wrangle them into the bus.

“I’m sitting next to you,” Mina says again. “I don’t care what you say. I don’t care about your. Lone wolf era. Or whatever fucking emo phase you’re going through right now. I’m sitting next to you.”

“Okay,” Ochako says. 

“Okay,” Mina says.

Ochako watches as Aizawa-sensei is, indeed, coldly berating everyone involved. Everyone involved looks ashamed before slowly trudging inside their respective buses, and as they do so, Midoriya catches Ochako’s eyes through the window. 

Ochako turns to look at Mina. 

There is a moment where Mina looks like she is about to flinch, as if she hasn’t expected Ochako to make eye contact. But then something flits through Mina’s face—something young and hard and maybe a little hurt. Mina doesn’t look away. 

Ochako does. “Okay,” Ochako says again. Mina doesn’t reply.

The bus ride begins. It’s as rowdy as expected. Someone—Kaminari, maybe—insists on getting the aux cord and starts playing experimental techno music to the dismay of everybody present. Kyouka takes over at some point and now the bus is lulled to the contemporary rock album of a local band. Some kids at the front are playing cards (Hell no, you did not fucking say Uno, Sero signs furiously, to which Koda calmly signs back, Yes I did, bitch), while others playing co-op games on their phones (“If the bus Wi-fi goes out one more time,” Tooru says, “I’m gonna be on the news.”)

Ochako does nothing but look out the window, watching the scenery blurs. City sceneries have swapped out for highways and trees, the streets going empty and emptier. The earth down below swoops higher—the air grows thinner. They’re going to the mountains. 

Next to her, Mina can’t stay still—being silent is killing her. People like Mina can’t be introverts if their lives depend on it. After another fifteen minutes of Mina fidgeting, Ochako says, “You can switch seats if you want.”

She can feel Mina tensing over. “Oh, so you’re done ignoring me now?” Mina says. It’s interesting to hear Mina try to be mean—she doesn’t have the heart for it. Her words sound more hurt than offensive. “No more cold shoulder from Miss You’re In My Way?”

Her sarcasm is unpracticed, but the anger in Mina’s voice is sincere enough. It’s funny. Ochako remembers how Mina cried at the mall when she saw the bruises around Ochako’s neck (Ochako can feel them still, throbbing and greening all over) but now she’s angry at her. It’s even funnier how Ochako can still recognize that what made Mina cry over Ochako is also what made Mina angry at Ochako.

How layered. How effortlessly complicated. Ochako looks out at the sky—no birds.

Ochako’s lack of reply seems to make Mina more upset. “Did you mean it?” Mina says eventually. Her voice has a strange, quiet quality to it. “About us not being your friends?”

“Yes.”

Pause. “That’s not true.”

Ochako doesn’t say anything.

“We are your friends,” Mina says. “I am your friend.”

Ochako blinks at that—at the stern way Mina said it, as if Mina believes wholeheartedly in what she’s saying. As if she’s saying Three times three is nine, Ochako. With that same voice, Mina says, “I’ve been your friend since you saved me at the Entrance Exam. Remember?”

“I didn’t save you.”

“Oh yeah? So you just destroyed that bot for—”

“For points,” Ochako says. “You were my human shield.”

“…Fucking hell, Ochako.” 

“It’s true.”

Another minute of silence. Ochako can feel Mina’s anger simmering in the air, but what Mina says next surprises her. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I,” Mina says.

Ochako turns to look at her. Mina looks back, again with that hard expression that Ochako now identifies as determination. “Sure you were using me as a human shield or whatever the fuck—but I’m here. So you still saved me, whether you like it or not. You saved me.” And then she adds, “Bitch.”

“That doesn’t make us friends.”

“All right, convince me why it fucking doesn’t, then.”

“I don’t have friends.”

Mina throws her hands in the air. “What in the world is your problem, actually?” Mina says, and she sounds actually baffled. “Like, what is this…” she gestures vaguely at Ochako. “Shounen tough guy main character act?! I don’t have friends? That’s all fine and well coming from guys like, freaking, Todoroki or Bakugou, I don’t know! But you? The hell, Ochako?”

Ochako is unaffected by her tirade. “I never had friends.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Sasuke!” Mina snaps. 

None of them says anything for a good five minutes. 

On minute six, Mina does this little sigh and fidget. “All right. I’m sorry.” Beat. “No, what the hell, I’m not sorry, actually, what am I even sorry for.” Another sigh and fidget. Ochako can see her pulling her own hair. “Okay, shit. Look … I’m … I just. I never. Fought with a friend before. Okay?”

Ochako believes that. It’s not an easy feat, but girls like Mina—they don’t fight. They sass at times, sure, but they’re socially adept enough to calibrate their tone, as if they were born with an in-house HR department in their brains. You need girls like Mina in every friend group; they’re usually the ones keeping the mood fun—keeping everyone friends. Or at least, keeping everyone to think that they’re friends. 

“Fighting” with Ochako, as she put it, must be driving her crazy.

“Literally never. So this is, ugh, this is driving me crazy.” Mina looks around and then back at Ochako, her voice a few volumes lower. “I just don’t understand why—why you’re like this, all of a sudden. I just… “ she takes a deep breath. There is a look of self-apprehension on her face as if what she is about to say is something her in-house HR department doesn’t approve of. “I think. There might be something…” something wrong with you, is unspoken. “… up with you and. I want to help you with it. Okay?”

Mina is wrong. There is nothing up with her. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Ochako. In fact, that’s what Ochako thinks is the wrong part—that there is nothing wrong with her.

Mina watches Ochako for reaction, but there is no reaction. Mina says, carefully as if prodding a sleeping tiger, “And I don’t know how to help you if you don’t tell me how.”

Ochako glances over. Mina’s face is completely red—even worse than Deku’s when he blushes, and that’s saying something. “Help me.”

“Yes, help you, ‘cause you’re so—” Mina seems at a loss for words for once. “You’re not acting like yourself, Ochako. So just. What’s wrong?”

Ochako knows what it means, to act like yourself. She has been doing it all her life. It means that she has to do the play-acting. She has to be boring. She has to be good. 

That’s what she thought. She thought she had to be good. 

There is absolutely nothing wrong with her.

“...Was Bakugou right?” Mina says eventually. “Is it because you don’t … want to be a Hero anymore?”

Ochako says nothing.

“Okay. I mean, that’s fine,” Mina says. “People change their mind about this all the time.”

Ochako says nothing.

“And—and what with USJ, and, uh, the mall incident...” Mina says. “I mean. I get it.”

Ochako says nothing.

“You’re. Well, we’re still young, too, so it’s. Not too late. To switch gears. It’s only, what, our third month?” Mina says. “The semester isn’t even over yet. It’s no big deal if you want to, you know … quit.” 

Ochako says nothing.

“Do you?” Mina says. “Wanna quit?”

“Maybe,” Ochako says. 

Beat. “Oh.”

There is a bump on the road, and the teens clap and cheer when the bus flies a little, like kids do. Though in a way, they are kids. Mina says, “Just because you’re not going to be a Hero it doesn’t mean you’re not our friend. You know that, right?”

“If I’m not a good person,” Ochako says. “If I’m not good. Am I still your friend.”

“...Again with the edgy shit. Like, what are you even talking about…” Mina grumbles, hanging her head as if this entire conversation is giving her a headache. She looks at Ochako after a second. “Ochako. Nobody is a good person.” She makes a face immediately at her own words. “Ugh, that sounded so pretentious. But what the hell. It’s true. Like, what even is a good person? I think everyone is at least a little terrible.”

“You’re not terrible.”

Mina laughs at that, which surprises Ochako a little. “Oh, I’m terrible. I’m an asshole, I really am. So is everyone. Right?” Mina says. “We can’t help it, you know. It’s just a part of us. We were just, I don’t know … made this way, I guess. We were made to be assholes.”

Ochako stares at her. Mina is smiling a little as she says it, at how ridiculous the sentence sounds. Her smile fades in a second. “What you said in the classroom—what you did to Momo. That was an asshole move. I’m angry that you did that. And then you just ignored us for days, which made it all worse, and the way you just keep acting as if nobody exists, as if you don’t exist, it really—” 

Mina takes a deep breath. She sounds quieter. “It really makes me angry how much of an asshole you’ve been. It—” Mina stops. “It makes me want to say terrible things to you. Really terrible things. I’ve been doing that, actually, I’ve been—saying terrible things about you in my head, about how you’re such a … about how you’re so…” 

Mina trails off, silent. They look at each other in a quiet tableau. Ochako waits—she waits for Mina to say terrible things to her. But Mina doesn’t. “I don’t want to do that,” Mina says instead. “I don’t have to do that.”

How complex. Effortlessly so. Ochako wonders if she could ever be that, ever. Uraraka Ochako is simple—so very simple. Nothing is wrong with her. “Okay,” Ochako says.

Mina isn’t angry at that apathetic response—she just laughs again, but it’s a laugh of hers that Ochako has never heard before; tinted with a hint of self-deprecation, along with something like relief. And she does, Ochako realizes, look relieved. The tension has gone out of her, as if saying all this has helped her somehow. “I’m not doing this right, am I,” Mina says. “Fuck.” 

Ochako doesn’t reply. Both of them are silent again, but this time there is nothing really simmering in the air—no threads pulled taut.

“You know that show,” Mina says suddenly. “The show that everyone was obsessed about when we were like, I don’t know, four or something—the show with the heroine, with the water powers—”

Ochako knows. “And ice powers.”

“Yes. The water tribe princess, with the white hair and shit..” Mina frowns. “Kind of like Todoroki if he was cooler. Anyway. I wanted to be a Hero ever since I saw that show, because—” she does that laugh again. “Because I wanted to be pretty just like her. And, and that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m in UA.” Mina shakes her head at herself, as if she finds herself funny for it. “Isn’t that crazy? People should want to do Heroics because some kind of, dunno, life calling and shit, but I want to be a Hero because it’s—”

“Cool.”

“Cool. And—well. And hot. And so that I can be … pretty, and … and fuck, I sound so stupid and shallow but it’s true. That’s why I’m here. I mean, of course, I’m no longer a dumb four year old who didn’t know who the fuck she was … and there are other factors too, like, like how it’s a well paying job and all, which is not a heroic thought at all…” There is a vulnerability there, in Mina’s grin. “But I know it all started because of that show. Because I wanted to be her.”

Mina looks down on her lap, staring at nothing at all. “And I still—well, I still do. I want to, you know … fight Villains. And look … beautiful doing it. Which, I know, is kind of real fucked up in all directions. But. It is what it is. So.” She shrugs, looking at Ochako. “I think that makes me at least a little terrible. Don’t you think?”

Ochako looks at her for a long while. Mina’s knuckles are white as she grips the bottom of her shirt—a nervous tic that Ochako never noticed she had. “I think it makes you a person,” says Ochako finally.

From the front, Aizawa-sensei announces that they’re going to make a stop soon, and some kid complains about having to pee. Mina shrugs again. Ochako has never seen her like this before—this side of her. Mina has always been honest; but this is different—this is Mina as is. 

It’s almost like Ochako is seeing her for the first time.

“I guess,” Mina says, with a tone of voice Ochako never heard her use before. “But it definitely doesn’t make me, like … a proper. Hero Hero, you know.” Mina glances back to Ochako. “You know what I mean, right?”

There’s a difference between a hero and a Hero.

Mina looks away again at Ochako’s silence. “What made you go to UA, in the first place?” Mina asks. 

Bakugou was right, of course. It’s because Ochako was bored.

That’s the baseline reason for everything Ochako does: she wakes up in the morning because she’s bored. Goes to school because she’s bored. Hurts someone because she’s bored. Hurts herself because she’s bored. 

She had thought that going to UA would make things more interesting. Switch things up a little. She had thought that going to UA would—

She had thought—

“I thought I could learn,” Ochako says. “I thought if anyone could learn to be a Hero then I could too.”

Beat. Ochako glances over. There is some kind of understanding there, in Mina’s face. Like she’s almost seeing Ochako for the first time, for real. Almost.

“What about now?” Mina says. 

Ochako doesn’t answer. She looks back out the window, looking for a lone bird. 

The mountain air is cool when they get off the bus, nearly a complete ailment to the piercing heat of the summer sun. Two beautiful women step up, teeth white and eyes sweet. Perfectly made hair, pristine costumes. Picture perfect Heroes out of a billboard advertisement. 

A picture flits into Ochako’s mind eye: herself. In that exact same pose—a heroic pose. Formidable, but cute, and beautiful, and desirable—to little girls and men alike. Floating in the sky. Untouchable, smiling right into a camera flash. Saying, I am [insert Hero name]. Fear not, for I am here.

The picture stays in her mind’s eye, for a moment, then shifts. Brown eyes bleeding into gold, perfect make-up smearing down her face. A pitifully endearing canine smile. Is that what you want, Ochako-chan?

The picture disappears. Ochako looks up at the beautiful Heroes, at their perfect lipsticked smile. “We are the Wild, Wild Pussycats,” they say sweetly, right before they try to kill them all. 

Well, not kill. This is all training, supposedly. Their Quirks activate. The stone beasts that rise up to greet the students as they traverse into the forests are mighty, and scary, maybe, if one is the type that gets scared by such things. Both 1-A and 1-B kids scramble as they trek across the hill to the lodgings, lest they deprive themselves of lunch.

Ochako doesn’t really care about lunches. Or stone beasts. Or perfect lipsticked Heroes. Or her classmates. They’re far ahead of her, splotches of colors amidst all of this green, a rowdy bunch running as if for their lives. 

Ochako isn’t running for her life. Instead she walks. Breathes in the fresh air. Bored again.

Always, always bored.

(Ten.)

Underneath her feet the earth hums as she takes her stroll. (Nine.) They feel different on elevated land—the strings of gravity, that is. (Eight.) They’re as taut as ever, there is no give; but there is a levity to them. (Seven.) Like a balloon on a string, floating ever closer to the blue, blue sky. 

It’s a theory that she has—a hypothesis. A thought experiment. What Ochako thinks is this: she can rip these mountains off the earth if she’d like to. 

But she wouldn’t know for sure, would she? Unless she tries it?

(Six.)

Unless she reaches down—

(Five.)

—feels her fingers—

(Four.)

—dig into the earth as she— 

(Three.)

—cuts the balloons—

(Two.)

—off their strings—

BANG.

From the trees, birds fly in flocks—startled by the loud, resounding noise. Ochako turns. 

Jirou Kyouka steps out of the trees, staring right at Ochako. Her Quirk is activated, her earphone jacks curling above ground. “Idiot,” Kyouka says. “Did you not hear it coming at fucking all? Do you want to die?”

In front of Kyouka, right behind Ochako, is the crumbled form of one of Pixie-Bob’s beasts, now melting back into the earth. Kyouka walks around it, after casually inspecting it with her foot in some muted disgust. She looks back at Ochako—and then her gaze shifts to the empty spot beside Ochako. “Mina’s not with you, huh?” Kyouka says, tilting her head. “That’s weird. I thought you guys were besties."

There has been something missing in UA—something that Ochako has always encountered in her student life beforehand. It’s this: the sneer at the corner of Kyouka’s mouth, the flash in her eyes. The meanness that teenage girls have.

The 1-A girls have been sweet. It’s been them against the boys. All the more reason for us to stick together, right?— someone said that, in the first few days they were in class. They have been very, very sweet. Ochako supposes she’s fucked that all up.

Oh well. It couldn’t be helped.

“We’re not,” Ochako says succinctly. 

“Yeah?” Kyouka says, walking closer. The leaves crunch underneath her shoes, twigs crackling like fire. “Just like how none of us are your besties, yeah?”

She’s just a little shorter than Ochako. It’s the first time Ochako notices that. “I don’t have friends.”

“Whoah, now, don’t cut yourself with all that edge, Ochako-chan,” Kyouka says, with that sharp glint in her eyes—with that pointed something that the other girls have always lacked. “I didn’t know you were such a fucking cliche.”

Ochako has nothing to say to that.

“I like you better like this, though. Before, you were always so…” Kyouka tilts her head. “Oh, I don’t know. You were always a little off, I guess. Just a little. Something about the way you smile.” 

Ochako blinks.

Kyouka leans back, watching her. The sneer slides off her face. And then she says, “She hasn’t been eating. Do you know that?”

Ochako doesn’t ask who. Ochako knows who exactly she’s talking about.

Kyouka says: “What you said. In front of everybody. Telling them … all that. It fucked her up. Do you know that?”

Kyouka says: “I mean, I just need to know. Why? Why’d you do—why’d you say all that? Do you hate her?” 

Kyouka asks: “Do you hate us?”

The wind blows, rustling the trees above. Somewhere there is an explosion—and the sound of laughter, excitement. Hero students training to be those picture-perfect, billboard-ready Heroes. “I don’t,” Ochako says, as honest as anything.

Beat. “You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

“…You did all that,” Kyouka says, her voice shaking with anger. “For no reason?”

Well, that’s just not true. There has only been one reason, and one reason only. “I was bored,” Ochako says—as honest as every single thing on this round, round earth.

They look at each other. Ochako sees the moment it clicks for Kyouka. For a split second there, Jirou Kyouka gets it. Understand it all. Ochako wonders if Kyouka is going to hit her, then, because Kyouka certainly looks like there is nothing else in the world she wishes to do more. 

She doesn’t, though. Instead, Kyouka looks far away to the horizon of trees where they can hear the other kids continue their battle training. Crickets sing in the bushes. The sound of summer is all around them, hot and sweet. 

Kyouka’s Quirk deactivates, her jacks retracting. “I really don’t get what Mina’s trying to do, sticking to your side like that,” Kyouka says after a while. “I guess she’s nice. Feels the obligation to reach out, or whatever. Well—I’m not nice. I’m a bitch.” Kyouka turns to look up at Ochako. “And so are you. Right?”

“Sure.”

“Sure. Okay. I want you to know this...” Kyouka walks closer once more, not stopping until they’re inches apart, close enough that Ochako can see the lack of pupils in her eyes. Kyouka’s voice is flat as she speaks.

“Whatever it is you’re going through,” Kyouka says, looking into Ochako’s eyes. “It’s not interesting. It’s not new. It’s not special.”

Ochako says nothing. Kyouka steps back. “Oh, everything is meaningless, wah, wah. God. Like, move on.” Kyouka dusts herself off, rolling her eyes. “If Mina wants to hold your hand through whatever PMS crisis this is you’re having—her funeral. But leave the rest of us fucking out of it, Uraraka.”

Kyouka doesn’t wait for an answer. Ochako watches as she leaves, walking off to the direction of the lodgings. Ochako looks up—the sun is slowly inching down to the horizon. She’s going to miss lunch, as always.

Can’t be helped.

The rest of the day is a boring and painful affair. More of these “trainings” are unleashed upon them. Ochako isn’t paying much attention to any of it. And then there is the onsen bath, where the girls are deathly silent as they soak in the mountain water and absolutely do not look at each other. Or something. Probably because Ochako has painfully harshed the vibe by being there and being herself. Ochako isn’t paying attention to that either. 

It’s all so dreadfully boring, and she’s just going through the motions as it all happens. Cleaning herself up, washing herself, standing when everyone’s standing, sitting when everyone’s sitting, doing whatever everyone’s doing.

This is all boring her. To death. So boring, that it almost circles back to being interesting—because Ochako has forgotten this, a little. She’s forgotten that life is like this—a cycle of nodding and smiling and eating and shitting and just generally mulling around until something tries to kill you. The past few months have had its moments, as it turns out—there have been thrills, here and there. A 60-day trial of an exciting life. But before that—it’s been exactly like this. 

Everything is meaningless, wah, wah. 

So true.

So true. Wow. 

How she has survived the past 15 years of her life without blowing her brains out along with the rest of the planet, she has no idea. 

For dinner, they’re all gathered at the mess hall to cook curry together in some kind of bonding activity. Something like that. The 1-B kids are cheerful and rowdy and happy in their side of the kitchen, throwing carrots at each other and taking selfies as they work in tandem. The 1-A is a little quieter. Well—the 1-A girls are all quieter. The boys seem to try to make up for it, but there is an untouched tension in the air that seems to be killing everybody’s joie de vivre.

Not that Ochako cares.

Ochako is chopping vegetables when Mina sidles up to her, passing some carrots for her to cut. “Hey,” Mina says.

“Hey.”

“We kinda got separated back then, and I didn’t get to, um, check in with you at the onsen—”

“Uhuh.”

“—but are you okay? From the training, I mean? I didn’t see you at the med tent afterwards.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They chop carrots for a while. Then, “Kyouka is pissed at me,” Mina says. “For talking to you.”

“Okay.”

“What she doesn’t figure is that I’m basically talking to a brick wall,” Mina says under her breath. On the other side of the room Ochako can see the rest of the girls huddling together, doing their own thing—chopping the cabbages or whatever, pointedly ignoring the other group. The separation between the two camps is obvious enough that the boys seem uncomfortable with it, going from one side to the other as if walking on eggshells, like the children of divorced parents. “Whatever,” Mina says blithely, glancing at Ochako as if at an inside joke. “Not as if I’m gonna be in class with her for the rest of the year, and the next, and the next.”

“Uhuh,” says the brick wall.

Mina sighs next to her. “Anyway. Look. I’m here to check in on you, but also Kirishima, um, kinda sent me over to talk to you about something too.”

“Okay.”

“We’ve established that you were being an asshole to us girls,” Mina says. “But were you being a dick to Midoriya too? Because he keeps looking at you with that kicked puppy look and it’s driving the boys crazy. Or so Kirishima said.”

“Uhuh,” Ochako says, dicing the carrots.

“Except for Bakugou, I guess, because he never gives a shit about anything.” Untrue. “But like actually.”

“Uhuh.”

Mina makes a face at her. “Okay, I know you’re doing this surprise reveal thing where you’re actually a bitch this entire time and I respect that. And I don’t care about—okay, Midoriya is nice, but I’m not close to him or anything..” beat. “Unlike you.”

Ochako looks at her, but before she says anything, Mina says with a surprising rigidity: “Deny it all you want, but you and him are friends.” Mina looks to the boys’ station. “And. Look at him. He’s like, so sad.”

Ochako looks, and catches Midoriya’s gaze across the room immediately. He automatically looks away, which makes it obvious that he had been looking at her this whole time, which is—well, whatever. Ochako watches as he continues setting up the plates for the class, shoulders slumped. Ochako goes back to her carrots. “Uhuh,” she says.

Mina passes her another carrot. “Just talk to him, maybe. At least talk to him once before you drop out or whatever it is you’re planning to do. Like, you could at least give him some catharsis or something.”

“Uhuh.”

“Midoriya has the saddest face in the world and now it’s ten times that. The class really can’t handle him projecting his sad boy energy for the rest of the semester. Or the entire year. And the year after that. And after that.”

“Uhuh.”

“I mean, our talk today was—” Mina clears her throat. “I know. Nothing’s really fixed and we are all kinda fucked up still, but. I feel like. I kinda … get you better … and it. Helps.”

“Uhuh.”

Mina points a carrot at her like a gun. “You’re really starting to piss me off, you know.”

“Uhuh.”

The carrot falters. “Wait, but Midoriya didn’t … do anything fucked up, right?” Mina’s voice pinches low. “Did he try anything weird—?”

Ochako takes the carrot from her and dices it too. “He didn’t. Get another carrot.”

Mina sounds relieved. “Oh, okay.” Mina hands her another carrot. “So. What’d he do, like did he confess to you, or something?”

“No,” Ochako says. She glances at Midoriya’s slumped shoulders and the sad boy energy emanating from his entire being. “He doesn’t see me that way.” 

She would be able to tell if he does. The way she could clock Mineta, and Taka-kun, and those other boys and men and, occasionally, girls.

Granted, it’s not as if Ochako has been able to really tell what Midoriya is like anymore. But with Midoriya—

What’s your favorite color?

—she doesn’t think it matters.

Nothing about it matters, in fact.

“Okay..” Mina says, slowly, like she’s trying to understand a physics problem. “So what’d he do to piss you off so bad, then?”

“I’m not pissed at him,” Ochako says. And then she says, “He saved my life.” Ochako can feel Mina’s eyes on her as Ochako puts the carrot cubes inside the boiling pot. “Twice.”

“...And that’s why you’re pissed at him.”

“I’m not pissed at him,” Ochako repeats, stirring the pot. “Dice the potatoes.”

Mina takes Ochako’s knife and begins to dice some potatoes. “All right,” she says. She sounds a mix between annoyed, confused, and—oddly enough—a little sad. “You know, Ochako. When we get back, we need to get you to some kind of psychologist. Or a therapist, I don't really know the difference. Or! A therapy dog. Wouldn't that be fun?”

“Uhuh.”

“I heard they’ve got other animal variants too nowadays, so you can get a therapy hedgehog if that’s more up your alley. Doesn’t that sound nice? A therapy hedgehog.”

“I don’t understand pets,” Ochako says.

“Oh my fucking god,” Mina says.

Dinner goes on without much affair. 

Mina is sitting next to her once again. Ochako ignores everyone and plays with her food after managing to swallow two spoonfuls of rice. No one really talks to her after she only replies with “uhuh” and “okay”, with Mina gallantly taking over the conversation every time. Ochako supposes it’s sweet, what Mina is doing—all her attempts at whatever this is she’s trying to do. Mina doesn’t have to do all this. Not that it matters.

Momo isn’t at the dinner table. Not that that matters either.

After dinner is done, Ochako helps wash the dishes in silence. It takes her approximately ten seconds to realize that someone must’ve arranged it so that she and Deku are the only ones left in the kitchen by the end of it.

Not that she cares.

“Uraraka-san…” Deku says, when Ochako is done wiping the dishes. “Can I talk to you?”

“Uhuh.”

“Okay,” Deku says quietly. “Meet you outside—by that camphor tree with the signage—in five?”

“Uhuh.”

Deku skulks outside like the saddest dog in the world.

Ochako puts the last dish back on the shelf. She considers not going. She considers a lot of things. She considers how bored she is by it all.

The tree Deku is talking about is the giant tree in front of the inn, with the ancient Welcome signage on it and a bench, which Ochako sits on. The night is cold and the air is fresh—cicadas and stars both aplenty. Not long after, Deku shows up. He’s carrying some things with him.

“Um..” He sits down next to her—giving considerable berth. “Here. You can. Throw it all away if you don’t want it.” 

It’s a plastic bag with tupperware inside, a thermos, and some bananas. Ochako looks at it, saying nothing. The tupperware is hot to the touch. 

“It’s chicken broth,” Deku says. “I read that bananas and chicken soup help with nausea. I don’t know the specifics … of your situation, but. I thought maybe—“ he cuts himself off. “And, um. The thermos. It’s ginger tea. I know you like juice, usually, but I thought—”

“Did you make these.”

He blinks. “Ojirou-kun helped.”

The tea smells good. So does the soup. “Okay,” Ochako says.

“You can throw it away if you want to,” Deku says again very quickly. “You don’t have to eat it, I just thought—since today was pretty tiring, I thought you’d need some energy—“

“Okay.”

“—and it could. Could be dangerous if you don’t have enough food in you...” he trails. “Uraraka-san. I’ve upset you. And for that I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“But I’m not sorry for stopping that Villain.”

Ochako looks up at him. Deku looks back. Clear-eyed. So clear. “I won’t apologize for that,” he says, almost apologetically. “Because I’m not sorry.”

Ochako opens the lid of the thermos. Takes a sip. It tastes great. “You’re not sorry.”

“No, I’m not,” he says. And then he says, “I’m sorry. That I’m not sorry.”

“Okay.” Ochako screws the lid back. She takes the banana out and starts to peel it. Deku watches her do so, saying nothing when she starts to eat it very, very slowly. 

“Uraraka-san,” Deku says. “Do you ever feel like … like you want to. Die?”

She chews until the banana is just sludge in her mouth. “Yes.”

“Oh.” He looks down. Leans back, like he’s surprised. “Oh. Well, that’s … um.” He pauses. “You shouldn’t—it’s not— ” his words shut down again. His shoulders seem to deflate. “I. Okay.”

Ochako swallows her banana. “Do you?” she asks him back.

There is a long time where Deku doesn’t answer. He just looks at his hands, blank. His eyes don’t seem so clear anymore. And then finally, very very softly, he answers. “Yes.”

Ochako tries the soup. It’s quite good. “Okay.”

Deku doesn’t say anything else after that, and neither does Ochako. She looks up at the stars. There are a lot, and quite beautiful.

“Switch with me,” Mina says.

Bakugou looks more annoyed than anything. “What?” Then he sneers. “Sure, I don’t give a shit.”

“It’s okay,” Ochako says. 

Mina looks at her, silent. Ochako looks back, silent. Mina looks at Bakugou, silent. Bakugou looks back, far from silent. “Fucking what?” he snaps. “Weirdo.”

Mina rolls her eyes, looks back at Ochako. “Fine,” she says, and then goes back to Tsuyu’s side. The both of them proceed to enter the forest. 

The forest is silent when it’s Ochako’s—and Bakugou’s—turn for the courage test. It’s completely dark out by this point, the path only lit up by the occasional lanterns peeking through the bushes on their path. The entire time, Bakugou says nothing. Ochako says nothing. When the first 1-B kid shows up with a “BOO!” and fake blood all over him, Bakugou says, “Oh.” Ochako says nothing.

“What the hell,” the 1-B kid says after a pause. “That’s so boring. Whatever, keep going this way.”

“Okay, asshole,” Bakugou says.

The second 1-B kid shows up after a while with another “BOO!” to which they say nothing back. She stares at them. They stare back. She rolls her eyes and jabs a thumb in a direction. “That way,” she adds, “Stoic motherfuckers.”

“Fuck you too!” Bakugou says.

They continue walking. The forest is full of life with animal sounds and the susurration of the trees. Up above—the stars. More apparent now that they’re far away from the light pollution of the city. If Ochako pays attention she can map out some of the constellations; Cygnus, Lyra. Aquila. The air smells like leaves and wet earth. 

“BOO!” says the third 1-B kid all dressed up as Sadako. 

Ochako says nothing. “All right,” Bakugou says after a beat. The 1-B kid rolls his eyes and points to a direction. They walk.

They get to the end of the test of courage in no time. Or at least they think they have. They’ve been walking a while, deeper to the woods following the signs, but there are no more 1-B kids in sight. It’s peaceful. It’s boring. “This is so fucking boring I could just kill myself,” says Bakugou. But then, stopping in his tracks, he says: “Wait.”

Bakugou stills. An owl hoots somewhere. “Something’s off..” Bakugou says, low. He squints to the distance. “Hey. Hey, 1-B!”

Ochako looks. It’s barely perceptible, but there is a person far ahead—a figure slumped by the tree. From the costume, this seems to be one of the 1-B kids who was supposed to scare them. The kid isn’t responding when Bakugou shakes their body vigorously. Bakugou clicks his tongue, checks on the kid’s pulse. “Alive. Hey. Hey. What’s…” he stops again, and then snarls, “Gas! Don’t breathe it in!”

Huh, Ochako thinks. Huh.

Bakugou has torn a strip of fabric from his shirt and ties it over the kid’s face and his own. He gives Ochako a strip without words before he starts carrying the kid on his back. That’s when Mandalay’s telepathic Quirk resounds in their head, clear as day: We are under attack—get to the camp—don’t—

“Don’t engage?” Bakugou repeats her, barking a nasty, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, sure, why don’t I go fuck myself while I’m at it too?”

—just retreat. I repeat, just retreat!

“Fucking shitshow!” Bakugou curses.

Huh.

It all happens so fast. So very fast. From a distance, Ochako hears the screaming begin, and sees smoke rising up to the sky, covering up the stars. Chaos is happening at the camp. Huh. Huh.

Well.

“Well,” Bakugou says, his voice muffled by the makeshift mask he’s made for himself. “Aren’t you happy as a fucking clam?”

The kid is secured on his back, but he only has eyes for Ochako. Just like how Ochako only has eyes for him. “You’ve been looking so sad and dreary for days on end but—look at you now. All fuckin’ sunshine, eh?”

Bakugou can’t quite threaten her—his hands are occupied, for one, and they’re in the threat of this mysterious sleeping gas enshrouding them. But there is a menace in his voice, as always. And that look in his eyes, like he’s assessing her. Dissecting her. “Did you do this?” Bakugou says sharply. “Is this something you’re involved—”

“Wow,” a sweetly familiar voice says. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

Bakugou reacts instinctively—the air lighting up in explosives—but he misses as Himiko dodges his attacks with shocking ease. She’s laughing, high and sweet, stark in the night, the main vocal ringing out with the background of faraway screams. Then Himiko turns to smile at Ochako, wide and toothy. “Hello, gorgeous. I’ve missed you.” There is a glint in her fingers—a knife. It’s bloody, just like her face and her clothes. “Ooh. Maybe we can switch. Maybe I should go brunette. Do you think I’ll look good as a brunette?” She grins at Ochako, as her blonde hair shifts to brunette. “Be honest. Yay or nay?”

“Shitting shit, so you did do this,” Bakugou says, looking between the two of them with something like fury and caution and everything in between—but mostly hate. Ochako can almost hear the gears in his head turning as he assesses the situation he’s found himself in. “Fuck, Uraraka, I always knew you were gonna snap but I didn’t think you were gonna befriend fucking Danganronpa over here.”

He looks tense. He can’t fight properly with the kid on his back, and they all know it. And from the way he’s standing, putting his guards up—he looks like he’s expecting to fight the two of them. But Ochako doesn’t care about that—at least not in this moment, because—

“What are you doing?” Ochako asks her.

Himiko smiles at her, eyes crinkling above her gas mask. “Didn’t I say?” Himiko says. “We’re gonna redo the world.”

Ochako looks at her. “What are you doing here?”

Himiko blinks. “Oh. I guess I forgot to mention, didn’t I?” Himiko says in a whoopsie tone of voice. “We’re here to pick you up, silly.”

“What the fuck,” Bakugou says.

“Oh, he wanted you at first, actually,” Himiko says, turning to look at Bakugou after having just remembered he existed. She turns back to Ochako, looking at her dreamily. “But he changed his mind. Once he realizes you’re special. Once he realizes you’re just like us. Just like him.”

The air is blistering with heat. Somewhere in the forests, there is a fire—the dim glow glances off Himiko’s plaid skin, turning the edges of her hair into gold. Himiko reaches out, extending her hand to Ochako in a blatant invitation. “That’s basically it! Soo,” Himiko says, sing-song. “What’re ya waiting for?”

Oh.

Oh.

(Ten.)

Of course. How had Ochako never considered it before?

(Nine.)

Or maybe she did. (Eight.) Maybe it’s exactly what she has always thought about. (Seven.) It’s all so obvious.

(Six.)

It’s all so—as Kyouka had put it—cliche.

(Five.)

And it’d be easy. (Four.) Easy as breathing. Easy as cutting the strings off those balloons. (Five.) Easy as a touch, as five fingers cradling another five, as hands touching, as skin meeting skin. (Three.) As jumping, and falling.

(Two.)

It’d be as easy as reaching her hand out.

(On—)

“Bakugou! Ochako!”

There is a shimmer in the air, and then the ground erupts in ice. One second Toga Himiko is standing in front of her, arm stretched out, flesh and blood—and the next a blizzard swoops in and crushes into her body from left to right like an avalanche. There is a gust of cold, cold wind, and then the explosion of ice dust in the air like wood shavings. Himiko’s body splashes into black mud—spraying everywhere like a sprinkler hose.

For a second the air is still, save for the chaos in the distance. And then Ochako feels it as a gas mask is pressed into her face by—

Momo. Momo and Todoroki, coming to their side. That explains the ice. “Thank goodness,” Momo says, fastening the gas mask on Ochako’s face. Her hair is a mess and she looks exhausted. “We've been looking for you everywhere—”

“Stay sharp,” Todoroki says, cutting their conversation, as the ground breaks into a glacier. “We’ve got a second company.”

Another Villain, at the end of the road. There is a severed hand on the ground, as bloody as his teeth, the only visible part of his body. The rest is covered and strapped in black harnesses, as if he just escaped from a high security prison. “Flesh,” the Villain says. “I want to see your flesh.”

“Oh, great,” Bakugou says behind his now-proper gas mask. He’s put the 1-B kid down, now being tended to by Momo who’s creating another mask from her body. “Got another fucking sicko on our hands, I see!” His hands light up. “Just perfect!”

The atmosphere shimmers with snowflakes. “Watch it. You make a big fire, we’re all fucked,” Todoroki deadpans, a flat warning. “Don’t go around getting everybody stupidly killed.”

Bakugou sneers. “Why don’t you fucking tell Uraraka that?”

Momo glances sharply at him. “What do you mean by—”

“Uraraka…?”

They all turn to look at the Villain, who twitches. The Villain says again, his voice high and hoarse. “Uraraka … Ochako?”

The Villain’s teeth snaps up like a lance, but it never reaches Ochako. Todoroki’s ice barrier and Bakugou’s fire turns the air crisp, and the resulting sound is deafening. In front of her is Momo, something sleek and metallic forming from her skin as she shields her. “Ochako,” Momo says, her voice tense. “Stay behind me. Please.”

Mandalay’s Quirk rings in their heads: One of the Villain’s targets has been identified, the transmission says. It’s the student known as Uraraka Ochako. I repeat. It’s the student known as Uraraka Ochako—

The Villain doesn’t seem phased by the damage. More of his teeth grow into whips, jabbing the ground like spider’s legs. He looks monstrous. “Found,” he says. “You.”

He opens his mouth, teeth lengthening like sabers—which then explode in shards of bone.

A shell casing clinks to the ground. Momo holds the sniper rifle steady in her arms, a suppressor attached to the barrel. “Todoroki, Bakugou!” she barks, loading a new round. “Cover me!”

The boys follow her command. Bakugou doesn’t go long-range, instead playing melee with Todoroki’s ice shielding him up. He’s quick, the Villain’s Quirk chasing after him until Todoroki has got him frozen and immobilized. The maneuver was done efficiently. “Yaoyorozu!” Bakugou calls out. “Now!”

Momo aims. And then the villain’s head explodes into mud.

Ochako watches Momo’s hands shake as she loads another round, even though the Villain isn’t moving anymore. Even though the Villain is clearly dead. She isn’t really looking at Ochako or any of them. She opens her mouth and closes it again. “I. I killed him.”

”You didn’t. Look,” Todoroki says, as the remains dissipate into dark liquid that melts into nothingness. “That wasn’t corporeal—I think it’s some kind of cloning Quirk. Same thing happened with that other Villain. That wasn’t her real body.” He checks her over. “You don’t look good. Quirk overuse?”

“No, I—oh,” Momo stumbles, but holds her own at the last second. Her fingers are trembling as she puts the safety of her rifle on. She looks pale, her face shining white in the dark. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Todoroki looks at her expression. “Don’t break down now,” he tells her. Matter-of-fact and without sympathy. “You can think about everything later.” Todoroki carries the 1-B kid on his back. “But now, we need to get back to camp. Let’s—”

“Nah, we’re not,” Bakugou says, turning to Ochako. “You have some explaining to do, Uraraka.”

Everyone stops to look at him. His clothes are singed at some parts from his own fire, and there is a line of blood on his cheek and arms where the Villain’s Quirk has gotten him. He is looking at Ochako with a focus so sharp it makes him look a little empty. “You and that crazy Villain bitch knew each other. Did you bring them here?”

“What...?” Momo stands up. “That’s ridiculous, Ochako wouldn’t—”

“You heard what Mandalay said,” Bakugou says, stalking to where Ochako is standing. “These Villains are coming here to pick her up—”

Momo is quick to stand between them. “Kidnapping isn’t the same as picking her up!”

Bakugou looks past Momo at Ochako. “Then how did you know that crazy psychopathic bitch?” Bakugou says. His voice isn’t loud, for once. In fact, they’re low, quiet, dangerous. “Huh, Uraraka? Met her at the crazy psychopathic bitches convention, did you?”

“Did you really know that Villain?” Todoroki says, behind Ochako. He sounds curious, and cold. “Are you really working with them?”

“We met once,” Ochako says.

“Well, that settles it,” Bakugou says as he moves forward—and then stopped by Momo’s rifle aimed right into his head. Bakugou freezes.

“That settles nothing,” Momo says shakily. But her aim is true, and the rifle is steady in her hands. Without looking back at Ochako, she says, “Ochako. Did you know they were coming here?”

“No.”

“Did you ask them to come here?”

“No.”

“That settles it,” says Momo to Bakugou’s face. “That Shigaraki Tomura Villain looked for her. Presumably, so did this … as you put it. Crazy psychopathic bitch." It’s strange to hear Momo pronounce all these vulgar words. “They were scouting her. That does not mean she is guilty.”

“Yaoyorozu,” Todoroki says, an aloof warning. “Put that down.”

“Not until I’m sure he’s not going to try and hurt Ochako.”

“Gosh, look at you two best friends,” Bakugou sneers. His Quirk is still activated—the sparkle dancing in his palm. “And here I thought you guys had a fucking divorce.”

Todoroki seems to be losing his patience. “This is ridiculous,” he says flatly. “We are in the middle of a Villain attack and you are having this absolutely nonsense argument—”

Bakugou throws his hands up, an exasperated gesture. “Fucking hell!” he says. “Fuck, can’t you both see it? You said it yourself—they are scouting her. They want to recruit her. They want to turn her into a Villain!” He looks at Ochako with that same hatred. “Not as if it’s hard.”

“Even if that’s true,” Todoroki says, cold and untouchable as he always is, “That’s no reason for you to attack her.”

Bakugou clicks his tongue impatiently. “This is just fucking disappointing, honestly,” Bakugou says, voice just as cold. “I always thought you both were the least stupid in this fucking class, but looks like I’m wrong, huh? Right, I’ll spell it the fuck out for you.” Bakugou points at Ochako. “She is a fucking time bomb. If they get their hands on her, it’s fucking over. So we have to get rid of her or it’ll be fucking over.”

Silence. The air grows thicker and thicker with smoke. They can hear the crackle of fire from faraway, the forest fire starting to burn closer and closer.

“You want to kill her for something that she hasn’t done yet,” says Todoroki finally. 

“Yes,” Bakugou says, like it’s idiotic to even ask. “What, you wanna wait until she kills all of us first?”

“I see,” Todoroki says contemplatively. “You are insane.”

Bakugou ignores Todoroki's diagnosis. He glances over to Momo. “You,” he says. “You’ve spent a lot of time with her. You even had that little spat in class—whatever the fuck that was. Be fucking honest. You don’t think that something’s off? You never had the tiniest bit of suspicion. That something is wrong with her? Ever?”

Momo looks at Ochako. Ochako looks back. And for a moment they’re back in that bed, in the dark of Momo’s room. Back in the kitchen, rinsing mouths with soda powder and cold water in the dead of night. 

They break eye contact. Momo says nothing, but the look on Momo’s face says it all, and it appears Bakugou knows it too. He smiles, no humor. 

“Someone like her,” Bakugou says, looking at Momo. “With her Quirk … what do you think will happen if the Villains have got her on their side?”

Todoroki looks between all of them, taking all this in. “If she’s as dangerous as you say—” Todoroki looks over at Ochako, passive and calculating. His gaze moves back to Bakugou. ”Then what makes you think you can kill her?”

Bakugou doesn’t miss a beat. “Because she’s a crazy suicidal bitch.”

Todoroki shakes his head. “This is fucking stupid,” he deadpans. “We are getting back to camp. When we get there, you can tell Aizawa-sensei this stupid thing you are telling me and you can ask him if you can kill her or not. If he says yes, then go ahead and kill her. But now, we have to get back to camp.”

Bakugou’s Quirk sizzles. “Oh yeah? And what the fuck makes you think you can order me arou—”

There is a click of the gun’s safety being turned off. “I’m not letting you hurt her,” Momo says, barrel still aimed at Bakugou. “So step back, Bakugou. Todoroki is right. We need to get back to camp.”

Bakugou doesn’t flinch in the face of her threat or her bullet. He just looks at Momo with that same disappointment. “Pathetic,” he spits. He turns to look at Ochako. Behind him, the forest fire rages. There is a clarity in his eyes. “Why don’t we ask the star of the fucking show? Hey, Uraraka. You think we should kill you, or what?”

They all look at her. Ochako looks back. She thinks about it—the three of them, the best students in 1-A, banding together to try to kill her. It’s not such a bad idea. Ochako says—

“Ochako, Momo! Todoro—all right, what the fuck kinda Battle Royale shit is going on here?” 

Ochako glances at the newcomers. “Hi, Mina,” Ochako says.

“O … kay..” Mina says, slowing down to approach them cautiously. She looks a little worse for wear, but nothing visibly critical. Behind her Tsuyu and Shoji appear from the trees, carrying a severely wounded Deku. For a moment Ochako thinks the latter is unconscious, but then Deku lifts his head weakly—his expression breaks into relief the moment he sees her. “Oh, thank god,” Deku croaks. His voice is severely roughed up, and Ochako wonders if the person screaming from back then was him. “Uraraka-san—you’re safe. You need to—” he coughs. “Get away.”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki says, and for the first time the ice in his expression melts away, leaving space for genuine concern in his face. “What happened?” Concern shifts to anger. “Who did this?”

“You should see the other guy,” Deku starts, but it seems to be the most he can manage He coughs, wheezes. “We all need to—to get to camp…”

“Yeah. We need to do that...” Mina looks between Momo’s gun, Bakugou's sparking hands, and Ochako in between. “Or. Are you guys going to kill each other first?”

“If so, do it quick,” Tsuyu deadpans. “Because we need to get away.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, his Quirk dying. “Fine,” Bakugou says. “If she fucks all of us over, it’ll be on every single fucking one of you.” He looks over to Ochako. “If you fuck us over,” He says. “It’ll be on me to fuck you up. Remember what I told you, Uraraka.”

“...What the hell is he talking about?” Mina says, but Bakugou is already stomping to the camp’s direction. “What’s that even me—Momo!”

Mina speeds forward to catch Momo as she limps over, helped by Tsuyu. “I’m sorry,” Momo says. She looks alarmingly malnourished—her rifle is held weakly in her hand. “I can, I can stand, just let me—”

“We’re not letting you do anything,” Mina says. She bites her lips, as if feeling guilty for what she’s about to say next. With a lower register she says, “Momo. You need to eat something.”

Momo flinches. But she says, “I know.”

“Let’s get to camp and we’ll look for something you can eat, okay?”

Momo nods—a roll of tear running down her cheek. Then another. And another. “Okay. God, I’m—I’m sorry, if I’d just—then I could do this b-better, I could be more of a use to everyone—”

Mina and Tsuyu look shocked by Momo’s sudden burst. “Hey, hey, none of that,” Tsuyu says gently, getting her bearings. “None of that. It’s not your fault. If Kyouka was here, she’d scold you for saying all of this.”

Momo smiles blearily. “She would. Where is she?”

“Back at camp. Last I saw, she was helping Aizawa-sensei. So let’s get back, yeah? I’m sure she’s waiting for us to get our shit together.”

“Yeah,” Momo says, wiping her eyes with the back of her gunpowder-covered hands. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Todoroki has gone over to help Shoji carry the 1-B kid and Deku, talking in soft words to the latter and checking his wounds. There is a moment after where he throws a glance at Ochako—that cold, calculating glance. Ochako doesn’t care. She looks ahead. The stars seem to be dying in the smoke. “Look,” someone says. “There’s the camp. Oh, fuck…”

They all can see the camp now, lit up and wrecked, completely fallen into chaos. There are Quirks, and people, being thrown around. There’s a smell of something burning, sizzling—and the flame emanating from the trees surrounding is a strange, eerie blue. Unnatural flame. 

“This is worse than USJ,” Mina says. She sounds shell-shocked. “How—how could this have happened? We have to go now, we have to—” something like a small sob hitches out of her throat. “We have to s-see if e-everyone’s all right.”

“Kyouka,” Momo says. She sounds terrified. “What if she's...?”

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Tsuyu says, but she too sounds scared.

“We have to regroup first,” Todoroki says, helping Midoriya walk. Next to him Shoji is carrying the unconscious 1-B kid. “Let’s head to the lodgings. We have to contact the Heroes for help.”

Ochako looks out at this chaos, and the stars above—they’re harder to see now with the smoke and the flame and the screams. And then Ochako feels it, the way she has always felt it. An ant nibbling at her skin. 

“Bakugou is gone,” Ochako says.

Everyone stops. “What?”

She feels it—something pulling at the edges of space. A stretch in the fabric. No, this one is a loop, something looping up the fabric. A smaller layer on top of another bigger layer. Or rather, a makeshift, pretend marble, pulling at the strings around her marble.

There is someone with a spacetime Quirk nearby.

“Someone took him,” Ochako says.

“That’s right,” says the Villain. "I’ve taken him with my magic.”

They look up. The Villain is standing featherlight on the tree branch, his mask grinning at them all. Above his hands are two marbles circling each other. And for some reason, Ochako knows he’s staring right at her. “After all, why not?” Mr Compress says. “Why only take one, when you can take two?”

The Villain moves, quicker than she expects, and then—

“What … just happened?”

In Ochako’s hand is a single marble. On the ground next to her is what’s left of the second marble. And nothing’s left of that masked, grinning Villain.

“Did you see that? That Villain just imploded, I—Ochako, are you okay?”

“Ochako-chan,” Tsuyu’s voice is taut with tension. “What did you just do to that Villain?”

“I held him,” Ochako says, a little distractedly as she inspects the marble between her fingers. Her pinky is raised.

“Where’s—where’s Bakugou?”

“He’s in here.”

“What..?”

Ochako ignores them. What a strange Quirk she just encountered. It’s nothing like Thirteen-sensei—there is some similarity to that teleportation Villain, but not exactly the same. She rolls the marble on her palm. There is space inside. There is time, even. She feels the strings attached to it—infinitesimal.

“Uraraka-san..?” Deku. Ochako turns—they look at each other. He has his arms around Todoroki’s neck, hanging off of him. He looks small, and torn, and scared, and tired. “What do you mean Kacchan is in there..?”

Why not Ochako just show him? She puts all of her fingers down on the small, smooth surface, and cut all of those strings off. There is a pop, and then they’re looking down at Bakugou having a seizure on the ground. 

“Fuck!” Todoroki curses, gently putting Deku down to rush over to Bakugou. “Bakugou. Hey, hey—fuck...”

“Kacchan..?” Deku says, and it’s the first time he sounds so small, like he’s in disbelief that this is happening. Like Bakugou being so hurt and fragile is the final piece of sanity chipping away from his mind. “Kacchan, please—”

Bakugou is frothing at the mouth, his body twitching and twitching, before he eventually stops moving. Everyone holds their breath, watching as Todoroki puts his finger on Bakugou’s pulse. “Alive,” says Todoroki. “But barely. We need to get him to medic—fuck.” He looks at Ochako. “What the hell was that?”

“He sealed him up with his Quirk. Compressed his atoms … contained it into a pocket dimension. The marble.” And Ochako simply undid it, by undoing the space of the marble. And Bakugou, too, for a millisecond. He will probably be fine.

“This is too much,” Mina says, laughing helplessly. “Fuck. This is too much. It just doesn’t stop.”

“Spacetime Quirks interact strangely with one another,” Momo says wearily. “Let’s go—camp is right there. We’ll get help. We’ll get—the help that we all need. C'mon, Mina.”

The path to the lodgings isn’t a long one, but it feels as if it takes forever. They bump into other students—1-B kids, hurt, some passed out—there are a couple other 1-A kids too, like Tokoyami and Aoyama. “I don’t see Kyouka,” Momo says.

“She should be inside. Don’t worry, she’s tough. Nothing can get her.”

Momo smiles, but she doesn’t look sure. “You’re right.”

“Look,” Mina says, relief coloring her voice. “There it is—the inn! There should be a landline right at the receptionist.”

Mina scampers up the stairs to the porch, missing the blood trickling from inside, underneath the main door. Tsuyu sees it—her face blanches. She says, “Mina, hold on—”

Mina opens the door.

It’s an old Japanese-style room, all wooden with intricate carvings and bamboo decorations. It’s nice, thoroughly clean, and a little bit on the fancy side with just a warm enough touch to make it feel homey. They had all waited here on the first day, excited to go into their assigned rooms, chattering about how huge UA's budget is. Aizawa-sensei has warned them of the rules given by the innkeeper, a kindly old man with a cheerful smile—there should be no littering, no smoking, and no drinking. The innkeeper had laughed a belly laugh and said, Ah, Sensei, I was young once too. Kids their age won’t listen.

Now, the innkeeper lays on the floor. Unsmiling. His belly ripped open as if someone took a knife to it and wondered what was inside. His blood is still fresh, seeping to the wooden floor, painting the roots of the decorative bamboo shoots red. Next to him, littering the floor, are the bodies of Kaminari, Sero, and Sato. All unsmiling and unseeing. Their chests are still, as if they are no longer breathing. As if they no longer need to do so.

And at the end of the room, standing right behind the receptionist desk, is Uraraka Ochako.

It looks like her, down to the same exact clothes she’s currently wearing, to the slightly lighter hair. But this Uraraka Ochako is smiling a smile that Ochako has never worn on her face ever. She doesn’t think she ever did, at least. It’s a doll-like, endearing smile—it makes her look both pitiful and beautiful, in a broken sort of way. 

“Oh, hi,” says the other Uraraka Ochako with Ochako’s own voice. Her voice shifts in the next word, to something higher and girlier, and much more familiar. “Welcome to the party.”

There is a wet, gurgling sound. Ochako’s eyes snap to the source—right underneath the Uraraka Ochako with Himiko’s voice, pressed into the receptionist desk and dripping blood all over the landline telephone, is Jirou Kyouka. Her head is slightly turned, looking at them standing in the doorway. Her mouth is open, her teeth entirely scarlet. Himiko’s hands are close to Kyouka’s stomach, encircled around it—for a second Ochako thinks Himiko is hugging her until she sees the glint of the knife. 

“Oh, shush,” Himiko says, pulling the blade out of Kyouka’s stomach. There is a slick, jelly-like sound as she does so, and they hear the sound once more as Himiko sinks her knife once again into Kyouka—as if cutting into tofu. Kyouka wheezes and struggles to no avail. Himiko tuts and chastises, “Can’t you die prettier?”

Mina screams.

Himiko doesn’t seem to be bothered by that. “I didn’t mean to kill them. Just wanted to take a bit of their blood,” Himiko says conversationally as she twists her knife further into Kyouka’s flesh. “But they found me out. Well, she found me out. Crazy! I thought I had you down pat, but she just knew I wasn’t you, somehow. So, no choice.” She must've hit an artery—a spray of blood spurts all over her face. Himiko seems pleased, licking some that got on her lips. “Oh, yum. O-type negative.”

And then the world bursts into blue.

A scorching hot blue. For a second Ochako thought she is in the sky, she is surrounded by the blue, blue sky, but then she realizes it’s fire. Flames. Soot, and ash, blood. And Himiko’s laughter coming out of Ochako’s mouth. 

Everything, then, is a blip.

Someone screams again—maybe Mina, or Momo, or somebody else—it all mixes up. It’s getting more difficult to breathe with the air so thick with smoke it’s choking—the gas mask is gone from her face, at some point, she isn’t sure when or how. Distantly, Ochako finds it a little difficult, and pointless, to pay attention to anything at the moment. It’s a peculiar sensation.

Another fight breaks out—another Villain, another Hero student, the night lighting up with clashing Quirks. There is Todoroki’s ice, at some point, and Tokoyami’s darkness, and there is a taste of metal in the air alongside power. Silhouetted by the strange blue fire, Mina is pulling the bodies of the students out of the inn, eyes glimmering with tears and hate. A lot of people are screaming, or laughing, Ochako can’t really tell at this point. Not that it matters. Not that any of it matters.

She thinks she may have just killed another person, a Villain maybe, but it doesn’t really matter. She looks down. She is standing at the fire-eaten porch, and looking at her are the wide empty eyes of Kyouka as her body is pulled out by a screaming Tsuyu by the ankles, painting a river of red from point A to point B. Far ahead, she thinks she sees Himiko laughing gleefully as Momo charges at her. Or maybe it’s Mina, or somebody else. It doesn’t really matter.

Ochako walks off the porch, into the burnt grass. She looks up. She can’t see the stars anymore—their lights are beaten shut. And Ochako thinks, oh. She thinks: This is the opposite of good.

This, Ochako understands, is evil.

“Uraraka-san.” 

Ochako turns. Deku—and it’s really Deku, she knows, not Himiko. He looks half-beaten to death and he’s barely standing, but he has his hands around Ochako’s shoulders with a kind of desperation in his eyes that Ochako can’t look away from. “Uraraka-san. We have to get you away.”

She can feel his blood where he touches her. It’s sticky, and hot. “Why?”

“Come on,” Deku says, pulling her away. He’s limping. “Come on. This way—”

“That’s cute,” a voice says. “But I don’t think so, kids.”

A Villain steps out from the shadows, his hands burning blue, his skin greatly disfigured. The Villain’s eyes find Ochako’s, crinkling with dead-eyed humor. “Hey. So. It’s you, huh? The main package.”

Deku stands between the both of them. “Leave her alone.”

“Aw. Teenage love. How very adorable,” says the Villain. “Must be nice to be young, huh?” he starts to laugh when Deku screams from his fire.

(Ten.)

At some point, the fire dies. At some point, Ochako is looking at Aizawa-sensei standing in front of her, mighty and broken all the same. “Take your hands off my student,” Aizawa-sensei says, eyes shining red. “Villain.”

(Nine.)

Aizawa-sensei is holding on to his sides, which bleed all over. Deku is gasping on the ground, curling in himself, writhing. At some point Todoroki appears, running over to Deku in furious desperation, blood running from the side of his temple, fire and ice going on a rampage—only to be overcome by the Nomus, coming out of the woodworks like wild animals. Clones and clones of them. Undying. 

They’re all surrounded. 

(Eight.)

“You’re all going to die here,” the Villain says. “Well, some of you. Some others, we need to kidnap and all that shit. But we gotta leave a message for all of Japan, y’know?” he grins. “And you’re on the kill list anyway, Eraserhead—so see you in hell, yeah?”

The Villains are winning.

The Villains are winning, and the Heroes are losing. 

(Seven.)

Aizawa-sensei is going to die, and maybe Deku too, and also Mina and Momo. (Six.) Tsuyu and Tooru and Kyou—oh right, they’re already dead. What about Bakugou, did he die too, at some point? Before he can make full of his promise to Ochako? What a shame. 

Oh well.

It’s not like he can kill her anyway. 

(Five.) 

Okay. So now…

So now what?

(Four.)

The answer is obvious, of course. It’s obvious. It’s cliche.

(Three.)

There is a clear-cut equation here. A simple physics problem. And maybe it’s finally time for Ochako to put it all into practice.

(Two.)

If she can’t learn to be good, why not give evil a try?

(One.)

Ochako kneels down and touches the ground.

Everything comes down to a single point, like a knife, or a needle—the threads of space, the yarn ball of topography. She grasps all of it. The world. The continent. The city. The mountains.

She takes hold of it. Wraps the strings around her fingers like a marionette. She reaches down. Feels her fingers dig into the earth, as she cuts the balloons off their strings. As she pushes.

The ground shakes and starts to splinter apart.

If there is a way to describe it, it’s like an exhale. You take a deep breath and feel the constriction of every single thing that ever matters in this world. And when you breathe out, you let go. And if you keep letting go, just like that, then the world will be nothing but an empty space in the middle, nothing but a world-shaped hole—

It’s over very quickly. There is a buzz in the air where space and time try to stitch themselves back together. Try to kiss back the marble of gravity twirling and twirling in their fabric. 

She had activated her Quirk to the earth for only less than a second. Barely even that, really. Ochako stands up and looks around at the carnage around her. 

The forest fire has died from the sudden nullification of gravity, and the trees have been uprooted for as far as she can see, clearing an eye path for the horizon to show itself. The inn is barely standing, the walls choked open from the impact where the building had landed back to the ground. The bus, previously parked at the back of the inn, is impaled on what’s left from the camphor tree—like a toy that’s been angrily thrown away by a toddler. There are bodies littering throughout the earth—some of their joints all wrong. Then, the choruses of human voices start: the crying. The gasping. The vomiting. The sound of physical bodies trying to recalibrate back into the geometry of shape. Somewhere, a bird sings as dawn slowly breaks over the broken mountains.

There is Deku on the ground. Ochako kneels down. He is breathing, but not conscious. His pulse is weak under her finger. Ochako takes off her wristband—the pink now ashen with soot and darkened with blood—and puts it around his wrist. Ochako moves to stand up when someone grasps her hand.

Aizawa-sensei. He’s conscious, and looking at her with dazed eyes. “Stop,” he gasps.

Ochako gently pries his fingers off her wrist. It's quite easy—he really has taken a beating. “Sensei,” Ochako tells him calmly. “I’m dropping out of school.” 

“Uraraka,” Aizawa-sensei chokes out through a mouthful of blood. Some kind of plea. Or warning. “Don’t—don’t— ”

She walks over him to the blue-flame Villain.

The Villain is conscious too, though he’s still busy vomiting his guts out. When he gazes at her, there is a look on his face that’s somewhere between incredulous and fear and complete surrender. He wipes his mouth with his scarred forearm. “That’s the craziest fucking Quirk—” he gasps, coughs a broken laugh. His voice is hoarse. “Craziest fucking Quirk I’ve ever seen. You fucking monster.”  

He shuts up when Ochako crouches down to look him in the eye. There is that fear again, flashing across his face—and with it, the black acceptance of someone knowing that his head is on the chopping board. “Make it quick, will you,” he says, with a manic smile on his face. “God knows I don’t deserve it.”

“You’re the leader of the League of Villains?” Ochako asks him. 

“Fishing for intel? Come on,” The Villain hacks up another broken laugh. “Just kill me already.“

Not the leader then. “You’re here to kidnap me.”

The Villain blinks. “What?” he says. And then, “Well. We were.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“...Huh?”

“Kidnap me,” Ochako says, standing back up. She looks at him expectantly. “Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

"Package is extracted. We are leaving the scene."

"How many casualties?"

"You count. I wanna get the hell out of here."

"The Heroes are here."

"Late to the party."

"Too bad. I'd've liked to fuck Endeavor up."

"Is that Midnight? Ooh, I've always had such a huge crush on her..."

"No time, we're leaving."

"Where is the package?"

"There."

"Shouldn't we incapacitate her—?"

"Hah. You're welcome to try."

”All right. Wait, where’s Compress?”

”You're gonna meet him soon.”

“You’re gonna love it here. Really, you will.”

“Stop talking to the package.”

“Oh, me and Ochako-chan are besties. We had a killer first date, after all.”

“...Freaks."

"She'd need clothes. And a bed. Ooh, can we have a dresser?"

"God, can't you shut up."

"Why don't we make a stop at the mall first?"

"The what? Toga, we are wanted criminals. We just killed a bunch of Hero kids."

"Can't we? Can't we? Let's go shopping, come on. We can torch the place after."

"Ugh."

"We're here."

"Ooh ... can she room with me? Please please please?"

"Take it up with the boss. Hey, you—uh. He wants to see you first. This way."

“You're going to love him. Oh my God, I can't believe you're here! With me! This is going to be so so fun."

"Enough. Don't keep him waiting."

"See ya soon,” Himiko says, blowing Ochako a little kiss.

Ochako walks in.

The room is dark and a little cold. There is a constant beeping of a machine and the rhythmic hum of the air conditioner. What little lighting there is shows cables snaking throughout the room like overgrown plants, crowning a hospital bed in the center of it all. A short man in his sixties is operating the machinery, and does not seem to notice Ochako’s existence. But the thing lying in the bed does.

“Hello, Uraraka Ochako,” All for One says. “I’ve been expecting you.”