Chapter Text
Ochako hiked up the mountain, paying no mind to the mist that was starting to cloud up her vision. She wiped the sweat building up on her brow, took a deep breath, and paused to plot her route up the rocks and roots on the upscaling path in front of her. She took note of the moss generously layered over the surface of the stones, pressing the tip of her shoe on one of the lower mossy rocks to gage the instability.
She grabbed on to a high root and planted her foot on an elevated rock. As she started to climb she felt her cheeks heat up—the damp air around her grew heavier. Her breathing became erratic and desperate—she was not used to the weight of her body like this. She did not pause until she found a semi-flat surface, hefting her body up then landing flat on her stomach.
The pack on her back pressed on her, making it harder for her to catch her breath. She did not take the pack off, though in that moment she really wanted to. Instead she sat up and pressed her side to tree trunk. She loosened the straps of her bag until it plopped gently on the ground, but she was careful to keep it on.
She took her pouch of water—which was strapped to her side—and chugged a bit of it, mindful that the next stop for drinkable water was close to her destination.
In a haze of heat and consumed by the bliss of the cool water pooling through her, she looked up to see the sky. She had not seen it for the last few hours, it had been consumed by the foliage—devoured by the tall trees with thick bristles of bright green leaves at the end of their branches. She missed her sky.
She closed her eyes, thinking to rest a bit. She knew no one would cross her path here—she was too close to the realm of spirits.
*
“There is a god like that in the mountains,” Shoto said, exposed eye on the paneled ceiling of their room.
Izuku stopped flipping through the book in his hand and turned to Shoto, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“A god?” Ochako asked. She had looked up from her own book—a catalogue of “Old and Purposeful Places” who’s spine was so bent up that the gold foil lettering it used to have was recognizable as neither gold or lettering.
“Yes. I heard they will grant you any wish—I forgot what you must do for it. But the wish is unconditional, and not subject to any trickery.” Shoto sat up. The cloth covering his scared eye fell with his motion. He did not seem to notice. He trained both of his eyes in Uraraka’s direction, carful to not actually make eye contact. “Talk of the old gods is the worst—but I don't think this god is really that old.”
Izuku had shot up as soon as Shoto started moving. He had his hands out as if to catch Shoto if he fell. Shoto did not, remaining very sturdy even though Ochako could note fatigue building up in his expression.
“Shoto, stop. Don’t overexert yourself. Wait until you are better to talk about this, me and Ochako are fine just reading for a solution,” said Izuku, voice dripping with a compassion Ochako had never quite heard from him.
Shoto shook his head. “It's time sensitive. This god—i's why I said they aren't truly old. Their duty is passed—” Shoto braced an arm behind him, forcefully. Izuku jumped at the sound of Shoto’s palm hitting the floor. Izuku drew closer to him but Shoto waved him away before he got too close. “Ochako, the god is far into a forest—a dangerous test of strength and no guaranty of stability—though I don't think the location lies close to the cusp of the other side. Before—before I try to recall it all, do you think you will be willing to risk it?”
*
Ochako snapped awake. The forest around her was dead silent and darker than night. She waited a bit until she could see the outlines of the trees around her, then stood up and held a hand to the tree next to her.
It might be dangerous to keep going in the dark, she thought, but not as dangerous as running out of water. Her pouch was less than half full.
She had not brought anything in the way of light, she was told not to. Shoto had warned her that the god was strict about the journey, as though it too was part of the sacrifice.
She fastened the straps of her bag and started to move forwards. She was thinking of everything that could go wrong and every solution that she had. Most of what could go wrong was her falling off—and all her solutions were that she would just use her quirk to float to safety. That would set her back a bit, she was not supposed to use her powers on the trip there. She supposed having to organizing another attempt like this would not be as bad as dying, though.
She held her hand out in front of her as she walked, looking like some lost child. She tried to touch each tree she passed to make sure there were tree on both sides.
The one good thing about the darkness was that the humid heat had gone. Instead it was cool, and she even felt a bit of a breeze. She was not sure how high up she was—nor even how high the mountain was. She had not seen it’s top, and its shape had been so ambiguous she could not imagine where its peak lied.
Her hands felt a rock, then a wall of them. she went closer to examine what it was—another inclination. She felt that the rocks were mossy, as the other had been. She reached around for roots and tugged hard on them to make sure they were sturdy. Then she started her climb—slow, and careful to keep her footing.
This climb took longer than the other. It was not as steep, often she felt she was almost crawling over the rocks.
Her mind wandered, thinking of the god that she would find soon. It was odd that the god was not inclined to trickery. Shoto had posed that it was because they required such a personal sacrifice. He said that in her prime his mother had been similar, though he admitted a lack of a trick was never guaranteed.
Maybe it’s not the wish.
Ochako supposed that the trick could be in the sacrifice—though sacrifices were a pretty standard practice.
She felt her hand land on a flat patch. She put both hands on the surface and rolled on to it. She laid on her side, feeling the long dew topped grass tickle her cheeks.
She had not realized how out of breath she was. She gasped for it, feeling like a fire in a vacuum. She squirted some of her water into her mouth and let it sit a bit between a breath before swallowing—hoping that it would help her get back to normal.
“Ribbit, are you okay?”
Ochako jumped at the voice, choking on her own breath in surprise. She could not feel the presence of anyone around her. Of what little her eyes did see, there was nothing that could register as a body.
“Hello?” she said, directionless.
She felt a hand on one of her own and willed herself not to flinch. It was a rather long hand, slick with a wetness Ochako identified as not just water. Thin delicate fingers made their way to Ochako’s palm and started to lift her arm up.
“I’m right here, ribbit. I will help you to the end of the path.” Ochako felt another hand grip her wrist—just as slimy and nimble as the other. The creature pulled Ochako up and pressed her body against Ochako’s. Ochako could feel a coolness radiating off her; Her whole body seemed to be just as slimy as her hands. She felt a long tangle of hair on her sides. She was pasting together a picture of what this woman must have looked like and she was not sure how to feel about it.
“You are still weak, ribbit. This climb—it is easy while doing it. That’s why it gets people, ribbit. They don’t pace themselves like they should. Grab my shoulder.” She pulled Ochako’s arm over her neck an placed her hand over an unclothed shoulder. She wrapped an arm around Ochako’s waist and straightened her out. “Ribbit, your bag’s pretty heavy.”
Ochako hummed in response. She did her best not to be a burden on her aid. She was hesitant to do much because of how little she could see, but she tired to keep upright and pace along.
She had not noticed when she blacked out.
She woke to the feeling of a damp rock against her head. She felt she had been resting on it for a bit, but just now it had started to cause an ache. She pressed a hand to the back of her head and sat up.
She could see better now, though the sun had yet to rise. There was a placid lake surrounding her. It seemed to be luminescent, covering everything in a weak blue light. Ochako dunked a hand in to the water and saw its glow contort around her.
There was a rustling sound nearby. Ochako looked around and saw a bulky form moving around on another patch on land in the lake. There was a spindly figure—a profile of a humanlike thing that was just too long to be right. And next to it was some sort of rock, though Ochako could see the figure taking things out of it. It was then that Ochako noticed the lack of weight on her shoulders.
“No! Stop! Give that back!” Ochako yelled. She stood up and found herself tumbling into the water. She did not have time to question it what had happened. She poked her head out and headed towards the figure again, walking on the tip of her toes to keep her mouth above the water.
“Ribbit?” croaked the figure. Ochako saw her eyes—sideways slits that were a deep black outlined by gold. They were so inhuman. It was hard to get any read on them. Her whole face seemed uncanny—it was human enough, but the emotions on it were hard to read. She put a finger to her chin and cocked her head.
Ochako got to the shore of the island and crawled up to where the figure was. Her skin was an odd mix of neutral green and brown patches. She was hunched over Ochako’s backpack—which was half emptied. Many of the odd contraptions she had stuffed in there were organized on the floor next to the women.
Ochako stood, soggy and still in a bit of a haze of sleep, over the frog-like women.
“That was supposed to be for the god that lives near the top of this mountain,” she said—a bit dejected, knowing she would have to do the trek again.
The women’s head turned a bit more. Her eyes shifted a bit—an emotion that seemed like confusion crossed her face.
“Ribbit, but—I’m the only god who lives this high on the mountain.”
“Oh!” Ochako brought her hands to her cheeks in surprise. “I didn’t think—since you helped me and all—”
“It’s fine, ribbit. Happens a lot. I don’t have the same aura other gods exhume—they are usually rather dignified. Ribbit, most people mistake me for a weird animal if I don’t talk first.” She brought one of the trinkets in Ochako’s bag up to her face.
It was a sculpture of the moon Ochako had made, most of the stuff were odd crafts Ochako had made herself. All products of her observations of the sky. The moon piece in particular was something Ochako had pored her heart and soul into recreating. She had brought the best in a line of duds—as far she knew, it was an exact scale replica.
“These aren’t good enough sacrifices, I’m afraid. Ribbit.”
Ochako felt her heart stop.
“You don’t even know my wish!” Ochako said.
“Ribbit, don’t have to. I can tell you pored yourself into these and care a lot about them—losing them will certainly cost you, ribbit. But—it’s not quite right for me.”
Ochako slumped down on to the ground. She heard her clothes squelch against the ground. She brought her head to he knees and sighed.
“So what, do I just go back and bring you something else?”
“Ribbit, do you think there is something more deserving that you could sacrifice?”
Ochako shook her head. “No! these are all I have. Everything else in the house I live in belongs to one of my roommates.”
The women hummed. “That’s fine, I suppose. Ribbit, if you are willing, I have another offer for you.”
Ochako looked up at the women. She was closer then she had been, observing Ochako closely. Ochako only just now noticed that she did not seem to be wearing any significant clothes—instead her long black hair wrapped all around her body.
“In exchange for a single unconditional wish, ribbit, I want five days of your time.” The women’s face twisted into what seemed like an approximation of a human’s smile. She held a hand out.
“Five days?” Ochako said.
“Five days here, with me, ribbit. I’m Tsuyu, by the way. Most people know me—if they know me at all—by Froppy. I prefer Tsu, ribbit.” She kept her hand out—but whatever expression had crossed her face muted back into nothing.
“No tricks?” Ochako asked. She did not see how this could go wrong, exactly. Though it might have been the sleep still kicking around in her head. Something told her to be cautious.
“Ribbit, I can’t promise that. What I offer you is what I’ve offered—ribbit, that’s all I can say.”
Ochako sighed and took Tsu’s hand. She figured nothing could go wrong with five days in a magical forest.