Limerence
(Haunted)

- 0 WEEKS –
AUGUST

Ochako wakes to silence.

The morning sunlight casts luminescent shadows across the room, warmth puddling in their depths. She blinks into consciousness slowly as she shakes off the last vestiges of sleep. As sleep-muddled as her brain still is, she knows something's wrong.

Something's very wrong.

It's silent.

She hasn't known silence like this since those lonely days in that apartment back before UA moved its students to Heights' Alliance.

She sits up and yawns. Pulling her mittens off, it doesn't take long for her to notice the bed is made beside her. It always is – that in itself isn't unusual – but there's a sense of finality to the crispness of its corners, like the man who folded the covers back channeled all his frustration into the mundane task.

That's right.

He's gone.

Ochako swallows hard against the emotion that wells in her throat. She knew this was coming. She knew what she was getting into. She thinks back to a cold winter night; to a gym, an exercise bench, a barbell, and a healthy dose of courage. She remembers the warmth in her soul despite the chill.

She wasn't trying to fool herself.

She never tried to fool herself.

On this hot summer morning, Ochako shivers. All that is gold cannot stay, and indeed it did not. It's okay. She has her life. She has her friends. She has her career. She has what's important.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

With a deep breath, Ochako steels herself for the day. She gave herself today off. As prepared as she was for today, she still knew it would be hard. One day. She would give herself one day, and it would be back to life as usual.

Well, almost as usual.

She pushes herself from the bed, bare toes meeting sun-warmed floor. She stretches. Cracks her back. The sound echoes in the empty silence of the bedroom, and she winces.

Maybe she'll go out today. It's a nice morning, and she doesn't want to stay cooped up in her silent apartment. She thinks Tsuyu has today off as well. She knows Deku doesn't. Her idiot best friend really thought work would be a good distraction from the fact his boyfriend is no longer in the country.

He may be right. Ochako hadn't wanted to find out otherwise.

She heads toward the bathroom with another heavy sigh, leaving her side of the bed unmade behind her. She has her hand on the doorknob when she pauses.

Tears prick her eyes and she chokes. She turns, crosses the room, and rips back the covers on the other side of the bed. She refuses to let those crisp corners taunt her. She refuses to be haunted by the ghost of a man who isn't even dead.

The entire bed is hers, now. She can't be pretending otherwise.

She accidentally slams the bathroom door behind her. For a moment, she simply stands there, trembling. Whether she's trembling in sorrow or anger, she doesn't know. She doesn't particularly want to find out.

Neither would do her much good.

Ochako meets her own gaze in the mirror above the sink. Her hair is getting long, she thinks. Should she cut it? She likes it long, but maybe it's time for a change. She runs her fingers through the chestnut strands as she considers the thought.

Just like he used to.

He always loved her hair.

She pulls her hand away, running it back through her bangs. It's too soon to tell, she decides. She'll think on it for a while, maybe ask Tsuyu or Deku what they think as well. Her eyes skim her reflection. Nothing looks different about her. She looks the same as she always did.

From her reflection, one couldn't tell she feels like she just had a major piece ripped from her. This is good. This is very good.

She wants to keep it that way.

She has to keep it that way.

Ochako does her business, lingering in the bathroom far longer than necessary. Opening the door means facing the day, and she's not quite ready for that and all it entails. It doesn't matter though, does it? It doesn't matter if she's ready or not.

She pads out to the kitchen, barefoot silence in a left-bare room. The hum of the refrigerator when she opens its door is a welcome break, its voice joining in harmony with that of the lights and the air conditioning. Standing there in her pajamas, Ochako surveys its contents as it speaks to her.

The refrigerator is stocked, its shelves full of food and produce. It's a far cry from the emptiness of the refrigerator in her first apartment, from the new emptiness of this apartment. She stares. Katsuki– Bakugou– must have gone grocery shopping before he left.

Ochako doesn't know what to do with half this stuff.

Katsuki– Bakugou. He did most of the cooking. She never learned how.

With a heavy sigh, Ochako settles for a simple Western breakfast of toast and jam. That much, she can do. She'll have to learn to cook now, won't she? The thought intimidates her. Her! Uravity! She takes down villains without a second thought but the thought of cooking intimidates her. She laughs to herself as the bread toasts. Her laughter is firecrackers, the toaster a gunshot.

She jumps.

Dashing off a text to Tsuyu as her toast cools, Ochako breathes. She can do this. It's … honestly not as bad as she thought it would be, last night as she laid awake and traced Kats– Bakugou's noble, moonlit features with her eyes while he slept.

She's strong, she knows. Even if he hadn't made a habit of telling her so, she would know it. She won't let something like this drag her down for long.

She can't.

Her plate hits the dining table with an audible clink. The seat across from her is empty. This in itself isn't unusual. Ochako has taken breakfast by herself many a time when her schedule didn't line up with Kats– Bakugou's. Honestly, the most unusual thing is that Bakugou's leather jacket is still draped over the back of the chair across from her. He usually takes it to work with him.

She blinks.

He usually takes it to work with him.

His leather jacket is still draped over the back of the chair.

He usually takes it with him.

Why is it here?

Ochako's toast falls back to her plate, forgotten. That's his favorite jacket. How could he have forgotten it? Was he in that much of a rush after making the bed so neatly?

She stares.

Should she … text him? Let him know he left it behind? Surely he was missing it, but … no. She did some mental math. He's on the plane by now, there's no point in texting him.

Clean break, she reminds herself as she stands and rounds the table in a daze. She resolved not to text him for anything, but … is this different?

She lifts the jacket from the back of the chair. The smooth, worn leather is a comforting weight in her hands. How many times had he embraced her wearing exactly this jacket? How many times had she admired the figure he struck with it upon his frame?

How many times?

How many times?

There wouldn't be any more.

Her frame convulses. A sob rips from her throat. The cry echoes through the apartment, the space mourning his absence along with her. Every wall, every defense she's built around her heart since waking this morning shatters beneath the force of her sorrow.

She sinks to her knees, the jacket clutched in her hands. Her stomach flips. Her quirk is active. If she lets go, the jacket will float off into the middle of the room, her spirit along with it. In one fell swoop, she falls apart there on the floor of her hollowed-out apartment. She hugs the jacket tight as if it will help her hold herself together.

It doesn't.

How can she look at this jacket and not mourn everything that is, that was, and that ever could have been?

Ochako struggles to control her breathing. Sliding across the floor until her back hits a wall, she lets that solid pressure ground her. She's in her apartment. She's in her apartment. She has everything she needs.

She never needed him.

She just wanted him.

She still wants him.

If this were a movie, she thinks, a dampened cheek resting upon folded knees as she stares toward the entryway, he would burst through the door any second now. He'd realize she was more important than his career, get off the plane, and come back to her.

Through her tears, Ochako laughs at herself. She's not more important than his career. He's not more important than hers. That was one of the things they agreed upon early on in their relationship, and it was an understanding that saw them through many a fight.

Life isn't a movie.

He's not coming back.

Something catches her eye. The overhead lights glint off the metallic face of her apartment key. It lies on the floor just inches away from the front door. Ochako buries her face in Katsuki's jacket as she bursts into a fresh wave of tears.

She realizes too late that saltwater can't be good for the leather. She pulls away and wipes it off as best she can, which … isn't great, but it's something. With a shaky breath, she loosens her grip and pulls it on over her pajamas instead.

She releases her quirk, and the weight settles like a hug around her shoulders. The jacket smells like him, all burnt sugar and that cologne he wore upon occasion. If she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend he's right here beside her.

Almost.

She knows he's halfway across the world.

Maybe … maybe she should text him. It wouldn't be too hard to ship the jacket to him, and he's probably missing it. He's just too proud to text her first.

Ochako instinctively reaches into the jacket pocket for her phone, realizing too late it's not her jacket. She's in her pajamas, and her phone is still sitting on the dining table. To her surprise, her fingers close around a folded piece of paper. She should let sleeping dogs lie, but she's always been too curious for her own good.

She sniffles and draws it out.

It's a page from the notepad that lies on the kitchen counter, the one they'd use to leave notes for each other on days their schedules were so opposite their paths didn't cross for longer than a couple minutes at a time. She unfolds the page with careful precision.

She drops it.

The page stares up at her from its newfound position on the floor. The short message written upon it taunts her in Katsuki's explosively familiar scrawl.

Chin up, it reads. Show 'em what you've got.

The note isn't signed, but it doesn't need to be. Katsuki left it there for her to find. He left his jacket on purpose, and thus there's no reason to text him.

The idiot, she thinks as she bursts into tears once more. Hadn't they agreed on a clean break?

Then again, did she ever really expect him to adhere to that?

It's a question she can't answer.

Ochako cries until she can cry no more. She feels dry. Empty. Hollow. Almost mechanically, she unfolds and pushes herself to unsteady feet. She grabs the note absently. It doesn't feel right to leave it there on the floor.

Her phone lays forgotten on the dining table, her now-soggy toast beside it. She checks her messages to see she's missed a text from Tsuyu, but she ignores it. Going out is the last thing she feels like doing now.

She dials a familiar number instead.

The person on the other end picks up after only one ring.

"Uraraka?"

Tears prick her eyes. Apparently she hadn't cried herself out, after all. "Deku," she sobs.

"He's gone." It's not a question.

"Yeah," she says. "And I–" I don't know what to do.

"I'll be right over," Deku says.

She remembers then that he doesn't have the day off like she does, and she probably shouldn't have called him in the middle of work. "No," she says. "No, you don't have to do that. I'm sorry."

"Uraraka," Deku says gently, "I was sent home early. I'll be right there. Hang tight, okay?"

Ochako nods before realizing Deku can't see her. "Okay," she whispers.

Deku hangs up, and she's left holding a silent phone to her ear. She busies herself with throwing out the soggy remnants of her toast, and it's not ten minutes later that she hears knocking.

She opens the door, and Deku falls into her arms. He's crying, and she's crying again too, and somehow they make it to the couch before their legs give out beneath them.

"He's gone," Deku sobs, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. "I– I saw him off at the airport and– and now he's gone."

"I know," Ochako whispers, her words wet with tears. "I know. I woke up this morning and– and he wasn't here, either."

"I'm sorry," Deku says, pulling back and wiping his eyes. It's a hopeless gesture. More tears immediately follow. "I came to help you, and I ended up a mess myself."

"It's okay," Ochako says. "You are helping. Thank you."

They spend the day watching cheesy television and eating takeout. His presence is a reminder she's not alone, and hers is a reminder that neither is he.

It's enough for now.

- 3 WEEKS –
SEPTEMBER

Ochako settles back into a schedule.

The sheets remain rumpled. The fridge empties out. The hum of the electricity keeps her company. It's eerie, the silence. She hasn't lived alone in nearly four years. On one hand, it's nice to return to peace and quiet after a hectic day in the field, but she starts to get antsy after only a few hours of absolute silence.

She calls Deku. She calls Tsuyu. She calls Mina, Momo, Kyouka, and Tooru. She calls Iida. Sometimes they don't talk much. Sometimes they just leave the line open and go about their business. It helps, though, knowing that someone is there.

Ochako knows it isn't sustainable.

The weeks pass, and she doesn't call her friends nearly as often as she did in the beginning. It's stupid, she thinks as she pulls yesterday's bento from the office refrigerator. She knew what she was getting into when she started dating Kats– Bakugou. She can't keep running to her friends crying of a broken heart when she essentially did the breaking.

She knows Kats– Bakugou didn't want to break it off. She knows he would've been willing to attempt the long distance if she asked. She knows, and that only makes it worse.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Ochako sighs heavily and takes a seat at one of the break room tables. She slumps against the tabletop, her cheek propped against her knuckles. Why did she have to check Twitter that morning? She knew it was going to set her off, seeing Todoroki's tweets about America. She should probably unfollow Todoroki for the time being. Hearing about America only makes her think of him.

She prods at her half-eaten bento with disinterest. It's in a sorry state. Simple to begin with, she picked out most of the good parts yesterday. She's eaten maybe half of it in the past two days, but she can't bring herself to eat the rest.

With another heavy sigh, she gives up. She'll put the lid over it again and stick it back in the fridge. Maybe it'll seem more appealing tomorrow.

Ochako knows she should be eating more than she is. She knows she needs to be eating more, but she can't. Her stomach roils at the thought. It's been two weeks since he left, and she still can't manage more than a couple bites of anything at one time.

Most of the food he left in her refrigerator went bad before she could get to it.

"Uravity!" A voice breaks through her morose thoughts. "Can I sit here?"

Ochako looks up to see Nibui Senken – hero name: Foresight – standing over her table. They've been friends since he started at Thirteen's agency, but company is one of the last things she wants right now. She pastes a smile on her face and nods anyway. "Sure," she says, but he's already pulling out a chair and sitting down.

After a couple months of working with him, she's used to his mannerisms. He's not trying to be rude, she knows. He just already knew she was going to say yes before she did.

"So," Nibui says, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Do you think we're going to get called out this afternoon?"

Ochako shrugs, pushing away her abandoned bento. "I hope so," she says. "It's been ages since we've had a proper call."

"Office work is important too," Nibui says. He sits back in his chair. "I know what you mean though, I'm starting to get antsy sitting around here."

"You, getting antsy?" Ochako laughs, and she feels some of the weight lift from her heart. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Nibui is one of the calmest guys she knows, and that includes Todoroki, Ojirou, and Shouji. She supposes it must help, always knowing three seconds in advance what someone is going to do at any given moment.

It's certainly an asset in battle.

Nibui laughs as well. "You know what I mean," he says with a grin.

They sit there in comfortable silence for several long moments as Nibui eats his lunch. Ochako might not be eating, but she's still on her lunch break, and she's warmed up to the thought of company. Maybe she really does just need to talk to somebody.

"Nibui," she says, a stray thought crossing her mind, "how's your sister?"

He's already putting down his chopsticks when she speaks. "She's doing a lot better," he says. "She's taking quirk suppressors until she gets a better handle on her quirk. It wasn't nearly as hard on her out in the country, but moving to Tokyo was a bit of a shock."

While Nibui's quirk allows him to see three seconds into the future of a person's actions, his sister can see three seconds into the future of a person's emotions. A couple weeks ago, Nibui was telling her about his family moving to Tokyo to be closer to him and his sister's subsequent mental breakdown. Last Ochako heard, she had been institutionalized.

Then everything happened with Kats– with Bakugou, and Ochako completely forgot to follow up.

She's a terrible friend, really.

"That's good to hear," she says earnestly. It's nice to focus on someone else's problems for a moment. "I've been worried."

Nibui smiles. "It's okay," he says. "I know you've had a lot to worry about recently, too." He winces. "I'm sorry."

And just like that, her spirits fall again. Of course he knows. All of Japan knows! The tabloids couldn't leave it well enough alone. They've only just recently stopped hounding her for interviews about Japan's beloved, recently departed Ground Zero.

He isn't even dead, for God's sake!

"It's okay," Ochako says, pasting another smile on her face as her stomach lurches. "Really, it is."

Really, it isn't.

"Oh," Nibui says. "Well, uh. I–"

He breaks off midsentence and stands. A second later, Ochako's phone buzzes where she left it on the table. Glancing down at it, she sees it's a call to action and stands as well.

Good, she thinks. She needs the distraction.

"Come on," she says. "Let's go!"

But Nibui is already moving. Damn. As useful as that quirk is, she sometimes feels like she's constantly two steps behind him when he gets like this. Which, for all intents and purposes, she is. The knowledge doesn't change the irritation burning in her chest.

Their lunch forgotten, they're out the door in a matter of seconds. Ochako activates her quirk on herself and Nibui beside her. Initializing her directional jets, she grabs his waiting hand and launches them both toward the geographical coordinates they were sent.

It's a dance they've mastered. It took some trial and effort at first, but after nearly a year of working together they have it down pat.

There are several heroes already on the scene when they get there. Ochako drops Nibui on the street, then bounds up to a rooftop where Deku is surveying the damage.

"What's the situation?" she asks. "We got the call, but there wasn't much additional information."

Deku shrugs. "I just got here myself," he says, "but it looks like the villain has a density manipulation quirk. He can manipulate his own density, I mean, not things around him."

Ochako nods. "Any known motivation?"

"Not yet," Deku says. "I'm not sure it matters at this point. He's causing significant property damage."

"Right."

Ochako takes a moment and a deep breath to center herself. Her mind hasn't been where it needs to be recently, but she can't let that affect her work. Villains are villains, and that hasn't changed.

Neither has she.

She can do this.

Her stomach growls.

Shit.

Deku turns to her with a concerned expression. "You haven't eaten lunch yet?"

Ochako sighs. "No, I–" I did, she means to say, but she never could lie to Deku. "I guess not," she says instead.

"We'll get lunch after this," he says. "My treat."

"Deku," Ochako protests. He's done enough for her already. "No–"

She doesn't get much further. A crash echoes through the street. She turns to the source of the noise. A man just crashed through the wall of one of the shops.

"That's our cue," Deku says. "Let's go!"

Nibui is already squaring off against the villain when Ochako and Deku land at street level. It's impressive, watching him fight. He moves so fluidly and counters flawlessly, like he knows every move his opponent will make.

Which he does.

Unfortunately, this villain packs a little more of a punch than usual, and he's struggling to keep up with the weight of the man's blows.

Deku darts into an opening with a flying quirk-laden kick, but the villain catches it and throws him back. Deku attacks again while the villain is distracted by Nibui, but even though the blow lands, the villain doesn't move.

He's an unstoppable force against an immovable object, Ochako realizes as she maneuvers herself into position against a building wall. She clings lightly to a windowsill to keep herself in place above the villain. Well, she can do something about that.

She watches Nibui for his cue. Thirty seconds pass, and he scratches his nose. Now!

Wait, shit! Is that someone running away behind them? Goddammit, there are two of them!

Ochako releases her quirk and drops toward the villain like a stone. He doesn't look up. Why doesn't anyone ever look up? It doesn't matter. It works in her favor. She lands squarely atop him, activating her quirk upon contact.

"He has a friend!" she yells to the others as she grapples with the now-weightless villain. "I can handle this one! Go!"

To their credit, neither of the boys hesitate. The run off in the direction she points, leaving her with only the villain and her growling, unhappy stomach.

At least one perk of not eating is not having anything in her stomach to come up when she ultimately overuses her quirk.

She feels the strain on her quirk as the villain increases his density. A higher density means more mass which means more force when gravity is applied, but… "That won't help you, my friend," she says cheerfully.

He growls and takes a swing at her with the arm she hasn't secured. She barely reacts in time. His fist clips her in the temple, and her grip loosens as her vision swims. Shit. She got cocky and forgot that force results from a mass with any sort of acceleration, not just gravity.

Kats– Bakugou would give her an earful for this one.

But he's not here, and thankfully, there's no one else around to witness her mistake. Her vision swimming, her ears ringing, she wrestles the villain back under control. Anyone who isn't used to maneuvering in zero-g is awful at maneuvering in zero-g. After all, isn't that how she beat Bakugou in their third-year sports festival?

It is, but that's beside the point.

Once the villain is subdued and restrained with quirk-suppressing cuffs, she releases her quirk and gives him over to the authorities with shaking hands. That's one villain taken care of, but she knows there are more out there. She's not sure what this ring is after – they're not League villains, not anymore – but if there were two, there are sure to be more.

She hears muffled shouting in the distance. Clouds of dust kick up from the next street over, and Ochako steels herself for another fight. A hero's work is never done.

Her legs wobble beneath her as she sets off at a slow jog. Her vision closes in as she focuses single-mindedly on the fight before her. The buildings pass around her. The road passes beneath her feet. It's just her and the next fight. It's always just her and the next fight.

"Deku!" she cries as she arrives on the scene. Her voice is foreign to her own ears. "What can I do?"

"Uravity!" Deku calls back, flinching as the villain punches a hole into the street beside him. "You– are you all right? You're awfully pale!"

That's ridiculous. If anything, she's flushed from the heat of battle, her skin prickling beneath her spandex as she grows hot beneath the collar.

The ringing in her ears grows louder as she takes measured breaths. The world closes in, a dark fog obscuring the edges of her vision until she's only barely aware of the fight before her. She catches sight of Deku's horrified face as she finally realizes how much trouble she's in.

"I'm–"

Ochako wakes to the too-familiar rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

She surfaces to consciousness slowly, then all at once. What happened? Okay, that's a dumb question. She knows what happened. She passed out in the middle of a fight. Shame washes over her. How could she?

"Don't move too much," a familiar voice says from her side. "You're still on an IV drip, you don't want to rip that out."

Katsuki?

Her heart leaps into her throat even as her rational brain dismisses the thought as impossible. She looks over, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Deku gazes back at her with sorrowful eyes.

"Deku?"

Deku forces a smile. "You really scared us back there," he says, rubbing his thumb over the old scars on his other hand. "Nibui's been demanding to know if you're okay. He was pissed he wasn't allowed back here with you. I told him he should go home."

"Why are you here, then?" Ochako asks, her brain still a little fuzzy.

"I'm your emergency contact, silly. I called your parents. They wanted to be here, but they couldn't get away from work."

Right. She forgot she added Deku as her emergency contact. From graduation up until a couple weeks ago, it had been Katsuki. Fat lot of good that would have done her this time.

"Thank you," she says, then coughs. Deku hands her a small plastic cup filled with water. She takes it gratefully.

"Uraraka," Deku says, "what happened? You haven't passed out in the field since–"

Since the fight that ended the League of Villains in their third year. The fight that raged for hours, not the mere minutes she was out in the field today. Was it still today?

"I was stupid," she says, staring down at the now-empty cup clutched between her hands. She can't meet Deku's eyes. "It won't happen again."

Deku sighs. "Nibui told me you didn't eat much for lunch today."

Ochako shrugs. "It was an off day," she lies desperately.

He doesn't take the bait. "You went into hypoglycemic shock after one fight, Uraraka. That's not an 'off day.'"

Ochako heaves a sigh. She doesn't want to cause trouble for anyone, but Deku is her best friend. If she can't tell him, who can she tell? Besides, with Todoroki gone, she knows he understands her better than anyone else in her life right now.

She can almost hear Katsuki scoffing at the notion.

Her eyes flick up to his wide green ones before darting back to the plastic cup in her hands. His green curls are sweaty and tangled, his costume dusty and torn. He hadn't even gone home after the fight. He'd come straight to the hospital to see her. Guilt claws at her throat.

"It's been hard," she whispers. "I just haven't been hungry. I know I haven't been eating well, but I just can't get myself to force anything down. I sit down to eat, and I'm just nauseous."

She glances up again to see Deku nodding slowly. "You could have said something," he says just as quietly as she had.

"No," she says, "I couldn't. I knew Katsuki was going to leave. I can't be this weak!" She nearly shouts the last word, the hand unaffected by the IV clenching into a fist. "Don't you know how quick the media would jump onto any weakness I show? I just– I can't. I can't, Deku. I just–"

Can't.

Can't what?

She doesn't know anymore.

Silence falls between them, and Ochako stares blankly into a spot on the hospital blanket before her. She looks up when Deku takes a deep breath. He stares down at his hand, his thumb pressing more firmly against the flesh.

"I've had the opposite problem," he admits. "I'm eating too much. Shouto and I are so used to cooking for two that I– I still do. And then I eat it all myself. I'm working out more to even it out, but I'm … I'm struggling, too."

Ochako smiles sadly. "Have you talked to Todoroki about it?" she asks, already aware of what his answer will be.

Deku shakes his head. "I can't bother him like that," he says. "He's got so much else to worry about." He pauses, an expectant look coming over his face as he watches her. He opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates.

Ochako has gotten good at reading Deku over the years. "What is it?" she prompts.

"You should move in with me," he blurts. "Once your lease is up. We're both struggling, and I think we'd both do better if we had someone else with us."

Ochako blinks. Deku looks serious, and it would save her money on rent, but… "Would Todoroki be okay with that?" she asks tentatively. The fact she had a massive crush on Deku during their high school years is an open secret, and if she were Todoroki, she's not sure if she'd be comfortable with this arrangement.

Deku shifts in the hard plastic chair. "Um. He's actually the one who suggested it," he admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I was hesitant at first, but he thinks it's a good idea."

"But you said you haven't talked to him about anything?"

He huffs a laugh. "You know how observant Shouto is," he says. "I might not be telling him everything, but he knows something's up."

Ochako bites her lip as she considers. "You're serious?"

Deku nods. "Yeah."

She wants to. She really, really, wants to, but… "Let me think about it?"

"Oh! Yeah," Deku says. "Yeah, absolutely. There's no rush."

Ochako smiles. What did she do to deserve friends like Deku? She doesn't know, but she's grateful for whatever it was.

Speaking of friends, she should probably text Nibui.

"Do you know where my phone is?" she asks. Deku hands it to her, and everything settles back into normalcy.

Well, a new normalcy, at least.

- 3 MONTHS –
NOVEMBER

In the end, Ochako subleases her apartment and moves in with Deku by the end of that month. After Deku's offer of the same sort of constant companionship she so mourns – well, not the same sort, but close enough – she can't get it out of her head. Her apartment gets even quieter, even lonelier, the ghosts of times long past all but abandoning her.

She wishes they would abandon her completely.

But they don't, and so she packs up and leaves them behind instead.

"The guest bedroom is over here," Deku says lamely, "but you already know that. You've been here before." He laughs nervously, and Ochako's heart sinks down into her stomach.

"Are you sure this is okay?" she asks for what must be the millionth time. "Really, I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to do this for me."

Deku sighs. "I'm sorry, Uraraka. It really is, I promise. It's just–" he sighs again. "You're not Shouto, and it's weird, but I think it's the kind of weird that will get better with time, you know?"

Ochako smiles as her heart breaks for her friend. She knows.

"Ochako," she says, and Deku glances up at her with a weird look on his face. "What? If we're going to be living together, we might as well be on a first-name basis."

There's still a part of her that says it's too much. It's too intimate, knowing their non-history and their non-future, but Ochako misses hearing the syllables of her name and the implicit comfort of closeness they bring. If Tsuyu can ask her friends to call her by her first name, then so can Ochako.

Deku laughs again, but this time it's comfortable laughter that sets her at ease. "Sure, Ochako," he says with a grin, one hand buried in his hair. The other extends toward her. "Then, maybe you could call me Izuku?"

Ochako shakes his outstretched hand, and the agreement is sealed. In retrospect, she thinks as they work together to arrange her things in her new bedroom, it would be weirder for her to call her new housemate by his hero name all the time.

Huh. Izuku. She silently wraps her lips around the word. The syllables are foreign on her tongue, even more foreign than those in Midoriya ever were, but she thinks she could get used to them.

And get used to them, she does.

"Izuku!" she calls a few months later, closing the door against the crisp autumn air behind her. "I'm home!"

"Ochako!" Izuku yelps from the living room, glancing up at her as she removes her shoes. "I wasn't expecting you home this early!"

Ochako smiles even as something twinges in her chest. Izuku never fails to brighten her day, even when she's feeling down. Moving in with him has done her a world of good, and while Izuku plays his cards as close to his chest as he always has, she thinks it's done him a world of good as well.

"It was a slow day, so Thirteen let me go early," she says with a sigh. She hates slow days. They leave her unfulfilled. On one hand, she's grateful for the fact Thirteen lets her go home rather than waste time at her desk for the rest of the afternoon, but it frustrates her at the same time.

She notices then that Izuku holds his phone in front of him. "Are you talking with Todoroki?"

"I, um." Izuku looks back at her like a deer caught in the headlights before laying the phone face-down on the coffee table. "I was, yeah."

Ochako's spirits lift. She forgets the disappointment of being sent home early in the face of a new opportunity. "Ooh, can I say hi? I haven't seen Todoroki in ages!"

She knows he and Izuku talk regularly, or at least as regularly as their schedules allow. Izuku will sometimes talk to her about it afterwards, but it's rare that she gets the opportunity to talk to Todoroki herself. They weren't particularly close in high school, but they've grown closer in recent months. Ochako is determined to be able to call Todoroki a friend if she's to be living with his boyfriend.

Sometimes, she remembers Todoroki is the closest connection she has to Kats– Bakugou.

She tries not to.

"Um, I– I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Deku stammers. Ochako watches curiously as he flushes red. Why is he so hesitant? He knows she and Todoroki are friends. Surely he isn't suddenly uncomfortable with the fact they're living together?

Unless…

Ochako gasps. "Izuku," she says, horrified by the thought that occurs, "have you and Todoroki been cybersexing in the living room?"

"I– Um –"

She doesn't give him time to explain himself. Dashing forward, she snatches his phone from him, careful to keep the picture facing away from her.

"Hey! Wait!" Deku protests. "Give that back!"

Ochako laughs, thrilled at the chance to give Izuku and Todoroki shit. "Todoroki," she announces, "you have three seconds to put some goddamn pants on! One!"

"Wait, Ochako–"

In retrospect, she should have listened, but how was she to know? Izuku's video calls with Todoroki have been a regular occurrence for months. How was she to know that he would be there this time?

He stands behind Todoroki's shoulder, almost out of frame but not quite. She's struck with a vivid sense of longing as she drinks in the sight of his spiky hair, his red eyes, and his strong nose. He looks good, she thinks, but … there are bags under his eyes that weren't there before. He looks like he's lost weight.

The longing morphs into a sledgehammer of guilt.

"Oh," she says, stupidly. Before she can say anything else, he's gone.

She can't blame him. It's her fault, after all.

It breaks her heart all the same.

She forces a smile for Todoroki, who stares back at her with a hint of concern on his usually-impassive face. "It's good to see you, Todoroki."

"I'm looking after him," Todoroki says. "Don't worry. And … I'm sorry."

Ochako doesn't trust her voice. She simply nods and hands the phone back to a stricken Izuku. "I'll be in my room," she murmurs. She doesn't even check to see if he's heard her.

She flees.

Burying herself under the covers, she can't fight the tears that slip down her cheeks to soak her pillow. The only source of illumination in the room is the afternoon sunlight filtering in through the window, and she burrows into the darkness.

Katsuki.

She's seen him vulnerable, more vulnerable than anyone else ever has, but she's never seen him so defeated. She wants to ask a million questions. Does he not like California? How's his internship going? How are classes? Does he hate her? Has he … has he met anyone else?

She can't ask any of them. She won't ask any of them. She's not entitled to that information anymore, she made quite sure of that.

Once upon a time, she had hope that a clean break would make it easier for them to glue themselves back together upon his return. That they could simply start over. That they could exchange stories of their time apart without hard feelings holding them down. Now, she realizes that was never possible. Now, she realizes she should have tried harder to hold onto him. Onto what they had.

If it still ended, then nothing would be different. But at least then they could say they tried.

He wanted to try. She didn't let him.

And now they're here.

"Ochako?"

Her bedroom door creaks open. She rolls over to see Izuku silhouetted against the light from the living room. Part of her doesn't want company. She deserves to wallow in her own guilt. The larger part of her can't resist the comfort he provides.

"Hey," she croaks.

"Ochako," Izuku repeats, crossing the room to sit on the edge of her bed. "I'm sorry."

With a deep breath, Ochako shrugs half-heartedly as she wipes her face dry. "It's not your fault," she says. "You couldn't have known I was going to be home. You tried to warn me. And I … I shouldn't be this upset over this. It's been months."

Izuku gives her a look. "Don't say 'shouldn't,'" he says. "Three months isn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things."

"Yeah, but–"

"But nothing," Izuku insists. "It's fine. And … it is kind of my fault. No, really," he insists when she's about to protest. "It is."

"Why do you say that?" Ochako asks in a whisper, a pit of dread yawning open in her stomach.

Izuku sighs. "Shouto and I … we thought it would be good for two to see each other. You miss Kacchan, and he misses you, and I– we– we hate seeing you guys upset. We weren't planning on it being today, but then you walked in, and … yeah."

Anger wells in Ochako's chest, but a deep understanding of her friends suppresses it before it overwhelms her. She lets it go. "I appreciate the thought," she says diplomatically, "but … don't do that again, please. It's not going to fix anything."

"I'm sorry," Izuku repeats. "We won't. Can you … can you forgive us?"

Ochako smiles, tears welling in her eyes once again. "I'll always forgive you," she says, sitting up properly. She lays her head against Izuku's muscled shoulder and breathes deeply. In the dark of her bedroom, they sit together in silence.

"I miss him," Ochako says, her voice breaking. "It's not fair!"

"I miss him too," Izuku says. There's something in his voice that prompts Ochako to look up. His face glistens in the afternoon sunlight, but his tears aren't for Katsuki. "I miss him, too."

- 2 YEARS, 8 MONTHS –
APRIL

Ochako loves flying. She loves the thrill. She loves the feel of the wind through her hair. She loves being above it all. When she's in the air, it's like the rest of her life slips away with the receding cityscape until it's naught but small and insignificant. Up in the sky, it's just her and her thoughts and the occasional bird.

Yes, she loves flying.

Falling, however.

Now that's a different story.

Ochako grasps the civilian's forearms with callused palms. She meets his panicked gaze with her own level one. She's panicking as well, but years of training allow her to bury it deep inside. It can't look like she's anything but calm and collected. It has to look like she has this under control, even if she doesn't have it under control at all.

She fires her directional jets, slowing the man's descent. The moment she's satisfied with his trajectory, she disengages and rockets toward another civilian. She repeats the process again and again, until all two hundred-someodd civilians drift loosely through the atmosphere. She heaves a sigh of relief before setting off again to pull them all close enough to each other to grab hands or various other body parts.

Somewhere below them, now out of sight, the commercial jet is already a hunk of molten wreckage.

Ochako thanks her lucky stars the tip that came in was accurate. Pilots are good, but most people aren't 'villains attempting to hijack the plane' good. Her thoughts drift briefly to her fellow pro heroes who went down with the plane attempting to subdue the villains. They, at least, had parachutes.

The civilians whom had been on the flight did not. That's where Ochako came in.

A cheer erupts from the gathered crowd as they drift into earshot. Once they're only a few meters off the ground, Ochako releases her quirk. The two hundred civilians tumble to the ground, safe. Some might have sprained ankles or a broken bone from a bad landing, but they're alive.

Holy shit. They're alive!

"Uravity! Uravity!"

Ochako releases her quirk on herself, dropping lightly to her feet before turning toward the reporters swarming the area. Sweaty and haggard, she pastes on a smile. Dealing with the media has never been her favorite part of this job, but it's a part of the job all the same.

Wait.

What time is it?

"Uravity, that rescue was amazing," one of the younger reporters gushes. "You looked like– like an angel, coming down from the heavens!"

Ochako smiles tightly. He used to call her that, in his softer moments. Two years later, the association has faded, but still it lingers. It's an echo of things long past; things better forgotten, but things impossible to forget.

"I'm just doing my job," she chirps. "Any one of my colleagues would have done the same."

What time is it?

"Uravity," a more seasoned reporter says, "sources say the flight had upwards of two hundred people aboard, and you just saved all of them! This may be the largest single-handed rescue of the last ten years! What do you have to say to the rumors circulating that you just broke All Might's record for the largest rescue?"

Ochako blinks, stunned. "You're kidding," she says before catching herself. "I mean, I'm incredibly flattered and humbled. All Might was such a positive influence growing up and throughout school at UA– and even still today. I certainly don't want to take away from any of his accomplishments. After all, he's the one who set the record in the first place!" She suppresses her nervous giggle, but just barely.

What time is it?

"Uravity–"

It doesn't end.

The reporters drone on. She answers questions and blinks away flashbulb afterimages until she no longer recognizes her own voice, until she no longer feels present in her own body. She falls back on the PR training she received at UA to see her through.

What time is it?

What time is it?

It's too late, is what it is. By the time she escapes the media and makes it back to the agency, she doesn't even have enough time to change, let alone shower. She drags a brush through her hair, but there's only so much it can do. Her filthy, scuffed face is at odds with her sleek black dress. She tries to wash the grime away in the sink, but she's not entirely successful. More extensive makeup would cover it, but she doesn't have the time.

It's nearly seven o'clock, and she told Senken she'd meet him at six. She bites back a curse as she stuffs her gear in her locker and grabs her purse. At least she'd had the foresight to bring her things with her to the agency. She would've lost even more time if she had to head home.

Hah. Foresight.

Slipping a pair of aviators on, she exits the agency and hails a cab. Inwardly, she winces. It would be much cheaper to take the bus, but it would take her more than twice as long to reach the restaurant. She's kept Senken waiting long enough as it is.

Her strappy heels and her dignity are the only things that keep her from running into the restaurant.

Lifting her shades, she sees Senken before he sees her, which is a feat rarely achieved. He stares out the window, a listless, resigned glaze to his countenance. Guilt consumes her. It would be one thing if this were the first time she'd left him waiting. Another thing if it were the second.

She doesn't know how many times this has happened. She stopped counting months ago.

Giving a friendly wave to the staff – they've been here often enough – she approaches his table. He looks up at her before she even opens her mouth. "Senken? I'm so sorry I'm late." Again.

He smiles at her, but it's tight. "It's okay, I knew you were coming."

"Of course I was," she says, taking a seat. Something knots in her chest, but she pushes it aside. This is Senken. They've been dating for a year already! This is– Shit, this is their anniversary dinner. She'd forgotten in the heat of the battle and the chaos afterward. "I wanted to get here sooner, but there was that plane crash, and then the media kept me there forever. You know how it is."

"Don't worry about it, Ochako," Senken says, taking her hand. He picks his phone up off the table with the other. "I've been watching the news. Rescuing all those people? That was … really impressive."

Ochako glows beneath the praise. She hasn't had time to process it herself, yet. Two hundred people in a single rescue? The reporters were right. That is a new record. She can't wait to tell Izuku about it later, even though she's sure he already knows.

"I still can't believe it myself," she says, squeezing Senken's hand before pulling away to look at the menu. When he doesn't say anything in response, she looks up. He has an expression on his face she can't decipher. "What's wrong?"

He smiles. No, correction. He forces a smile. Her blood turns to ice in her veins. "It's nothing important," he demurs. "Have you decided what you want?"

She sets her menu down. "Senken." Her tone brooks no argument. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Ochako," he pleads, "please. I don't want to get into it right now. Can't we just have dinner and celebrate our anniversary?"

If she's being honest, she wants that more than anything else, but she can't let this go. This isn't the first time Senken has gotten snippy with her after a rescue. She's been content to let it slide before – his moodiness passes quickly – but she's had a long day and suddenly she's out of patience. If there's something wrong, she wants to hash it out and fix it before it gets any worse. "If we don't talk about it, we're just going to sit here awkwardly all evening. That's not much of a celebration, is it?"

Senken heaves a sigh and sits back, hugging his arms to his chest. Ochako wants to reach out to him, but she clasps her hands in her lap instead.

"It's just," Senken starts, "I feel like I'm not nearly as important to you as work is."

Ochako blinks. This? Again? It's something that's come up a few times in the year they've been together, but they've talked it out every time. Every time, she thinks they've solved the issue for good. Every time, she's proven wrong.

"You know that's not fair," she protests softly, shifting which leg is crossed over the other as she leans forward. "I'm a pro hero. You are too. You'd prioritize people's lives over a date with me. You've done it before. Just because work holds me up doesn't mean you're any less important to me, or that I love you any less."

Senken shrugs. "You could've gotten here on time if you hadn't stopped to talk to the press. I don't know, Ochako. I feel like you're getting more popular and I'm just getting left in your dust."

Ochako doesn't understand. Is he … upset with her success? He's done nothing but support her, first when they were friends and in the year since they've been together. Was that a lie? Has this entire relationship been a lie?

"Everyone moves at their own pace," she insists, but there's a quaver in her voice that wasn't there before. "You're also an incredible hero. You've saved so many people."

"You would say that though," Senken says, albeit without any malice. "You graduated from UA. Your graduating class was the Golden Year. You've had a head start that most of us can only dream of having. The world has been infatuated with you since you were fifteen. You've been working on opening your own agency with Deku, of all people! How can I hope to compare?"

Ochako doesn't know what to do. "Have you– have you always felt this way?"

Senken shrugs again. "A little, I guess. I've always tried to tell myself it was temporary, but it's not, is it?"

Tears well in her eyes, but she forces them back. How could she not know this was how Senken felt all this time? As she thinks back, she sees what she refused to see before. His moodiness. His protectiveness. Everything she'd written off.

"Senken, this is who I am. That's not going to change. But please–" it's her turn to plead– "tell me what I can do to help fix this."

Her boyfriend cracks a smile. "I just want us to be on the same level. I need you to understand that, and maybe…" he trails off. "Maybe keep that in mind? A little?"

Ochako opens her mouth to agree, but balks when she realizes what he's asking. "You're asking me to hold myself back?" she asks, praying she heard him wrong. "You don't want me to reach my full potential?" How could he? After all this time she's spent trying to prove herself?

"No, I didn't mean–" Senken protests, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "When you put it that way– Ochako, I love you."

His face falls even as he's talking. She shakes her head. "No, Senken. You love having me. If you loved me, you'd support me wholeheartedly."

"I do!"

"You don't." She should be crying right now, but the tears she felt earlier have dried in the heat of her kindling anger. "Senken, I don't think I can do this anymore. I think it's probably best we go our separate ways."

She may not be crying, but Senken is. "I can't be him," he sobs. "I could never be the great Bakugou Katsuki."

Ochako's anger grows even hotter. It's the heat of a copper pipe left out in summer, the kind of heat that feels cold upon first contact. There's the answer she knew he wasn't giving her. This was about Bakugou. It was always about Bakugou, and Senken's unfounded insecurity about needing to live up to him. An entire year, all those fights, everything she's done to move on…

…and it comes down to this.

"This has nothing to do with him," she bites, careful to keep her voice down. They're still in the restaurant, and she wishes she had just let it go until afterward like Senken had asked. "It never had anything to do with him. This is about me and what I deserve, and this isn't it."

"Ochako–"

Ochako shakes her head and stands, digging in her purse for a few bills to leave for the staff. They never ordered anything, but they certainly took up the table long enough. "No, Nibui. We're done."

She keeps her composure as she walks out of the restaurant, her heels clicking against the floor. She replaces the aviators over her face, grateful for the fact they hide the tears just beginning to brim beneath her eyes. In her smart black dress, she feels nearly as powerful as she does in her hero gear, and she draws on that sense of power to get her home without incident.

Izuku finds her out on their balcony not half an hour after she returns, Bakugou's old leather jacket draped around her shoulders over her dress. Her sunglasses are still perched on top of her head, and her heels have been kicked just to the side. In her hand, she holds the note Bakugou left her. It's worn and creased from two years of handling, but it still reads the same.

Chin up. Show 'em what you've got.

Izuku doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He wraps an arm around her waist, and she leans into him as they gaze up at the stars. She sighs into the night. She's oddly at peace with her breakup. She may have loved him, but Nibui wasn't right for her. Upon reflection, she realizes she's known that for a long time. It's almost … freeing, this turn of events.

Little does she know it's the beginning of the end.

- 2 YEARS, 10 MONTHS -
JUNE

Her fight and subsequent breakup with Nibui ends up splashed all over the tabloids. Of course it does. Even if the restaurant they frequented has a reputation for being discreet, it was still a public place. Ochako curses herself time and time again for not just letting it go. She knows better than to deal with something that personal in a place where someone could overhear. In a place where someone could snap a photo.

She deals with the worst of the fallout for weeks, but the repercussions last months. She's villainized for breaking poor Foresight's heart. And on their anniversary, no less! She throws herself into her work, riding the crest of her record-breaking rescue. Unfortunately, despite her refusal to comment upon the situation, rumors run rampant.

She's still in love with Ground Zero, and led Foresight on for a year.

She broke up with Foresight because she's a stuck-up Golden Year bitch.

She was holding Foresight back.

She was cheating on Foresight with Deku.

None of them are the truth. She knows that. She soldiers on, muting her social media and ignoring the news. She knows the truth, and everyone closest to her knows the truth. That's what matters in the end. Isn't it?

Besides, that rescue boosts her rank. It boosts her rank a lot. Despite the nasty rumors circulating around her, she's shocked to see her name at the bottom of the Billboard Top Ten.

#10 – Uravity

She's not the first to make the top ten. Izuku has been bouncing around the lower top ten for a couple years now, and Yaoyorozu has crept onto the board a couple times before falling off again. Still, at twenty, with a quirk that isn't particularly well-suited for battle, landing a top ten spot is a feat worth mentioning.

She's far more than the rumors and gossip. She's Uravity, of the Golden year, who currently holds the record for the largest single-handed rescue. She's Uravity, who's set to open her own agency alongside Deku as soon as they get the paperwork squared away. She knows her worth, and no one can take that away from her.

But the rumors still hurt.

They still affect the public's opinion of her.

And they still linger.

"Todoroki," she sobs into the phone, weeks after she'd thought the fallout from her split with Nibui had died. "I swear, it's not what it looks like."

Todoroki's breathing is even on the other end of the line, and she waits with bated breath for a response. Any response. She knows he knows she's living with Izuku. They've been living together for years now. She knows he and Izuku talked about it beforehand. She knows he's supportive of the situation. But these photos … these photos are incriminating.

She doesn't know how the paparazzi got them. She doesn't know why they suddenly care. She's been living with Izuku for years, and apart from some probing questions, the media has never given them trouble. Perhaps she was still too fresh off her relationship with the much-adored Ground Zero at the time. Perhaps her rumored affair with Izuku that stemmed from her breakup with Nibui sparked this new invasion of privacy. She doesn't know. She doesn't care.

What she does care about is the fact the photos make it look like she and Izuku are together, together. She remembers that night. They went out with some of their old classmates, celebrating the opening of their new agency, and the last drink she had was just a little too strong. Izuku was drinking too, and a tipsy Izuku is a touchy Izuku.

That makes it sound like something happened.

Nothing did, and that's exactly the problem. Sure, they leaned on each other a little more on the way home than they usually did. They held hands in public, which they're usually careful not to do. The photos even caught her looking up at Izuku with a sappy expression on her face. Yes, she loves him, but it's not romantic love. It hasn't been romantic love for a very, very long time.

He's her best friend. Her port in the storm. But that's not what the media takes away.

"Uraraka, calm down," Todoroki says, his voice as level as it always is. "I know it's not what it looks like. You and Izuku would never do that to me."

"But–" She breaks off, words failing her. How can he be so calm about this? He knows she used to have a crush on Izuku. The entire goddamn class knows. She was never very good at hiding it, despite her best efforts. Hell, she and Izuku have already gotten texts from most of their friends asking if the rumors are true.

"I'm sorry for asking," Momo's text read, "But it's been a few years since Todoroki left, and you just broke up with Nibui not too long ago. It's not inconceivable, and I just had to make sure Todoroki wasn't going to get hurt."

She gets it. She really does. It doesn't mean she hates it any less.

Todoroki sighs over the line. "I'll admit I didn't like it at first, but it was a knee-jerk reaction. I'm sorry for doubting either of you for even a second. Thank you for calling, though. It really helps."

"Of course," Ochako says, her voice small. She knows the admission must have taken a lot out of him. "Are you– Are you still okay with us living together?"

She'll move out if he wants her to. It'll be hard. It'll be very hard, but she knows she can do it. The last couple years have given her strength. She's moved on. She can find a new apartment. Perhaps she should do so anyway. Continuing to live with Izuku will just fuel the rumors, but she doesn't want to move out. Izuku's unwavering friendship far outweighs any slander hurled against her.

"Of course I am," Todoroki says. "You're good for him, Uraraka. Thank you for being there for him when I can't be."

And just like that, any thoughts of moving out are abandoned, replaced with thoughts of– of– well. The one she can't be there for.

"How is he?"

She doesn't say his name. She doesn't have to.

"He's … well," Todoroki says. "He's doing really well."

He says the same thing every time. Ochako started asking after him sometime after the disastrous video call a few months after they left. Izuku doesn't know she asks. She's pretty sure he doesn't know, either. It's a secret kept between herself and Todoroki alone.

And Todoroki knows that any more detail would simply hurt.

"Good," Ochako says, as she always does. "That's good."

She doesn't keep up with Ground Zero. In the months after he left, even seeing his name was akin to getting shot through the heart, so she blacklisted it on her computer. She thinks … she thinks she could handle knowing what he's up to now, but she hasn't gotten around to removing the blacklist. Perhaps she never will.

But she still asks.

Todoroki talks with her a while longer as she comes down from her panic. They're friends, after all, independent of Izuku and Bakugou. He tells her about his road trip through the States with some of his friends from school, about winning his most recent martial arts competition, about a particularly difficult villain he fought. America has been good for Todoroki, she thinks. He's a lot more open than he used to be.

She wonders if it's been just as good for Bakugou.

She hopes so.

- 3 YEARS -
AUGUST

"Okay guys, here's what we know."

Ochako surveys the small band of heroes gathered in the main office of their fledgling hero agency as Izuku addresses them from beside her. In the few months they've been in operation, they've managed to pick up a few other heroes and a handful of sidekicks eager to work with the legendary Golden Year graduates. She swells with pride as they hang onto Izuku's every word. Although she's only twenty-one, she remembers being in their place not too long ago.

"This group of villains considers themselves the successors of the League of Villains, which was defeated and put behind bars several years ago. They're only a handful strong, but they're not to be underestimated."

Izuku trails off, and Ochako picks up where he left off. "The one we assume to be their leader has a hypnotization quirk. We've been calling her Hypnos. Don't make eye contact with her. That's how she gets you. There's Concussion, a man who specializes in explosives; Echo, another man who can mimic any sound, including people's voices; Shield, a woman who projects force fields; and Talon, a woman who secretes poison from her fingernails." She can't remember how many hours she's spent compiling the files on these guys since they made their first move back when she was still working under Thirteen.

"We believe their target to be the Hero Registry Office," Izuku says. "This is their first big move since they came onto the scene, and they intend to make a statement. The office is being evacuated as we speak, but it's our job to stop them before they can cement themselves as a threat. Got that?"

The audience choruses their agreement, and Ochako hides a smile. Izuku has really grown into his own in the past years, becoming the hero she always knew he would be. She adds a couple closing remarks, and then they're suiting up and moving out to their assigned posts across the city.

Despite her confidence and bravado while addressing their agency, dread wells in her stomach. Something doesn't feel right. It's all too easy. The Hero Registry Office? Intel far enough in advance that the office could be evacuated beforehand? It makes her uneasy.

"Deku," she murmurs as they bound across rooftops, "I don't like this."

Izuku plasters a grim smile across his face. "I don't either," he says, "but it's the intel we've got, and our agency is too new to risk acting against established information. We're just gonna have to stay on our toes." He makes a face.

Ochako knows it must be killing him; after all, this is the man who broke every rule in existence and risked expulsion from his dream school to rescue Bakugou that night in their first year at UA. If it were just the two of them, they'd probably break off and follow their gut instinct, but it's not. They have people relying on them now. They're responsible for those at their agency, and any hare-brained schemes would reflect badly not just on themselves, but on everyone else.

It's not something they can risk. Not until they're certain.

Ochako doesn't need to give the media anything else to lambast her for, thank you very much. She's been under fire enough recently.

The Hero Registry Office doesn't look any different from the buildings around it. From what she's gathered over the years, it used to have a gaudy emblem on it, but they realized all too late that such adornment just made it a target. When they rebuilt it a second time, they left off any indication it was the Hero Registry Office. Now, it just looks like any other office building.

Ochako and Izuku stand on a rooftop a few blocks away as they take in the situation. The other heroes and their sidekicks have dispersed to differing parts of Koreria Ward with instructions to keep their heads up and their comms open. If the villains do plan to take out the Hero Registry Office, they'll act as sentries and attempt to give a heads up. If the villains don't, then maybe they'll be in a position where they can get to the new location sooner.

They're not entirely unprepared, but Ochako still worries.

"Look at that," Izuku murmurs. "I don't like empty buildings."

Ochako hums her agreement. Empty buildings mean preparations have been made for something to go terribly wrong. There's a sense of foreboding about them she doesn't like, either.

She watches as other heroes she recognizes join them atop surrounding roofs and alleyways. Nibui is here with Thirteen. Her heart aches, but it doesn't hurt. If she were still there with him, she wouldn't be up here with Izuku.

Still, she turns away before he can look up and see her watching him.

It's quiet.

It's too quiet.

A figure emerges on the roof of the Hero Registry Office.

Izuku tenses beside her, mirroring her own panic.

It's calm.

It's too calm.

She flicks a switch on the side of her visor. Her HUD switches from real-vision to virtual reality, and she zooms in on the figure, a woman, who comes to sit on the edge of the roof. She has green hair pulled up out of her face and wears a black jumpsuit unzipped to reveal a green sports bra underneath.

"That's Talon," Hawks says into the comm. "Keep your eyes peeled." Ochako recognizes the woman from her file. Talon, although a ruthless fighter, is far from the most dangerous criminal in this band. Where are the others?

"I can see you all there," Talon calls out, her voice artificially enhanced. It reverberates through the empty streets. Ochako switches her HUD back to real-vision as Talon continues, "I respect your hustle. Unfortunately–"

An explosion rocks the ground beneath them. Ochako turns to see smoke rising from the base of an office building on the other side of Koreria Ward. Her heart drops through her stomach.

"–You're too late!"

Talon cackles. Ochako doesn't even stop to think. "Deku! Now!" She grabs Izuku's wrist and lifts the gravity from both him and herself. To his credit, he doesn't hesitate. He wraps his arms around her and launches them into the air with One For All. In a matter of seconds, they're off like a rocket.

Another explosion.

Ochako takes over, guiding their approach with her directional jets. Together, they cross Koreria Ward in a fraction of the time it will take everyone else – even Hawks – to do the same. This isn't the first time they've employed such a maneuver, and it won't be the last.

She controls their descent, returning their gravity at the best possible moment to give them downward momentum before removing it again right before impact. Her boots absorb the shock, and with another release, they're down.

A third explosion rocks the office building before them. This close, they can hear the screams of the terrified civilians inside. Her stomach flips, and it has nothing to do with the use of her quirk.

"Concussion is removing the load-bearing structures on the first floor," Izuku says, analyzing the situation in a heartbeat. "Uravity, negate the building. I'll hold it up from inside until someone with a better quirk comes along."

Ochako nods and boosts herself up to the roof. She'll get a more even grip on the building from up there, and eliminating the gravity on the building from the top down will reduce the potential energy of the building faster than if she starts at the bottom.

She lands on the roof and keeps her head down as she scrambles to get to the center before another explosion. She almost makes it. The shock from the explosion down below knocks her from her feet. Diving into a forward roll, she slams her hands down on the concrete beneath her.

She pushes everything she has into the building structure, pulling the gravity from every square meter of material her quirk can reach. Her stomach revolts, and she spills her breakfast over her hands. Recoiling in disgust, it's all she can do to keep contact with the floor. It's not the first time she's puked over herself during hero work, and it won't be the last.

But she's pushing her quirk to the limits. She's never held up an entire building before, but failure isn't an option here. If she can't get the building to a manageable weight, Izuku will be crushed beneath it and everyone inside will die.

She can't let that happen.

Ochako doesn't know how long she kneels there, her hands surrounded by a puddle of sick, pushing her quirk through all the concrete and drywall and glass and steel she can reach. In reality, it's likely only a minute or two, if that, but time stretches until the building is the only thing she's aware of.

She dry heaves a few more times in between.

"I've got it, Uravity." Izuku's strained voice through the comm breaks into her consciousness. "Holy shit, you did it!"

"We did it," Ochako corrects weakly, scrambling to a cleaner section of rooftop. She wants nothing more than to lay back and stare at the sky, but they're on a time crunch. She can't afford to do that. "I'm concerned we haven't seen the villains yet, though."

"Me too," Deku agrees. "They're waiting for something."

Ochako pushes herself to her feet. This high up, the building sways ominously. Of course it does. Down below, it's supported only by Izuku and his quirk. She hopes Cementoss or another structural hero arrives on the scene soon. Izuku can't hold the building forever. Distantly, she remembers Todoroki's ice structures, but he's not here.

"I'm gonna start getting civilians out," she says. "I don't know how long my quirk will hold."

Already, she feels the tug in her gut she's come to associate with overuse of her quirk. The nausea sits in the back of her throat, constantly threatening to overwhelm her the moment she loses control. It doesn't matter that she's already puked up everything that was in her stomach. Her vision is fuzzy around the edges, like snow on an old television screen.

That's new.

She doesn't like it.

"Good luck," Izuku grits out. "Be careful."

The other heroes are on the way, she can hear their chatter over the comms. Whether or not they'll get here in time, that's another question. She can't wait for backup to start the evacuation. It's up to her.

She takes a step and stumbles. Swearing, she catches herself. She can't let carrying an entire office building slow her down. She won't.

After a cautious few steps, she pick up speed as she throws herself down the staircase. She skids to a halt as she reaches the upper level. It's already a madhouse. The staircases are jam-packed with panicking people, and nobody's moving anywhere.

"Shit," she mutters, then raises her voice. "Everyone calm down! Panicking isn't going to help!"

"Uravity?"

"Uravity!"

"We're saved!"

The last comment does nothing to help the dread in Ochako's stomach as she surveys the situation. Normally, she wouldn't hesitate to use her quirk to ferry people out the window from the top floor to the bottom, but her grip on her quirk at the moment is tenuous at best.

Still, she has to try.

"Everyone to the windows," she instructs, pitching her voice to be heard over the commotion. "Okay, everyone take two other people's hands. I'm going to activate my quirk on you one by one, and you're going to step out the window. Don't let go of your partner's hand or else you'll float off! I'm going to get you down to the ground like a barrelful of monkeys."

To her surprise, no one protests. It helps that they've probably seen this maneuver on the news before. A floating chain of people is something one is unlikely to forget.

The knot in her stomach twists even tighter as she removes the gravity from each civilian in turn. She wants to take everyone, but there comes a point where she has to cut off the line. She doesn't want the person at the end of the line to die from hypoxia due to ending up too high in the stratosphere. With a promise to return, she removes her own gravity, steps out the window, and activates her directional jets to gently guide them to the ground.

As she returns gravity to each person in the line, they tug the next person down, and so on. It isn't long before each civilian stands firmly upon the ground. Another successful rescue.

"Now go! Get out of here," she says, "but safely!"

Her last instruction goes unheeded, and she watches helplessly as the people she just saved run away in panic. She doesn't blame them.

Sometime in the midst of her operation, the other heroes arrived. A wave of nausea sends her to her knees, and Miruko helps her back to her feet before bounding onwards.

From the sound of it, the fighting has started. A quick glance tells her the building has been shored up by Kamui Woods. This is good. It means Izuku is free to fight, but that wood won't hold the full weight of the building. It looks like it's barely holding as it is.

She takes a deep breath and attempts to clear her vision. It's worse than it was before, and that's saying something. She pushes through it, activating her quirk on herself and leaping back up to the upper floors. There are more people to rescue.

Unfortunately, it's not just civilians who await her.

A figure in a purple crop-top and leggings ambushes her. Ochako barely ducks as Shield throws her first strike. How did she get up here? Through the roof? Was she here before the explosions went off? Ochako doesn't know, but she doesn't have time to figure it out. She blocks Shield's kick, but is forced a step back from the extra oomph provided by the force field.

"Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" Shield crows. "Uravity, Uravity, Uravity. We've only just started."

"I didn't … think it was going to be easy at all," Ochako replies. Her vision swims. Shit, she really needs to end this, and to end this quickly.

She darts in and grabs Shield's wrist. She activates her quirk, but Shield remains firm on the floor. Shield grabs her in turn and throws her against the floor, cackling.

"Millimeter-thin force field," she gloats. "You didn't actually make contact with me."

Ochako pushes herself to her feet, wobbling slightly as she tries to find her balance. This isn't good. This is very not good. "I need backup on floor … shit, I don't know. One of the upper floors. Shield's got me cornered."

"Backup is on the way, Uravity." Ochako recognizes Nibui's voice over the comm, and despite their rocky footing recently, it still brings her comfort. "Heroes are en route to your position."

Oh. That's right. She has a GPS tracker in her boot for exactly this sort of situation.

She ducks another of Shield's strikes, but Shield flares a force field and hits her anyway. It's too much, and she loses the questionable grip she's held on her nausea. She collapses to the floor and dry heaves.

"Really?" Shield asks, almost angrily. "Number ten hero in all of Japan, Uravity, and this is all you've got for me?"

Ochako opens her mouth to respond, but she's cut off by one of her most favorite sounds in the world.

"Uravity!" Izuku cries. "I'm here!"

She turns to her friend, only to realize too late it's not Izuku. A tall, skinny guy stands beside a woman with swirling red eyes. Before she can wrench her gaze away she's slipping … slipping … slipping …

No.

She can't move.

No!

NO!

"Good work, Shield," Hypnos croons. "And Echo, excellent work as well."

Shield steps back, and the other woman takes her place. Hypnos wears a bright red dress to match her eyes. With her platinum-blonde hair, it makes for an impressive sight. Ochako struggles against her control, but her efforts are futile. Frozen as she is, she can't even look away from those twin red whirlpools.

"Oh, Ochako," Hypnos says, reaching out to caress her cheek with smooth fingertips, "this is nothing personal. I want you to know that." She withdraws her hand, and Ochako realizes she doesn't blink. It's unsettling. "We just want to make the heroes look bad, and you. You, my dear, are the one holding this entire rescue operation together. We can't have that."

She tuts her tongue and leans in close. "So here's what you're going to do."

Ochako feels like a stranger in her own body as she moves back toward the window she came in through. She fights it. Oh, how she fights it, but there's nothing she can do. She suspects pain would bring her back to herself, like it does with Shinsou's quirk, but it's impossible to induce that pain.

She's not strong enough.

She's not strong enough.

She's not strong enough.

She wants to cry as she leaps out the window to the next roof over. Her vision has cleared. The knot in her stomach from holding the building is a distant pain. She's a spectator of her own actions, and oh, God.

A news helicopter circles the building. She waits until the camera is very clearly trained on her, as instructed.

She looks into the camera.

She smiles.

She brings her fingertips together.

"Release."

The words drip like molasses from her lips, and time snaps back into place. The release of her quirk leaves her lightheaded. Distantly, she's aware of the screams and the rumbling and the collapse of the building behind her.

Unconsciousness hits her before she can feel the tears running down her face.

Eight thousand kilometers away, a hero gets a news alert for a topic he follows. This isn't unusual. There's a video attached to the update. This isn't unusual, either.

He reads the article.

He watches the video.

He cries.

That's unusual.

Ochako wakes to the incessant beeping of a heart monitor.

The nurses bustle just as incessantly around her. "You've overused your quirk," they say. "You're lucky to be alive," they say. "It's the greatest disaster since All For One was defeated," they say.

"It's all your fault," they don't say. They don't have to.

She knows.

They keep her overnight for observation. This time, Izuku isn't there to keep her company. "He's in this hospital," they say. "He was badly injured in the building collapse," they say.

"He was one of the lucky ones," they say.

"It's all your fault," they don't say. They don't have to.

She knows.

It's in their eyes, and the way they won't meet hers. It's in the way they cast sidelong glances her way as they pretend to be too busy to look at her. It's a morbid curiosity that can't be satisfied by simply looking, but they'll never ask her outright.

It's the same way Bakugou was treated, once upon a time; like they don't know whether she's a hero or a villain.

She can't blame them. She doesn't know, either.

For the first time in years, she wishes Bakugou were beside her. He'd tell her everyone else could get fucked. That she was a hero, and he'd fight anyone who tried to say otherwise.

Not that she needs him to tell her that. She shouldn't. She knows, even if it's hard to believe right now. It's just nice to hear it spoken.

By him.

She pushes the thought aside. It's been three years. She can't hang onto a past which has no future.

Tsuyu and Kirishima come to spring her from the hospital. She hasn't seen either of them in months, and the sight of their familiar faces brings tears to her eyes. She swallows back thoughts of Bakugou which threaten to reemerge at the sight of Kirishima.

She's emotional, and that's all there is to it.

"Oh, Ochako-chan, ribbit," Tsuyu cries. She hugs her tight, and Kirishima hugs them both, and Ochako loves her friends but she can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe–

They let go.

She's discharged from the hospital with instructions not to use her quirk for another few days and even then only light use for the next few weeks. She wonders how she's going to do hero work without use of her quirk, but nods anyway. The lingering nausea tells her the doctors are right, as much as she doesn't want them to be.

She asks to see Izuku.

He's still unconscious.

"Okay," Tsuyu says as they near the exit. "It's a zoo out there, so keep your head down and don't make eye contact with anyone, ribbit."

"I'll keep the reporters from getting too close," Kirishima adds. "No matter what happens–"

"I know," Ochako says, cutting him off. "Don't respond. I was there for that lecture too, remember?"

"Are you ready, ribbit?"

No, she isn't. But that doesn't matter, does it? She can't hide in this hospital forever, nor does she want to.

"Yeah," she lies. "Let's go."

By the time they reach the car, she can no longer see from all the flashbulbs that go off in her face. She can no longer hear from all the reporters' yelling. She's distantly aware of Tsuyu and Kirishima talking around her, but her ears ring and she processes only echoes of words.

Uravity, is it true you dropped that building on purpose?

Uravity, rumors say you've been working in league with the villains!

Uravity, what do you have to say to the fact you're responsible for the largest civilian casualty since All For One's heyday?

Nothing. She has nothing to say.

With Izuku laid up in the hospital, the responsibility of managing their agency falls solely on her hands. She spends a couple days at Tsuyu's place while she gets over the worst of her illness, but then it's back to work as usual. Well, not quite as usual. Izuku isn't there. She can't lift any more with her quirk than she could when she first entered UA. The heroes and their sidekicks shoot her the same glances the nurses at the hospital did.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

She'll get through this.

Ochako does her best to tune out the news, but still it seeps into her consciousness. They don't have an official death toll yet, but the pundits are estimating it's somewhere in the high hundreds. It makes her sick to her stomach. On top of the lingering traces of quirk-induced nausea, she ends up losing her lunch twice in the week following her return to the office.

If anyone notices, they pretend they don't.

Relegated to paperwork and administrative duties as she is, she avoids having to go back out into the field. It's a small blessing. She's not sure if she's ready to face the world after what happened. She's heard whispers. People think she should be in jail. People believe she needs to go on trial for what she did.

Part of her doesn't disagree. Why does she, as a hero, get a free pass for murdering hundreds of civilians, when that same act would brand anyone else a villain?

These thoughts plague her.

One day, about a week after she returns to the office, she walks in to find a vase of her favorite flowers left on her desk. There's no note, no nothing. There's not even a florist's name – whoever sent them to her really doesn't want to be found. Still, she thanks the office as a whole. They've seen firsthand just how hard the last week has been on her.

Every night, she stops by the hospital to visit Izuku before heading home to an empty apartment. The oppressive silence weighs on her. Gone is the laughter that permeates the space when she and Izuku are both slap-happy and exhausted after a long day of work. Gone are the smells of Izuku's cooking. She's gotten better at cooking over the years, but she's been subsisting on takeout since the incident.

"It'll be okay," she tells herself as she digs into her corner store sushi. "He's getting better. He'll be home soon."

Tsuyu was loathe to leave her alone in the apartment, but both Tsuyu and Kirishima live too far from the agency to make staying with either of them feasible. She's doing all right, though. She's keeping herself together. She's eating.

It's not like when he left.

She shakes her head and bites into a sushi. He's been on her mind recently for reasons she can't explain, and she hates it.

"He's well," Todoroki says when she asks after him. "He's doing really well."

The only reason she doesn't press for more information is because she knows Todoroki won't give it to her.

Ochako finishes her paltry meal and throws out the trash. Her gaze drifts toward the television. She shouldn't check the news. She shouldn't, but … she needs to know.

She turns it on.

She regrets it.

Lying awake in bed that night, the news report cycles through her thoughts repeatedly. The footage of her, staring straight into the camera with dead eyes as she lets go of the building behind her, is haunting. She looks positively villainous. No wonder people have been looking at her like they're trying to figure her out. Like she could snap at any moment.

Everyone knows she was under Hypnos's control, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't change the fact she did what she did.

"As of this afternoon, we've received the final casualty count from the incident with Uravity. Five hundred and three dead, including six heroes, and seven hundred eighteen critically injured. Cleanup efforts are ongoing."

"The question we have to ask ourselves is, can we trust Uravity to keep us safe? She singlehandedly killed five hundred people, and it wasn't an accident. That was a very deliberate move on her part. Has she been playing the long con?"

"Uravity is a stain on UA's reputation."

"It's quite a feat to be able to claim the record for both the largest rescue and the largest massacre, and yet Uravity has done it."

For every pundit saying negative things about her, there are three others defending her, but it doesn't matter. It's going to take some time and effort to move past this and salvage her career.

She cries herself to sleep.

- 3 YEARS, 2 MONTHS -
OCTOBER

Ochako, once recovered from the overuse of her quirk, comes back stronger than ever. In the field, she's relentless. She refuses to let even one other person die under her watch. Izuku worries, but Izuku always worries. She knows he understands. After all, she has something to prove.

If she saves five hundred and three people, will that atone for the five hundred and three deaths she caused?

No, it won't. But it's a good start.

Her hero ranking takes a nosedive in the fallout from the incident. Once a Top Ten hero, she no longer ranks within even the top one hundred, but two months isn't a long time. She'll get back up there. She knows she will.

Unfortunately, returning to the hero circuit also means returning to interviews and press conferences and everything she never really enjoyed, but never used to mind. Now, they're the bane of her existence.

Deep in thought, Ochako kicks idly at a loose pebble as she walks home late one afternoon. It skitters off into the road, whereupon it's immediately run over by a car. In that moment, she feels an odd kinship with the abused pebble. She hasn't been able to catch a break lately, either.

"Mom! Mom, look! It's Uravity!"

Ochako looks up from the sidewalk to see a young girl tugging at her mother's hand, pointing her way. She smiles and waves, and the girl gasps.

"Mom! Uravity waved to me!"

Ochako's face falls as the girl's mother glares over her daughter's head. "That's nice," she says. "Come along, dear."

Ochako buries her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she stalks away. The crisp October air nips at her nose. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Anger surges within her, and she launches herself into a jog up the stairs to the apartment. Her feet hit the steps hard, but it's not enough.

It's not enough.

She manages to refrain from slamming the front door open, but the same can't be said about closed. Despite her anger, she winces. Izuku steps out of the kitchen to investigate, his face creased in concern.

"Ochako?" He speaks her name tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Ochako huffs as she removes her shoes. "Fine," she says. "I'm just fine."

"You don't sound fine," Izuku says. He pauses. "You had that interview today. Did it not go well?"

She clenches her fists. She loves Izuku, she really does, but he's never known when to drop a subject. It's gotten him hurt before. He still carries the scars from his fight with Todoroki in their first year at UA, and they're not the only scars his tenacity has earned him.

Still, there's something to be said for that tenacity. She never could lie to him.

"It went just as well as every other interview I've done in the past two months has gone," she spits, crossing the apartment to throw herself down on the couch. "It's like they're determined to ruin my career!"

The incident with Hypnos is still all that any of the media pundits can focus on when it comes to her. It doesn't matter if they're sympathetic to her or not. Whether they intended to touch on it or not, the topic always wraps back around to the fact she killed over five hundred people and injured seven hundred more.

The more the media brings it up, the more people are reminded. The more people are reminded, the more it hurts her reputation. Despite her efforts in the field and in the media, she doesn't feel like she's getting anywhere. She's trying to climb out of a pit of sand, and she keeps sliding back in.

She remembers the girl's excitement.

She remembers the mother's protective glare.

She's tired of it.

She's tired of being treated like a villain by people she doesn't know. She's tired of being treated like she's fragile by people she does know.

She loves Izuku, but he most definitely falls into the second category. She appreciates that he's been here for her, but this isn't going to break her. He isn't going break her. He should see that. He's seen her break before.

"You know these things take time," Izuku says, following her into the living room. "There was one hero–"

Ochako tunes him out as he babbles off on a tangent about some old hero who went through a similar scandal. The anger, reduced to a simmer in the face of her exhaustion, begins to bubble once more. The more she tries to suppress it, the more it threatens to boil over, until at last the pressure gets to be too much.

"I jus'– I can't do it anymore!" Izuku falls silent at her outburst. Her accent slips. She can't meet his eyes as she leaps from the couch, but she feels him watching her as she paces the room. "I give, an' give, an' give, and I'm tryin'! I'm tryin' so hard, but they won' let it go! They're not even givin' me a chance to move on from it, the way they keep bringin' it up!"

She's still coming to terms with what she did. She imagines she'll still be coming to terms with it for a very long time. Still, she knows dwelling on it won't help. She wants to move on. She wants to put it behind her. But they won't let her.

From Hero to Zero, a memorable headline once read, The Rise and Fall of Japan's Sweetheart.

"Izuku," she says, turning to him. "I can't. I can't do it. I can't keep doin' this."

Izuku smiles sadly. "Then don't."

"What?"

"I said, then don't. Don't do it anymore." He crosses the room to sit on the couch. Ochako follows his lead and sits beside him.

"What– What do ya mean? I'm a hero, I can't jus' … not."

He reaches out and takes one of her hands. "Ochako, hero work is important, but you're more important. If it's not a healthy space for you to be in right now, then take a break. You don't owe anyone anything. It doesn't take much to keep a hero license active; you could come back at any time."

Ochako sits silently, stunned. Take a break? Hero work is all she's known since she was fifteen. At twenty-two, it's all she's known for the better part of a decade. Who would she be if she wasn't Uravity? She never thought she'd find out.

"But," she protests weakly, "the agency–"

"Would run just fine without you, and it would still be there if and when you returned."

"But I can't– I can't jus' give up," she said. Heroes don' give up. Plus Ultra, right?"

"Who said anything about giving up?" Izuku asks. He pauses for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "When I broke my arms too much in our first year at UA, before I learned how to control One for All, I had to stop using my arms and work on something else for a while. That doesn't mean I gave up on using my quirk, or on using my arms, but I had to listen to myself and what I needed."

Izuku rarely talks about the trouble he had controlling his quirk in their first year. She knows about One for All now, but she also knows how hard the secrecy had been drilled into him from the beginning. She's surprised he's mentioned it now.

"So you're saying … hero work is my arms, and I've gotta stop using those and start using my legs for a while before I can use my arms again."

Izuku smiles. "Only if you think you need to," he says.

Ochako bites her lip. "I dunno," she says. "I guess … I guess I'll think about it. Maybe I'll go home for a little bit, talk to my parents. Figure out what I should do."

"If you don't want to take a break, then don't. I just want you to do what's best for you," Izuku says.

Yeah. She wants to do what's best for her, too. She just doesn't know what that is.

- 4 YEARS, 6 MONTHS -
JANUARY

It takes time, but she figures it out. The decision to step back from her career as a pro hero is the hardest decision she's ever made in her life. She regrets it, at first. Oh, how she regrets it. Could she have fixed things if she'd given it a little more time? A little more effort? Maybe she gave up too early. She misses the rush, the thrill, the knowledge her actions have made a difference.

She watches the news. Remembers when it used to be her out there, fighting the good fight. She nurses Izuku back to health when he ultimately stumbles through the door of their apartment bruised and broken.

Hero work is a part of her. She longs for it. She's incomplete without it.

Uravity fades from the public eye. Despite her original misgivings, Ochako can't deny that the distance gives her a sense of levity she hasn't felt since before she broke up with Nibui. She can breathe again, and isn't that what's most important?

She enrolls in a physics program at a local university. She can't stand the thought of doing nothing, and 'Uravity Takes a Break From Hero Work to Attend College' is a much better headline than 'Uravity Quits Hero Work in the Fallout Of Disaster.' The stars have always fascinated her, and she finds herself taking on an astronomy minor as well. Even in her absence from hero work, she works to refine her quirk.

One day, she'll return to her pro hero career. She made that promise to herself when she decided to step away.

In the chaos that is her life, she forgets what year it is. She forgets how long it's been. She's so wrapped up in the domesticity of college life and living with Izuku that a year passes before she realizes. Suddenly it's June, and Izuku is picking Todoroki up from the airport.

Everything changes.

Ochako knows her friendship with Izuku is unbreakable, but with Todoroki back, she knows she'll never again come first. This apartment has been her home for the last four years, but it's Todoroki's apartment first and foremost. The boys insist she's not unwelcome; after all, they have a guest bedroom for a reason. Todoroki himself tells her she's welcome to stay.

So she stays. The apartment is even cheaper with three people, and it's close to her college. The three of them settle into a new rhythm, but it's a rhythm Ochako knows isn't sustainable. Living with a couple, especially a couple who have been separated for four years, is hard.

She makes herself scarce. She gets breakfast with Tsuyu and Momo. She puts in long hours studying at the university's library. She spends time with Izuku and Shouto, as he requests her to call him, but she often feels like she's intruding. She and Izuku are still as intimately close as they always have been, but the moments they have together are few and far between.

It's ridiculous, but Ochako misses her friend. She misses the man she considers family. He's a brother she never had.

She knows she'll have to move out eventually, but she puts it off.

Part of her hopes–

After all these years, she hopes–

She hopes–

But she doesn't hear from him. She knows he's back in the country. He shows up on the news, all black and orange and green with sharp edges and an even sharper tongue. It's been four years. She's dated other people.

Her aching heart skips a beat when she meets his eyes through the TV screen.

But she doesn't hear from him. She hasn't changed her number, but he doesn't text her. She knows Izuku or Shouto would tell her if he asked either of them for her number, but all she gets from them are increasingly irritating looks whenever he comes up in conversation.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

She's heard rumors that he's staying with Kirishima until he finds his own place and gets settled. She can't count the number of times she's pulled up her SMS history with Kirishima, even had a text half-written, before deleting everything and closing out of the window.

If he wants to see her, he'll reach out.

Of course, her conscious reminds her, if she wants to see him, she should reach out.

But she doesn't. What would she say? What could she say?

Summer turns to fall. She sees him once, in person, as she walks home from class one afternoon. He's chasing some villain, and she's in civvies. She's always in civvies, these days. There's nothing to distinguish her from the crowd around her. She shouldn't be surprised he doesn't see her. She shouldn't be disappointed.

Fall turns to winter. Still, she doesn't hear anything.

She lets it go.

Ochako shivers as she walks home from touring her second apartment complex, the sharp January air cutting straight through her peacoat. She forgot her gloves that morning, and her fingers are frozen. She can't wait to get back to the apartment and make herself a mug of hot chocolate. Izuku and Shouto have a date planned for tonight, so it'll just be her, her hot chocolate, a blanket, and a movie. She hasn't decided which movie yet, but she has some time to figure it out.

By the time she reaches the front door, the sun is beginning to set. Her toes are frozen in her boots. Maybe a hot shower wouldn't go amiss, either.

Caught up in her thoughts as she is, she doesn't notice the lights are on inside until she opens the door. Huh. That's odd. There shouldn't be anyone home. Is something wrong? Are either of them hurt? Ochako begins to panic as she toes off her boots.

"I'm home!" she calls. "Izuku? Shouto? Are you guys okay?"

Silence greets her. That's unusual– Izuku is usually quick to return her greeting if he's home. If he isn't home and Shouto is, then Shouto greets her. The lack of response sets her on edge, and a lump lodges itself in her throat as she hangs her coat.

"Izuku?" she calls again. "Shouto? Guys, this isn't funny!"

It wouldn't be the first time they've pulled a prank on her, but none of their pranks have ever made her uncomfortable like this. Shit. Has someone broken in? She doesn't hear anyone, but she raises her hands in preparation for an attack.

She doesn't know what the burglar thinks he's going to find. For an apartment belonging to two pro-heroes and lodging a third former pro-hero, it's remarkably like your average twenty-three-year-old's apartment. They don't own anything expensive, save for Shouto's fancy coffeemaker.

With a deep breath, she pads forward silently. A rustle in the living room gives her pause for half a second. She rushes forward to ambush the intruder–

A man on the couch.

A hauntingly familiar blond-haired man on the couch.

–and stops in her tracks.

"Oh."

The word falls from her lips before she can process what's happening. He's. He's here. He's here? Why is he here? How did he get in? What does he want? Why is he here?

"Um," he says. "Hi."

She barely hears him past the questions swirling in her mind. Her eyes drink him in. She's seen him on the news, of course, but the television could never capture everything that makes Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki.

"Hi," she squeaks. "I– uh–"

It's too much.

He's too much.

She turns on her heel. Hot chocolate. She'd wanted hot chocolate. She'll make hot chocolate. She needs something to occupy her hands, to busy her thoughts so she doesn't begin to spiral the way she feels herself slipping. Yanking the cabinet door open, she nearly misses his next words.

"Uraraka–" the syllables of her name are shrapnel against her skin– "I'm sorry. This was– this was a bad idea. I'll, um. I'll go."

Panic wells in her throat. Tears prick her eyes. This is too much, too soon. She doesn't know what he wants. She doesn't know what she wants. She hadn't let herself think about it before now, and she's woefully unprepared.

She leans around the kitchen wall and glares at him. "Don't you dare," she says. She doesn't know what she wants, but she knows if she lets him walk out that door, she'll never get another chance to figure it out. "Bakugou Katsuki, I swear, if you walk out that door–"

She doesn't finish the sentence. The sentence doesn't have an end.

Bakugou pauses. His eyes flick up to meet her gaze squarely with a searching gaze of his own. What he's searching for, she doesn't know. Whatever it is, though, he seems to find it. With a quirk of his lips, he raises his hands in a universal gesture of surrender and takes a pointed step back.

"You haven't changed much," he quips. Quips.

Ochako scoffs as she pulls a mug down from the cabinet. "I've changed plenty," she says, raising her voice for his sake. "Four years, remember?" She hesitates, then grabs a second mug. She may be reeling, but she won't be rude.

"I remember," Bakugou says, and god, she missed his voice. "I was there. Or rather, I wasn't. I mean– fuck."

Ochako hides her smile in the cabinet where she and Izuku keep the hot cocoa powder. "I know what you mean," she says. "It, um–" It was hard, she wants to say, but is she ready to open that can of worms?

"It, what?"

Ochako looks up to see him standing in the entryway of the kitchen, casual as anything. She gapes as she tries to find the right words with which to brush him off. Is he taller? He feels taller. Or maybe he's just … broader? Does that make sense?

"It, nothing," she says, busying herself with warming the milk. "It's nothing."

"Bullshit."

She sighs. He always could see right through her, couldn't he? Why, of all the things that have changed, couldn't that be one of them?

Considering her words, she speaks carefully and clearly. "It's good to see you again." It's an admission, but as far as admissions go, it's fairly tame. Turning the stove off, she continues, "After six months, I was starting to wonder if you were actually going out of your way to avoid me."

Forced levity belies real hurt, and she turns to catch him watching her intently.

He meets her gaze head-on. "You didn't exactly reach out, either."

Ochako searches those red, red eyes of his and finds hurt within them as well. Maybe … maybe she should have texted him. She wasn't sure if he still had the same number, but she could have texted Kirishima. She has no excuse for her silence, just as he had no excuse for his.

She smiles at him quickly before looking away. "No," she says. "I didn't. And I'm not on active hero duty right now, so it's not like we would've run into each other at work."

Who is she kidding? It wouldn't have mattered if she'd known his number. She didn't contact him because she was both afraid he'd moved on and afraid he hadn't. It's been four years– she thought she'd moved on. She had moved on. But his presence, both in Japan but even more so here, in her kitchen, threatens her resolve.

He still smells like burnt sugar.

"I, um. I heard about that," Bakugou says after several long moments.

Her hand stills for a moment in the middle of whisking in the cocoa. She waits for him to continue. She waits for the empty platitudes – the "It happens," the "I'm sorry," the "Are you okay?" – but they don't come. It's a first, even after all this time.

A wave of affection for this man crashes over her, bringing tears to her eyes. She blinks them back and sniffs surreptitiously. She forgot just how foreign the concept of 'pity' was to Bakugou, and how refreshing she found it. Finds it.

"Fuck," Bakugou curses behind her. "Should I not have said that? Goddammit."

She can't help it. She laughs.

She laughs.

"No," she says once she's recovered, turning to pour the hot chocolate into the mugs she set out. "No, it's fine. It's–" How can words express how fine it is? She gives up and grins up at him. "It's fine."

Bakugou gazes back at her with a look she thought she'd long since lost to time. It's the look that stared up at her from an exercise bench on a cold winter's night. It's the look he gave her on a warm summer's evening, bathed in a watercolor sunset.

Her heart stops.

It's a look that makes her weak in the knees, and she wants nothing more than to give into it.

But she can't.

Right?

It's been four years. Bakugou isn't the same person. His jaw is sharper, his explosive anger tempered, and don't think she hasn't noticed the hearing aids tucked into the curves of his ears. Years' worth of close-range explosions must have finally taken their toll, just like Aizawa always said they would.

She isn't the same person, either. Her face is thinner than it once was, her hair cropped shorter than it's ever been. She has scars where there was once smooth skin, and she's no longer the pro hero she always wanted to be. Instead, she's studying physics at a local college.

They aren't the same people. He isn't the man she once loved. She isn't the woman he once loved.

But she still loves the man who lives in her memory, and that's what makes this so hard.

Ochako shakes her head and smiles ruefully. "I assume you still like your hot chocolate spicy?" Pushing her thoughts aside, she reaches for the spice cabinet and grabs the chili powder before Bakugou can answer.

"What kinda fuckin' question is that?"

She shrugs. "Just figured I'd ask." With practiced hands, she mixes the chili powder into the mugs of hot chocolate, giving Bakugou twice as much as she gives herself.

"Half-weenie, half-spicy," Bakugou murmurs absently. Ochako wonders if he meant to say it aloud. The observation is almost intimate in its delivery, and heat rises in her cheeks. She doesn't respond with words, handing him his mug. He takes it, but doesn't move.

"We can move back to the living room," she prompts. "It's, uh, more comfortable in there."

"Um. Right."

Ochako follows Bakugou back into the living room, and the tentative easiness that fell around them in the kitchen fades back into the nerve-racking tension of when she first saw him. He takes a seat on one end of the couch, and she claims a space on the other end, drawing her feet up beneath her.

It's almost funny. The first time they did this, it was Bakugou who sat as far away from her as possible.

The first time they did this, she was fearless about forcing him to talk.

When had things gotten so twisted?

She doesn't like it. She doesn't like it one bit.

There's no point in exchanging pleasantries or pretending this is nothing more than one friend visiting another. There's too much history. Too much pain. Too much love. Too much loss. She takes a deep breath and, with a sigh, asks The Question:

"Why are you here, Bakugou?"

Silence falls over the apartment, broken only by the electric humming of the overhead lights. There's an electricity between the two of them as well, like the charge of the world before a thunderstorm. Ochako wonders if Bakugou can feel it. She watches with bated breath as Bakugou bites his lip and stares down at his mug as if it's the most interesting thing in the room. She can't stand the static tension, but she knows better than to push him on things like these. He'll answer in his own time.

She doesn't know what she wants the answer to be. She doesn't know what she expects. She doesn't know if she can expect anything, and that's … that's okay. She doesn't know how she feels. She can't expect him to know how he–

"Because I love you."

–feels.

What?

"What was that?"

"I love you."

That's … what she thought he said.

"You didn't let me say it that night, but I– I wanted to." He looks her way. She should say something, reassure him somehow, but she doesn't. She can't.

"Fuck, Ochako!" He jumps to his feet in an explosion of motion so Bakugou it makes her heart hurt, and her name … oh, it's never sounded so bittersweet. "What do you want me to say? I tried moving on. I tried, but I couldn't get you out of my head! Why the fuck did we break up? We didn't have a fight, we weren't having problems, we just fuckin' … gave up. We gave up! And I've spent years wishing we hadn't."

Her gears start grinding again, and his implicit accusation is one she can't take sitting down. She sets her half-empty mug on the coffee table and stands despite the weakness in her knees.

"That's exactly why we broke up, Katsuki!" she snaps. "We weren't having problems! We weren't fighting! But I know you and you know me, and we wouldn't have survived a long-distance relationship." Her volume rises with every word, but she doesn't care. "Look me in the eye and tell me we wouldn't have fought about me moving in with Izuku! Tell me you wouldn't have gotten upset about us starting an agency together! Tell me you wouldn't have cared about the rumors and the photos! Tell me we would have made it through all that okay!"

His silence is answer enough.

"That's what I thought."

That evokes a reaction. "Oh, so that's it, is it?" Katsuki snarls, crossing his arms. "It all would've been my fault! Do you really think that fucking little of me, Ochako?"

"Of course not!" Ochako throws her hands up in exasperation. "Stop putting words in my mouth! When did I say that it would've been your fault? It's not like I would've done much better!"

Katsuki blinks. "What?"

Ochako sighs and runs a hand through her hair before crossing her arms tight against her body. "I wouldn't have done much better," she repeats, looking everywhere but at the man standing before her. "You were in America. In California. In college, following All Might's footsteps, surrounded by American college girls and heroes and everything you ever wanted and … I would've been afraid you'd forget me, even if you didn't mean to. I'm not special, Katsuki. I'm a poor country girl from rural Japan. I wasn't going to go to college. If I tried to compete, I would've felt like I was fighting a losing battle and that … that wouldn't have been good for either of us."

Her words ring in the silence of the apartment. Several moments pass, and she shifts uneasily beneath Katsuki's gaze. He lifts an eyebrow. "Are you done?"

Right. Of course. That's what she gets for baring her soul to this man. He never much was one for sentiment, although–

"Because I love you."

–his words suggest otherwise.

"Yeah." She sighs. "Yeah. I'm done." Done with her tirade, done with this conversation, done hoping that maybe– just maybe–

Oh, who is she kidding? She still doesn't know what she's hoping for.

Katsuki uncrosses his arms and steps forward. Before she can register what's happening, he's standing just an arm's length away from her. His burnt-sugar sweetness invades her senses, and her lungs betray her. Her breath catches. She closes her eyes against the prickling threat of tears, but it does nothing to dull her awareness of him before her.

"Not everything," he says in nearly a whisper. She lets his voice wash over her. "I thought it was everything, when All Might first offered me the spot, but then you happened and by the time I realized … it was too fuckin' late."

"When?" Ochako can't open her eyes. If she does, she knows the tears will come immediately thereafter. "When did you realize?"

"That last night," he croaks. His breath ghosts past her skin. "On the balcony. I didn't– I didn't want to let go."

Ochako shakes her head. "I didn't want to let go either," she whispers. The confession is a drop in a puddle, rippling outwards. "But I had to."

"Ochako." The syllables of her first name send a thrill down her spine, but she can't. She's about to cry as it is. She jumps when she feels hot pressure on her upper arms. His hands, surely. It's all she can do not to melt right then and there at the touch. "Ochako, fuck. Please look at me."

The please rocks her to the core. With a shaky breath, she opens her eyes and hazards a glance up at his face. Sanguine eyes return her gaze with an intensity unique to the man they belong to. She swallows hard against the butterflies that leap into her throat.

His hands trail down her arms, leaving tracks in their wake even through the long sleeve shirt she wears. She shivers beneath the sensation and breaks eye contact, choosing instead to stare into his chest.

"You are special, Ochako," Katsuki says, and she remembers a night. An ambush. A fight. A confession. There's a gentle tug at her elbows, and in her distraction she instinctively uncrosses her arms. His palms ghost down her forearms, and then he's taking her hands in his.

"K– Katsuki?"

"Say the word and I'll go. Tell me you don't feel the same way and we can be friends and I'll never fuckin' bother you about it again. But if you do, I– I want a second chance."

There's desperation in his voice, and Ochako can no longer keep the tears at bay. Without letting go of his hands, she steps closer and rests her forehead against his chest.

"Goddammit," he says over her head. "Ochako, I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, still pressed into his chest. "Don't be," she says, her voice thick.

"I didn't catch that. My ears are fucked, remember?"

Right.

She does remember.

With a heavy sigh, she steps back and pulls her hands from Katsuki's so she can wipe the tears from her face. She sits back on the couch, and after a moment's hesitation, Katsuki follows her lead.

There's less space between them now than there was when they first sat down.

She clasps her hands together and rests her elbows on her knees. Long moments pass as she struggles to find the words she wants to say. She eventually settles on, "I found the note you left me. I pinned it to my vanity." She glances up at him. "It's still there."

She rips her gaze away from his awestruck face. If she's going to get through this, she needs to not look at him. "I wore your jacket around the apartment for weeks after you left. I stopped when I moved in with Izuku because I couldn't burden him with my problems when he had his own, what with Todoroki being gone. But I still wore it occasionally, especially when I was feeling down." She laughs. "I realized things never could've worked out with Foresight when the first thing I did after we broke up was fish out your jacket and note and stand out on the balcony."

Steeling herself, she finds her next words. "I don't know if I still love you," she says truthfully. "I don't know if I still love you, but I did love you, and I– I don't want to let go again."

She looks up to see tears in his eyes. Through her own, she smiles. "I want to know if I can love you again."

Ochako can't remember the last time she saw Katsuki cry. Did he cry that night on the balcony? She doesn't know. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change the fact he's crying now.

"Are you–?" His voice breaks. He swallows and tries again. "Really?"

She nods, tears once again streaming down her face. "Really," she says. "But slowly. I think we both– we both need some time."

Katsuki stares back at her like she's hung the moon. "Yeah," he croaks. He reaches for her then, as if already growing impatient, but snatches his hands back. "Yeah, okay. But please, let me at least hug you. Shit, Ochako."

She laughs, but the laughter catches wetly in her throat. "You're gonna have to get closer than that."

His face darkens. With that, she knows he still has some of the same buttons he had four years ago, and she's still able to push them. He scoots down the couch and is next to her in less than a heartbeat. His strong arms encircle her and draw her close and – despite how sharp and rough Katsuki is as a person – the hug is so soft and tender and sweet and it's almost like he's afraid of hurting her.

She sighs into his warmth. He doesn't have to be afraid of hurting her.

He still feels like home.

Author's Note:

Wow. That's it for the main part of the fic so I'm gonna mark it as complete, but I'll be posting some companion pieces (including the last scene from Katsuki's POV) under this title so that I can keep them all together.

Thank you so much for your support! This has been a wild ride for sure.

I'm also now on Twitter as karmahope2713 ^.^