Whose crazy idea had this been again?

For the life of her, Ochako couldn't remember.

She also wasn't sure from whose satchel the slim volume ("Divine Futures Now!" by Master Mystic Prognostica) had appeared; or why her classmates were now all buzzing around, measuring each other's lifelines and reading out mock portents of doom.

In fact, as the weight of Deku's hand settled dreamlike into her own, she was sort of having trouble remembering her own name.

He looked up at her: curious, patient. Smile wobbly.

A tinge spreading past his ears, just enough to admit that he wasn't quite used to the contact. But was willing to try?

Had it been Yaoyorozu? No, Momo was much too levelheaded to seriously entertain this kind of superstitious frippery. A girl whose Quirk hinged on memorizing the chemical makeup of exotic thermoplastics couldn't just turn around and pick up a tarot rag.

Hagakure? Maybe. The book practically sprang from thin air; and everybody knew Tooru loved secrets. No one could read her palm, anyway – a logical ruse, their instructor would have ruled it, and perfectly fair in love and war.

But the invisible girl was fully occupied with a red-faced Ojiro across the way, and by his nervous twitches as her sleeve delicately traced over his wrist and knuckles, she was busier enjoying his reactions than divining his fate.

"Uraraka-san?" She snapped back to a pair of dark eyes looking guilelessly into her own.

"Yes! Right." Her voice sounded squeakier than normal, and she ahemmed officiously for a moment before adopting a witchy stage whisper. "OK, here we go, Deku-kun. The bones will soon tell your future…!"

He laughed and spread his fingers for a better view. "I – I hope they're in better shape than mine, then, or I'm in trouble."

She studied the page, where stipply black-and-white diagrams showed the location of the major lines crisscrossing an open palm. "Okay, let's check out these little ol' lines here…"

Gee, they were surprisingly hard to find. Deku's hand already looked and felt much older than the rest of him – dense, heavy, knobbly from all the times it had been shattered and speedily re-set. His index finger would probably always bear a kink.

Ochako rolled back time in her head, trying to source the origin of each break. Was that the time he had pulverized it against Todoroki? And then done it again, eyes wild, blood on the ice, roaring his lungs out with a voice too big for that small body?

The skin of his palm was still soft and pink, even surrounded by leathery calluses. Beating with warmth.

Without entirely meaning to, she slid a finger gently down the back of his thumb, feeling out the clusters of old scars. It was like holding the pawpad of some ancient lion.

"There's really so many, aren't there," she murmured aloud.

Deku didn't answer. But the paw shivered a little under her touch.

Deku had no one to blame, either – by the time he had finished his evening calisthenics and struggled into pajama pants, wandering sleepily into the common area to see what all the fuss was about, the game was already afoot.

"Eugh, dude, your hands are all sticky!"

Satou had the good grace to look sheepish. "Oops. I guess I forgot to wash up after mixing that last batch of macaroons."

"Oops is right, you lug. I should have worn gloves, it's all over. What is this, lemon?"

"Er, yeah. And ginger. Lemon-ginger glaze."

"Huh." Kaminari took an experimental lick. "Cool. Got a recipe?"

"Hey guys, what's going-" Deku started, when a loud indignant cry drowned the question out. Iida spun around in a padded swivel chair, his stately nose thrust up in a huff. "Nonsense, all of you! This is not a subject worthy of U.A. time and resources, and I'll have no more part in it!"

A flash of cotton-candy pink hair, as Ashido broke up with giggles. "Aw, you're just mad about your results. Like really, how would it know whether you wet the bed until you were twelve?"

Deku could have sworn the class president shook the foundations of the building as he stomped off to bed, looking more mortified than angry.

Ashido cackled, flipping upside-down to hang off the sofa. "Aw, and it just said he was bound for travel or something. Hey Midoriya, wanna try? Free reading, all it costs is your soooul…" She waggled her fingers.

He smiled weakly. "Uh, I guess?" The only fortune-tellings he had ever had were off of gum wrappers and the morning horoscope. Her eyes lit up – figuratively speaking.

"Yesss! We had an odd number anyway. Tokoyami's off spooking kindergarteners or something and, well, you know how Baku-chan is."

Yes, Deku supposed he did. It was hard not to laugh at the thought of a hooded Kacchan with a crystal ball, screaming for better reception; exploded tarot cards littering the tent like confetti.

His classmate did a slow, catlike cartwheel off the couch. Her trim pink legs flashed lazily through the air. She had on a pair of silvery silk shorts that Deku tried not to notice.

Ashido stretched her back and scanned the room. "Okay, who's not paired up already – oh?"

"… Oh. Ohh."

Something in her smile made him feel like a lamb among wolves.

Here you go, dearie, stand right there. How do you feel about rosemary? Mint? Interesting.

A yelp escaped him as she seized his wrist, dragging him energetically over to-

"Urara-chan! Don't just sit there reading it, girl, let's try some practical application!"

And now he sat awkwardly across from his best friend while she poked and prodded, trying to salvage a decent profile from his beat-up mitts. U.A.'s considerable budget had financed some awfully comfy lounge chairs – some European brand, probably, and worth more than his dad sent home in a month – but Deku felt himself shifting as if on a sack full of pebbles.

Her small shy hands were so deft next to his own clumsy ones – so careful and well-made, like china on concrete.

Were the little pads on her fingertips always so soft?

He'd only noticed them after the fact... after that first time when they had teamed up during the entrance exam. When was it?

Recollection came in trickles. He remembered a forty-story training bot... a flash of light. The strange sensation of something filling his arm - burning hot and impossibly strong, like warheads going off inside his bones.

Then falling. An echoing blow to the head that almost didn't feel real. Darkness. Pain.

More pain.

…

But… less than he'd expected?

Sure, his face smarted a little. A woozy feeling in his stomach, like the elevator had taken an emergency stop sixty floors down.

Of course. Surely these were the dim impressions of oncoming death; the last gasp of a little curly-haired Quirkless kid spread out on the test floor like a squashed jelly donut. Poor young'un, the janitors in his mind said as they scraped him into a pan. I heard All Might was really pulling for this one. Oh well, let's mail him back to his mother.

Seconds passed. No scraping. He opened his eyes.

Uraraka.

She'd smacked him hard in the face, the impact (married with his own momentum) blooming into a stinging bruise even as it rendered him weightless – just a busted little balloon bobbing three feet off the ground. Saved his life, saved the exam, and landed him here at the school of his dreams. Even the bruise was gone within five minutes, courtesy of Recovery Girl.

The agony in his tattered arm and leg took longer. And it brought all its friends.

Yet what he remembered now was Uraraka's face screwed up with desperation, lunging forward – and that full-bodied, five-finger haymaker of a slap.

It was absolutely the softest thing he'd ever felt.

The memory thrummed against his cheek as he watched her.

Uraraka glanced determinedly between the open magazine and Deku's palm, careful always to keep one fingertip safely out of contact.

" 'Size'," she read aloud. "Wow, it says that big hands make you a real planner, a brains-before-brawn type… No kidding, mister mumbles," she teased. Deku laughed wryly.

"Lifeline starts down here, encircling the Mount of—of what? Oh, Venus. Um. Generous to a fault; open with time, money, and affection. You bet." There was a cartoon of the author, sporting a large warty nose under several layers of primped blue hair. 'Prognostica Sez: You're quick to trust and slow on the uptake! Beware of scammers, con-men, and fair-weather friends!'."

"In other words, don't buy this crap!" Sero crowed from the kitchen. Mina flicked a blob of acid at him, nearly melting his sandwich as he ducked around the corner.

"Anyway. Um, I guess that brings us to the heart… line…" She trailed off as a sudden chorus of chairs creaked and slid and thunked behind her.

Ochako became uncomfortably aware of way too many eyes drilling into her shoulders. A dozen ears perked up with little ding-ding-ding sound effects. Subtle.

Of course Deku, bless his dumb sweet smart freckled face, gave no indication he noticed.

" 'The twists of romantic fate find expression in the heartline. Each mark suggests a past entanglement'…"

Everybody looked. His was as clear and straight as an arrow.

Jiro snickered a little. "Well, it's not like Midoriya-"

At Yaoyorozu's hand on her shoulder, she bit back whatever unkind thing was next, looking a little sheepish.

"This brings us to… to the characteristics of your fated partner…" Mina clasped her hands together, barely holding in a squeal of delight.

Ochako's tummy was doing slow, mean flips. She had several ideas how this might play out, all horrible.

Why was this such a big deal, anyway? It was just a game. A dumb little diversion from Quirk refinement and rescue drills. This wasn't supposed to be a spectacle. Come watch the amazing Uravity, hero to tomorrow's citizens, get tongue-tied and sweaty holding a boy's hand.

"The, uh, this one gives you all kinds of info! It doesn't even have to be about- well, okay, everything here is about that, but there's probably so many sets of interpretations," she chattered. "Say, whose thing was this again?"

This wasn't supposed to be how it goes, a small voice said glumly.

Perhaps he had felt how sweaty her hand was getting, because Deku jerked out of her grip like he had been burned. He jumped to his feet. "Come o- on, everyone, that's enough."

Ochako was about to suggest a nice game of hide-and-seek – here, I'll go first, everybody count to a million – when the sleeve of a frilly nightshirt sleeve darted over her shoulder and swiped the magazine off the tabletop, neat as you please.

"Oh, come on you two, we're dying with suspense here!" Hagakure chimed. The pages began flipping in midair as she twirled, reading aloud. "Oooo. 'Your fated partner is revealed in the back of this issue.' Isn't that exciting?"

"What's it say?" Ojiro asked. Satou towered over her to peek.

"It says… it says… Aw, damn it!"

The magazine began crumpling itself violently into a ball.

"'Buy next month's issue to find out'," Hagakure huffed. "It's just a lousy ad!"

A collective groan went up, as Ochako's stomach magically un-knotted. "What a rip-off," Mina complained.

Yaoyorozu coughed. "Well, Iida-kun was correct; there's really very little substantive evidence behind these things, even if Miss Prognostica's Quirk works as advertised... I suppose we can't be too shocked at her business practices."

Her fair shoulders sagged a little. "Still, it is a bit of a let-down. We'd all like to think things can be predicted so easily."

They all agreed, and the cluster of would-be heroes dissolved in a chorus of yawns and chatter as they headed back to the dorms.

Ochako breathed a sigh of relief, wiping her fingers dry on her pajamas. Deku looked equally refreshed, and he offered her a hand up and a shy grin. She accepted them with gratitude. "Hee hee, that got kinda wild, huh?"

"I never knew Ashido-san was so interested in stuff like that," he remarked. "Or girls in general… Do they talk about it a lot?"

She waved it off. "Not me. You couldn't get me to open a fortune cookie if there wasn't a cookie involved. It's just… It's gotta be more fun to find out about all that on your own, right?"

"Y- yeah."

Deku looked down. There was a small smile that she couldn't quite read.

"I dunno it's the right time to start thinking about it – not while we've got to work hard to become heroes… But everyone here is so lively and different. I wanted to get into U.A. because of All Might, but I really never imagined how it would really be."

His voice had lost its stutter, she noticed.

"When I do meet someone, I think it would probably happen in a place like this. Like U.A."

The lights auto-dimmed as they turned towards the elevators. She wondered if the warmth in her chest was symptomatic of something. "Well, good night, Deku-kun."

"G'night, Uraraka-san. Sleep well."

The doors opened, and she dove inside to duck her burning face into her hands.

Why— why did that make her feel so— ?

A cheerful tap on her shoulder made her yelp.

"Gyah- wha- Tooru-chan?!"

There was no face above the frilly nightshirt, but somehow Hagakure winked. "Don't let them get to you, hon. There'll be plenty of time later. And without an audience."

"Dunnowhatyrtalkinabout," Ochako mumbled.

But she spun around and gave the invisible girl a quick hug anyway. "Thanks." Her savior tittered and squeezed her back.

They parted at Hagakure's door. She really should have just said goodnight.

But the burning question left Ochako's lips before she knew it was coming. "Hey, uh… that is—you did see it, right?"

She looked away, twiddling the tips of her fingers together. "You know… what did it really-"

Hagakure just disappeared into her room with a wave, laughing the laugh of someone who knows the score.

Author's note:

Just got the bug to write something. I like these two cuties, but I like thinking about how the rest of Class 1-A interacts even more. They're good kids.

Ideally the inconsistent naming scheme won't bother anyone - I just went with whatever seemed easiest.

I hope you like it. (Don't forget to click through for the epilogue!)