Chapter Text
“Uraraka-chan!”
Iida’s shout rang across the busy exercise room. It spoke to how loud he was that she could hear him at all over the steady hum of chatter all around her. Her physical therapist glanced towards the door, then back at Ochako. He handed her the crutches with an amused sigh. “Alright. We can end this session early.”
Ochako made her way over to Iida quickly- or, as quickly as she could with her leg still in a cast and having to swerve around other patients and doctors, all too busy to pay her any mind. Hugging him was awkward with crutches, but after a second of deliberation he took them from her and wrapped his arm around her torso, holding her up for the duration of the hug. He’d never been one for physical affection, but since that night, he hugged her every time he saw her.
“I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said, voice muffled by his shoulder. “Didn’t you guys have that presentation you had to study for?”
“We finished early, so Aizawa-sensei said it was okay to visit. Tsu-chan’s here too… and so is Todoroki-kun.”
She inhaled sharply. In the two weeks she’d been in the hospital, Todoroki hadn’t visited her once, even once she’d been able to stay awake. It didn’t take much effort to put together what was upsetting him.
Iida gently released her, passing her the crutches back. “They’re waiting in the cafeteria. If you’re not ready to talk to him yet, I can tell them you’re too tired.”
“No,” she said, her voice so decisive it startled her. “I want to see him.”
Iida put his arm around her shoulder for extra guidance as she made her way into the hallway, which was unusually empty. For the past few days, she’d been taking the elevator down to the ground floor for physical therapy and Quirk counseling. With the near-total healthcare coverage U.A. provided its students, she’d been able to afford doctors with accelerated healing Quirks, so the only thing still broken was her leg. She’d be cleared to leave in a few days.
The non-physical parts were trickier, though. All Might had warned her about keeping One for All a secret to the public, at least for now, so she’d been vague about the details no matter how much the doctors pressed her for them. The Quirk counselor that the hospital offered had admitted in their first session that she’d never seen a case like Ochako’s. “Most of my patients,” she’d said, “are young children, or people whose Quirks injure them. Your case- already possessing high control over your Quirk, but then being- given, I presume?- a stronger, unmastered one- may be entirely unique.”
‘Unique’ had never been Ochako’s goal. She missed Zero Gravity with a fierceness, even though the counselor assured her she’d gain it back fully after a month or so of practice.
There were, of course, deeper parts to her recovery, ones that the doctors had told her would require grief counselors and therapy for a long time forward in order to heal. They said it so plainly, like her entire emotional recovery was easily mapped and if she just followed the steps, she’d be all better in a few months, or years, or however long it would take. Ochako stayed quiet and nodded along, but she knew that it would never be that simple. Trauma and grief couldn’t be set and splinted like a broken bone; they’d linger even once the constant ache had faded.
Ochako leaned a little closer against Iida’s side.
All too soon, the hallway opened up in front of them. She spotted Tsuyu and Todoroki immediately- the cafeteria was large and only half-full, and they were hard to miss. Tsuyu smiled as soon as she saw her, her long fingers tapping the round table they were sitting at. When Todoroki’s gaze landed on her, however, he grew still as an ice sculpture.
Her heart pounding, Ochako made her way over to them, Iida still by her side with one reassuring hand resting on her shoulder. She sat across from Tsuyu, trying- and failing- to ignore the way Todoroki’s eyes kept focusing on her then skipping away.
Tsuyu reached across the table. Ochako stretched her hand forward and met her halfway, interlocking their fingers. “How are you doing?” she asked before her friend could.
“Okay,” Tsuyu croaked, then seemed to realize how vague that was. “I mean. It’s been hard, of course. We’re… no one’s really coping well. With all of it. But classes started back up a few days ago, and Cementoss returned to work, so he’s been helping to reconstruct campus.”
A few hours after All Might had visited her, Aizawa had come by her room and caught her up to speed on everything she hadn’t witnessed that night. Apparently, July hadn’t actually been a member of the League of Villains; rather, she was with a copycat group hoping to gain some of the press and terror that the League commanded. One of them had disconnected the emergency alarm system so that July could sneak in undetected, taking the teachers by surprise before moving onto the dorm building. Other than Deku, there were no casualties, just some severe injuries.
“Bakugou-kun was released yesterday,” Tsuyu added.
Ochako’s mouth twisted into something halfway between a smile and a grimace. She could see another long talk waiting in her and Bakugou’s future now that she had her memories back.
But for now, there was a different conversation to concern herself with.
She finally met Todoroki’s heterochromatic gaze and held it. Iida must have noticed, because he said, unnecessarily loud, “Asui-chan! Would you care to accompany me to the vending machines? I saw they have mochi; we could get some for everyone.”
“I’m not really-” Tsuyu began, before Iida interrupted her with a laughably-obvious fake cough. “Oh! I mean, sure, yes, I’d love to!” The two of them stood and strolled off together.
For a few moments, neither Ochako nor Todoroki said anything.
“So,” she stated. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” Todoroki replied, his tone painfully formal.
They waited several more seconds in uncomfortable silence, before Ochako made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and spread her palms flat on the table. “Alright. I know this is awkward, but we need to talk things through. Make sure we’re on the same page, I guess.”
“I’m not sure what there is to talk about-” Todoroki started, but Ochako cut him off before he could back away.
“Why didn’t you come to visit me?”
He looked at a loss for words, so she added quickly, “I mean, you weren’t obligated to. I’m not angry with you. But… I just want to know. I think it’ll help us both.”
Todoroki exhaled, long and slow. “We weren’t really friends, before.”
Her initial instinct was to deny it, but she caught herself and made herself think about it. Had they ever even had a one-on-one conversation before this? Or had she just assumed, because Deku had brought them all together like magnets with opposing poles, that he’d think about the group the same way she did? The truth was, when she forced herself to look at it from his point of view, he wasn’t friends with any of them, yet. Anyone except Deku.
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” she prompted gently.
Todoroki stared at her like she’d just asked for his credit card information. “Why do you even care?”
“I’m trying to make things better with everyone. I don’t want anything like- like that night to ever happen again. But if it does, at the very least I’d like to have said everything I need to to everyone in my life.”
“You were the last person who saw him,” Todoroki blurted. He fidgeted, narrowing his eyes and glancing away. They may not have been close, but Ochako still knew how uncomfortableness manifested for him; avoidance and frustration. Both were present in his scowl.
“Every time I look at you, I think of him dying. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him, did you know that? He was the only person I’ve ever been close to. And he gave everything to you, before you left him to die.”
What hurt the most wasn’t that Todoroki thought that. She’d suspected something like that to be the reason he hadn’t visited. What really hurt, more than anything she’d expected, was that he was voicing aloud the dark thoughts she herself had had since she found out the whole truth of what happened that night. She knew it wasn’t true, that it was just their sorrow-stricken brains trying to find someone, anyone, to blame, but that didn’t change the way her heart twisted. “That’s not fair,” she whispered.
“I know, alright?” he snapped, his temper flaring in a way she hadn’t seen since the early months of U.A. He seemed to catch himself and take a deep breath before opening his eyes and continuing in a gentler tone of voice. “I didn’t mean that. I know it wasn’t your fault. But… it hurts to look at you, Uraraka. I’m sorry.”
Part of her wanted to stand up, push away from the table, and escape back to her cold, sterile room on the upper floor. She doubted Todoroki wanted to keep this conversation going, and Iida and Tsuyu would never know what had happened.
But she remembered what she’d said earlier, why they needed to have this conversation in the first place. If she didn’t keep going, if she didn’t try to understand what was going on in his head, then both of their feelings would fester until it was far too late to have any semblance of a positive relationship. July had taken too much from her already. Ochako wouldn’t let her take this.
“I get it,” she said, quietly. “I know how important he was to you. He was my best friend, too; I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
“It’s different for you,” he murmured, dropping his gaze. “You still have Tsuyu and Iida.”
“So do you,” she replied. “They think of you as their friend, too. Both of them would be there for you, but you have to let them.”
He didn’t look back up at her or respond verbally. But he nodded slightly, and that was enough.
“If you can’t ever be my friend or look at me the same, then I will respect that. But you have to remember that you’re not the only one who’s hurting. I’m still here, Todoroki-kun. And I’m choosing to stay in U.A., stay with my friends, to be there for everyone who needs a hero. So, if you ever feel ready enough… I’m here for you, too.”
Nothing would ever be the same, and that was a truth she would have to live with. But that didn’t mean she had to succumb to despair. She would keep fighting, keep living, and do everything she could to honor the love and strength that Deku had left her with.
Iida and Tsu returned a few seconds later, clearly having gone overboard at the vending machines. Their collection of pre-packaged snacks were practically spilling out of their arms before they dropped them on the center of the table. Despite herself, Ochako laughed as Tsuyu handed her a packet of her favorite strawberry mochi.
As she sat with her friends, only a few days from leaving the hospital, Ochako remembered Deku in Tsuyu’s green tea-flavored Pocky, which matched the color of his eyes perfectly. She remembered him in the animated way Iida began describing the latest activity they’d done in hero training. She remembered him in the slight, shy nod Todoroki gave her when their eyes finally met.
Ochako remembered Deku in everything and everyone around her, and she knew that she always would. Right now, it hurt more than any of her injuries had. But maybe, one day, it wouldn't. Maybe she and Todoroki would be able to tell each other their favorite stories of him without any shred of bitterness between them. Maybe, once she's a pro hero, she'll save someone with One for All and smile, because Deku was with her even all these years later.
For now, all she had to do was keep going.