Work Text:
Ochako kept glancing down at the watch on her wrist.
The seconds seemed to pass slowly, weighing on her as she strode along the roadway. A frown appeared on her face as she saw a park from afar that surprisingly, still had some people left, despite how the sun had started to set already.
Nothing had changed in terms of architecture—or design—but a dark, eerie atmosphere permeated through the space sending shivers down Ochako’s back.
Children still played around in the swings, their parents by their side, but it all seemed distinctly quieter than before—before the war, before the defeat, before, before, before...
People’s laughs used to be loud and vivid; now exhaustion and shadows outlined their faces. The occupants of the park all seemed to be quirkless civilians trying to find a semblance of routine within the new normal where heroes were forced into the shadows and villains roamed freely.
Shaking her head, Ochako continued walking, despite the way her heart weighed heavily in her chest and her eyes stung.
She strode down the roadway with her hands in her sweater’s pocket, her gaze fixed in front of her.
As she walked around a corner, a hand shot out to grab her by the shoulder, pulling her into the poorly lit alleyway.
Before she could think, or process what was happening,, instinct drove her to reach for the knife she carefully kept hidden underneath her sweater.
The sharp blade forced her attacker’s chin to turn upwards. She blinked repeatedly, trying desperately to adjust to the lighting, when a minty breath brushed against her face and made her falter.
“Shit. I fucked up,” Katsuki communicated through his earpiece, knife still pressed tightly against his throat, “I got Uravity instead.’’ His voice carried a tinge of frustration that made Ochako stumble slightly and ease her hold on the weapon, not quite expecting him to be the one grabbing her.
Their breaths mingled together as they stood pressed to one another in the slow minute that passed before she let him go, hand falling to her side with the knife still held tightly in her tingling fingers.
Ochako grunted. “Not Uravity.’’
“Tch.’’ Katsuki shifted on his feet, crossing her arms. “You’re crazy as shit if you think I’m calling ya Supernova anytime soon. I would rather be Half and Half’s lackey.’’
Rolling her eyes, she moved to the side, not knowing what to do with the knife; she wasn’t completely sure of the reason he had grabbed her, so it didn’t feel right to let her guard down yet. Still, it felt wrong to put up a defensive against him too. Despite everything that had gone down between them because of her actions, the thought of him hurting her seemed unfathomable.
Hesitating between putting her knife down or not, his chuckle caught her off guard.
“I knew that I was grabbing you, Cheeks,’’ Katsuki confessed with a roll of his eyes, “I’m not that careless, y’know?’’
She felt like all the air had been punched out of her lungs. Even after all this time without seeing him, Bakugou Katsuki still left her at a loss of words.
Taking advantage of her catatonic state, he reversed their positions, grabbing her wrist and pushing her up against the wall. Ochako gasped at the sudden movement, letting the knife fall to the floor.
His gaze drifted down to her red lips and quickly came back to lock on her gaze. Ochako saw his mouth fall open slightly, before closing immediately as a frown appeared on his face.
The moonlight shone upon their faces, her eyes falling upon his pursed lips before flicking back to his red eyes hidden behind the black mask. A glint in his eyes made her suspect he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t quite sure if he should.
His fingers drifted down her arm, caressing over the quickening pulse of her wrist. Katsuki hummed lowly, the sound reverberating through the abandoned alley and making Ochako blush profusely.
And just like that, he let her go.
He cleared his throat, his hands retreating to his sides as he stepped away from her.
Katsuki looked at her in the eye, expression undecipherable. Then, he turned around.
“She got away, Deku,” he grumbled to the earpiece and started walking away, shoulders dropping.
A shout resonated from the earpiece and though Ochako couldn’t be sure of the exact words that were uttered, it sounded vaguely like an, “Again?’’ coming from Izuku’s mouth.
“Shut up! You try catching her next time.’’ Katsuki scoffed. “She made me float and shit. I would’ve ended up like a scrambled egg if I had fallen from too high.”
Ochako’s hands fell to her sides. She was left looking at his back as he walked further away from her, still quarreling with Izuku. Once he got out of the darkness of the alley, Ochako drank in how the moonlight shone upon his form, making her finger twitch at the way his hair looked like silver and gold as the lighting contrasted vividly against the orange of his suit.
It was absurd how at these moments, when few people lucky enough to roam the streets without a target on their back, that she still longed for such trivial things. Others simply craved for an ounce of the freedom she had, yet all she could think about was threading her hands through Katsuki’s hair or witnessing her friends bickering first hand.
Through the next days, Ochako found herself reminiscing her encounter with Katsuki, her fingers absentmindedly wrapping around her wrists and caressing the spot where his touch had carved an invisible mark that linked straight to her heart.
She was sprawled out on the couch when a faint knock at her door made her jolt up, her eyebrow arched. Although she didn’t live in a secluded place, she had always been cautious not to showcase where she lived to anyone.
Not that people would dare attack her at her house when she was under The League’s protection, but still.
She was a villain, yes, but she had not always been one, so a bit of decency still laid in her heart. She didn’t necessarily expect people to respect her living place, but she refused to invade theirs. She had been careful to always ensure all their attacks weren’t at people’s houses, where they should feel safe.
The villains she worked with were shitty, yes, but at least they had a bit of decency left. And damn, was Ochako wrong for hoping for a bit of reciprocity? She just wanted to enjoy her Friday night in peace, even if asking for peace seemed hypocritical on her part.
Chewing the last bit of watermelon, Ochako let down her fruit bowl on the table and grabbed a knife, carefully tucking its hilt in her fist like muscle memory. With soft steps, she approached the door, wanting to have the upper hand on whoever waited for her on the other side.
She looked through the peephole but found nothing apart from the luminescent lights of the corridor. Ochako opened the door, ready to pounce on whoever was at the other side, but as her gaze fell upon a crouching figure, her knife fell out of her hand, the clash of the metal against the hardwood resonating in the corridor
The sight of one Bakugou Katsuki was certainly not what she had expected. His eyes were dazed and he looked so weak—so defeated— her mind immediately conjured up the memory of when she left crying, hands trembling, as she turned her back on all her friends and classmates in order to follow Shigaraki Tomura out of U.A.
“‘Chako…” His mumble struck her from her reverie, her gaze towards his, the sight that awaited her leaving her immobile. Oh, how she had missed him addressing her by any semblance of her name. Even when he found different ways to encounter her in battle or in poorly lit alleys, he never uttered her name.
“I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice echoed through her mind for a few seconds, his words becoming significantly louder at each moment that passed.
Then, he crumpled to the floor and Ochako moved forward to catch him just in time. In a blink of an eye, her arms supported him around the shoulders as her fingerpads brushed against the too cold skin of his cheeks.
The idle, fleeting thought of closing the door and leaving him outside passed through her mind. At this point, Ochako would be doing him a favor if she let him die there and not in a gruesome battle.
For a boy with a heart too heroic for his own good, especially in such wicked times, it was way easier to succumb to the darkness than to live fighting against a too strong system. Being in the top spot of a wanted list that included Shouto and Izuku carved a target on his back that only made his days numbered
She wouldn’t be killing Katsuki. It wouldn’t be her fault. He had come to her doorstep, already in an awful situation, with a gash beside his costume and a wide, bleeding out wound, his eyelids fluttering close in exhaustion. It was astounding he hadn’t died on his way to her.
A few seconds passed by and she was still motionless, struck by her dilemma. She could leave him on her doorstep… Her boss would even thank her; Ochako could bet Tomura would even reward her. She was already his favorite, to kill Ground Zero would push her through the roof.
Yet…
She was unable to.
Not encountering his stubbornness in battle haunted her and the thought of not seeing his vermillion eyes again tugged at her heartstrings. Despite her best efforts to forget about him, he still had a place in her heart.
Ochako cared for him, nearly as much then as when she left.
Moving forward, she easily carried him to her room. His chest barely moved, the sight of his immobilized state brought unshed tears to her eyes. Ochako placed him on the bed, not particularly caring about the crimson stain he would leave upon her sheets, but cautious to let him down in a way that didn’t hurt him further.
Frantic, with a last glance at him, she went to her bathroom, getting her first-aid kit. She shifted above him, careful not to stir him from his unconsciousness. Having been alone for so long, she had learned how to cauterize wounds and patch herself up. Although she knew he could take it, the thought of seeing him in further pain made her struggle for air.
She put on some gloves.
After cutting the side of his costume, she examined his wound, her head coming closer to his skin. Thankfully, he had the good sense to try to reduce the bleeding as much as he could with a wad of cloth that was packed tightly between his costume and his skin, so there wasn’t much blood loss—at least not enough to warrant a transfusion.
Ochako rinsed the skin with a sterile solution to remove the bacteria he had been exposed to on the way to her apartment.
Quickly applying local anesthesia on his side, she waited for a few torturous moments for it to take effect. Ochako’s frown initially deepened as she continued to examine the site of the wound, though a sigh of relief left her upon noticing it wasn’t a deep one, and none of his organs had been damaged. She figured out most of the blood wasn’t oozing from his wound, instead, he must have gotten stained by his opponent’s blood. Yet, the sight of him injured, laying on her bed and passed out of exertion and pain still caused her to feel nauseous.
Her left hand fell upon his pulse point to monitor it—since she didn’t have a machine to monitor it—before she started meticulously stitching up the wound with sutures.
Sweat glistened on her skin as her nimble fingers finished closing the incision. She let out a huff and removed her gloves, stepping away to examine her work as she still hovered over him.
The wound still had blood staining around it in a colorful bruise, but the actual cut looked good. She had succeeded in closing it completely, though there would probably be a long scar marring his skin since her stitching technique had become somewhat rusty in the past few years of misuse.
Ochako put her hand on his chest, his steady heartbeat reassuring her he would heal—he would be alright.
Moving from the bed, she carried the first-aid kit to her desk and turned around to look at him laying across her bed.
It was truly astounding how, despite the different paths they had taken, Bakugou Katsuki’s presence never failed to leave her questioning everything she had ever believed in.
He was always there, an unshakeable point in her life, a memory to pull from each time she sunk into her loneliness. Whenever she found him after she had turned sides, her heart stuttered wildly against her ribcage, thrumming for a semblance of the intimacy they had shared before everything changed.
Before the war.
Before she was forced to change sides.
Before her role as the decoy had been revealed.
Before she turned her back on all her friends.
When they encountered each other in the street, despite the ever-present mischievous glint in his eyes, Ochako knew he had tried his best to subdue all the memories of the times their fingers had intertwined and of all the whispered promises and plans of a time that, despite knowing it would never come, she found herself hoping multiple times it did.
Feeling homesick for a place that wasn’t her home anymore sucked, or so Ochako learned with time. It was worse when she had built her home in him, and she was left to miss everything they used to be and everything they had lost because of her betrayal.
The exhaustion of the day and the shock of finding Katsuki bleeding out at her door finally took over. After leaving a pill and a glass of water beside him on the nightstand, she pulled out a futon and promptly fell asleep.
That night, she dreamed of him and her friends forgiving her, and welcoming her to their side.
—;
“Fuck!” A shout brought her out of her sleep. “Fuck! This shit hurts like hell!”
Ochako jolted up to see Katsuki attempting to sit up and utterly failing.
“Stop moving! You’ll open up the wound!” Ochako’s frown deepened.
His surprised gaze fell upon her once he heard her voice. Apparently, he had forgotten about falling on her doorstep only hours before.
Ochako huffed, trying to subside the boiling feeling of trepidation mixed with hurt—he hadn’t intended to come to her, then?
Katsuki grunted under his breath. “Fuck, this shit’s awful. I forgot how much a stab hurt.”
Ochako’s brow arched. “Wow. You get stabbed often then?”
He tried to sit again, clenching his teeth tightly. Ochako got up from the futon and moved towards him.
Since he wouldn’t stay still, she might as well help him up.
Standing in front of him, she offered him a hand—not quite expecting him to take her offer.
Katsuki huffed and looked down, avoiding eye contact as his hand moved towards Ochako’s, accepting her offer.
She was surprised but still helped him up.
Once he stood tall in the room, he glanced down at her, the sudden proximity and height difference making Ochako shift on her feet.
He looked her up and down, his eyes finally locking with hers with an intensity that stole her breath away. A silence filled with a nervous energy of anticipation and nervousness fell upon them.
“Y’know,” he murmured, breaking their trance as he looked down, “I don’t hate ya. I get why you did it.”
She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as though she might collapse, her legs no longer offering support. Ochako looked at him and in his gaze once more and found only honesty. It felt as though his vermillion eyes looked straight into her soul.
Katsuki still knew her as well as always, she noticed.
She missed the way he uttered his feelings so bluntly.
Though, she couldn’t help but notice the irony in his words; to have the person whose forgiveness she yearned for the most absolving her of her guilt—it was heart wrenching and astonishing and overwhelming all at once.
“That’s funny, you know?” She chuckled darkly, letting out a breath that moved her fringe out of her face. “For you, of all people, to be so understanding, well… I wasn’t expecting that.” Ochako shook her head.
Katsuki growled. “Fuck this shit, Ochako! Ya have the audacity to act all surprised and shit. As if I’ve ever had any right to judge ya.”
Her fingers passed through her hair, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes shining bright under the natural light that passed through the curtain’s binds.
“I betrayed you,’’ Ochako muttered, “And all our friends. You have all the right to hate me.” Her soft tone carried through the space between them, the distance too wide for all the longing he evoked in her.
“I could never hate you,” he confessed—though his widening eyes let her know his words had spilled past his lips out of their own volition.
She nodded solemnly, her arms crossing as she looked at him.
His vermillion eyes looked at her as the silence stretched between them again.
Ochako needed to know if all this benevolence came out of nowhere. If he would treat her like all the others had once she had turned her back around—which she knew she deserved.
But, from him, it would hurt a thousand times worse.
“You aren’t going to try and make me feel guilty?” Ochako arched her brows.
Katsuki shook his head. “You saved my life. I owe you. You don’t owe me shit. Besides,” he huffed, his eyes shone as his gaze settled on her, “who the fuck am I to tell ya what to do? Not like any of us are saints. There’s blood on all our hands.”
His unwavering gaze fell upon her, still unresponsive due to his words. He turned around, his hand moving to hold his side, a grunt leaving his mouth.
“You can’t leave now.” She shook her head, pointing towards her window and the too prominent daylight. “They’ll get you,” she whispered, her hand unconsciously reaching out for his arm.
“Well, they sure as fuck tried to,” Katsuki said, huffing, “Last night didn’t come out of nowhere! Your crazy ass friend fucking stabbed me. That’s why we’re here, in case you didn’t realize, Cheeks.”
She recoiled, swallowing down the rising lump in her throat. Her friend… She wouldn’t go as far as calling Toga a friend. Ochako scoffed but didn’t say anything—after all, she couldn’t deny his accusations, even if she wasn’t a willing participant in the whole ordeal.
But she didn’t want him to go yet. She needed to talk to him for a bit more—although they had encountered each other in the street, he had never allowed himself to talk to her this much.
Ochako huffed and lowered herself to the ground. She turned on her side and looked up at him, waiting for him to accompany her, too afraid of rejection to ask him out loud.
His eyes shone with recognition. They used to lay on the ground by each other’s side when they were still at U.A.
A sigh of relief left her as he—uncharacteristically quiet—lowered himself to the mat on the ground, next to her, a grunt leaving him as he moved, and the fresh wound stung.
He turned to his side, his face centimeters away from her.
“I don’t know what to do now,” Ochako confessed.
“Do you regret it?” he asked, looking her straight in the eye.
“No.” She shifted slightly, avoiding his gaze. “My family’s safe. That's all that matters to me.”
A hint of hurt flashed through his eyes.
“But you took your family to an unknown place.” He licked his lips. “You don’t need to do this anymore. They’re safe.”
“I turned on all of you.” Ochako shook her head. “Doubt little ol’ me asking for forgiveness would make you accept me back.”
His eyes lowered to the ground. He said, “Pinky misses you. She understands too.”
She didn’t move, surprised at the meaning behind his words. He didn’t say it, but the ‘too’ he added implied he understood as well. It was enough for Ochako.
The intensity of her gaze on his made red dust his cheeks. He cleared his throat and turned, getting up with difficulty.
As he stood above her, he said, “I have to go now. It’s best if it’s still early.”
Ochako stood too, moving slowly to show him to the door. Her unhurried pace proof of her remorse at watching him go again.
Ochako opened the door, and Katsuki, still haltering in his steps, moved through the threshold.
He turned around. “Until next time. Please stay safe, Cheeks.”
“I should be the one telling you that!” She huffed, trying to subdue the spark of anticipation his words had on her.
Katsuki smirked at her. “I’ll do my worse.” He leaned down slightly and the touch of his lips brushing against the slope of her cheek was gone before she was able to bask on the warmth it brought upon her face.
Then, he turned around and Ochako was left, cheeks reddened, looking at his back as he walked away, the luminescent lights of the corridors encompassing his figure. Not for the first time she was left wondering how she always ended up watching him walk away from her, even as his presence resonated loudly in her heart.
Though this time his parting words pushed hope into his chest.
Ochako closed the door once he turned around the corner and she couldn’t see much else of him.
She hoped he succeeded in his mission along with their former classmates, their goal to somehow restore a sense of peace to society making her wish she stayed by their side.
But she had taken her decisions rationally; her parents’ lives were at stake and although she had grown to love the idea of being a hero to people, to save them, she always had her priorities set on her parents’ well-being.
Ochako moved to her balcony and sat down, the sunlight reflecting in her eyes.
Now her parents were safe, and The League had no way of finding out where they were.
Deep down, she knew, if Katsuki asked for her help, there wouldn’t be much stopping her from easily swaying to his cause—to that of her ex-classmates’—again.
That night, she didn’t dream of him forgiving her.
Instead, in her dreams, they soared through the skies, their surroundings filled with tall buildings and people below them laughing brighter than she had seen in recent times.