Chapter Text
Ochako is the kind of person who—despite her best attempts—is not always on time.
She tries, she swears, but something always gets in the way. Like she would be forgetting to iron out her shirt, for example, or her wallet would somehow be gone, or she would miss her train. Or she’d be hyping herself up to go to her friend’s house and missing the fact that it takes ten minutes for her to get to the station and it’s already four fifty-eight.
They agreed to meet up at the station at five.
Shit.
Ochako curses her the-person-who-is-always-late syndrome and runs like hell.
They decided to meet up at the station because, A) They all agreed they needed to change clothes and maybe shower before doing the project, and point B) Ojiro-kun apparently needed to pick up his little sister from daycare. Therefore, they collectively decided to go home first instead of doing the group project right away after school. Which works, for Ochako. She thinks. Gives her some prep time to, um ... some prep time to prep, she supposes.
Because, C) They decided to do their project in Midoriya-kun’s house.
Which leads to point D.
“Hi guys,” Ochako pants, “Sorry I’m late.”
“Heya,” Kaminari-kun, the second team member, says.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ojiro-kun, the third member, says. And then with a touch of concern, “You okay there?”
She could use some water, truthfully. “Oh, I’m good,” she says, feeling that the back of her shirt is soaked through with sweat and cursing said fact. “Um. So..” she straightens herself up. “Well … shall we?”
Like Ochako, both boys are wearing casual clothes. It’s always strange to see your classmates out of uniform for the first time. “Yeah. Uh,” Ojiro-kun flips out his phone. “We should use the … blue line first, and then change to red … it’s just a few minutes walk to his place after that.”
“Okay. I’m texting Midoriya-kun we are on the way,” Ochako hesitates. “Has any of you. Gone to his house before?”
“Uh, not me,” Kaminari says, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at the other boy. “But, hey, Ojiro. You go to the same dojo as … as Midoriya, right?” Ochako doesn’t miss the slight pause before Kaminari says Midoriya-kun’s name.
Realizing both Ochako and Kaminari are looking at him, Ojiro-kun looks somewhat flustered. “Oh, no. I mean, yes, we do, but—” he clears his throat. “No, I never went to his house before. We were just. I mean, we were—we are friends, but we're just—casual sort of…” yeah, he’s flustered. “You know? I mean, not that I don’t want to go to his place, it just never, uh—”
“Never came up,” Ochako finishes it for him, because Ojiro looks more and more pained throughout his monologue. “Yeah. Gotcha.”
“..Yeah.”
They stare at each other. Kaminari coughs. “So,” he says. “We going, or..?”
Awkwardly following each other’s lack of lead, the three of them hesitantly amble towards the train line. Ochako stifles a sigh.
She wonders if it’d be less awkward if they hadn’t picked Midoriya’s house as the meeting place.
Ochako’s place is a no-go because she’s moved to her rent and it’s girls only. Meanwhile, Ojiro has some family members coming over and Kaminari’s house is the farthest out of all of them.
“Fifty-minute bus ride?” Ochako had said back in the first period today. “Kaminari-kun … how do you even go to school every day?”
“I wake up, like, really really early.”
“Damn,” Ojiro winced in sympathy. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah, it sucks big time,” Kaminari sighed. “But, y’know, the rent is cheaper outside town...”
“Oh, yeah.” Ochako knows that, because her parents live outside town. Ochako has rented herself a place near school despite the financial strain, because she would be late every single day otherwise.
Kaminari does not look like a person who wakes up early. Internally, Ochako felt like she learned something new about her friend. “I admire you way more now, Kaminari-kun.”
Kaminari beamed. “Thanks, Uraraka.”
“I mean, we can just meet up at a cafe, I guess,” Ochako said, even though she’d rather not. She didn’t want to waste money buying drinks or food that she could just scrap together at home. “Or at the public library … oh, maybe the school library is open at later hours..?”
“No, it’s closing at six,” Ojiro said apologetically. “I think I’ll only get there at five, and I don’t think one hour is enough time to do the project, sorry…”
“No, no, it’s fine! So I guess we can just pick a nearby cafe, then,” Maybe she could just order water. “There is this one in—”
“Um,” Midoriya had said softly. “How about my place?”
It had been the first thing Midoriya-kun said the entire day to the point that it was surprising that he had even said anything. Ochako didn’t realize she and the boys had been staring at him for too long until Midoriya ducked his head down, cheeks shining red. “I mean—my place is only a twenty-minute train ride from school, but—” his words were quiet, as always. “But if you guys don’t … feel like it, then I guess a cafe would—”
“Oh no, it’s fine,” Ochako cut him immediately, making panicked eye contact with the other two boys, who were also making panicked eye contact with her. “That’s—great! We’d love to go to your—we’d love to visit—” too much, she thought in panic. Just act normal. “Okay! Sure. Yep. So. Midoriya-kun’s place. That’s—that’s okay, right? Right, guys?”
“Ye—yeah,” coughed Kaminari after Ochako elbowed him in the ribs. “It’s cool. I guess.”
“Sure,” Ojiro-kun said, still in eye contact with Ochako. “That’d be great..”
Midoriya-kun had nodded, typed in his address to a group chat that Ojiro made, and then spoke nothing else for the rest of the day.
Which was … is … fine.
Okay, Midoriya-kun being deathl—being very quiet is perhaps arguably not fine, from, uh, friendship plus mental health standpoint or whatever, and Ochako is still working on that—but the Visiting Midoriya Household part is fine. After all, there isn’t anything wrong with going over to Midoriya-kun’s house. Like, at all.
So, no, Ochako thinks. It wouldn't be less awkward if they hadn’t picked Midoriya’s place. It wouldn’t be, because Midoriya-kun would be in their group either way, which isn’t … exactly … the problem. Ochako refuses to think of that as a problem. The problem, she has decided, is point D.
D) Talking to your classmate who died and came back to life is awkward as hell.
..She had thought maybe they just needed to give it time.
It has, after all, only been a few days since Midoriya-kun … came back. Three days to be exact. And in those three days, Ochako has nearly forgotten what Midoriya-kun’s voice sounds like because he barely says a thing in class.
Or in the cafeteria, or in P.E—hell, she even asked Ojiro-kun if Midoriya-kun had ever said anything to him in the bathroom. But nothing. He hadn’t said a single thing, not unless someone said something to him first, and…
And even then, it always falls short. And if it doesn’t fall short, it falls disastrously.
There were a few instances.
INSTANCE 1
Participants: Yaoyorozu-san (Y) & Midoriya-kun (M)
Y: Oh! Midoriya-kun! Good morning.
M: Oh … good morning.
Y: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
Y: By the way—
M: Um—
Y: [Laughs awkwardly] Oh, sorry, you first.
M: Are you sure? You can—
Y: It’s fine!
M: No, it’s really—
Y: No really, it’s—
M: [Silence]
Y: [Silence]
M: Um, okay. [Unzips his bag] Um, here is the map you lent to me the other day, Yaoyorozu-san..
Y: Oh, you really didn’t need to return it to me..
M: Oh..
Y: I mean, thanks for returning it, of course..
M: ..No problem. Thank you for. Lending it to me. Your notes are really—really good.
Y: Oh, thank you! Yours too!
M: [Silence]
Y: [Realizes that Midoriya did not lend her his notes nor has she ever seen his notes]
Y: Um.
M: [Silence]
Y: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
Y: [Silence]
M: ..Yaoyorozu-san, do you … need anything else from me..?
Y: Oh! Oh, no, I’m quite alright.
M: Um, okay. Um. Yaoyorozu-san?
Y: Yes?
M: Can I come in?
Y: [Realizes she has been blocking Midoriya-kun’s entrance to the class the entire time] Oh! Of course—[steps aside in shame] Apologies, haha..
M: [Mutters apologies and finally goes to his seat]
Y: [Mutters apologies and shamefully goes back to her seat]
That one didn’t go too bad. Yaoyorozu-san did blush for the rest of the period but all in all, it wasn’t disastrous.
Unlike this one.
INSTANCE 2
Participants: Ashido-san (A), Sero-kun (S) & Midoriya-kun (M)
A: Isn’t that an X-Men keychain?
M: [Silence]
A: [Silence]
M: [Finally realizes she’s talking to him] Oh! Um. Yes.
A: Nice! Where did you get it? It looks so sick.
M: I—um, I made it. Myself.
A: What! No fucking way. Oi, Sero, check this out.
S: What? Ohh, that looks sick.
A: He made it himself, can you believe it?
S: What! No way, do you do commissions?
M: Commissions..? Um, not really..
S: Damn, too bad, I’d really love to have one..
M: Oh. Uh. I can—I can make one for you if you want..
S: Oh no way, dude, for real?
A: What, I want one too!
M: Oh. Really? ..Yeah, I … can totally make some for you guys..
S: And we’re totally going to pay you for it.
M: You don’t need to—
A: Yeah, totally! Support artists, man.
M: ..Oh. Thank you. That’d—that’d be nice.
S: Yeah, haha.
A: Haha.
M: [Silence]
A: [Silence]
S: [Silence]
A: Um, anyway! I didn’t know you were an X-Men fan as well, Midoriya-kun! Sero-kun and I have been exchanging comics..
S: Yeah, Ashido has a shitload of vintage editions. By the way, who’s your fave, dude?
M: ..um. I like Scott Summers..
S: Cyclops, nice! Good choice. Respectable. Me, I like Namor and Magneto..
A: I love Jean Grey, Madelyne Pryor, Storm … oh, and X-23!
S: Oh, man, I love characters with healing factors! Wolverine is defo up there. Does Deadpool count as X-Men? I fucking love Deadpool, man.
A: Deadpool is like, Schrodinger’s X-Men. Ooh, speaking of, did you know they’re making a live-action remake—
S: No way! For Deadpool?
A: Yeah, for real. It’s R-rated too, I think they’re gonna go real hard with the gore—
S: Oh man!
A: In the last live-action they really went ham with making his deaths as creative as possible, LOL! [She is the kind of person who says LOL out loud] Remember that scene where he got torn in half and—
S: And grew his body back! Man, that was so funny. Ooh, or that scene where he—
A & S: [At the same time] Blew himself up!
S: That’s what’s so fun about characters who can’t die like Deadpool! You can really just do anything with … them…
S: [Finally realizes what they’ve been saying]
A: [Finally realizes what they’ve been saying as well]
M: [Has been silent the whole time]
S: ..Um … Midoriya-kun. I … I didn’t mean to—
M: It’s okay.
S: [Silence]
A: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
The entire class who has been listening: [Silence]
A: Um. A-anyway … there are other, um. Other superhero movies coming out too this year. Haha..
S: Oh yeah … like that, uh, that new movie of Crimson Riot … the CG looks really good..
A: I’ve seen the trailer for that! Man, it does look really good, and I’m so down for the cast too. Can’t wait, honestly, I’m just dying to see … it … [realizes what she just said] … um.
S: [Silence]
A: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
A: ..Midoriya-kun, I didn’t mean—
M: It’s okay.
That one went down in the history books. That one left everybody traumatized. That one left the entire class, who had been listening to the painful exchange in silence, sitting in an even painfuler silence for the rest of the day.
There was also one very, very rare case where it had been Midoriya who initiated the conversation.
INSTANCE 3
Participants: Todoroki-kun (T) & Midoriya-kun (M)
M: Um … Todoroki-kun?
T: [Silence]
M: Just passing you the—the physics worksheet.
T: [Receives the worksheet silently]
M: Um.
T: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
T: [Silence]
M: [Returns to his seat silently]
T: [Silence]
But most of the time, most interactions with Midoriya-kun go like this:
INSTANCE 4
Participants: Bakugou-kun (B) & Midoriya-kun (M)
B: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
B: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
B: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
B: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
B: [Silence]
M: [Silence]
There you have it.
Many have said that Ochako seems like an optimistic person, and Ochako does, in fact, believe herself to be a fervent optimist. But even she can see that this whole thing is not looking good at all, man.
At this rate..
She sighs, glancing at her companions. Ojiro-kun and Kaminari-kun, huh?
Ojiro-kun should be fine, she thinks—he’s probably the closest to Midoriya-kun in class, aside from … well, aside from whatever is going on with Bakugou-kun and Midoriya-kun. Kaminari-kun, though … come to think of it, she hasn’t seen Kaminari-kun talk to Midoriya-kun at all ever since that day Midoriya-kun came back.
As for Ochako herself—well, it’s not like Midoriya-kun is ignoring her. He does respond to her questions—if muttering “okay” and “um” and “yes” can be considered responsive, anyway.
Will the four of them be fine?
..They will. Ochako is an optimist.
The three of them enter the train. “Do you guys want to..?” Ojiro-kun gestures at the row of available seats. “It’s a bit of a ride till we change trains.”
Ochako sits down with the two boys on either side of h—”Ouch!”
Kaminari jolts. “Oh shit, sorry!”
“What happened?”
“It’s fine,” Ochako rubs the spot on her elbow where it had touched Kaminari’s arm. That hurt. “What was that?”
“Happens when I’m nervous,” Kaminari says apologetically. “I give lots of, uh, static. It’s my Quirk. Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” Ochako says. And now that she looks at him, Kaminari-kun does look a little nervous. The jittery knees, mostly, and the pale face.
She wonders if she looks as nervous as he does.
Nervous, huh? There is no reason for them to be nervous. They’re just visiting a friend’s house. Which is normal. Which is what you do, right, just doing a school project at a friend’s house. Normal.
Normal.
“We’re getting off the next stop,” Ojiro-kun announces, to the relief of the other two, because the silence of classmates who have not gotten to know each other well enough is excruciating. They enter the next train in another awkward silence for approximately five seconds before Ochako’s innate extroversion can’t take it anymore.
“So—”
“By the way—”
“Do you guys—”
They pause, surprised at each other’s respective attempt at starting a conversation. And then they laugh—awkwardly, but … Ochako feels a little of the tension finally melting away. “You guys go first,” she says.
“Nah, you can go first—”
“Oh, come on,” she rolls her eyes jokingly. “Ojiro-kun, you first.”
“No, sorry,” Ojiro looks sheepish again. He’s quiet, Ochako has noticed. Not as quiet as Midoriya-kun, but quiet enough. He still has a few wounds visible from the—the incident, a few plasters here and there—but all his bruises have faded away to barely distinguishable yellow. “I was just trying to…”
She smiles. “Break the ice?”
He smiles back, small. “Yeah.”
“Me too,” Ochako admits.
“Actually,” Kaminari says. “I just wanted to ask if any of you guys have done the English assignment for tomorrow … and if I can. Maybe. Take a little peek..?”
Both Ochako and Ojiro stare at him. And then burst out laughing.
As a matter of fact, neither of them have touched the English assignment (“I didn’t know we even had one!” “We also have a math thing..” “What math thing?!”) and they also apparently have a math thing coming up on the same day. “They weren't joking when they said UA isn’t just about punching and kicking Villains,” Ochako says genially.
“Well, we sure as hell had our share of punching and … kicking Villains…” Kaminari’s joke trails. His smile abruptly fades.
Silence.
Yep, Ochako thinks. Too soon. She clears her throat. “Anyway!” she trudges on, determined not to lose their socializing streak, “I guess we can see if—if Midoriya-kun’s done … any of the assignments. He looks like the type who,” she swallows. “Who does his work.”
They’re inching closer to a territory that they’ve all been avoiding, Ochako knows that. To her slight relief, someone responds. “He does, doesn’t he,” Ojiro laughs half-heartedly. Kaminari turns uncharacteristically quiet again, though. He’s been doing that whenever Midoriya-kun is brought up. The conversation petters out.
Damn it. Ochako’s brain is scrambling to come up with another topic. This sucks so bad. Ochako forgot how challenging it is to talk to new people—
“Midoriya-kun is, um. The most diligent in the dojo. I think.”
Ochako blinks, turning to look at Ojiro-kun. Unbidden, the memory of that noon three days ago comes to mind, and her cheeks flush.
It’s embarrassing to remember how riled up she had been, and god, the things that she had said, that she did—
Can I touch you? What the hell was she thinking?
She cringes at the memory. Ojro-kun had been there to see all of it too, so that’s just great. She really said—she really did all that in front of two people she hasn’t even known for a month. What the hell, she barely even knew them for a week.
But Ojiro looks back at her, and she notices that his face is slightly pink too, and Ochako has a suspicion that he’s reminiscing the exact same thing that she does.
..She supposes both of them had been riled up. Somewhat equally. So she isn’t alone in this leftover embarrassment, at the very least.
Ochako should, she thinks, talk to Ojiro-kun more. She has a feeling they’d get along, based on the common ground of having made a heartfelt, embarrassing speech to a mutual friend.
“..Huh,” Ochako says slowly, physically able to feel the thin ice they’re treading. “That isn’t very surprising, actually.”
“You guys should visit our dojo some time,” Ojiro says then, after another pause. “If you’re ever looking to brush up your skills…”
Ochako isn’t sure if she has enough money to spare for an extra course. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she grins. “A dojo with you and Midoriya-kun in it sounds fun. Right, Kaminari-kun?”
"Yeah," Kaminari says. "I guess."
Once they get off the station, Ojiro-kun is in charge of the google map. Both Ochako and Kaminari watch Ojiro turning in circles trying to determine whichever way the arrow is pointing at.
“We can just call Midoriya-kun and ask him for directions,” Ochako suggests.
“It’s okay, I got this,” Ojiro-kun says, brows furrowing in concentration. Ochako wonders if his tail is always pointing straight up whenever he’s focused, like a dog. “If the Seven-Eleven is that way, then we just have to take the block here, and..”
“D’you think his tail is always pointing straight up whenever he’s focused,” Kaminari whispers to Ochako. “Like a dog.”
“Do you think his tail wags? If he’s excited?” Ochako whispers back. “That would be so cute.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it wag. Like when we’re talking … no, wait, I’m positive I saw it wag that time All Might came to class.”
“No way.”
“Guys,” Ojiro-kun calls out, excited now that he has figured out the direction. “I think it’s this way!”
Ochako gives him two thumbs up. “We’re right behind you.” When Ojiro turns back to the front, she whispers furiously to Kaminari, “Oh my god, it does.”
“Told ya!”
Ochako laughs. And then yelps when Kaminari zaps her again.
“Again? Oh, man, I’m so sorry—”
“Damn,” Ochako shakes her hand to wave the pain away. That one hurt even more. “How nervous are you?”
She means that as a light-hearted jab, but Kaminari isn’t laughing. She says, “Have you talked to Midoriya-kun after..”
After the day he came to class and scared the shit out of all of us?
She doesn’t need to say it. He answers, “Not really.” and then, “Not that I don’t want to! I mean—” he makes a complicated gesture, kicking gravel as he walks. “Okay, maybe a little I-don’t-want-to. Ugh!” Kaminari pulls his own hair. “I don’t know. I know that sounds horrible.”
“No, I—I get it,” Ochako says, and feels horrible for it.
But she does get it. What do you say to someone like that? To someone who died and came back? To someone who, who—
The flowers, soft and pristine white. There. A lilting voice, a pair of doll eyes. Doesn’t that make you feel better?
Ochako feels sick with the memory. What do you say to that?
“It’s just … I don’t think I’m actively avoiding him, and I don’t want to be making. Excuses . But,” Kaminari says. “Don’t you think he has been actively avoiding us?”
A part of her agrees.
For one, he never had lunch with them—with any of them. Every time she turns to invite him out for lunch, he would already be out of class and nowhere to be seen (it’s a little impressive how quick he is, truthfully). And he’s so, so quiet that sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s in the class at all. But—
“Maybe he just needs some space,” Ochako says. Maybe they all need some space.
None of them have brought the … incident up.
None of them talked about not bringing the incident up, either. It was some sort of unspoken agreement kinda deal in the classroom. A mutual decision to just—oh, Ochako doesn’t know. ‘Brush things under the rug’ doesn’t sound so nice. Because, it’s not like it’s bad, right? Like, isn’t it what they’re supposed to do, to treat Midoriya-kun … normally? Isn’t it what they’re supposed to do, just to forget things? After all, nobody d—passed away.
So it’s only logical to move on from that.
There is nothing to talk about, so they just have to act normal. Aizawa-sensei had said so too. He’d said, Midoriya is your classmate. He’d said, in the few days you have come to know him, he may have become your friend.
Don’t let this incident nor his Quirk change the way you treat him.
“But,” Ochako says. “He invited us over even though he didn’t have to.” She looks over to Kaminari-kun. “Doesn’t that mean Midoriya-kun is trying?”
And if Midoriya-kun is trying, then they have to try too, don’t they?
Something flashes across Kaminari’s face, some sort of boyish insecurity. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but it’s cut short by Ojiro. “Guys.”
Both of them turn to look at Ojiro. “Um,” Ojiro looks at them, his tail lying defeated on the ground. “I think we’re lost?”
All of them have now opened their google maps.
“It’s west from this Seven-Eleven, right—”
“No, man, that way is east—”
Watching her classmates, Ochako sighs. They definitely need to call Midoriya-kun.
It’s way past six, and they’re at a—well, it’s a nice neighborhood. Not nice nice, but clean, familial. The street is narrow, but enough for cars to pass by, maybe even trucks, if they try hard enough. Looks a little too dangerous for trucks, though.
The sun set a few hours ago and the only source of light in the street is the Seven-Eleven, and the … aha—she spots a vending machine underneath some ginkgo trees. Ochako scrounges her pockets for some change. If they’re gonna stay here a while, she really does need something to drink.
The vending machine is stocked pretty well but she has her eyes on the cheapest item on the menu, which is bottled water. She quickly notices that she isn’t the only one intending to get a drink.
“Oops, sorry,” she says, to the kid who’s reaching for the coin slot at the same time she is. She somehow missed him—his black hair blends in with the night, and his height only reaches her shoulders. She smiles at him. “You can go first!”
The kid says nothing, and what’s visible of his face isn’t too friendly. Oh, well—that’s ten year olds for you. At least she assumes that’s his age.
As she waits for the kid to finish buying whatever it is he wants to buy, Ochako flips out her phone, sighs, scrolls on her contacts. And then, after hyping herself up, she makes a call.
Midoriya-kun picks up after the third ring. “Hello?”
He sounds quiet even via phone call. “Hi, Midoriya-kun,” she says. Across the street, Ojiro-kun and Kaminari-kun are circling on the spot trying to figure out which way the arrow is pointing at once more. It’s a little funny to watch, honestly. “Sorry we’re late. It’s just, uh … we might be lost..?”
“Oh,” slight pause. “..Where are you guys?”
“We’re at this Seven-Eleven, the one with the vending machine?”
Another slight pause. “Okay,” comes his voice, soft. “You’re pretty close. I’ll come and get—”
“Let me talk to him,” the kid says.
Ochako blinks. After realizing she hasn’t misheard, she says, “I’m sorry?”
The kid, who has so rudely interrupted her call, clicks his tongue impatiently. There is a canned milo in his hand. He’s standing in front of her with a poise that suggests he has never been shy around strangers even once in his entire life. “Let me talk to him,” he repeats. “You’re talkin’ to Izuku-nii, right? Pass the phone.”
Wow. And also, what?
“Uh,” Ochako says, and considers her situation. First of all, she doesn’t want to lose her phone. Second of all—which counters the first point—she should be able to outrun this kid, probably.
Third of all, though: Izuku-nii?
Um. “Midoriya-kun, someone … wants to talk to you,” she says to her phone. “Uh, your brother, I think?”
Midoriya-kun sounds puzzled. “What?”
“He’s not my brother!” Midoriya-kun’s Not Brother snaps at her. And then, a little quieter, “Tell him Katsuki wants to talk to ‘im.”
“..Katsuki wants to talk to you.”
“What? Kacc—?” there is a halted pause on the line. “..Oh. You mean … Katsuki-kun … yeah, sure. He’s, um, a friend.”
She hands Midoriya-kun's tiny and angry friend her phone. The tiny and angry friend of Midoriya's takes it with a rudeness that she had not not expected. “Oi. Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way home, shut up, ugh,” Katsuki says to the phone. Good to know that he’s at least rude to everyone and not just her. “Anyway. These are the guys you mentioned?” He glances at Ochako, and somehow Ochako has the impression that Midoriya-kun’s Not Brother is not very impressed with her. “Huh.”
She can very, very faintly hear Midoriya-kun’s voice over the line, indiscernible. The kid himself seems not to deem it important, whatever Midoriya-kun is saying, because he says, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” and hands Ochako her phone back.
“Uraraka-san? Um, he’s gonna take you guys to my place. Katsuki-kun, I mean. Is that all right?”
“Yes,” Ochako says, staring at the kid. Huh. “Of course. See you soon.”
The line ends. The kid isn’t saying anything as Ochako stares at her—zero bashfulness whatsoever. He proceeds to open his can and then chugs his milo. He then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before staring at Ochako up and down. This is all done with an attitude so superior and condescending that only ten year old boys can possibly manage it.
“You UA student?” he then says rudely with the very same attitude.
Yeah. There is no way this kid is Midoriya-kun’s brother. But also … sometimes siblings can be total opposites, can’t they? “Yes,” she says. “Are you Midoriya-kun’s—”
He cuts her off. “Are those UA students as well?”
His attitude is getting pretty annoying. “Yep,” Ochako says, glancing at the direction he’s pointing. Ojiro-kun and Kaminari are waving their phones high up as if it will help them get a better signal. “We’re Midoriya-kun’s classmates. Are you Mido—”
“Huh!” Ochako has never heard anyone scoff so loudly and blatantly. It’s a little impressive and more than a little annoying. The boy looks at her again. He says, with some air of visible dislike, “You don’t look all that.”
Ochako has always thought that she was a person who liked children. But she supposes people do change.
She smiles nicely. “Well, Katsuki-kun,” he flinches at the sound of his first name. “You’re gonna take us to Midoriya-kun’s house, right?”
“Duh,” he says. And then, with a scrunched nose, “Don’t call me that,” and then, “You don’t know me.”
Ochako holds back a smile. “What should I call you, then?”
Saiki-kun leads them silently and efficiently and quickly, and quite prickly. He travels the neighborhood confidently in the darkness like he’s been here a thousand times. He has also valiantly parried every attempt any of them made for a conversation. Once Ochako’s annoyance passes, this sort of fascinates her.
“How old are you, Saiki-kun?”
“None of ya business.”
“Do you live around here, Saiki-kun?”
“Do Hero kids never shut up.”
Ochako wonders how a kid like this could possibly communicate with someone like Midoriya-kun. “Saiki-kun,” she says. “How’d you get to know Midoriya-kun?”
“We’re here,” Saiki-kun announces.
They’ve arrived in front of an apartment building coated in yellowing white paint. “He lives on the seventh floor,” Saiki-kun says. “07-03. Elevator’s out so you gotta use the stairs.”
The three hero kids look at each other. “Um. Thanks, Saiki-kun.”
“Whatever,” Saiki-kun is already walking away.
“Sorry you had to turn all the way around,” Ochako says.
He stops walking. “What.”
“You were just going home from visiting him, right? From Midoriya-kun’s place.” It’s quite obvious.
“None of ya business!”
It’s starting to be a little cute. Just a little. “How was he doing?”
Saiki-kun turns on his heels to look at her, and Ochako knows immediately she’s somehow said the wrong thing.
He really can’t be older than ten. His skin is tan under the street lights, and he’s wearing a football jersey, backpack slung in one hand. He must’ve visited Midoriya-kun’s place right after he got back from school. His figure is lean, but there is still the unmistakable roundness of baby fat in his face.
And he’s staring at Ochako with something that can only aptly be described as hate.
“I thought you were his classmates,” Saiki-kun says, nearly a spit—there is something unexpectedly cold in a voice so young.
Confused and a little alarmed by the turn of events, Ochako manages, “We are—”
“Then why the fuck do you even need to ask me that?” Saiki-kun says. “How was he doing? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Ochako stares at him.
“He fucking died last week,” Saiki-kun says. “How do you think he’s doing?”
And with that, he turns around and leaves. The three Hero students watch him do so in a stunned silence until Saiki-kun’s steps fully recede.
Well, Ochako thinks, shaken. That was fucked up.
“..Should we,” Ojiro-kun’s voice breaks the silence, “take the stairs?”
It’s not a particularly big apartment complex—rather dwarfed against the buildings next to it. It’s green with trees, and many of its occupants have potted plants in front of their respective doors. They walk past slippers and laundry hung on racks before they reach the fire stairs. None of them says a thing. There is nothing to say, anyway.
(Isn’t that exactly the problem?)
Like the neighborhood, the apartment isn’t exactly fancy either. The stairs creak underneath their feet, chipped metal showing brown rust throughout the railings. The only sound apparent as they climb it in collective silence is the humming of fluorescent lights and the clang, clang of their shoes against the creaking stairs. All seven flights of stairs are gone way too soon before they find themselves standing in front of Midoriya’s door.
“07-03,” Ojiro-kun mutters. “This is it.”
They look at it.
07-03 is located at the furthest corner of the hall, facing the balcony. The door frame is metal, like all others, with a small mailbox nailed next to it signed 07-03 MIDORIYA. There are what looks like several recycled bottles filled with plants hanging above it; the glass glinting under the hallway lights.
It looks like any other house. A simple, quiet house.
Normal.
“Okay,” Ochako says. “Let’s—”
Behind her, Kaminari’s voice says hoarsely, “I don’t think I can do this.”
Ochako closes her eyes. Opens them. And then turns to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—I just—” Kaminari looks at a loss. “He’s a good guy, you know? I like him. I really, really do, but it’s just—it’s just—”
Kaminari doesn’t finish, but Ochako understands him perfectly. It’s just. It’s just—
It’s been days. Days, damn it. Can’t they get over this? Isn’t Midoriya-kun her—their—friend? Can’t they just talk like normal friends do?
They have to.
“No,” Ochako says. “We’re doing this.”
“But what if—what if I—we—say the wrong thing, and—”
“We have to do this or things will never go back to normal anymore!” Ochako snaps.
Silence. The two of them look at her like she’s insane. Ochako has a feeling that she does in fact look insane. Her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she says, humiliated by her outburst. “I shouldn’t have yelled—”
“No, it’s okay,” Kaminari cuts her off. He scratches the back of his head, smiling a little, that boyish look paired with something regretful. “You’re right. Sorry.”
I thought you guys were his classmates.
She’s such a mess. She’s such a—
But Ochako is also an optimist.
“..We won’t … say the wrong thing. We just have to act normal. All right? No mentioning the—” she pauses. “The incident. Or. Anything relating to it whatsoever. Got it? We just have to act normal. ” Just coming over to a classmate’s house. No big fucking deal. Just doing a group project. No big deal whatsoever.
None. Ochako is an optimist.
How do you think he’s doing?
“Just act normal and it’ll be fine,” Ochako says, turning fully to look her classmates in the eye. “Okay? ”
The two nod. Kaminari looks resigned. Ojiro looks tense.
They’re really off to a great start, huh.
“Okay. Okay. Okay,” Ochako turns around, facing the doorbell. “Okay.” She stays quiet for a moment.
“..Are you okay,” Ojiro says behind her.
“I’m fine.” Her fingers are freezing up for some reason. Act normal. “I’m fine. Here goes,” after hyping herself up, Ochako knocks on the door.
“There is a doorbell right there,” Ojiro helpfully says. Ochako presses on the doorbell.
“I don’t think you need to use the doorbell since you already knocked,” Kaminari says. Ochako whips, hissing, “Stop stressing me out!”
“Just trying to be helpful!” Kaminari says defensively. “I mean, you know, isn’t it kind of impolite to knock and use the doorbell as well—”
Ochako pales. “Oh my god, you’re right, is it impolite that I knocked and used the—”
“Come on, guys..” Ojiro says.
“I don’t know! I mean, isn’t it?”
Oh, shit, isn’t it? Shit, it is! “Why didn’t you stop me from using the—”
“How would I know that you would use the—”
“Guys!” Ojiro snaps. Both teens look at Ojiro, surprised. It’s a shock to hear him snap like that. Ojiro looks at them a little sheepishly, as if he didn’t mean to yell either. “You’re overthinking it,” Ojiro says then, with a much calmer tone. “It’s fine.”
Ochako bites her lips. “You think so?” Because if Midoriya-kun and Midoriya-kun’s family thinks she is the rudest person who has ever graced this earth she will run into traffic.
“Come on,” Ojiro says again. “Look, let’s just be. Normal about this. That was the plan, right? Right, Uraraka-san?”
“Yes,” Ochako says, finding herself. “Absolutely. That was, uhh, the plan.”
“You’re both too tense. Just relax. Kaminari-kun, stop..” Ojiro gestures at Kaminari’s whole body helplessly. “I don’t know what it is you’re doing, man. Staticking? Is that a thing? Are you staticking right now?”
“Yeah. Um, sorry, I get charge-y when I’m nervous,” says Kaminari. There has been an odd buzzing in the air around Kaminari ever since the walk from the station, not to mention the constant zapping. “This isn’t even the worst I can get. My hair, like, stands up sometimes when it gets really bad, haha!” He looks at them. They look back at him. “Please tell me my hair isn’t standing up right now.”
“Uhh,” Ojiro says. Together with Ochako, they are eyeing the way Kaminari’s hair is standing up to the air rigidly as if it has been gelled to spikes. It’s quite hard to miss, in Ochako’s opinion. Kaminari being a blonde doesn’t help either. It’s like he is having a bunch of uncooked pasta stuck on his head. “No..?”
Whatever expression is collectively on Ojiro and Ochako’s face must not be convincing, because Kaminari freaks out immediately. “Shit, it’s totally standing up, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine—”
“Oh, god!” Kaminari has unfortunately looked at his own reflection on his phone. “I look like I have a bunch of uncooked pasta stuck on my head!”
Okay, whatever chaos starting to unfold here is definitely nowhere near the normalcy meter. Ochako unzips her backpack frantically. “Uhh, maybe we can just cover it up, I think I got my jacket—”
Ojiro puts a placating hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “Dude, seriously, it’s really fine—”
Kaminari is aghast in face of Ojiro’s reassurance. “Fine? I look like I’m in a nu-metal band, Ojiro!” Kaminari looks like he’s about to cry. “I’m not! My band is progressive rock!”
“Uh,” Ochako says. “Ojiro-kun, your hair—”
“What?”
“You do know the human body is,” Ochako cringes. “A conductor of electricity, right..”
“Oh, no,” Ojiro-kun says, immediately letting go of Kaminari’s shoulders like it burns. It is, however, too late. “Oh no, no—” he looks at his own reflection on his phone. Ochako had never seen Ojiro’s face so full of expression until now, and it’s an expression of utter horror. “Oh no, no, no, no, no, no—”
Honestly, it’s not that bad. Ojiro’s hair isn’t as long as Kaminari-kun’s, so the spikes aren't, uh, too freaky. “It’s not that bad,” Ochako says sincerely. “It just looks really, um, gelled up. Like you’re in a rock band.”
Ochako might as well have told him she just killed a baby, because he looks at her like she did. “I look like I’m in a rock band?”
“At least you look like you’re in a rock band!” says Kaminari.
“Kaminari-kun, man, can’t you, like, turn your Quirk off—”
“Can you turn blinking off?!”
“Here, just use my jacket to—wrap it around—”
“Ow, ow, Uraraka-san, you’re pulling my hair—”
“Um,” a hesitant voice says. “Sorry for … the wait..”
They look up. Midoriya looks back at them from the doorway. In their panic, none of them noticed that the door had opened.
They freeze. Midoriya freezes. The latter’s words trail to a stop as he takes in the view in front of him.
“Um,” Midoriya says again, blinking at them. “Hi..?”
“Hi,” says Ojiro, who is currently shaking Kaminari by the shoulders. “What’s up,” says Kaminari, whose shoulders are being shaken by Ojiro. “Hello, Midoriya-kun,” says Ochako, who is currently trying to wrap her jacket over both Kaminari and Ojiro’s hair at the same time like an ineffective two-person turban.
“Um,” Midoriya says.
The three of them enter the Midoriya household in embarrassed silence.
“My mom is still on her shift,” Midoriya explains as he leads them inside. “So we have the house for ourselves until, umm, maybe eight. Was Katsuki-kun—I mean, did you get here all right?”
“Oh, um, yeah. It went fine.”
“That’s good,” Midoriya says. He’s quiet even in his own house. “I know Katsuki-kun can be … a little much sometimes. I hope he didn’t say anything—anything strange.”
How is he doing? Are you fucking kidding me? “No,” Ochako says. “Not at all. Right, guys?”
“Right,” say the metal band and rock band members respectively.
“Okay. Kaminari-kun, Ojiro-kun..” Midoriya-kun pauses for a second, seemingly unsure on how to approach the topic of whatever is going on with both of their heads. He looks between the two boys. It's quite impressive how calmly he is taking the view in front of him at this moment. “Is your hair … is it Kaminari-kun’s Quirk—?”
“Yeah,” Kaminari-kun’s face is red. Ochako notices that he isn’t looking Midoriya-kun in the eye. “Uh. It’ll go away usually, like in fifteen minutes..”
“He infected me with it,” Ojiro says sadly when Midoriya looks at him questioningly.
“..I think I have something that can help,” Midoriya-kun says. “Please, um, wait here … you can sit down if you like..”
Midoriya disappears through the hallway. The three of them look at each other. And then the three of them proceed to look around.
It’s homey, that’s Ochako’s first impression. And it’s small, even for a small family—though the photos in the picture frames littered across the house explain that. There are only pictures of Midoriya-kun and a pretty woman who looks exactly like him—must be his mom. No pictures of his dad..
None of her business, Ochako reminds herself.
The kitchen window is opened, letting the night breeze in. There are signs of life all over—a mug sitting in the sink, an opened notebook in a workspace at the corner of the room with a pot of greenery hanging from the ceiling.
“Kaminari-kun, Ojiro-kun? Here,” Midoriya has what looks like two pieces of towel in his hand. “It’s, um, microfiber. I think it should help get the static out of your hair?”
Ojiro receives it with a murmured thank you. Something flashes across Kaminari’s face again—an almost pained, insecure look. Ochako suddenly remembers that day. Kaminari-kun’s voice, sharp and desperate—Midoriya, Midoriya, thank god, thank god—and the way he had run immediately to hug him. He was the first one to do so. No hesitation whatsoever, just—just pure relief to see his friend back and safe. I like him. I really, really do..
Kaminari’s throat bobs. “Thanks,” he says, with that uncharacteristically quiet voice as he takes the towel into his head.
“I think you can try—wrapping it around your head, or..” Midoriya looks a little lost staring at Kaminari and Ojiro who look like they are the frontrunners in the punk revolution. “Rub the static down..?” And then he says, after a pause, “It ... doesn’t look bad, though. Actually. I think it looks. Um, a little cool.” Midoriya doesn’t look them in the eye when he says that, which somehow doesn’t give the impression of lying—it gives the impression that he means the compliment and is a little embarrassed to compliment them. “It’s like. You guys are in a rock band … or something. Sorry.”
Something in Ochako’s chest twists. Damn it. He’s a good guy. “Love your place, Midoriya-kun.”
“Thank you,” he doesn’t really look her in the eye either. “We … oh, we have some hot chocolate … you guys want some?”
“Yes,” says Kaminari and Ochako at the same time while Ojiro says, “no, it’s okay.”
The three teens look at each other.
“I mean, sure, if you guys want some—”
“Oh no, it’s okay, we don’t really—”
“No, really, hot chocolate would really be great actually—”
“Nah, I mean, we don’t wanna be an inconvenience if it’s—”
“Um,” Midoriya says.
Realizing that the three of them have ignored the host in this conversation, they quiet down. Midoriya stares at them. “I..” he looks down at his feet the moment the attention is on him. “I’ll bring you guys. Some. And you can take it … or not take it … if you want. Is that okay.”
They mutter collective assent.
Midoriya leads them into the hallway, decorated with even more photos of Midoriya’s family. Ochako looks at each of them carefully. She always thinks there is something strangely intimate about going to other people’s houses. It’s like having a peek at a part of their lives you can’t see anywhere else.
Midoriya-kun stops in front of a door with an All Might signboard with IZUKU written on it. “..I was thinking of doing the project in my room,” Midoriya says, “But now that I think of it, maybe it’s too small for all four of us..” he pauses, a little bashful, like he didn’t mean to share his thoughts like that. “But. Anyway. Please make yourself at home.”
He opens the room and Ochako stares.
It’s absolutely—
“Fucking awesome,” Kaminari says. “Oh my god! Isn’t that the limited summer edition All Might—” Kaminari turns to look at Midoriya-kun and Ochako can practically see Kaminari’s brain remembering who he is talking to and whose room and house he’s in which then shuts down the part in his hindbrain that gets excited over All Might paraphernalia. It makes quite a contradictive expression on his face, which is a little funny to see paired with the towel wrapped around his head. “Uh … figurine..”
“..yes,” Midoriya-kun replies, rubbing his arm in a nervous tick. He’s wearing a long-sleeved sweater, light blue. “It is. I, um, saved three months’ worth of lunch money..” his voice suddenly quiets down as if he decides it’s not worth sharing at the last second. He looks down. “To get it.”
“I love your room,” Ojiro-kun says, and Midoriya-kun looks up at that. Ojiro-kun offers a kind smile. “These are so cool.”
Midoriya’s mouth twists into a corresponding smile. A small one—brief and quickly shut down. Not big and bright, not like that stilted moment in the classroom with the scent of fresh flowers—
Stop it, Ochako tells herself. Stop. Act normal. “Is that a fish tank? Can I check it out?”
“Oh, um, sure..”
Ochako has never seen anything like it. It’s lit up prettily, casting a green light in the small room. Like Midoriya’s house, it’s green, with an assortment of plants on its surface. Strawberries, even. “It’s really pretty.” Ochako means it. The fish hides the moment it sees her—too bad. It’s a colorful thing, a mesh of iridescent red-blue scales.
“Did you … make this?” Ojiro has come to stand next to Ochako, squinting into the tank. “Like the lightsaber you did?”
“Wait,” Ochako says. “He made a what?”
“He made a lightsaber at his entrance exam.”
“Oh—so that’s what it was!” and then to Ojiro-kun who is looking questioningly at her, she clarifies, “I was with Midoriya-kun in the entrance exam”—wow, that feels like such a long time ago—”he saved my life with that lightsaber. Midoriya-kun, you made that thing?”
Midoriya-kun looks red with embarrassment. “Um, yeah..” He’s quiet speaking in his room, Ochako thinks. As quiet as he is in the classroom, even in his own house.
“With your mom, right?”
A look of surprise replaces the embarrassment on Midoriya’s face. “What?”
Ojiro-kun smiles. “You mentioned it before,” Ojiro reminds him. “Your mom is an engineer … or did I remember wrong—”
“No—um, yeah,” he looks at Ojiro-kun with wonder, like he can’t believe Ojiro remembers that little tidbit of his life. “Yes, she is. She taught me everything I know.”
“That’s so cool,” Ochako says. She has got to meet Midoriya’s mom one day. She knocks at the tank a little, watching the fish slinks in and out of a piece of driftwood. “Did she help you make the tank as well?”
“She did, yeah. And, um, Katsuki-kun helped too. He helps clean the tank every other week..” Midoriya-kun seems more talkative whenever he talks about other people. “And, um. Uraraka-san?”
Ochako turns to look at Midoriya. Midoriya swallows a little, and then he says, “You saved my life at the entrance exam too.”
Ochako stares at him. And she wonders, right then, why she had been having trouble talking to Midoriya. Why had anyone been having trouble talking to Midoriya, when Midoriya is such a nice guy.
“You were so cool at the Entrance Exam, Midoriya,” Kaminari says suddenly. For the first time, he actually looks Midoriya-kun in the eye. His voice sounds a little quiet. “I know I’ve said this, but. You really were. It was awesome.”
Midoriya flusters again now that the topic is back to him doing cool things. “Um—I mean, really, and I know I’ve said this too, but—if it weren’t for you, Kaminari-kun—”
“Midoriya,” Kaminari says. “Sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”
Silence.
Ochako makes panicked eye contact with Ojiro. Ojiro makes panicked eye contact with Ochako. But looking back at Kaminari who is staring intently at Midoriya, Ochako realizes that Kaminari no longer has that expression on his face—no longer has that flash of odd insecurity Ochako doesn’t quite understand. His current expression is a little more solemn, and determined.
Midoriya is frozen in response to the abrupt apology. “Um..”
“I guess I was scared,” Kaminari says. “I was scared, but—but we were all scared … so it wasn’t just me. I mean, you must’ve also been—” Kaminari pauses, and then cringes, mostly at himself. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not sure if that makes sense, but. My point is. It’s unfair that I’ve been, uh, avoiding you like that. Sorry, man.”
Ochako stares. It surprises Ochako how honest he is. How sincere. Like that moment in the classroom—Kaminari being the first one to move. The first one to say, Midoriya, thank god, thank god. He really means all of it, Ochako realizes. He does care about Midoriya-kun.
Ochako and Ojiro look at each other again. And then they look at Midoriya.
There is a tense line in Midoriya’s shoulders. His expression is—Ochako isn’t sure what it is. Confusion? Shame? Guilt? And then, after what feels like forever, he replies. “You really don’t need to apologize, Kaminari-kun,” he says, softly. “I mean … I’ve been avoiding everyone in class too.”
Midoriya’s cheeks are red as he admits it. There is a pause before he continues. “I’m—I’m sorry about that, too. I just—it’s just—” he pauses. “I don’t want to make things hard,” he says finally. “I don’t want everyone to be—uncomfortable. So..”
His words petter out. But he doesn’t need to continue—Ochako gets it. He doesn’t want everyone to be uncomfortable, so it’s better not to talk about it at all. It’s better to just move on.
That’s exactly what Ochako has been doing, too.
“Midoriya,” Kaminari-kun says. “Can I—“ he sighs. “Man. Can I hug you?”
Midoriya-kun blinks, surprised, and then goes redder. “Oh—um—” he coughs. “Sure..”
It’s not like how Ochako remembers it.
How Ochako remembers it is this: the silent class. The wide, dark set eyes on Midoriya’s expressionless face, still like a statue in Kaminari’s embrace. The way Midoriya had raised his arms, slowly and deliberately, to circle them around Kaminari’s shoulders. Curiously, like he isn’t sure what to do, like it’s the first time he’s been hugged like that—with that terrible empty look on his face.
But the scene happening in front of her at the moment isn’t anything like that. The hug is awkward. Midoriya sputters and stumbles into it, hands hovering at first, like they don’t know what to do with themselves. Like it’s the first time he’s been hugged like that—truly the first time. But his face is far from empty: it’s beet red, and his expression is one of embarrassment, surprise, and something vulnerable. Like a person.
Like a real, live person. Like it really is Midoriya-kun.
“Thanks, Midoriya-kun,” Kaminari says when he lets go. He looks considerably more cheerful; whatever has been ailing his mood has gone and left, just like that. “Just gotta hug it out sometimes, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Midoriya says, still red. “Um. Thanks.”
Kaminari beams. Ochako finds it difficult to hold back a smile, suddenly. “Kaminari-kun, I think your hair is fine now. You too, Ojiro-kun.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah—”
Both boys take off their towels and their hair is, in fact, fine. All four of them look at each other. And then start laughing. Even Midoriya is laughing too—quiet, but really laughing. A hand brought up to cover his mouth as he does so, eyes squinted shut. A real laugh.
This is going well, Ochako thinks. This is going way better than she thought it’d be. This is why Ochako is an optimist. Ochako smiles. “So,” she says. “Chemistry project, guys? We need that presentation by the end of the week.”
They sit on the floor of Midoriya’s room. It is a narrow space, but not so much to the point of being uncomfortable. And then they get to work.
Like the rest of the house, the room is clean. From looking at the stacks of boxes shoved under the bed, it does feel like Midoriya had hurried and tidied up his room before they got here—it’s still slightly cluttered, if only because there are quite a variety of things in Midoriya’s room. Hero merch aside, there are books on the shelves, blueprints pinned with thumbtacks all over the wall, a chest full of mechanic-looking stuff, and a row of recycled glass bottles under the trellised window filled with propagated plants—just like the ones at the front door. The room smells something like earth, and like pool water—thanks to the fish tank, Ochako supposes. It’s a neutral and organic scent.
It’s a room that’s full of personality. Unexpectedly so. It contrasts with Midoriya’s quiet demeanor.
“I heard Jirou’s group is doing titration, and Kirishima’s is doing crystallization..”
“Iida-kun’s is doing surface chemistry,” Ochako says. “We get organic chemistry, huh..” there are a lot of materials to cover for just a fifteen-minute presentation. She doesn’t even know where to start.
“Okay, I got an important question,” says Kaminari seriously. “Can we read off notes when we do the presentation or do we gotta memorize all of it?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Ojiro says nervously, “that the teacher said we can’t read everything off notes..”
They look at each other. And then they look at Midoriya.
“Um,” Midoriya says.
“You look science-y, Midoriya-kun,” says Ochako.
“Yeah, you like, invent and stuff,” says Kaminari. “Also have you done the English and Math assignments and can I copy off yours with your consent if I may, sir.”
Organic chemistry isn’t all that complicated, Midoriya explains, you just have to separate it into several branches, like types of organic compounds and each of their functional groups and formulas. Also its homologous series, and don’t forget about the classification of isomers. And also—
“I’m going to cry,” Ochako announces.
“Later,” says Kaminari, who is currently both copying Midoriya’s English/Math homework and also doing his part in researching the homologous series at the same time. “Finish this first.”
“I hate numbers and letters.”
“You can just make the powerpoint template first,” advises Ojiro kindly. He’s in charge of isomers.
“Hey,” Ochako says, her focus meandering back to the fish tank, looking for any chance to take a break from numbers and letters. “Are those edible?”
“Huh? Oh … yeah,” Midoriya says. He’s in charge of the most daunting part of the presentation, the functional groups and formulas. “You can, um, take one if you’d like.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah. You can clean it first with some water?”
The strawberry isn’t particularly big, but it’s ripe and red, smooth between Ochako’s fingers. She almost feels bad for plucking it off. “I didn’t know you could grow strawberries in an aquarium.”
“It took trial and error,” Midoriya says. This is the most she has ever heard him talk in succession, she thinks. He has been responding with long sentences, patient as he explains to them the differences of empirical and molecular formula. Not sure or content, she doesn’t think—but he isn’t nervous. Almost … comfortable. “I tried a few plants but they didn't make it … this batch is the first successful one.”
“That’s amazing, Midoriya,” Kaminari says. He also took a strawberry, chewing it in his mouth. It tastes a little sour, but fresh. “If it were me, I bet all the plants would've died within a day.”
And then, realizing what he just said, he pales.
The room falls into silence.
Kaminari stops chewing. He makes panicked eye contact with Ojiro. Ojiro makes panicked eye contact with Ochako. Ochako makes panicked eye contact with Kaminari. “I-I mean,” Kaminari stutters, his eyes screaming help me help me help me, “I mean, umm, I’m really not good with any of this stuff y’know! Like with me the plants would never survi—“ he cuts himself off with a pained look. “I mean, I would’ve killed the pla—“ he looks like he’s going to cry. “I mean—I mean—“
“We know what you mean,” Ochako cuts him short, tense.
The room once again falls into silence.
“Um,” Midoriya says into the sharp tension. “Does any of you. Want any snacks.”
Ojiro starts, “Oh no, thank y—“
“I’ll bring some just in case you’re hungry,” Midoriya mutters, standing up. “And also—the hot chocolate. I forgot to give you guys the hot chocolate. Excuse me..”
He leaves the room.
“I fucked up,” Kaminari laments. “Ohh. I fucked up.”
“It’s okay, man.”
“I’m an idiot,” Kaminari moans. His hair, which had been okay, is now starting to frizz up again. “I ruined it all. He hates me. I’m going to d—” he pauses. “I’m going to. D-word.”
“It’s okay,” Ojiro-kun, ever the calming one, says. His tense face betrays the sentiment though. He is wrapping Kaminari’s hair with a towel again. This time he is careful not to touch Kaminari directly. “I’m sure he doesn’t, um, mind.”
Damn it. There is no way they had gone back to ground one, right? It had been going so well, too. Shit. The three of them sit still in that awful silence until Midoriya comes back to the room holding a tray full of food and drinks. His face has that silent, unreadable look to it again. He carefully sets the tray down in the middle of the room before he returns to his seat. “Please just take whatever..” each of them takes the mug wordlessly. “Um. It’s okay to say die.”
Ochako looks up. Midoriya looks back at her, before looking back down, nursing his own hot chocolate nervously. “Or kill,” he continues. It’s odd to hear that word from him—odd how it rolls off his tongue. “Or, you know … anything death … adjacent.” He pauses. He says the word death quickly, like he doesn’t want to linger on it for too long. “I’m not gonna get triggered by it or anything like that.”
“Oh..” Ochako says, the first one to respond, more out of reflex than genuine surprise.
“Yeah,” Midoriya is back to keeping his eyes down again. His face is a little scrunched up, mouth twisted. “So. You don’t have to. Worry about saying something wrong..” he looks up, then, at Kaminari-kun. “It’s okay.”
“Okay,” Kaminari says, but they all can tell he still feels bad about it.
The room falls into another silence, an easier one, but still stilted. Still awkward. And then it … clicks.
Ochako realizes something, then. She looks at her group mates and thinks of the short time she has gotten to know them:
Kaminari-kun had struck her as a laid-back, easy-going guy at first—all smiles and jokes. Today she finds out that he has to wake up early every day, and that he had been having a hard time talking to Midoriya-kun. And that he might not be that laid-back after all. And how despite all that, he can outrightly apologize to Midoriya-kun with no hesitance, and compliment him so genuinely.
Ojiro-kun had always seemed quiet to her. Friendly, but a little closed-off. She realizes now that it has all been shyness. And today she sees how calm he can be, even when the rest of them aren’t—especially when the rest of them aren’t. And how much he cares about his friends—and how he shows it through his actions. He is also surprisingly expressive if you pay enough attention.
And Midoriya-kun..
Today she finds out that Midoriya-kun has a pet fish and a green thumb. She finds out that he is a Hero nerd, and that he’s good at making things, like lightsabers and keychains. And that he does all of his homework diligently. And that his mom is an engineer.
Just like how she found out earlier this week that his Quirk makes him come back when he dies.
But that’s not all there is to Midoriya-kun. Midoriya-kun is more than just that single aspect of his Quirk. Everyone is more than that.
Ochako has only known these people for less than two weeks. There is still so much she doesn’t know about them, she’s sure—so much she’s yet to find out about her classmates. But none of them, Ochako realizes suddenly, are defined just by their Quirks. That’s not how the world works.
Something like realization uncannily sneaks into her chest. Ochako has a suspicion, then, that she has been going at this the wrong way.
Aizawa-sensei said don’t let this incident nor his Quirk change the way you treat him. Ochako thought that meant everything should just—go back to normal. Ochako thought that’s what moving on is supposed to look like. To just carry on, as if nothing happened. Because it's easier that way.
But maybe it’s okay if it's uncomfortable, or awkward, or even embarrassing. Or hard. Maybe it’s supposed to be hard.
Maybe—maybe moving on isn’t supposed to be easy.
So. Maybe she has been going at this the wrong way. And maybe the whole class has, too. Not even just about Midoriya—but also about USJ. About … everything that they went through.
But first. First, she can just start with this.
She takes a deep breath. “Midoriya-kun,” Ochako says. “Can I ask you something?” and then after another deep breath, “It’s about your Quirk.”
She can feel both Ojiro and Kaminari staring at her. She ignores them, looking straight at Midoriya-kun. Feeling a little disheartened by her own action, she begins to backtrack, “If you don’t want to talk about it, you really don’t have to—”
“It’s okay,” Midoriya says, then. “I just never—nobody has ever really—” His throat bobs as he swallows. He’s inspecting the rim of his mug like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “You can ask.”
Ochako swallows. And then she asks the first thing she thought of the moment she found out about his Quirk. “Does it hurt?” she says. “Death..?”
Despite Midoriya’s assurances, it still feels wrong to say that word in his presence. Not just in his presence, even—it feels wrong to say the word after everything that happened. To say it so loudly and so lightly, after such a close brush to it.
But Midoriya answers. “No,” he says.
Ochako doesn’t know what she expected the answer to be, but it’s not really this, she finds. “Oh..”
“I mean … dying hurts,” he says. “But death doesn’t.”
He says it awkwardly, and a bit matter-of-factly. Like he’s telling a story about the one time he tripped over and fell—a story with a hint of embarrassment to it.
Ochako isn’t sure if this is a green light for her to push. She says, carefully, “What … does it feel like?”
Ojiro and Kaminari are silent, staring at Midoriya as they wait for an answer. Midoriya shifts in his seat, maybe uncomfortably, and he’s silent for so long that Ochako loses her nerves. “Sorry,” she says, swallowing, “Maybe that’s too personal..”
“No, it’s okay,” Midoriya says. “Um. I just … it’s just difficult to explain,” he looks up at her. “I don’t feel things when I’m … when I’m—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the word rings in the room: dead.
Midoriya blinks, as if surprised at himself by his own pause. He doesn’t say the word. Despite his reassurances that they could say it, it seems like he can’t say it. This realization seems to hit him at the same time it hits them.
But he did say it, though. Ochako remembers that—he said back in the classroom when he came back. Doll-eyed, full of smiles. He had said it so clinically, so cheerfully: I was dead on Thursday, I was still dead on Friday—
Now, though, this Midoriya—this awkward, live, quiet-eyed Midoriya—can't seem to let the word go past his lips.
Midoriya looks down, fiddling with his mug again. “There are Quirks..” Midoriya says, starting over, “that activate subconsciously. Quirks that are triggered without—without its owner’s command..”
“..Quirks that are triggered only by a set of actions,” Ojiro-kun says, quietly. “Or conditions.”
“Yes. Um. Mine is—we think mine is one of those,” Midoriya says. “My Quirk is triggered by—by death,” he swallows again, thick. “So before the Quirk is activated, I’m not..”
“Conscious..?” Kaminari says. He sounds a little put off by the conversation, uneasy. But there is a morbid curiosity there. One that Ochako also feels, and hates herself for feeling it. “Awake?”
“Sort of … but not exactly," Midoriya says softly. "I know people compare it to sleeping. But it’s more like … I’m not.”
Ochako frowns. “Not what?”
Midoriya looks up at her again. His eyes are wide, quiet. But not empty. “I’m just not,” he says.
Oh.
“I don’t know if it hurts, when I—” he pauses. “But if—if it does, I wasn’t there to … feel the pain. I wasn’t there to. To feel anything.”
Ochako thinks she’s starting to understand.
“When death is,” Midoriya says, “I’m not.”
She gets it, maybe. Just a little.
Life and death: the permanent finality of it all. That’s how she thought the world works. Something that—as she has found out in the past week—she can’t accept. Maybe not just yet, or maybe not ever. She can't accept that people can just go and never come back no matter how much you want them to.
It hurt. And it still does, even though Midoriya-kun did come back. Even though she can touch him and talk to him, even though she knows for sure that he is, in fact, alive. Even though Midoriya-kun tells her that death doesn’t hurt.
But death does hurt. It’s just that it doesn’t hurt the people who are dead—it hurts the people who are left alive. And maybe, she thinks, looking at the way Midoriya can’t bear to hold eye contact longer than five seconds, the way he isolates himself because he doesn’t want to make things harder for everyone else—maybe it also hurts the people who came back from it.
Things won’t ever go back to normal.
That’s impossible. She can’t go back to the time before Villains tried to kill her classmates—and succeeded. The time before Villains tried to kill her. She can’t go back to the time before she knew all of these things about death and the world.
This is how the world works: nothing is ever really permanent or final. Not even death. Death changes people around you. Ochako knows; it changed her. And funnily enough, it doesn’t make her feel more accepting of it. Rather, she thinks distantly, it just makes her feel more—
Ochako did want to be a Hero for the money, but she guesses that’s not all there is to it, anymore.
People change, huh?
Ochako must’ve been lost in her thoughts for too long because then, cutting the silence in the room, Midoriya blurts: “Sorry.”
Ochako stares. The other two stare at him as well, at the abrupt apology. “Huh?”
“Um,” Midoriya doesn’t seem to know why he said sorry either, from the look on his face. His eyes dart nervously between the three of them, before settling down on his drink again. “Sorry. I mean—I just—I never really..” His face is red again. “I never really talk about this with—with friends. ” He said that word a little too quickly, like the way he said death—like he’s ashamed of saying it. “I know it’s—it’s depressing, and weird..”
It’s astonishing, Ochako thinks, staring at him. There is absolutely nothing for him to apologize for, and yet here he is. It’s not even the first time this happens—it happens all the time. That thing Midoriya does where he backtracks, shrinks back, beats himself down.
Ochako knows that whatever it is that made Midoriya so … so ready to throw himself on the ground like that in every situation and every conversation—it’s not something that she can understand. Not even now that she knows what his Quirk is, and what having a Quirk like that probably entails. Whatever it is, it’s not something that she can easily identify and address, something that she can—not fix, exactly. Handle doesn’t sound right either, but it’s perhaps the closest verb.
Sometimes she just doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. It’s hard to try and figure out the right words to say to someone like Midoriya—difficult to figure out the right response, one that wouldn’t come off wrong, one that wouldn’t set them off, one that would—
“Midoriya..” Kaminari says, putting a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize, man. Like, at all.” Kaminari-kun sounds so sincere—effortlessly so.
“Yeah,” Ojiro-kun says gently, leaning back to Midoriya’s bed. His tail sways gently behind him. “Thanks for sharing your Quirk with us, Midoriya-kun. I really appreciate it.”
“Since you told us stuff about your Quirk, though, I think it’s only fair if we tell you about ours, too … not that mine is anything crazy, though. Oh,” Kaminari pales a little. “Not that, um, not that I’m calling your Quirk crazy, Midoriya..”
“It’s okay. It is, um, a crazy Quirk, I think.” Midoriya-kun says, his mouth twisting a little, but not in a grimace. In something close to a smile. “I would really love to hear about your Quirks..”
“You say your Quirk isn’t crazy, Kaminari-kun,” Ojiro-kun says drily, “but your Quirk literally messed my hair up half an hour ago—”
“Come on, man, I was going through some stuff..”
As the conversation continues, something in Midoriya-kun’s face has softened, losing that fearful, apologetic look it had before. And then he looks at Ochako, and his expression immediately turns into alarm. “Ura—Uraraka-san, what’s … what’s wrong?” the other two turn to look at her. Ochako looks back. Or tries too, anyway. It's a bit too blurry for her to see.
“I’m okay,” Ochako says. And then she sobs, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying, sorry.” It’s crazy that she even still has some tears in her, considering the number of crying sessions she’s had in the past week. “Sorry. It’s just—” Ochako buries her head in her hands, missing the way the other three boys make panicked eye contact with each other.
“Do you need—um, um, here is some tissue—”
“Do you want, uhh, do you want more hot chocolate, Uraraka?”
“Dude, what would she want more hot chocolate for?”
“I don’t know man, to rehydrate? Don’t ask me!”
“Thanks,” Ochako says, taking some tissues. This is so fucking embarrassing. She can’t believe her classmates have seen her cry for like, ten fucking times or something. “I’m sorry. It’s just. This week has been … it’s been a crazy week.”
“Tell me about it,” Kaminari says, and Ochako breaks into a laugh.
“Really, though—are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, and it’s true. She feels fine. She feels really, really light, actually—there is some kind of relief spreading through her chest like fresh air. It’s as if a weight has just been lifted off her chest. She feels great. “You know the part of your ear,” she says abruptly with a hoarse voice, “the part of your ear that—that keeps your balance?”
The three boys look at each other before looking back at her, a look of concern all over their faces. “The one that, um, senses gravity?”
“Yeah.” The tears have kinda stopped. Ochako feels much calmer now, if a little dizzy—crying always leaves her with a slight headache. She truly doesn’t know why she’s even crying, but a part of her has a suspicion that this might be her last crying session in a while. An epilogue to a crazy week. “My Quirk ruins mine. I get really bad motion sickness as a side effect.”
Kaminari-kun, apparently, is banned from swimming pools due to him potentially electrocuting every occupant in the pool, which includes himself (“I also can’t vape,” Kaminari solemnly confesses. “Like, I blew up my brother’s vape.”). Ojiro-kun has never won at card games even once in his life because his tail is prone to, well, show his cards (“And yes,” Ojiro-kun says solemnly, “I don't sleep on my back. I mean, it's physically impossible for me.”).
They make pretty good progress on the chem presentation overall, and are now making cue cards to memorize from. They talk sometimes, asking things (“Is this the correct way to spell, uhh, dichlo—dichlorodipenile..?” "It's phenyl.") or just sharing bits of gossip (“Did you know Aizawa-sensei has an Instagram for his cats—” “You’re lying! ”). Other than that, they settle into … a surprisingly comfortable silence, for classmates who haven’t gotten to know each other well enough. Well, Ochako supposes they have gotten to know each other a little better in the past hour.
All in all, it’s a good group project session. If a little awkward, a little embarrassing, and a little hard.
Midoriya-kun stands up suddenly, in the middle of a discussion. “What’s up?” Kaminari says, puzzled.
“My mom’s here,” Midoriya-kun says. And then, right on cue, a voice rings out from the living room: “Izuku!”
“I’m gonna go greet her,” Midoriya says. And then, seeing his three groupmates proceed to stand up, he says, “Um, you guys don’t have to come—”
“Of course we gotta, man,” Kaminari-kun says, slinging an easy arm around Midoriya-kun’s shoulders. Ochako catches Midoriya’s eyes widening with surprise, face reddening from the familiar action. Not that Kaminari-kun notices. “It’s just manners.”
“We are guests, after all,” Ojiro-kun says calmly, tidying up the mess of papers and books on the floor. “We should say hi.”
“You gotta introduce us to your mom, Midoriya-kun,” Ochako says, grins a little. “We don’t wanna be rude friends.”
“Okay,” Midoriya-kun says then, ducking down a little. “Yeah,” he opens the door, letting them all walk out of his room to say hi to his mom. Maybe it’s just Ochako’s imagination, but Midoriya-kun’s voice isn’t all that quiet anymore. Not loud, certainly, but—clearer. Like he isn’t scared of being heard.
“Oh, by the way,” Ochako says, as they walk down the hallway, “Does the fish have a name? Your pet fish, I mean.”
There is a pause before Midoriya-kun answers with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. “Yeah,” he says. “Um. It’s Fish.”
Ochako stares at him. The moment she gets it, she throws her head back and laughs.
Despite it all, she’s glad she’s in class 1-A. She really is. Despite it all.