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"I'll see you later," Ochako called and lifted the hem of her apron to swipe along her sweat-slicked forehead. Once again, she scanned along the shelf, taking care that the pastries were arranged to her satisfaction. Their surfaces gleamed with baked sugar, and she was tempted to swipe one into her pocket to eat before leaving the bakery. Deciding against it and knowing Izuku would catch her before leaving, she clambered down the small ladder, hopping off the last rung.

"Do you have to go?" Izuku's voice floated over her, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread. He pushed through the door, arms hefting a basket of baguettes, their crusts a warm shade of gold and ready to eat. With a grunt, he set them down on the counter and dusted off his hands. "I could use some help today."

Familiar with the teasing nuances to his tone, she laughed, wiping her hands along her skirt. "You're perfectly capable of handling the shop on your own," she said and cocked her fist on her hip, staring across the display. "Besides, you already have help."  

"Am I not enough for you?" They both turned to see Tsuyu push through the door, forest green hair wrapped in a headband. She held onto a tray of tarts and set them on the counter. "I could just quit as your worker and tenant," she suggested, and Izuku waved both hands in front of him, panicking at being caught.

"No, you're fantastic!" he remedied, and Tsuyu rolled her eyes. "An extra pair of hands would always help though," he added, and she dismissed him with a shake of her head.

Ochako stifled a smile. Anyone who saw them would have thought Izuku and Tsuyu were siblings with their resemblance and their teasing humor, rather than her and Izuku. Even if they weren't truly siblings, they'd known each other since they'd been able to crawl, with Ochako learning to walk before Izuku.

They had grown to be almost inseparable, spending summers frolicking in mud and winters bundling together near the fire. After her parents had passed, his mother had taken her in, treating her as if she were her own. Thus, he always introduced her as his sister, and she proudly presented him to the world as her brother. Even if they weren't related by blood.

Now, with his mother too old to work, Izuku had taken over his family business. She'd witnessed him spending days and nights working in the kitchen to perfect recipes his late father had passed down—for that reason, she couldn't help the pride that swelled in her chest every morning she helped him set up shop. It was tedious work, yes, but the resulting satisfaction and love from their friends and customers was worth waking at ungodly hours.

A light glow began to emit from the windows as the sun peeked over the horizon. Its fingers enveloped the hills and reached into the shop, light cascading from its fingertips to bathe them in a golden glow.

Just in time for their opening.

The bell rang above the shop door as the farmer that set up his stall across the street pushed through their entrance, tilting his hat at them. "Morning," he greeted, cheeks rosy from years of outdoor work. He tipped his hat lower in Ochako and Tsuyu's direction with a cheeky grin. "Always nice to be greeted by pretty faces in the morning."

"Likewise." Tsuyu returned his smile with a quirk of her lips and went back to rearranging the tarts.

"It's always nice to see a familiar face, Ishiyama," Ochako chuckled, and she wiped her hands against her apron, fingers itching to grab one of the strawberry pastries that sat on the lower shelf.

Ishiyama's smile widened, displaying laugh lines that held years of joy and hard work. He pointed at Izuku and gesticulated. "Do you have—"

"Of course!" Izuku exclaimed, and he pulled out half of a loaf of sourdough bread from underneath the counter, the other half tucked safely away in a basket, snug against a whole loaf. "Half for breakfast. Half for lunch."

"And a whole for the trip home," the farmer chuckled. He took the half-loaf and tucked it into his bag. "Did you need anything from my stall today?"

Tsuyu glanced at Izuku and flickered her gaze to the tarts. At first, he didn't quite get her meaning, and then understanding dawned on him. "Of course!" he said and made his way around the counter, rubbing his hands clean with a rag. "Do you happen to have berries today, sir?" he asked. Palming his neck, his gaze flitted toward the tarts. "We were supposed to have berry tart today, but we ran out this morning. Didn't realize our batch was low, so we had to settle for strawberry tarts today."

Ishiyama whistled and shook his head. "You know how Takeyama gets when she wants her berry tarts, so best of luck." He turned and motioned with his hand for the baker to follow. "Anyway, come on over. I think I packed in berries this morning." Izuku scrambled to follow and nearly bumped into his back when the farmer paused in his step. Before he could say a word, Ishiyama flipped a coin over his shoulder.

"I'll see you ladies later!" he said, and the bell rang as they exited. Tsuyu sighed and shook her head. She took his discarded rag and began to wipe down the counter.

With Izuku out of the picture for the moment being, Ochako grabbed a pastry, and with a wave over her shoulder, exited with a muffled, "Bye!"

The full force of the sun washed over her as she took a large bite of her pastry, moaning happily at the strawberries and cream that stuffed her cheeks. Izuku's hard work almost always paid off—she could count on one hand his catastrophes, but those usually came from his wild, experimental recipes.

She waved hello to a waking town. At the cow maid, who greeted her warmly, cradling a child to her hip as she carried her empty bucket. At the innkeeper, who strolled by on his daily walk, a piece of straw between his lips which bounced when he bobbed his head toward her. At the bookkeeper, who cleaned off his glasses and held up a finger for her to wait before rushing into his shop.

He reappeared, carrying a book with a dark blue cover, a fern drawn intricately onto its cover, and offered it to her. For a moment, he held the book up just out of reach, motioning down with a disapproving hum. She stared at him, uncomprehending, until she glanced down at the pastry in her hand. With a quick swoop, she shoved it into her mouth and ate the remaining bit with gusto.

"It's here?" she gasped, and Tenya dropped it into her eager hands. He nodded, and she traced a finger over the bright yellow woven letters: Herbs and the Art of Apothecary Traditions.

"It came early," he said, pushing up his glasses. He stepped to her side and read over her shoulder, and she could feel him nodding in approval.  With a shaky exhale, she stroked the cover, feeling her fingertip dip up and down the woven fern.

"Thanks, Tenya," she said and clutched it to her chest, feeling her it expand with excitement. He nodded, leaning back with his arms crossed.

"Are you headed over?" he asked. Giving him a look, she tilted her head with a knowing smile, and he bobbed his head in understanding. "Then I'll see you later."

She waved to him in farewell and continued along the dirt road, stepping aside to allow a cart to rush past her. The horses kicked up dust, and with an expert duck, she avoided the cloud of dirt and dove straight into a pair of arms.

"Ochako!" A cold sensation spread from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers, and she shoved herself away. But quick as a flash, the young man slung his arm around her shoulders, clasping her to his side. She tried to shrug him off, but he held on fast, undeterred.

"Let me go, Neito," she huffed, not bothering to hide the distaste from her tone. "I have things to do."

He leaned down, flicking his head to rid the hair from his eyes. "Visiting the sick house again?" he asked. The grin he sported held his version of charm, which Ochako mentally translated as slimy and sleazy. She returned it with a quirk of her lip and ducked under his arm. This time, he didn't try to grab her, and she internally breathed a sigh of relief.  

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she said, dusting herself off. She spent extra time on her shoulder, where his hand had swathed. "Where I go and what I do has nothing to do with you." She'd hoped that that would be enough to deter him, but as usual, it did not.

He fell a step behind her, following as she crossed the path, and she refused to look back—that would give him false hope, and she wanted nothing to do with him. "I'm just saying," he started. "You're of marrying age, and what man would want a wife that constantly visits the sick house?" She threw a glare behind her shoulder, and he splayed his hands out in apology. "I'm just being truthful."

His footfalls hurried as he rushed to her side. Without a warning, he plucked the book from her arms, staring down at the cover. Shocked, she froze for a split second before leaping at him. "Give it back!" she cried. He held it over her head, just out of reach, and read the cover out loud.

His mouth curled in distaste as he spoke, "'Herbs and the Art of Apothecary Traditions'?" Neito glanced down at her, raising a brow. "I get visiting the sick house to help those in need, but this borders on obsession, Ochako." His tone was akin to someone mocking a child in a condescending manner, and the way he said her name made her toes curl in disgust. With his guard down, she leapt up and snatched the book from him, hugging it to her chest.

Nose in the air, she continued on, and to her dismay, he still pursued her. "There's nothing wrong with helping others," she said. He dashed in front of her and began to walk backwards.

"You could help me with something," he suggested. She cocked her brow, implying a silent what? "You could remedy my single status."

Unbelievable.

--

"He's out of his mind," she griped, rinsing the cloth. "He's the absolute worst."

Tooru stood on the other side of the cot, holding a wet cloth to their unconscious patient's face. She switched her gaze between her and the patient, dabbing it gently across his forehead. "Are you planning to murder him like that?" She nodded her head to the cloth in Ochako's hands, brows rising in concern.

Ochako glanced down, realizing the death grip she used as she wrung out water. Sheepishly, she draped it over the rim of the basin and began to clean the others. "Honestly, I would if it wouldn't land me in prison," she admitted. "It'd stop all the silly proposals he delivers on a daily basis."

Tooru hummed, shrugging her shoulder. "I don't think they're silly."

Ochako snapped her head up and gazed, dumbfounded, at her friend. "They're not silly?" she spluttered as she began to scrub at the other cloth. Dirty water ran down her hands, and she made a face before continuing. "He almost never misses a beat. Tooru, when I say every day, I mean every day. If it's meant to be a joke, it lost its humor after the first five times."

Tooru smiled, pausing her dabbing to point at her with the damp rag. "That's the thing," she said, jabbing the air with each word. "I don't think they're a joke to him. Now, pass me the basil mixture. His fever is starting to go down."

Ochako reached down and grabbed the wooden bowl, passing it over to Tooru's waiting hands. She opened her mouth the same time the patient groaned, gradually awakening from unconsciousness, and their conversation was put on hold as they leapt into a flurry of action.

--

"I don't think they're a joke either," Tsuyu hummed thoughtfully. She leaned against the table and cut herself another slice of bread. Tooru nodded frantically, mouth too full to respond, and pointed the knife at Ochako, which Tsuyu gently took from her. She cut into the slab of butter and slathered it on her slice.

Tooru swallowed, and Ochako rested her chin on the heel of her hand, lips pursing into a pout. Half from exhaustion and half from exasperation, Ochako felt her hunger drain away as she thought harder on Tsuyu and Tooru's speculations.

Even the tavern's lively atmosphere wasn't enough to lift her spirits, and she gripped the handle of her beer mug, swishing the water within. Glancing up, she eyed Izuku's casual form as he leaned against the counter, laughing at one of Denki's wild stories, judging by the loud flourishes in his hand gestures.

The door blew open, and the chatter died as patrons gazed at the next visitor. A figure stumbled into the tavern, and with a free hand, she threw the hood of her cloak down, revealing unevenly cut hair. Denki, halfway through his story, paused to wave at her, his grin electrifyingly bright.

"Evening, Kyouka!" he called. She held up her violin case in greeting, weary smile playing on her lip. Tooru giggled, and Tsuyu and Ochako hid their laughter with polite coughs. It was an open secret to everyone, except Denki and Kyouka that Denki was a little sweet on her. And it was rumored that his affection was reciprocated, but with Kyouka's impassiveness, no one could be certain.

The musician swept her gaze across the crowd and paused when it landed on the trio of girls. Tsuyu waved her over, and Tooru gestured to the bread. She sent them a grateful smile and headed over. With the growing evening crowd, Kyouka took no chances and slid her violin under the table, out of harm's way.

"Winter's coming," she exhaled, breathing into her hands. "The chill lasts from evening to morning. I bet there'll be snow soon." Tsuyu held out the buttered bread as an offering, and Kyouka sighed, taking it with a grateful smile, and nodded at Izuku's approaching figure. He slid a chair from an empty table and set an overflowing beer mug on the table.

"Warm cider," he presented and slid it to Kyouka, "Compliments from the tavern owner." She raised her mug in thanks, and Ochako couldn't help her amusement as he returned it with a dopey grin. "Denki says he should have a roast out in a bit," he continued. "Anyway, what were we talking about?"

"Winter's approach," Tooru answered, washing down her bread with a gulp of beer. "And before that, Ochako's love life."

Simultaneously, Izuku and Kyouka twisted their heads to her and asked, "Monoma Neito?"

Bewildered, Ochako stared between them, then at Tsuyu, who buttered the last slice of bread, and Tooru, who hid a sly grin under her hands. Izuku watched her carefully over the rim of his beer, and Kyouka met her gaze head-on. "Seriously?" she yelped. Slamming her hands onto the table, she ignored the way everything rattled. "He's not even remotely close to entering my love life."

"He proposes to you every day," Tooru deadpanned. Kyouka raised her brow in interest and sat back, slinging her arm over the back of her seat.

"Every day? I heard him do it twice for myself, but I didn't realize it was a daily ritual," Kyouka whistled. "Interesting. I once overheard him tell someone that he'd 'get her to marry him'. I'm now assuming that's you." Heat rushed into Ochako's cheeks, and she groaned, letting her head fall into her hands.

"They aren't proposals. He continuously gives me unsolicited advice on how to be a good housewife, which according to him, doesn't include visiting the sick house, nor does it include reading," she spat. "Far from ideal."

Izuku's expression had pinched into one of discomfort, and he clasped his hands together, inhaling deeply as he raised his brows and thinned his lips. He sat back, letting his hands fall into his lap, and continued twiddling his thumbs.

Tooru held up a placating hand and leaned forward. "Hear me out because you're not going to like what I'm about to say." Ochako frowned and sat back, crossing her arms tight across her chest and raising a brow in challenge. "So, it's just my personal opinion," she started, and Ochako internally swore. It was a 50-50 chance whether it'd be helpful or controversial, and she feared that it leaned toward the latter. "But I think you should give him a chance."

"What?!" Ochako's voice managed to edge over the lively chatter from the other patrons, and it quieted as some glanced over to peek at the commotion. She stood from her seat, disbelief clouding her head. At the same time, Izuku spat out his cider, and some of it dribbled down his chin as he stared, wide-eyed at Tooru.

"That's a terrible idea," she countered. Tooru, uncharacteristically calm, switched her gaze between Ochako and the patrons and motioned for her to sit down before she could draw even more attention to their table. Kyouka slid down her seat, one hand hiding her face from curious spectors. Nostrils flaring as she breathed out angrily, Ochako slowly sat back down, pulling her seat forward.

"No," Izuku croaked. "Absolutely not. Not to that prick." Ochako felt a tinge of gratefulness at Izuku's support, knowing that he knew how much she disliked having to deal with Neito on a daily basis.

"Explain," Ochako demanded.

Tooru nodded wearily. "Our town is small. There's not much here, and people don't normally leave. We all grew up knowing each other, so we all know the good and bad in everyone. Monoma Neito may be annoying—"

"—understatement of the decade—"

"—but he's from the wealthiest family in town and conventionally handsome. Ochako, you'd be set for life. You'd never have to lift a finger again to work—you could continue to help the sick house for as long as you want and go home to a warm meal and a warm bed. You'd never have to feel winter gnaw on your bones. You'd never starve." At her words, Ochako felt a pang of guilt, and the tension left her shoulders.

A awkward silence fell upon the group, blanketing them in a suffocating atmosphere. They all knew Tooru's hard childhood. How she'd grown up in poverty, working from a young age for scraps. How her parents had foraged through harsh winters for anything that resembled food. How she had owned the same two dresses for years, even after she'd come of age, terribly thin and emaciated.

How her circumstances had remained awful until she met her husband, Mashirao, while working odd jobs, and they fell in love. From there, he'd helped her up and out of difficult times, supporting her dreams while loving her unconditionally.

"I don't know if you and Neito will end up like me and Mashirao, but that's why I'm telling you to give him a chance. I'm not saying to go and marry him now, but maybe you'll like him once you get to know him," she finished. With a sigh, she smiled, an attempt at breaking the rough atmosphere, and stood. "It's just a thought. I've told you what's on my mind, and now I'm going to head to the washroom before dinner arrives. I can smell the roast, and I can tell it's going to be divine."

Tooru disappeared into the back, and Ochako hung her head. Kyouka clapped her shoulder, rubbing it for a minute, before pulling back. She reached underneath the table and pulled out her violin case. "Don't worry too much about it," she tried awkwardly. Kyouka wasn't the best at comforting, but nonetheless, Ochako appreciated her feeble attempt. "Denki's waving at the stage. I think that's my cue to go up." She rose, scraping the chair back, before pausing. "Cheer up," she said with a small smile.

Tsuyu pulled her chair closer and wrapped her arms around Ochako's shoulders. Ochako leaned down and settled her head along the crook of her neck. "She doesn't know the things he says to me," she said quietly. "Tsuyu, I can't marry him. I can't even bring myself to give him a chance."

"Then don't," Tsuyu simply said. She stroked her hair. "Not to downplay her circumstances, but you're two different people. She was lucky to find someone to love who loved her back." Tsuyu's chin brushed the top of her head as she turned, and Ochako pulled away. Her friend placed her hands on her cheeks, guiding her face up to connect their gazes. "Don't marry someone you don't love. You'll only come to resent each other down the line."

"He just wants a wife to carry on his arm," Ochako ranted bitterly. "He wants a woman to do his laundry, clean his home, and bear his children. It's no better than hiring a slave. What happened to mutual understanding and communication? What happened to shared work? No man is better than a woman. He didn't say it out loud, but I could hear it today—how continuing to work at the sick house would lower my chances in finding a husband. Tsuyu, I've been listening to him spew this garbage for months."

"Don't marry him," Izuku said firmly. They turned to find him, brows knitted and mouth twisted in disapproval. "Don't. I know you, and you'd be miserable. And as your closest friend, I'd never let you walk down the aisle with him." The relief must have shown plainly on her face because he leaned over and covered her hand with his. "I want you to be happy."

From the counter came a call, and Izuku turned to find Denki shouting at him, pointing down at the plates of food laid out before him. He gave her a pat before pushing out of his seat and shouting back.

"He's right," Tsuyu sighed and pulled her into a tight hug. "We just want you to be happy."

--

The next morning, she found Neito waiting for her at the entrance of the sick house, and before he could notice her presence, she hid around the corner, hand covering her mouth. Breathing out sharply, she peeked over to find him leaning next to the door, hands slung in his pockets and hunting knife strapped to his chest.

She thought back to Tooru's words, and they replayed themselves in her head, filling her mouth with a bitter taste. Making a face, she peeked over to see that he'd unsheathed the knife, observing its edges with hooded eyes.

Give him a chance.

The doubt ran rampant through her as she thought back to Tooru's past, and she groaned softly. Maybe Tooru was right. Maybe he wasn't as terrible as she'd made him out to be. If she gave him a chance, maybe he'd return it with a better mindset. Just as she was about to round the corner, she remembered Tsuyu and Izuku's support—they only wanted for her to be happy.

Could she find happiness with Monoma Neito?

In her heart, she knew the answer, and it was a hard 'no'.

"Out here again?" She knew that voice, that stoic drag that could hide any emotion under the sun. She peeked around the corner to see Shinsou Hitoshi exit the building, carrying a large wash bin. He sported the sick house's apron, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. Per usual, his hair remained untamed, a bushel of indigo that looked as if it'd been shocked by lightning. "She's not here yet."

Neito huffed, and he moved to clean his nails with the tip of his knife. "I know. 'Yet' is the key word. She's always here."

"Whatever the case," Hitoshi responded, and he tossed the dirty water out with a splash, "don't forget that unless you're sick, you're banned from going inside."

He lifted his nose indignantly. "I don't see why—"

"—if you're not sick, meeting with patients, or working, you're taking up space. Simple as that," Hitoshi concluded. "We have no use for those who decide to harass our workers and distract them from their duties."

Neito barked out a laugh. "How do you harass your future wife?" he smirked, and Ochako bristled.

The nerve.

The arrogance.

"Besides, when we're married, I'll make sure she never steps foot in this dump again," he continued as he sheathed his knife. Her hands balled into fists, and she resisted the urge to pummel him on the spot. "She'll be too busy taking care of our children—a girl and a boy, and prepping meals for my hunts."

She nearly hurled on the spot.

She'd be no better than a house maid.

Hitoshi seemed to feel the same way because his mouth curled, and he sneered. "Sure. If she hasn't married you for your inheritance or status, what makes you think she'd marry you for anything else? To my mind, she's probably going to leave this town, either on her own or with a traveler—who knows? She might marry one of the missing princes, or most likely, she'll settle down with Midoriya Izuku."

There was a flurry of movement, and the wash bin clattered to the ground. Neito grinned suavely, eyes haunted by insanity, knife back in his hands and unsheathed, as he held it up to Hitoshi's throat. Ochako gasped quietly, bringing her hands to her mouth in fear for her friend.

Unfazed, Hitoshi merely reached up and pushed it away, hooded eyes glaring down at the bane of her existence. They watched each other for a moment longer, Hitoshi's placid gaze challenging Neito's intense stare. Finally, Neito stepped back, sheathing the knife, and she released a breath, heart racing in her chest. Hitoshi swooped down to grab at the wash bin, clucking his tongue at the dirt covered exterior with a shake of his head.

As he stepped forward to re-enter the sick house, Neito reached up and stopped him with a hand on his chest. His eyes, even from afar, burned with an intensity that scared her.

"We will be married. I'll make sure of it."

Then, he released him and turned, humming as if he hadn't just threatened someone's life. Hitoshi stared after him for a second before shaking his head with a long sigh, and he disappeared into the sick house. She collapsed against the building, one hand on her chest as she tried to quell her racing heart.

It didn't matter what Tooru said.

She'd made her resolve.

She would never marry Monoma Neito.

--

Soon after, autumn gave way to winter, and the sea of fire that lit up their forests gradually faded to bare branches and dead leaves. They littered the dirt paths with ocher and brown remains, no longer as vibrant as they'd been at their seasonal peak. No longer blazing through the air in reds, oranges, and yellows.

Days shortened. Dusks brought dusty roses and smoky lavenders streaking through the skies. Nights lengthened. And winter began to make her appearance, carding her fingers through the air, leaving traces of frost lacing along the grass and on rooftops in early mornings.

Ochako breathed out, watching the air escape her lips in a billow of grey, and rubbed her hands against one another. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and inhaled. Winter's frigid air rushed through her lungs, swirling across her body, before leaving in long bursts. Her feet crunched over dead leaves, laced with webs of frost, and she tilted her head back as she gazed into the charcoal sky. The sun had not yet risen, still slumbering with the rest of town and the animals that inhabited the forest.

She'd never been one to wake early, always rising at the latest possible moment to go downstairs and help Izuku set up the bakery. Normally, she'd enter the kitchen late enough to avoid mixing the ingredients—that was left to Izuku, who guarded his father's recipes with his life—but there'd be other ways to contribute, such as popping things into the oven, cleaning his flour-stained counters, decorating the pastries with fresh fruits, and, her personal favorite, taste testing.

Winter amplified that struggle, and she found that if she stayed in bed, it'd be near impossible to get up, as she preferred to stay cocooned in her blankets, warmth still thrumming through her veins. And when she finally rose, her movements and actions were plagued with sluggishness.

In the beginning, Izuku had used it as a way to tease her, mimicking her swaying arms and moaning incoherent words, to her chagrin. It proved to be more catastrophic than they'd anticipated, after her sleep-addled mind had accidentally threw a basket of newly bought apples into the oven.  

To counter it—so she'd be able to work with clear thoughts—she began to take walks in the morning, letting the chill nip at her skin, which caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms and the back of her neck. At first, it'd been hell, and she berated herself harshly that very first morning, swearing at the bitter chill and the eeriness that swathed the town. The following days weren't any better.

But now, after a few years, it'd turned into habit: the bitter chill had transitioned into an enthusiastic greeting and the eeriness had become a quiet tranquility.

She took her time with her stroll, rubbing her hands against her forearms for warmth, and listened to the leaves that were crushed beneath her weight. Normally the sound harmonized with the town's bustle, complementing conversing strangers or traveling horses with wagons, their wheels staggering over the well-trodden paths. But just before dawn, when the world slept, they played their own symphony, crackling through the air to the rhythm of her steps.

Ochako knew the paths like the back of her hand, and her steps slowed as she heard the sound of running water. Nearby, she paused along the wild rosebushes, carefully plucking one from its place and twirling it between her fingers. The river flowed lazily, current barely dented by the rocks that jutted out of its clear waters. She leaned down and dipped a hand into its frigid waters, then pulled it out and wiped it against her apron.

"Good morning," she whispered, crouching down. Though alone, she always felt the need to maintain the serenity that came with the break of dawn. The river always listened to her words, carrying them down its backs and away from any eavesdroppers. The rose sat in her lap, scarlet like blood, and she caressed its velvety petals. "The festival begins soon," she sighed. "That means I won't be able to visit the sick house for a while. Izuku will need all the help he can get. Did you know he has four new recipes? They're all delicious—of course, they are, but they're so complicated. And three of them take so long to make."

She slouched further, curling her mouth into a pout, and pulled the cloak as it began to slip from her shoulders. "I'm nervous," she admitted. "Winter came earlier than expected, so the roads will be dangerous to travel on. The paths will be hidden by snow and ice, and darkness will fall earlier and last longer throughout the night." Pausing, she wrung her cloak, crumpling the fabric in her hands, then released it to pick up the flower.

"Keep him safe, will you?" With the rose cupped in her hand, she gazed into the stream, as if it could reassure her.

Like an answer, something white drifted onto its petal, and she tilted her head back to see soft flurries twirling through the air. They fell onto her cloak and disappeared, their only evidence of existence a darkened spot upon her sleeves.

"Thank you," she said softly and per her daily seasonal tradition, she completed her prayer by setting the rose onto the stream. Its petals quivered as the flower twirled with the lazy current, and she waited until it spun out of view before hoisting herself up.

When she stood, she inhaled deeply and tilted her head up just in time to see the sun break the horizon. Streaks of gold cut through the dark clouds and rushed down its hills, touching bare branches and flooding the land with a warm glow that combated the bitter chill. She dusted her hands on her cloak, feeling it grow wet at the flurries that now glistened like pirouetting diamonds.

Pulling the cloak further over her head, she stumbled out of the woods and set on the path back home.

--

Time hurtled its way forward, as strong and fast as the winds that threw snow flurries into the air and rattled windows, and before she knew it, winter's solstice was upon them.

"Stay safe, will you?" she asked, patting the horse on its nose. She scratched its snout gently, and it snorted, blowing a puff of white into the air. Izuku popped his head over the cart with a tired thumbs up, and Tsuyu protested as she hefted another crate, arms shaking with effort.

"Sorry!" Izuku cried, and he disappeared from view as he swooped to help her. "But you know I'll be all right." He grunted, pushing it onto mound of crates, stacked haphazardly on top of one another. It did nothing to reassure her—something in her gut told her that the night would not be kind to him. "I've been doing this for years, granted this is only my second time doing this alone, but the first time went without a hitch. Besides, the town's only a few hours away—I'm in no rush. I should be there by the time the sun rises."

He hopped off, and the cart bounced with movement. Some of the crates rattled, and Tsuyu climbed on, setting them straight as Izuku disappeared back into the bakery to find his tarp. Ochako turned away from them, setting her gaze on the forest that Izuku would have to travel through.

They'd never scared her before, as she was used to entering them every morning before the sun lit up the skies, but now, they felt ominous. Her grip tightened on the reins as her mouth wobbled with worry.

"Tsuyu, could you help me with this?" Izuku reappeared with a folded tarp in his hands. Unfolding it proved to be a difficult feat, but he somehow managed and threw it over to the other side, where Tsuyu caught it with expert hands. They tied it down, and Ochako released the reins, moving to crouch next to him.

"Skip it this year," she pleaded. "Or go later. The festival is three days long. Besides, isn't the second day the busiest?" Izuku grunted as he tightened the knot, then yanked on the rope to check its tautness. It vibrated but snapped back to place, like a string that'd been plucked.

With a nod of approval, he turned to her, head cocked and brows lifted, and frowned. "It's true that the second day is the busiest, but that doesn't mean I should miss out on the first day. That'd be unfair to those who are only attending it that day." Scratching his cheek, he gazed at her, brows furrowed. "Why? Has something happened? Something changed?"

She gulped, stepping forward to grab at his sleeve. "Izuku, something isn't right," she said. With another look at the woods, she shook her head. "It's just a feeling, but traveling tonight doesn't seem right."

He glanced at the woods, mouth curled, and then he sighed. He placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. She let out a yelp and grabbed at his arm to stop him with a glare. "I know you're worried for me," he chuckled at her reaction, "but I'll be fine. You prayed for me this morning, right? At the river with a rose?"

She did, and that's how she knew something was different. "Of course," she conceded. "But Izuku, the woods just didn't feel right. It was...scarier than usual."

"Maybe you're nervous for Izuku," Tsuyu suggested as she made her way around the cart, tugging on the ropes. With a nod of satisfaction, she pulled at the tarp. "He'll be fine. He's done this so many times before, and he sells out every year too."

"And I plan on winning the new baker's award this year," Izuku added, nodding in agreement. He patted a crate, and they heard a light jostle. Ochako crossed her arms tightly to her chest.

"I'm not worried about his pastries," Ochako huffed. "I'm not worried about selling out. I'm not worried about that at all. I'm worried about the journey there—"

"—but I've done it fourteen times already, once on my own," Izuku protested. "I'll be fine."

Ochako shook her head before he finished. "This time is different. I just know it. Winter is colder than it's ever been. The roads are dangerous."

Before he could protest, Tsuyu hummed. "She's not wrong, Izuku." Ochako felt hope begin to flutter in her chest, but it was dashed when her friend continued. "Which is why you have to stay vigilant on the road. Avoid ice and ledges, lest you slip into a ravine and freeze to death."

"Comforting," Izuku deadpanned. He sighed and carded a hand through is hair. "Regardless, if I want to avoid being late, I'll have to leave soon."

Defeated, she pinched lips and stormed into the shop, slamming the door behind her. The bell above rang aggressively, and she took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of fresh bread. With her elbows on the counter, she covered her face, breathing deeply, and felt her arms quiver in anger.

The bell rang again, and she knew who'd come in after her. The unmistakable footfalls of heavy boots came closer until they stopped behind her. She heard a quiet sigh, and a hand touched her shoulder tentatively.

"I have to go soon," Izuku said quietly, and his hand slipped from her shoulder. "I don't want to leave on bad terms."

The frustration that'd gnawed at her fizzled out like a flame that'd been doused, and she exhaled a long breath. Turning, she gazed up at her best friend—her brother—with his head tilted down, eyes downcast, and stepped forward, throwing her arms around him.

Surprised, he froze for a split second, then she felt his arms slowly rise to wrap around her waist. He hooked his chin over her shoulder, and their embrace tightened.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just so worried."

"It's ok," he whispered back, warm air blowing against the shell of her ear. "I know. I understand."

She tightened her arms, fisting her hands on his cloak, before pulling back. "I can't stop you, can I?" she said, and he smiled softly, shaking his head. The lack of sunlight painted his dark green hair black, and the lantern emitted a weak glow, casting them in shadows.

"I promise I'll be safe," he said and reached over to tuck a lock of hair behind her ears. "And I'll bring you anything you want. The festival offers many things—is there something you want?"

She shook her head and reached up to grab his hand. Bringing it to her chest, she quietly said, "Your safety is enough."

He chuckled. "Then I'll bring you a rose. The most beautiful of them all, and you can give it to the river as thanks." He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'm serious, though. I'll come back—I promise."

She nodded, and he took her hand, pulling her back out. Tsuyu stood by the horse, scratching behind its ears, and she brightened when she noticed their return. Holding out a basket, she offered it to Izuku, who took it gratefully.

"I've packed it with dried meats, some cheese, and bread," she said, pulling on her braid. "And if you run out, well..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze flitted toward the crates in the back, and Izuku laughed.

"I doubt I'll starve," he said, good-humored. "But it's nice to be reassured." He held out his arms, and Tsuyu hugged him tightly.

"Stay safe," she said, and he nodded.

When they released each other, he turned to Ochako, who gripped the front of her skirt. He raised his arms, and she smiled, moving forward to embrace him again. They released each other, and Tsuyu and Ochako stepped back, watching him climb onto the front of the cart. He threw the hood of his cloak over his head and grasped the reins.

Tilting his head down, he offered them a smile and nodded toward the shop. "Watch over the bakery. I'll be back in four to five days."

"Safe travels," she called and waved.

"Of course," he said, then gave them one last wave before snapping the reins. His horse began a light trot, and the cart rattled as it moved over the dirt path, now carpeted by a thin layer of white. They remained outside, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller until it was gradually swallowed by the woods.

Ochako felt her stomach tighten, and Tsuyu reached over to grab her hand, twining their fingers. "Let's go in," she said with a reassuring smile. "I'll make us some tea."

--

Maybe Ochako had been right—something about the forest was off, and Izuku shivered as he tugged his cloak tighter around his shoulders. Even without looking up, he found that he could barely see through the low-hanging branches that stretched across the path.

Sunlight barely broke through the canopy of dark leaves, streaming small spots onto the worn path, and Izuku ducked his head, avoiding another stray branch. Snow hung low on bare branches, and they flicked water and ice onto him as he pushed them from his face. Trees loomed overhead, their branches sporting stubborn leaves that refused to die. They wove through the sky, winding around each other like dark serpents that watched him pass.

A rabbit dashed across his vision and disappeared into the wild tangles that grew on the side. They nestled within the roots of large trees, which wound across the earth and pierced the ground. His horse snorted, slowing as they reached a fork in the road, and paused, waiting for Izuku to come to a decision.

He sat forward, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. In all the years that he'd taken this road, he couldn't remember it ever splitting. The dirt path he was on was a direct road to the neighboring town, and to see a fork in the road, concerned him.

It must have been done earlier in the year, but neither road showed signs of being recently plowed. Both ends held old trees that towered above him, and their ends shrouded in darkness. Discomfort and uncertainty swirled like a nasty concoction in the pit of his stomach, and he gripped the reins tightly.

His horse whinnied, twisting its head toward the right, and it clopped on the ground, equally as disturbed. Particularly antsy, it continued to stomp in place, twisting its head and snorting loudly. Izuku leaned forward and patted its back, feeling it spook before relaxing.

"Where do we go?" he asked. It snorted and pulled its head to the right. Izuku felt a pang of hope—this horse had gone on many journeys with him and his father to the neighboring town. Maybe it'd know where to go.

He twisted the reins, and his horse began to slowly make its way down the right path. As long as the road didn't deviate wildly, Izuku was certain that they'd end up somewhere, even if it was a few miles away from town. He'd probably bump into others making their way to the festival and potentially meet new friends.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of all negative thoughts, and focused on the positives—he'd taken this path before multiple times: thirteen times with his father next to him and once alone.

He remembered the good times. His father whistling a tune, sometimes breaking out into song, and Izuku clapping along to him. And when he broke out a song that they both knew, they'd belt it to each other, voices mingling with the birds that sometimes twittered with them.  

He remembered telling stories back and forth, his father admitting that he always ate pastries before dinner without telling his mother. Izuku talking about the wild adventures that he and Ochako got into, whether it be throwing mud in the woods or sneaking a basket of bread off to their friends to share.

He remembered the pastries they'd sneak on the way there, laughing at the jam that'd smear over Izuku's face. Or the biscuit crumbs that'd cover their cloaks and litter over their seat. Or the bread they would split, his father commenting on its texture and density, teaching Izuku the tips and secrets his father had taught him, as Izuku listened intently, taking mental notes with enthusiasm.

He remembered the first time he'd taken the trip alone. Of the hour he spent trying to ward off thoughts of his father. Of the next, where he'd finally accepted his loss and broke down crying. Of the one where he'd had to stop because he couldn't see through his blurred vision, completely obscured by bittersweet tears and memories.

Even then, he had arrived safely.

But this time—this time, things felt different. The woods had never seemed so dark, so ominous.

As he traveled on, the sun continued to sink until it sat on the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with blushing pinks and fiery yellows. By the time it sank into the mountains, Izuku could barely see, even with a lantern flickering next to him.

Night fell, bringing a strong blast of winter's frigid breath and a whirl of snow, and darkness blanketed the road.

Shadows crawled from their corners, reaching toward them with bony fingers like hungry wraiths. The birds fell silent, and all he could hear was the roar of wind snapping through leaves and branches, sending a shock of snow to obscure his vision. The air seemed to revel in the sun's disappearance, growing chillier by the minute.

He was shaking, could feel his tremors wrack down to his legs, which twitched against the cart. His teeth rattled, and his nose and ears grew numb to the touch. A large part of him debated turning back and going home, but a small, stubborn part of him pushed forward, telling him that he'd already journeyed too far to go back. Even with the gloves covering his hands, he could still feel the cold seep through the leather and settle in his fingers.

Ochako was right. Something was wrong—it'd never been this bad before.

A lone howl caught his attention, and his heart leapt to his throat. He'd completely forgotten about the threat of wolves and other hungry predators, especially in the dead of night. He snapped his reins and jolted forward. The lantern teetered, and he caught it before it could smash into the snow.

An eerie whine slipped through the air, deepening into a groan of metal, and the sound of metal slamming against metal caught his attention, inciting a shout of fear. His horse reared up at the sound, and he yanked on the reins, desperately hoping it wouldn't rush off into the night. Luckily, it stayed, snorting loudly, and he paused, twisting toward the sound.

To his utter amazement, he made out the figure of a large arch ahead, somewhat difficult to see with flurries whipping across his face, so he rode on, cart rattling behind him. To his relief, he also made out the gate beneath it, blown open on its hinges as it swung out with the wind. He leapt from the cart, falling calf-deep into the snow, and trudged forward, guiding his horse with him.

Pushing open the gate, he used an arm to cover his eyes as he squinted into the dark, then blinked in shock, bewildered. Before him, a castle extended into the sky, its towers obscured by the swirling storm.

For a moment, he couldn't move, brain racking through his memories to see if he and his father had ever passed by a castle. Surely, it'd be something he'd remember, but as he thought long and hard, nothing came to mind. Another frigid blast prompted him to continue through the gate, crossing the bridge toward the castle. If he thought any longer, he was certain his fingers and toes were going to fall off.

As he neared the large double doors, he caught sight of a stable and breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he wanted to burst through the doors, he couldn't leave his horse to fend for itself. Leading it under the cover, he found that it was empty—no other horses in sight, which explained the bountiful piles of hay.

"Come on," he ushered, and it made its way over to the hay, leaning down to chew experimentally.

The blankets that hung over the wooden post were stiff with lack of use, so he flung them open and slung them over his horse's back before tethering it. "Please stay," he stuttered, teeth chattering. With a final pet on its snout, he left, running through the snow storm to slam his hands against the double doors.

"Hello?!" he cried. "Is anybody here?" There was no time to waste—courtesy be damned. He was going to freeze to death in these conditions. Giving it a heavy push, he felt it give, and surprise overtook his features as he fell into the castle.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and he wheezed as the doors slammed shut. The silence that blanketed the interior was almost as deafening as the roaring wind that tore through the woods. Izuku pushed himself up, still shaking with effort as he tried to regain some feeling in his hands.

"Hello?" he tried again. His voice echoed along the walls, and he found it difficult to see, save for the lone candelabra that sat on the table, three flames flickering over white wax. He reached over, gripping its handle and brandished it before him.

"Do you mind?" The sudden voice came just in front of him, and Izuku jumped back, eyes darting back and forth for a silhouette. "Your hands are uncomfortably cold."

"Who's speaking?" Izuku demanded, voice shaking from both the cold and fear. "Please, I mean no harm. I just need some time away from the storm, and then I'll go. I'm traveling to the next town over for the winter festival."

"Did you hear that? He said he's a traveler!" This time, the whisper came from the table where he'd picked up the candelabra, and Izuku whipped toward its direction.

"I could have guessed from the way he's dressed," the first voice sniffed. "We also haven't had a visitor in years."

Izuku stepped back, gripping the candelabra harder, and there was a grunt before metal collided with his knuckle, and he shouted, losing his grip on it. The candelabra bounced on the ground, before it sat up and rubbed the center candle. Dumbfounded, he watched as it pushed itself up, hopping over to the table, where it proceeded to climb up with relative ease.

"I've gone crazy," he whispered to himself. He pulled his knees to his head and clutched his hair, pulling at it to make sure he hadn't died and gone to a twisted version of hell. "I've officially gone insane. I'm probably dead. My body is out in the storm, where it won't be found until next spring."

Angry whispers echoed from the table, and Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, moving his hands to cover his ears. That proved to be futile, as he could still hear their fierce argument.

"—just let him stay a bit—"

"—are you insane? What if he—"

"—I'm pretty sure he won't bring back an army—"

"—never know—"

"—have a heart. Poor guy's freezing—"

There was a pause, and Izuku loosened his grip on his ears. The voices had faded—he had been hallucinating. That is, until—

"Fine."

Accompanied with the conceded word, came two loud clatters, and Izuku flinched, prepping himself for his inevitable death. Or second death, if he'd already perished the first time in the storm outside. A light tap on his boots caused him to jump, and he snapped his head up to find the candelabra and clock standing before him. The clock tilted forward and tapped the tip of his boot again, knocking as if against a door.

"Hello? You all right there?" it spoke. Izuku remained frozen, mouth agape, as he stared at the phenomenon before him. "Shouto, I think he's broken."

The candelabra crossed its arms—or its two outer candles, Izuku didn't know anymore—and shook its head. "He's in shock." It turned back to Izuku and gave him a once over. Izuku slowly leaned forward, inspecting the two and peering closer, until he finally noticed the small faces etched onto their surfaces.

"You're—you're alive," he stuttered. "But how—I don't understand."

The clock waved him off. "Magic, of course. How else?!" It turned, waving a small arm over its shoulders as the candelabra shook its head. Their actions were so—humanistic, but Izuku remained in his position, completely stunned. "Come on! Let's get you by a fire. Your ears and nose are turning blue."

Izuku stayed put, thoughts flitting one after the other. For one, he was still trying to process the idea of magic, which throughout the entirety of his life never existed. The others lingered on what he should do, and he immediately understood that he only had two options: go back outside and die from hypothermia or let the candelabra and the clock lead him to possible warmth. At worst, he'd die in both scenarios.

The thought of a fire was what prompted him to move, and he struggled to get up, muscles stiff and sore. The hopping paused, and the spot of light down the hall returned until the candelabra sat in front of him.

"Hold still," it said quietly, and Izuku did as he was told. The candelabra hopped closer, bending over to offer a slight warmth to his frozen limbs. Slowly but surely, the feeling began to return, and he exhaled in relief.

"Thank you," he whispered. That little bit of warmth was enough for him to push himself onto all fours. Limbs protesting, he staggered to his feet, and the candelabra hopped back. "I'm Midoriya Izuku," he offered.

The candelabra bowed its head. "Shouto." Then, it gestured down the hall. Izuku glanced at it once before taking a step; he stumbled at the shock that reverberated up his leg. But determined, he continued to move forward.

Stumbling toward the warm orange glow that flickered down the hall. The candelabra leapt after him, taking care to match his pace. As he neared the room, he heard the unmistakable sound of fire splintering over wood, and he turned to his left to find a small but comfortable parlor room.

A fire crackled at the opposite end of the room, flames curling and waving, as if inviting him in. He began to enter but paused, suddenly conscious of the wet mud his boots tracked along the ground. Hands shaking, he pulled them off, making a face at the squelching sound that resulted from trekking in ice and dirt.

"What took so long?" Izuku glanced up to see the clock standing on a small round table. It waved at him, then patted the armchair. "Come warm yourself, traveler." With his boots finally off, he staggered into the lounge, and the clangs that accompanied the candelabra softened as it hopped onto the rug.

"He was too cold," Shouto simply said. The clock laughed heartily and sat down, watching as Izuku brushed past the armchair to collapse in front of the fire. Warmth immediately washed over his features, and he sighed. Curling closer, he unfurled his fingers, allowing them to hover over the heat.

"Not too close," Shouto warned, and Izuku turned to find the candelabra sitting next to him, arms wrapped around its handle. "Eijirou," it said, and there was a soft thump as the clock jumped onto the ground. "Could you get Mina to make a cup of tea—"

It paused, and Izuku heard a loud clatter, followed by the distinct sound of rattling. He started as a cart zipped around the corner, tilting dangerously on two wheels before righting itself and slowing, momentum stopped by the lush rug. The clock—Eijirou, as Shouto had mentioned—yelped and scrambled back as it stopped at its feet.

"Mina!" it complained, waving two arms in an exasperated flourish. "Watch where you're going. You nearly ran me over."

"I heard we have a visitor?" An excited voice piped from the top of the cart—this time, feminine—and Izuku tilted his head, wondering what magical item he would meet next. It ignored Eijirou, and Izuku heard the tinkle of porcelain against porcelain.

Reluctant to leave his spot, he stood shakily and watched as a pot tilted itself over a small teacup. The warm aroma of tea wafted through the air, and he reached for the steaming teacup. It didn't move, but the pot nodded at him, gesturing at him to take a sip. "Go on! It's been too long since we've had visitors. Let me know if the tea is to your taste."

As a gesture of thanks, he lifted the rim to his lips, blowing lightly against the steam before taking a tentative sip. Warmth immediately slipped down his throat to his chest, where it spread to his limbs, and his body sagged, falling into the plush armchair. Now relaxed, he felt the full force of traveling—of battling against raging winds and bitter cold. His eyes began to droop, and he fought to stay awake.

"Thank you," he muttered. "It's delicious." The lid of the pot rattled in happiness, and Izuku set the teacup back onto the saucer. "Thank you," he repeated, this time, switching his gaze between the candelabra, the clock, and the pot, "for your hospitality."

Darkness swam in his vision, and before he knew it, he succumbed to the comforting lull of sleep.

--

Izuku's absence and Tsuyu's tea and soothing words did nothing to quell the anxiety that sat like a stone in her stomach. Ochako pulled up her sleeves as she swept the hardwood, and she tried to calm down, reassuring herself that Izuku was fine—that, by now, with the sun below the horizon, he'd be sitting at the neighboring town's inn, eating a hearty meal and chatting with other vendors.

He'd be exhausted, and she knew first-hand how he'd complain endlessly about the soreness in his hips and lower body that resulted from traveling. From all the bumps in the road and the rocks that'd catch under the cart's wheels. Riding the cart was never fun, and she would often hop off with a sore bottom as well.

Stifling a smile at the thought, she flicked the brush, collecting all the crumbs from the day's work. They'd sold off the bakery's remaining bread and pastries faster than they'd anticipated. With Izuku gone, it seemed like the whole town suddenly clamored for his baguettes and tarts, knowing he wouldn't be back for a week.

"I still can't believe you sold out of everything," Kyouka said, peering around the store. She leaned over the counter, elbow perched on the hard surface as Tsuyu counted the day's worth of money. "Didn't he leave the bakery two days worth of bread?"

Sweeping the dust and crumbs onto a dustpan, Ochako shrugged and dumped it outside, where the wind carried it off. The blast of cold air slammed into her, and she hurriedly pulled the door shut. The ring above her jingled furiously, only slowing when the door fully shut. "He did," she sighed, brushing the flecks of snow from her hair. They left a wet trail, and she made a face. "But business is a lot busier when everyone knows the baker will be gone for a week."

"They stock up," Tsuyu summarized and dropped the pouch of coins on the surface, and they clattered loudly against the counter. "All right, I've finished counting." Wiping her hands along her apron, Tsuyu pulled off her headband, and her locks of forest green hair cascaded down her back. She scratched at her scalp and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion.

Kyouka pulled her lips thin, and she popped the last of the berries into her mouth, wiping the excess condensation on her trousers. "So what will you do now? There's nothing else to sell, unless he taught either of you his recipes."

As if.

At that, the two girls snorted. "He'll take those secrets to the grave," Tsuyu said, and Ochako nodded, giggling as she lay the broom back in the corner.

"The only people who'll learn how to bake anything are his future children," Ochako said. "It's a family tradition. His father taught him, just as his grandfather taught his father."

Kyouka raised both brows, impressed. "How many generations?"

Ochako shrugged. "Even he doesn't know. As for the bakery, I guess we'll have to close until he gets back." She'd use the time to put extra hours into the sick house; winter's appearance always meant more illnesses, and Tooru could use all the help she could get. Tsuyu, on the other hand, intended to visit her parent's farm outside of town until Izuku got back. With the bakery closed a day early, she could depart earlier.

Tsuyu rolled her neck, massaging her shoulders, and grabbed the rag hanging off of the side. She held it up and gestured at Ochako, her face contorted in pain. "Ochako," she started. "My back is giving me some trouble. Would you mind—?"

She didn't have to finish before Ochako took it from her. "Of course," she said, and Tsuyu gifted her a grateful smile. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

Sighing, all three of them looked out the window, where the snow storm raged on. Barely anything was visible, save the glowing windows of the tavern across the dirt road. The streets remained empty, slowly piling with snow and ice. Any semblance of nighttime travel would be impossible, and Ochako wondered if Izuku had managed to avoid the storm.

"Hopefully, in the morning?" It came out more as a question than a statement. "Though, I don't mind pushing it back to midday."

"At this rate, you might want to consider midday," Kyouka suggested. She shifted her elbow away as Ochako wiped down the counter. "It's better to travel with the sun on your side."

"That's what I'm planning, but my parents don't expect me for another two days, so I'm hoping to surprise them. But anyway, shouldn't you start going home? You won't be able to travel safely if you stay longer," Tsuyu commented, brows knitting together and staring past Kyouka as the gale howled outdoors.

The musician scoffed, the corner of her lip lifting in amusement, but she pushed herself from the counter. "What? Trying to get rid of me already?" she teased, then shook her head. "Denki has my violin, so I'm going to the tavern. If it gets really bad, I'll just stay the night in one of his rooms." She shrugged. "Besides, a good cup of cider sounds fantastic right now."

Ochako agreed, and she could almost taste the sweet alcohol burn down her throat, igniting her chest, a slow heat crawling through her body. But for now, she would settle for a good night's sleep, tucked beneath her thick blanket, head cushioned on her pillow.

Kyouka pivoted on her heel, tapping two fingers to her forehead in a farewell solute. "Goodnight, and safe travels tomorrow." They watched as she threw her cloak over her shoulders, yanking her hood up, and pulled open the door. A gust of frigid air whipped into the bakery, and their candles flickered wildly, casting odd shadows along the walls.

And then it was over, door slammed shut, and Ochako raced to the window, rubbing the haze away from the glass to peer out. Kyouka's figure stumbled across the road, the hem of her cloak swinging wildly in the air, and she grabbed onto her hood, keeping it in place. As much as she seemed to struggle, she made it to the tavern and disappeared within.

Ochako released a breath and turned. "She's fine," she said, and Tsuyu nodded. Her friend gestured upstairs, then combed back her hair. The candlelight emphasized the bags under her eyes, causing her to appear haggard, and Ochako remembered how Tsuyu had been the one to deal with most of their customers.

"Do you mind locking up? I think I'll head to bed," Tsuyu exhaled, and Ochako nodded, twisting the locks on the door and shaking the handle twice.

"I can handle this," she affirmed and waved goodnight before Tsuyu disappeared up the steps. With a sigh, she returned to the window, where she watched the wind tear through the town, showing no mercy as it rattled windows and howled in anger.

Unwillingly, her thoughts flitted back to Izuku, and she clasped her hands to her chest, hoping firmly that he'd made it to town.

He'll be fine, she thought to herself, as she pulled the curtains over the windows, including the one at the door. He'll be fine.

She continued to think it, even after blowing out all the candles and trudging up the stairs. Pausing next to Izuku's room, she turned the handle of his door slowly before pushing it open. To her surprise, she found it meticulously clean, not a loose sheet of parchment in sight. Normally, if anyone were to enter his room without warning, they'd slip over the abundance of recipe ideas and calculations. Ochako knew to be careful—after all, she'd been victim to the many falls in his room.

Stepping in, she slipped the bag of coins from her pocket and pulled open a desk drawer. The candlelight flickered, and something caught her attention. Slowly, she set the money and candelabrum on the table and slipped into his chair. She reached in and pulled out an old sheet of parchment. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she realized she was holding a drawing she'd given him years back as children.

Snorting softly, she dragged a finger down the aged paper, tracing the outline of a flower. "I can't believe you kept this," she chuckled quietly, heart filled with nostalgia. Careful not to wrinkle the page, she tucked it back into place and set the bag of coins into the drawer, shutting it with a sigh. With a quirk of her lips, she picked up her candelabrum and left his room, closing the door softly behind her.    

He'll be fine, she thought, dropping into bed. This time, the thought rang with certainty—she believed in him, believed he would come back to her safely. Her limbs felt like lead after a hard day's work, and her eyes lost their fight against staying awake as she snuggled deeper into her mass of blankets. Pushing herself up one last time, she blew out her candle, and dropped onto her bed.

"He'll be fine," she slurred, and she drifted off to sleep.

--

Izuku woke with a gasp, hands gripping the sides of the armchair, fingers digging into soft cushion. His gasp of surprise quickly turned into a groan of pain as dull throb drummed through his skull. His neck felt stiff—in fact, his entire body felt stiff, limbs sore and rigid. Leaning forward, he cupped his forehead, shielding his eyes from the fire that flickered before him and ignoring the protest at his hips at having traveled for hours.  

He'd had the oddest dream—one of magic and talking objects, specifically a candelabra, a clock, and a teapot. The candelabra, named Shouto, had guided him to warmth, where Eijirou, the clock, had offered him a spot at the armchair. And then, a cart had raced through the castle, nearly running over the clock and coming to a stop before him with a pot named Mina, who offered him a steaming cup of tea. It'd been chamomile, and it'd done wonders to calm his spirits and offer him a chance at rest.

Rubbing his eyes, he muttered a slight curse before comprehension slapped him upside the head, and he jerked head up, gazing at his surroundings. At the books that lined the shelves, the velvet curtains that hung around broad windows, the cart that held a teacup and a saucer. At the fire that flickered in place, causing shadows to dance along the walls with leaps of chaotic grace.

However, there were no talking objects in sight. No candelabra. No clock. And no teapot. He twisted his gaze back to the cart and the teacup. Had there really been talking objects? Did magic truly exist to bring them all to life?

Though, a clock that sat at the mantle over the fireplace looked remarkably like Eijirou. He rubbed his eyes again with a yawn and stretched his arms over his head. Scratching his cheek, he stood, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and made his way to the window.

Outside, the storm had subsided, and a light sprinkle of snow drifted from the sky. A thick layer of it had carpeted the ground, and it looked as if a sea of white had flooded the forest. Exhaling, his breath clouded the pane, and he stood back, moving to observe the clock. For a moment, he held his breath, waiting for it to twitch or laugh. Or do anything, for that matter. But it didn't—it just ticked every second, its hour hand hovering past two.

"Two in the morning?" he muttered. "How long have I been asleep?"

Time had seemed to speed past him without notice, aided by winter's early sunset and elongated nights. After he'd chosen the path to his right, things had gone awry. It was as if something had hooked itself around the sun, yanking it down into the mountains. The midnight canvas that'd spread above him had played tricks on his mind—the trees that'd rustled above him and the shadows that'd danced in the corners of his peripheral seemed to celebrate his misfortune.

With a frown twisting his mouth, he exhaled in a feeble attempt to calm himself, breathing out the anxieties that fluttered in his stomach. Now that the storm was over, it was time to leave. As much as he wanted to remain in the castle overnight with a fire to warm his body, he couldn't take advantage of the owner's kindness.

Maybe he could give the owner a box of pastries as a gift for his or her hospitality. They would be frozen, but it was the best he could offer.

He turned and paused. A heap of folded cloth sat on the round table next to the armchair, and he reached up to touch his shoulders. He had no memory of removing his cloak, yet it sat, neatly folded, as if someone had slipped it off of him to keep him from falling sick. Reaching over, he drifted a finger over the heavy cloth, surprised to find it dry, and with a flourish, pulled it off the table and into the air.

Everything part of it was dry, as if it hadn't touched melting snow in the first place. Running his hand over the back, he felt a rough patch and turned it over. Part of the shoulder had been singed,  and he fingered the hardened frays, feeling their threads brush against his fingertips. When he pulled back, he was surprised to find the tip of his finger coated in soot.

For some unfathomable reason, Shouto, the candelabra, flitted through his mind.

Slinging it over his shoulder, he made his way out, pausing to stare at his boots, which sat neatly outside of the lounge. Faintly, he remembered leaving a mess as he'd torn them off in haste to get to the fire. There were no signs of dirt on his soles nor were there any mud tracks. All signs of his exhaustion had been wiped clean.

As quietly as he could, he pulled them on and began his trek down the hall. Every step echoed, adding to his thudding heart, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled open the large door. A blast of cold air hurtled past him into the castle, but it didn't feel as threatening as it had before. The door thudded shut behind him, and he trudged through the snow, heading for his horse and cart.

With the lack of snow in his vision, he could clearly see his surroundings. Gazing up, he eyed the gargoyles that held up mounds of white, a stark contrast to their dark stones. The castle loomed above him, towers still obscured by darkened clouds. The moon's presence shone through them, a swath of white hidden behind the thick barrier. Nearby, he heard a snort, then a clop of hooves against the ground, and relief shot through his veins.

Stumbling forward, he found that his horse had remained in place, idly chewing on frozen hay. Patting its mane, he untied the reins and led it back out.

"Sorry, girl," he muttered. "We still have a long way to go." As he guided it toward the bridge, something caught eye, and he paused. It was a splash of color among a black and white canvas, and he released the reins, shuffling closer for a better look. To his surprise, he reached forward and brushed away the layer of white that'd settled on a spot of scarlet.

The bushel of climbing roses bristled with movement, and snow fell from their velvet petals. Intrigued, he leaned forward and cupped a flower, staring in wonder at its swirling pattern and marveling at the softness that lay against his palm. It was easily one of the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Ochako would sometimes bring one home from her morning strolls—she had always loved their deep red beauty.

But these, these were different; something about them captured his interest. The soft moonlight that feathered over them added to their beauty. He rolled the rose around his palm, thumb brushing over its petal, and decided that this would be the one to fulfill his promise to Ochako.

Then I'll bring you a rose. The most beautiful of them all, and you can give it to the river as thanks.

Using both hands, he bent the stalk back and forth until it loosened. Then, he bent it up and down, taking care not to accidentally ruin the flower's form. Finally, after a few tries, it snapped off, and he admired the unblemished beauty. So preoccupied, he barely noticed something shift in his peripheral until it was too late.

He was in the middle of pocketing it when the moonlight disappeared, and he turned, only to find a mound of darkness growing in shape and size as it towered over him. He gasped, stumbling back. Tripping over his cloak, he fell, hands scrambling for purchase as he hit the ground. A flash of pain resonated from his wrist, and he yelped in pain.

His horse, spooked, reared high, its front legs swinging in the air before it screamed. Izuku could only watch as it fell forward and ran, dragging the cart away. He heard the boxes clatter to the ground, the wheels of the cart bouncing from the uneven ground. All semblance of hope fled his heart, replaced by panic.

The mound of shadows loomed even higher until it stood over him, raising itself on its hind legs. Claws reached forward and gripped at his cloak, and it leaned down until Izuku could feel its breaths washing across his face.

For a frozen, terrifying moment, Izuku could only stare, fear thrumming through his body. And then he realized he wasn't looking at a man.

He was looking at a beast.

"Who are you?" it growled, and Izuku flinched, the action pulling on the beast's tight grip on his cloak. It yanked him forward, forcing Izuku to look at it. Shadows hid its face, but he could feel the anger radiating off of its massive body. "Why are you on my land?"

Izuku whimpered, holding out placating hands. "Please, I was on my way to the town festival and got lost. I have no ill intentions, I promise!"

The beast hauled him up until the toes of his boots brushed against the ground. Izuku struggled, flailing wildly as he was lifted into the air. Something fell from his pocket, and he and the beast glanced down to see the rose bounce lightly against the snow. Its scarlet petals looked almost bloody against the white spread, and Izuku gulped.

The beast leaned in closer until its nose brushed against Izuku's. "A liar and a thief," it snarled. The claws curled around his cloak tightened, and in desperation, Izuku grabbed onto its forearm, which seemed to be made from pure muscle. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"I'm sorry," he rasped, tears springing to his eyes at the possibility of death. Ochako's face flashed across his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't leave her, not when they only had each other—his closest friend, his sister. "Please, spare me. I have a sister—I can't leave her," he begged, hoping his words would incite some form of sympathy. A tear escaped its constraints, sliding hot down his cheek. "She's all I have left." 

The beast paused as it considered him, and Izuku whimpered. The knowledge that his life was in the hands of the beast only served to heighten his sense of dread, and he squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting death. When nothing happened, he peeked through one eye to see the beast still watching him.

"A sister," it said, and for some unfathomable reason, its expression darkened further. Before he could respond, the beast lifted an arm, and Izuku pushed back, wide-eyed gaze focused on the limb. One strike and his life would end immediately. Instead, it flicked its wrist once.

For a split second, nothing happened, and Izuku held a bated breath. And then he heard it. A soft galloping sound that came from the other end of the castle. It grew louder and louder with each passing moment until a carriage thundered to a stop beside them, its windows dark.

Gaping, it took Izuku too long to realize that it wasn't being pulled by a horse. Rather than wheels, it stood on four wooden legs that had carried itself before them. The beast hauled him higher and dragged him to the carriage, where it yanked open the door. Izuku gasped as he was roughly shoved in, his head colliding with the edge of the seat. A flash of pain throbbed from the impact, and his vision blurred as he weakly pushed himself back.

Something soft fell into his lap, and he gazed down to find the rose sitting on his cloak. The door slammed shut, and he scrambled forward, yanking on the handle.

It didn't budge.

Neither did the one on the other side of the carriage.

So he shoved over the curtains to see the beast clap a paw over the rear. "Go and come back alone," it simply ordered, and ice encapsulated Izuku's veins as the beast emphasized his final word. As the carriage jerked into motion, it threw Izuku off balance, and he lost his grip on the curtains. They fell to obscure his view, and he barely managed to steady himself.

Where was the carriage taking him? What was their destination?

The fear that raced through his veins grew tenfold, and he gripped the rose tightly. Wild questions ran rampant through his head, and he grabbed at the handle again, shaking it desperately. Again, it didn't budge, so he threw his body against it, hoping to burst through. With no success, he slammed his fist against the wooden frame in despair and shouted, "Help! Help me!"

Only when it jerked again, throwing him back, did he collapse and begin to cry.

--

Ochako stirred, moaning quietly as her sleep-addled mind struggled over why she'd woken up. Something in her gut had tightened, and worry had flooded her veins, inundating it enough to jumpstart her spirit. Gripping her forehead, she pushed herself up, pillow shoved back and blankets pooling at her waist.

Something in the air was different—she could feel it thrumming throughout her body, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. She sat back, cradling her head in her hands, and the chill from her wooden headboard seeped through her gown.

Moonlight slipped through her window, filtering white streaks of light over her floorboards, and she watched it reflect onto her clock, its short hand hovering just after three. She blinked, rubbing at her eye before scratching at her cheek, and narrowed her gaze at the time. This wasn't habit—her winter walks almost always occurred at five or six, just before the morning greeted the town, but never this early.

Gradually, the haze that muddled her mind lifted as she rolled her fingers against her temple, struggling between the limbo of sleep and awareness. Breathing in deeply, she blinked, bleariness obscuring her vision, before pushing aside her covers and swinging her legs over her bed. The floorboards were cool against her feet as she padded over to the window, arms wrapped around her waist to ward off the chill.

A glance outside revealed what'd been unusual. She'd fallen asleep to quivering windows and tremendous gusts. Snow that threw itself into the air in furious currents that pelted off glass like pebbles hurled from rushing carts.

But now, there was a stillness that flattened the town, an eerie silence that blanketed the streets and muffled the alleyways. A layer of white grew along the road, hiding the dirt path beneath its airy touch. From above, the clouds had parted to reveal the moon as it hung, full and brilliant, under a starry canvas.

She shivered, frowning deeply as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Perhaps she'd gotten too used to waking in the early hours of the morning—or in this case, the late hours of the night. Or maybe she'd fallen asleep with thoughts of Izuku swirling through her mind and stomach, an anxious flutter that'd only worsened as she slept.

She sighed and watched the glass bloom opaque, leaning against the windowsill. Though it'd become routine, she had no intention of leaving her room to walk through the dead of night. That could come later.

For a moment, she allowed herself to submit to the stillness, feeling it settle over her with a quiet tranquility. Her gaze traveled from the tavern, windows dark with slumbering patrons, to the forest, its arcane mysteries rolling in its depths. The treetops trembled heavily, and she sat up, suddenly aware of the paradox between the still air and the forest's unnatural movement.

It came from afar, tree after tree shuddered with movement, and she realized that it wasn't the wind trailing through the leaves in a desultory fashion. No, the movement created a direct path that headed straight toward the town.

Suddenly, from the edge of the woods, a dark figure burst into view. It galloped through the mounds of snow, sending plumes of white flying into the air. At first glance, her heart shot to her throat as she assumed Izuku had returned, but then she realized that whatever rode towards town had no rider, and she relaxed, holding a hand to her chest to calm the drumming of her heart.

Someone's horse probably escaped its stables, and Ochako watched it tear toward town. The closer it edged down the path, the more she could see, and she blinked in astonishment, rubbing her eyes twice to comprehend the sight .

It wasn't a horse. It was a carriage, one made from the darkest wood that contrasted harshly with the snow. Rather than wheels, it galloped on wooden legs, bending and flexing like those on a horse. In disbelief, she wondered if this was all a dream; if in fact, maybe she hadn't woken up in the first place. Maybe she'd woken up from a dream within a dream because if this was reality, then her hallucinations felt far too real.

Its hooves thundered down the road, carving a path through the snow and disrupting the stillness that'd overtaken the town. As it neared the bakery, its pace slowed to a trot, and she watched in wonder as it stopped in front of the door. Her eyes roamed the top of the carriage, at the glossy slope of the roof to the elegant curve of its edges. Once more, she eyed the front of the carriage, searching for any signs of life that might have been pulling the carriage, and once again, she found nothing.

It was as if it'd sprung from a ghoulish fairy tale, magical and sinister, juxtaposed by the snowflakes that twirled from above, innocent and light. With a bated breath, she waited, watching for the door to burst open, for it to reveal its occupants. When no one appeared, her nerves stood on end, ears hyperaware of her racing pulse, and her palms began to sweat.

No matter how long she stood at her window, staring down with wide eyes, the carriage never moved. For a moment, she debated grabbing Tsuyu, when the curtains fluttered and she caught a glimpse of forest green hair, two hands slamming against the window, and a flash of a open-mouthed scream.

Jerking back, she clutched her hands to her chest before staggering across the room, heart thudding hard against her ribcage, and threw open the door. It slammed into the wall behind her, potentially waking Tsuyu, but she didn't care, continuing to speed down the hall and tear down the stairs. Her footfalls pounded across the hardwood, inciting creaks and groans.

With a gasp, she skidded to a stop as she entered the bakery. Taking care not to make any more noise, she swerved around the counter, grabbing the broom and twisting it brush first. The sound of footfalls came from above—Tsuyu had awakened from Ochako's commotion. Knowing she had some form of backup, Ochako felt a sense of calm wash over her, and she stepped forward, moving until she stood at the front door.

Pushing the corner of the curtain up, she glanced outside, only to be met by Izuku's panicked face pressed against the window of the carriage. Without another thought, she threw the broom to the side, hands shaking from adrenaline and fear as she unlocked the door.

"I'm coming!" she shouted. "I'm coming!" Hurried footfalls ran down the stairs, and Tsuyu appeared with a candelabrum in hand, brandishing it through the air.

"What on earth—" she started as she caught sight of Ochako.

"It's Izuku!" Ochako shouted, her actions becoming frenzied as she fumbled with the locks. Finally, she threw open the door, and the bell above rang belligerently. "Izuku, I'm here!" she cried, and he shouted something, slamming his palms into the window and shaking his head furiously.

There was no time—if he was trapped, she could help him escape from whatever trouble he'd gotten himself into. Grabbing the handle without hesitation, she yanked it open, flying back from her momentum.

"—don't!" Izuku's frightened voice echoed down the street as he fell into her arms, and she wrapped herself around him, pulling him toward her. They stumbled and fell back, the snow softening the their collision. He whimpered, and she felt the wetness from his cheek swipe against her gown. Tilting her head up, she glared into the carriage, expecting to find a bandit or a robber waiting for them. To her astonishment, it was empty.

Suddenly, Izuku scrambled up and grabbed her hand, hoisting her up. "We have to go in! We have to get away!" he shouted, dried tears streaking his cheeks, as he began to tug her inside. As she stumbled back toward the shop, something soft wrapped around her waist, and she glanced down to see red velvet fabric twisting around her body.

"Izuku!" she screamed, and he turned around just as she was yanked back. He flew at her, grabbing at her arm as he pulled her toward him, but the fabric only wound itself tighter around her.

"No, no, no," he cried, bracing his feet against the ground. Tsuyu rushed to the doorway with a gasp, and threw the candelabrum aside, where its small flame fizzled out into smoke. Eyes wide, she surged forward to grab at Ochako's other arm. Together, they pulled at her, desperation strewn across their faces, cold sweat forming at their brows. The velvet seemed to elongate, coming from all directions as it wrapped around her shoulders, twisting down until it covered her upper arms, and she cried out as it tugged her back.

"Please don't take her," Izuku sobbed, and his words ached in her chest. They were all they had left, and she couldn't bear to separate from him. So she fought harder, wiggling her body in the hopes that it'd either force the fabric to let her go or tear. Instead, its grip only tightened, and she gasped, feeling it constrict her chest.

"It's going to kill her," Tsuyu cried, and Izuku let out a desperate shout. He stepped back, and Ochako watched as his boot slid on ice. His grasp on her arm lightened, and it was enough for the fabric to gain the upper hand. With a harsh yank, Tsuyu lost her grip as well, and Ochako was dragged into the carriage as a flower was thrown out.

The door slammed shut, and the velvet around her waist finally relinquished its hold on her. It twirled in the air for a split second before shortening to its original length, swinging gently around the windows, as if it hadn't just kidnapped her. She pushed herself up, staggering as she tore the curtains aside, just in time to see Izuku throw himself against the door.

"Please, please!" His desperate cries were muffled and heartbroken, and tears sprung to her eyes. She banged her palm against the glass, crying his name as fear welled within her chest.

The carriage jolted into motion, and Izuku's face morphed into one of surprise as he was thrown back, falling into Tsuyu's arms. Its legs kicked up a plume of snow as it galloped in the direction it'd come from.

Ochako flew back, landing on her side with a grunt. The cramped space rattled as she hauled herself up, and she leapt at the back window, pulling aside the curtains to find Izuku's shrinking figure kneeling on the ground, his head cradled in his hands, with Tsuyu crouching next to them. A picture of despondent defeat.

The carriage tore down the path, rapidly exiting the town, and was promptly swallowed whole by the forest. Tree after tree blurred as it sped to an unknown destination, and soon, she lost track of the twists and turns it'd taken. Darkness rose to prominence, disturbed only by the moon, which barely shone through the heavy canopies.

Unable to witness anymore, she dropped the curtain and slid to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest. Hot, silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she buried her face into her knees.

Please wake up, she prayed, squeezing her eyes shut. The ground underneath her continued to rumble, and she released a sharp, shaky breath. She reached up, cupping her ears to block out the sound of leaves rustling and branches snapping and the high pitched whistle of the wind as the carriage ripped through the woods.

Wake up, wake up!

When that didn't work, her fingers crawled up her head, twisting themselves into her hair, and she pulled—hard. Pain shot through her skull, yet the sensation of riding never faded. She whimpered quietly, loosening her grip to wrap her arms around her knees, curling tighter into herself.

Please let this nightmare end, she begged inwardly. Please.

--

It was almost hellish, the way she lost track of time. Second after second blended into minutes, and minute after minute blended into an incomprehensible mess. Ochako had since given up on memorizing twists and turns and finding a way to escape.

The doors remained firmly locked, no matter how hard she tugged on the handles, and the edges of her palms stung after striking them against glass with the hopes of breaking through. The carriage seemed to be able to read her actions, dodging from the main road onto random trails to throw her off. Moonlight flickered through the windows as it ran, and Ochako watched it disappear and reappear through tall trees and loose foliage.

And suddenly, it hung in the sky with no forest to obscure it from her gaze. The carriage slowed to a trot, its pace smooth and sure, and she sat up, moving to kneel at the window. Outside, a wall spanned the area, its grey surface blending into the forest's dark shadows, and snow piled at its feet. She craned her neck further until her cheek pressed against the cold glass and caught a glimpse of a large, rusted gate underneath a stone arch.

Its hinges squeaked, and the faintest breeze caused the doors to slam into each other, loud, metallic bangs that crept through the night. At the foot of the gates, the carriage stopped, and she wondered if this was the final destination. If this was where she'd be let off, she could dash for the woods—she could follow the line of trees that paralleled the wall, certain that at some point, she'd reach some point of civilization.

Something in the air shifted, and time seemed to pause. She grabbed onto the handle and pulled, hard. Nothing happened, and she groaned in frustration. Was she supposed to die in a carriage with no food or water—her own personal cage? Just as she began to wallow in a fit of self pity, a loud creak echoed outside, and she peered out again. The gates began to open, slowly swinging open as if it were pushed by men. But she knew—there were no men.

With the gates fully open, the carriage started to move again, this time at a slower pace, and she sighed, somewhat relieved that it hadn't thrown her harshly against the seats. A bridge spanned her vision, leading to a castle with towers that stood just under the moon. Her eyes widened in wonder, and she pressed her fingers against the glass. In all her time traveling, she'd never come across a castle in her lifetime.

Though, something about this one was odd. To her knowledge, castles were full of nobles, servants, maids, and all sorts of people—they were meant to be bustling and bursting with life. This one, on the other hand, seemed abandoned. The lack of people and light from the windows suggested that no one currently lived there. And the gargoyles that stood on either side of the large double doors only added to the doom and gloom of its darkened atmosphere.

What if—what if it wasn't truly abandoned, she wondered, mind going into overdrive. What if it housed a witch or a warlock who'd overpowered those who'd lived there? She'd heard tales of people who'd gone missing in the woods; could the stories have originated from this specific castle?

Then again, no one had ever been taken in broad daylight. She'd never heard of carriages with legs abducting maidens from the town—or any town nearby, for that matter. There was little time to continue pondering over the idea because the carriage stopped. A small click came from the door opposite her, and it slipped open. Cold air immediately swirled in, causing gooseflesh to rise along her exposed limbs.

With her heart in her throat, she waited for a good minute, mind playing out the different ways she could escape. Anxiety beat its ugly wings in her stomach, and nausea threatened to hinder every plan. Oh god, she was going to be sick.

Crawling forward on all fours, she tapped a finger against the door, and it swung open, revealing large double doors that seemed endlessly tall. Ornate knockers shaped as roses sat above large handles, and she reached over to touch at their metal petals, fingertips brushing over cold, rough surfaces. Once beautiful, the metallic bouquets had rusted over from years of neglect and seasonal abuse.

Suddenly, the castle groaned, and she scrambled back as one of the doors slowly swung open, revealing a long corridor that disappeared into the shadows. With her heart beating harshly against her ribcage, she debated staying in the carriage to avoid having to enter the building. Reaching behind her, she grabbed onto the handle of the door that led toward the gate and pulled. It didn't budge, and she cried out internally, wanting to bash it open. The image of it splintering apart satisfied her to no end, but she had to figure out another way to escape.

She pushed herself up, legs shaking with effort after having been in one position for so long, and she stumbled to the opening. With a hand curled around the frame of the carriage, she leapt out, and one last bid of desperation pushed her to try to escape, avoiding the door and struggling to get around the carriage.

Unfortunately, the snow that piled to her calves hindered her ability to move, and she immediately fell forward, sinking into soft, frigid bed. Something wrapped around her waist, and she didn't have to look to know that it was the carriage. The velvet picked her up, and she grabbed it weakly in a feeble attempt.

It dragged her to the castle doors, where it threw her in, and she collapsed to the ground like a rag doll. Pain exploded on the side of her face, and for a moment, she saw stars in her vision. Lifting her head, she watched as the curtains receded back into the carriage before the door slammed shut. With an outstretched hand, she crawled forward, just as the large double door before her groaned to a close. With one final click, everything was once again shrouded in darkness.

Ochako pulled herself forward until she laid at the foot of the doors. With her head throbbing, she pushed herself up, staggering to her feet, and stepped forward, touching the cool wooden surface.

Immediately, something seemed to crackle in the air, an energy that burst at her fingertips, splintering at her palms. It rushed down her arm before spreading to every inch of her, and she gasped, pulling back. The doors, which had quivered at her touch from the gentle winds that blew against them, seemed to solidify before her eyes. With a hesitant touch, she grabbed at the handle and tugged—hard.

It didn't budge. In fact, it didn't even rattle, nor did any part of it give way. Incredulous, she pushed and received the same result. It was as if the doors had been fused together into one. Nothing she did could get it to release her from this prison.

At last, the day's events caught up with her body, and exhaustion overtook her. She collapsed against the door, cheek pressed against the surface, and listened. Like it was mocking her, she could hear the hollow sound of trees rustling in the distance and the faint whistle of the wind. Her freedom and her captivity—separated by a thick wooden barrier. Her legs slung to the side, and both of her hands braced against the doors. She leaned her forehead against it and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

With heightened emotions, like fear, ire, and loss, there was bound to be a crash, a sudden depletion of energy, and she moaned quietly. Never had she felt so helpless in her life, and she thought back to Izuku and Tsuyu. The desperation and fright had been prominent in their eyes as all three had faced an unknown element—magic. It'd taken her captive, thrown her in an abandoned castle, and left her to die. Now, there was a possibility that she'd never see her friends ever again. The idea of losing her life, her friends, and her future brought forth a grief she hadn't felt since her parents had passed.

She sniffed, and to her surprise, hot, fresh tears welled up at the corner of her eyes—she thought she'd run out of them after breaking down in the carriage. A clatter came from behind her, and too tired to fight, she turned her head to see a light bouncing toward her. She shifted, bringing her legs closer to her body and curled into herself.

As her eyes adjusted to sudden flare of light, she realized a candelabra had paused in front of her. To add to her insanity, it began to speak. "Miss, are you all right? Are you hurt?" The voice was soft and velvet-like, soothing her nerves. Though she knew she should be shocked and suspicious, she'd dealt with enough unanswered questions to know that, in this castle, nothing would make sense. No amount of rational reasoning would be enough to explain the day's event.  

"I—" Her voice cracked. "I just want to go home." The feebleness in her voice was leaden with exhaustion and despair. A tear rolled down her cheek, and her eyes closed as the cold began to settle deeply into her bones. The hands braced against the door went limp, and they fell to her lap as she slumped further down.

"Miss? Miss?!" The candelabra's tone had taken a turn, edging toward concern, but it was as if everything in her body had been welded from iron. All she wanted to do was curl in bed, sleep, and wake from this terrible nightmare. Distinct, metallic clatters echoed down the hall, leaving her alone. She cracked open an eye, and through the blurriness, she watched as the candelabra hopped away from her, waving its arms furiously in the air in panic, before darkness consumed her, and she drifted into slumber.

--

The clangs of metal against stone briefly roused her from sleep, along with the quiet shuffle that came with it. Ochako could not move, could not speak, her mind still shrouded in the haze of sleep, but she felt something soft drape around her shoulders, wrapping loosely around her body, and warmth slowly began to reenter her body.

"You need to get her somewhere warm." That soothing whisper—the one that'd come from the candelabra—pierced her conscious. As much as she enjoyed the rich tone of its voice, she preferred silence as she slept, and she moaned quietly.

Her body shifted as an arm worked its way under her knees, the other supporting her back. And then she was being hoisted up. Her head lolled back before settling on something soft and warm, and like a moth to a flame, she snuggled deeper into her pillow, feeling fur rub against her cheek. The smell of cinnamon and fall leaves permeated her senses, and she sighed.

"She's not supposed to be here." This voice wasn't as nice as the other. It was deeper, more gravelly and harsh. The pillow she slept on rumbled as the words floated to her ears, and she picked up their hints of forlorn sadness. "This wasn't supposed to happen." Her body shifted as whoever carried her began to move.

A sigh came from somewhere beneath her, accompanying the metallic clangs. "It was going to happen regardless. There's no stopping it."

A defeated exhale washed over her face, hot against her cheek. "I know that," the second voice snapped quietly, then softened as she moaned quietly. "I just..." The words trailed off, leaving an open end that filled with silence. It was met with a soft sigh.

"I know. I understand, but we can worry about it later. For now, let's get her into bed," the first voice uttered, its tone dropping drastically.  

"Yeah."

With that, the conversation thankfully stopped, and her mind surrendered itself deeper into the darkness.  

--

"Ochako!" Her name echoed around her, and her ten-year-old self twisted on her feet, gazing around her. Trees loomed around her, their branches casting shadows that crossed over the ground. Grass crunched beneath her feet as she ran blindly toward the source of the voice.

"Papa?" she cried. Her arms raised before her, she pushed away low hanging branches and scraggly bushes, desperate to find her father. "Papa!" The woods seemed to converge around her, and the trees seemed to grow infinitely taller. Breathless, with sweat running into her eyes, she swiped at her face, and in that brief moment, lost her balance and fell forward. Her arms scraped against something hard, and lifting her head, she blinked blearily at the small gash that ran along her forearm.

Beyond that, a pair of feet made their way to her, and she nearly cried at the familiar pair of boots. "Oh, Ochako," her father said and reached down to haul her up with ease. Crouched before her and at eye level, he brushed the leaves off of her shoulders. Concerned, he pursed his mouth and reached down to ghost his finger over her knee. The skin there stung, and she sniffed. "Does it hurt?"

Sniffing harder, she swiped the back of her arm against her face, feeling the dirt mingle with her sweat and tears, and nodded. Her father reached over and picked her up, and immediately, she tucked her head to his chest, allowing the slow beat of his heart to soothe her. It no longer mattered that she'd been lost; she had her father with her, and that was enough.

Their trip home seemed to only take a few seconds, and when she blinked, they were standing at home, a fire crackling at the hearth. The warmth washed over her, and she relaxed further, breathing in the gentle scent of cinnamon.

Her father set her down, one leg at a time. When he stood, they were at eye-level, and he had aged, his hair now tinged with grey. The corners of his eyes sported wrinkles that came with years of merriment and laughter, and they flashed behind a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her throat constricted at the gesture, and before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Oh, Ochako, how you've grown," he said, his whisper brushing the shell of her ear. She sniffed—this time, from the pain in her chest. It ached as she took in the sight of her late father. "My brave, strong girl."

Shaking her head, she pulled back, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. "I'm not brave. I'm not strong." Her breath trembled. "Papa, I'm lost, and I don't know what to do—I'm scared. I'm so scared." He reached up and brushed a thumb across her cheek, swiping off the tear. She rested her cheek on his palm as she inhaled shakily. 

"Without fear, there cannot be courage," he said, quiet. "There will be moments where things may seem difficult or bleak, just like getting lost." He reached down and clasped her hands between his own." But remember: be brave, be kind, be yourself."

He patted her hand, and with a small smile, she nodded. "I miss you," she whispered. "I wish you were here with me."

His gaze softened. "I miss you too."

--

The light hurt, a faint orange glow beneath her eyelids, yet it felt almost as blinding as staring pointblank into the sun. Ochako winced and lifted an arm to shield against the light. With a light groan, she rolled onto her side, facing away from the sun, and sighed when everything darkened once more. She nestled into her pillow, burying her face into the plush fabric.

Her bed molded to her body, hugging her figure, and she'd never felt so comfortable. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the gentle scent of tea that permeated the room. Swiping her hand across her cheek, she felt the wetness that lingered on her skin, and quirked her lips.

It'd been a while since she'd dreamt of her father.

Though, the nightmare beforehand had been eerily vivid. Every detail had been so real—as if she'd truly been kidnapped and brought somewhere against her will...by a magical carriage, nonetheless! It'd spat out Izuku and dragged her in, then coasted through the woods to arrive at a magnificent albeit terrifying castle. There, the doors had welded shut at her touch, sealing her in.

From there, it'd morphed into a pleasant dream, one full of nostalgia and sentiment. It must have been then that she'd cried in her sleep. The thought of her late father brought a pang of sadness to her chest, and she curled into herself, pulling her knees to her chest. With a quiet sniff, she rubbed her eyes and slowly but surely, pushed herself into sitting position.

"Oh, you're awake!" someone exclaimed, and Ochako's eyes snapped open. She scrambled back, feeling her back hit the headboard, and she yelped as she gazed around the unfamiliar room, searching for an intruder. It was massive, easily the size of the bakery—the bed alone sat twice the size of the one back home.

To her right, wood and ash sat in the fireplace, small wisps of smoke still rising from their charred remains. A painting hung above the mantle, depicting a woman in an intricate robe with a gentle but firm gaze, her hands folded elegantly in her lap.

At the foot of the bed stood a massive wardrobe, its handles gleaming and ornate. Its dark wood shone in the light, polished to perfection, and a gold strip made its way around the frame.

A humble vanity sat to her left, and its mirror reflected her dumbfounded face under the tangled mess of her hair. It resembled a rat's nest more than anything else, and she nearly drowned in mortified bewilderment. Her sloe eyes held bags that spoke of a long night filled with restlessness and fatigue.

She gazed around the unfamiliar room once more, watched the floating particles of dust dance in the sunlight.

So last night hadn't been totally a dream.

She had been kidnapped by a magical carriage, where its curtains had lengthened to drag her into its tiny prison.

She had been brought to a frightening castle, where its doors had sealed shut the moment she'd touched its surface.

She had spoken to a candelabra, and it'd spoken back, its voice soothing and warm.

"Would you like some tea? I can heat some up, if you'd like." Ochako whirled toward the sound to find a small cart sitting next to her bed. A simple tea set sat on top, occupied by a teapot and a teacup sitting snug on a saucer.

"Who said that?" she asked, twisting her gaze around her room. Deep inside, she had an inkling of an idea, the image of the talking candelabra flitting through her mind. 

"Yoohoo, down here," the voice sang, distinctly female, and Ochako peered closely at the teapot. Its spout waved animatedly, and she jerked back. "It's all right. I bet this is your first time talking to a teapot," the teapot chuckled. "It's a bit shocking, but it'll get better in time."

"You're speaking," Ochako uttered breathlessly. "You're actually speaking." She reached over and ghosted a finger across the lid, and it giggled at Ochako's light touch.

"I am!" It clattered as it hopped forward. Bristling, the teapot quivered, and Ochako watched, engrossed, as steam began to pour from its spout.

"How?" she asked, watching it tilt forward and pour tea into the small cup.

When it was adequately full, it sat back and nudged the cup and saucer toward Ochako. "Magic is the best answer I can give," it laughed. "I don't know how it works either, so don't ask me for any details. I won't be able to answer you."

Ochako pushed the covers off of her legs and crawled to the cart, leaning over to catch a whiff of lavender. She peered at the teapot, roaming its round body and pink lid, and finally noticed the eyes that sat among the immaculate swirls that decorated the porcelain.

"Do you have a name?" she asked, picking up the cup. Holding it to her nose, she breathed in the herbal scent and relaxed. She dipped her tongue in, then made a face at the heat. Tasting it, she deemed it safe from any threats and poisons and took a sip.

"Mina! You can just call me Mina, and if you can't tell from my voice, I'm—or I was—a young woman. Actually, I think we might be the same age, though it's hard to tell. Time passes oddly here," it—she chirped. The teapot hopped toward her, lid clattering with movement, and bowed. "And you are?"

"I'm Ochako, Uraraka Ochako," she introduced herself, holding the rim of the teacup to her bottom lip. Nodding down, she blew away more steam before another thought struck her, and she lifted the cup to peer at the porcelain, looking for any signs of eyes, a nose, or a mouth. Its design matched Mina's with intricate swirls and small flowers, but it lacked a proper face.

Mina tittered in amusement. "I'm the only living object here right now," she said, and the nuances of her tone bounced lightly. "Is the tea to your liking?"  

Ochako sat back, feeling the headboard against her shoulder blades, and blew a puff of air. She sent Mina a grateful smile and nodded. "It's wonderful. The lavender is very fragrant." To show that she appreciated it, she took another taste, and sighed in satisfaction, tasting the subtle flower on her tongue. "Thank you," she said and set the teacup back on the saucer. Mina hopped forward and poured her another cup.

She ran a through her hair, wincing at the rough tangles that pulled at her scalp. She frowned, making a face at how much grime laced through the strands, making it feel as if she were tugging on straw.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mina asked, and Ochako couldn't help the snort that slipped from her. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest, pulling her knees up. The events from the previous night flashed through her mind, and she internally flinched.

With a quiet sniff, she said, quiet and solemn, "No." Turning her head to face the teapot, she continued, "I've been taken prisoner in this castle." At that, the teapot faltered, and the mood dropped drastically. "I want to see Izuku, Tsuyu, Tooru—I want to see my friends. I want to go back to the bakery and the sick house. I want to go back to town...I want to go home."

A tear escaped its constraints, rolling down her cheek, and plummeted onto the pillow, creating a dark spot on the fabric. She swallowed with difficulty, as if a stone had been lodged in her throat. Izuku—she couldn't get the image of his defeated figure in the snow out of her head. Knowing him, the disappointment and guilt were going to devour him whole.

"Oh," Mina uttered, "I'm—I'm truly sorry that you're here and wrapped up in this mess. In truth, I don't know much about what will happen. All I know is that the doors and windows are now sealed and that I'll make your stay as comfortable as possible—I promise." Ochako had no doubt that if Mina were in human form, she'd have pulled her into a hug.

Something about the teapot's words felt genuine. Maybe Ochako had fallen into a state of emotional vulnerability, but for some unfathomable reason, she felt like she could trust her. In some ways, Mina reminded her of an odd combination of Tsuyu and Tooru, like she had taken Tsuyu's empathetic care and meshed it with Tooru's bubbly enthusiasm.

"Take your tea," Mina instructed, and Ochako did as she was told, setting it on her lap. "I'll call up a bath for you." With that, the cart began to move on its own, and Ochako watched as the doors magically opened on their own to allow her exit. They slowly swung shut the moment the cart took a corner, and Ochako eyed the knob, wondering whether it'd be worth trying to escape.

Internally, she knew the doors were sealed shut by some otherworldly power, but were the windows also subject to its magic? She picked up the teacup and slid off the bed, making her way to the vanity, where she traded the teacup for something more firm. Gripping a hairbrush, she slowly made her way to the window and peered out at the large mounds of snow. The sea of dark trees expanded toward the mountains, and her breath caught when she realized there were no signs of the town. With a finger on the glass, she felt the cold seep through the pane, feeding the ache that throbbed in her chest.

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handle of the brush, prepping herself. Then, she stabbed the handle into the glass, feeling it bounce off the surface with a jerk. She did it again. And again, until she finally saw it begin to give way. With one final push, the glass cracked, lines splintering across her view, and she stepped back and took a long breath. Maybe it needed a few more hits, and then she'd be able to truly escape.

Suddenly, as if winter had breathed down the entirety of the large pane, the glass began to frost over, slowly rolling down from top to bottom, obscuring the cracks. Ochako took another step back, astonished. And with a gentle exhale, the frost lifted, and all that was left was unblemished glass, as solid as it'd been before Ochako's attack.

Her work had been for nothing. The brush fell to her side, as she turned away, feeling the edge of her palm throb where the brush handle dug into her skin. Of course—if the doors had been sealed with magic, then why wouldn't the windows be as well? With her hopes of escape dashed, she crawled back into bed, burying her face into the pillow.

A slight click emitted from the door, and she glanced up to see a standing coat rack push it open, a large tub in its arms. It wobbled in, followed by Mina's cart, and Ochako rose to see it now occupied by larger pots.

"Come on," Mina ordered, and an exasperated groan echoed from the coat rack.  

"You're not the one carrying a tub, Mina," it said petulantly, and with a second, louder groan, it set the tub down, sighing with relief. Standing straight, it dusted its arms off and gestured at the pots, which tipped forth, and steam rose from the cascading waters.

"Come have a bath," Mina said, turning to face Ochako. "Itsuka will help you."

The coat rack held up an arm and gestured at the small bulb on top, which Ochako assumed held its face. "Itsuka Kendo," it introduced itself, then ordered, "Take off your gown," and Ochako's arms rushed up to cover her chest, eyes going wide.

"Don't be shy!" Mina rolled closer to the tub, pointing her spout at the coat rack. "Itsuka's also a girl. We're all women here," she reassured her, but Ochako remained rooted to the spot. It wasn't that she didn't trust Mina or Itsuka—it was that she wasn't accustomed to bathing in the midst of others. Itsuka sighed, a quiet breath that sounded barely audible.

"If you're uncomfortable, we can wait until you get in the water," Itsuka said and made a show of whirling around, which didn't seem like much to Ochako. "I can just wash your hair. You can do the rest yourself." It was a fair compromise, though Ochako still felt a hint of reluctance. Mina's cart rounded the tub and made a show of pointing her spout in the other direction.

It took Ochako a good minute before she slid off the bed and made her way to the tub, carefully dipping her feet into the water. With the thought of rinsing all the grime from her body, she lifted the hem of her gown as she sank into the water. When she was sure her chest was adequately submerged in the water, she pulled the gown over her head and let it pool on the ground next to her. 

Her satisfied sigh drew the other two back to facing her, and Ochako stared up at Itsuka, who bent down to the lower levels of the cart and squirted some sort of scented oil into Ochako's hair. And then she began to lather her scalp, taking care to gently rub her knobs against her head.

"This would be so much easier with hands," Itsuka grumbled. "I haven't had to wash someone's hair since—since...I can't even remember anymore." Her ministrations were tender, and Ochako sighed into the feeling.

Mina chuckled at her reaction, directing her words to Itsuka. "I think you've still got it, even without hands."

Ochako's eyes fluttered shut and listened to the two talk. Without seeing them, she could've mistaken them for two young women conversing about their day. Not a teapot complaining about a clock or a coat rack giving her unsolicited advice.

Finally, Itsuka settled her arms on Ochako's shoulders, prompting her to gaze up at her. "Would you like us to leave so you can bathe?" she asked, then gestured at the lower levels of the cart, where Ochako saw an array of oils and scents. She nodded, and Itsuka stood, making her way to the wardrobe, where she pulled out a simple, white gown.

Slinging it over the cart, she pulled Mina into her arms, and with a bow, they both disappeared from the room.

--

Bathing refreshed her, and Ochako sat at the foot of the bed, braiding her wet hair across her shoulder. She breathed in the faint scent of mint and rosemary and leaned back against the frame of the bed, feeling loose strands of wet hair stick to her gown.

It was simple, white and flowing, and she enjoyed how soft it felt against her skin. At first, she'd deemed it to be too flimsy, but her options were limited to that or her other gown, which had been ruined from melted snow and mud. Itsuka had taken it from her with the promise of washing it and returning it to her before the end of the next day.

Before leaving, Mina had rolled up to Ochako, poured her another cup of tea, and asked if she would like to explore the castle. The smart decision would've been to accept her offer and map her prison in her head, mentally marking specific exits, but weariness settled in her bones, and she'd declined. The teapot, though disappointed, understood, and she'd left with the promise of coming back later with a fresh pot of tea.

Cleanliness cleared her muddled head, and she pulled her legs to her chest, resting her cheek on her knees. Gazing out, she watched the sun halfway through its descent as it hovered just a fraction above the line of trees. Its rays streamed across the sky, turning it into a canvas of fire. It held no hint of ever bearing a storm, but Ochako could feel a chilly promise tinge the air.

Nothing in her life could've prepared her for this. The idea of magic had been a child's dream, but even then, it'd pertained to witches, princesses, and love. It'd restricted itself to stories her parents would tell her of talking mules and evil sorceresses, and they'd all ended in the same way: with a lesson learned and a happily ever after.

In her situation, she couldn't see either happening. Just an unfair kidnapping that introduced her to a talking teapot, a coat rack, and possibly, a candelabra. There was no silver lining, no light at the end of her tunnel that promised happiness or prosperity.

A knock sounded at her door before it cracked open, and a clock popped its head into the room. She watched it carefully from her spot, and when it caught sight of her, it slid into the room, followed by a candelabra, which hopped in with grace. A smile quirked at the corner of her lip—so it hadn't been a hallucination: the candelabra had been real.

As with Itsuka and Mina, they moved with fluidity and animation, this time with metal and wood bending like leather. Their actions were human, or as human as could be. The candelabra bounced on its handle, while the clock hobbled with its feet, spread wide apart by its design.

However, they aligned more with Mina in the sense that their designs were intricate. The candelabra's brass handle held metal vines that curled around its body, gold leaves accenting its slim form. The center candle lit with a small flame, while the other two, which she assumed made up its arms, remained unlit. Upon further inspection, the side candles sat upon small hands, balanced delicately on its fingers. Up close, a small face adorned the brass.

The clock stood at around the same height as the candelabra's face, though a tad bit shorter, its body made with reddish wood. Just like the wardrobe, a gold strip ran along its borders, ending at the intricately carved design that sat atop of its face. If she peered closely enough, she could make out two eyes that sat among the delicately painted numerals. A faint ticking noise emitted from its body, and there was a faint clatter with each heavy movement.

Surprisingly, both objects were light on their feet, much more mobile than Mina seemed capable of.

"Hello," the clock introduced itself, and Ochako bowed her head. This must have been the one Mina had been complaining about earlier. It hobbled toward her and stopped at a distance away. The candelabra followed, and when it stopped, it crossed its arms, staring at her.

"I'm Eijirou," the clock introduced itself. "I don't believe we've met." It gestured between itself and the candelabra and continued, "We wanted to visit earlier, but Mina said you were bathing, so we didn't want to intrude."

"It wouldn't be acceptable," the candelabra said stiffly, and she remembered its warm tone, "Even as objects, we're still men." Their courtesy tickled her, and she huffed a quiet laugh. She was glad that chivalry hadn't truly died off.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head in greeting. "I'm Ochako."

"I'm Shouto, and we're pleased to make your acquaintance," the candelabra said, nodding formally.

She pointed her gaze at him, blinking inquisitively. "I remember you," she said softly. "From last night."

Surprised, Shouto tilted his head and hopped a step closer. "I didn't think you would," he admitted. "You were barely conscious when we spoke."

"No, I remember," she affirmed. She directed her gaze to her feet, shuffling them across the plush rug. "I remember your voice." Thinking back, she faintly remembered being carried. "I remember you talking to someone, but I don't know who—have I met them?" It could have been Itsuka; she seemed strong and tall, and if she could handle dragging a tub into her room, she could definitely carry Ochako up to her room. But, somewhere in her memory, she remembered a male voice and the faint silkiness of hair—fur?

It all remained a blur in her head.

Shouto and Eijirou exchanged unreadable looks and Shouto discreetly shook his head. Eijirou turned back to her, head cocked. "The main thing is that you look better. Do you feel any better?"

They weren't telling her something—she knew it had to do with the one who'd held her, but she didn't press on the matter. "I feel much better than I did last night," she said wearily. Her braid flopped as she set her chin on her knee, and she reached up to finger at the loose strands.

"You look better than our previous visitor," Eijirou said, and Shouto knocked a candle into his arm. "Ow! I'm just saying—he'd been caught in the storm and—"

She jerked her head at them, eyes wide. Scrambling onto her knees, she leaned down toward them. Eijirou jumped back at her reaction, and Shouto heaved a heavy sigh. "Are you talking about Izuku? Was he here?" she asked desperately. At their blank looks, she gestured at her head, waving it around wildly. "Wild green hair? Freckles?"

Eijirou pointed at her, nodding with fervor. "That's the one! Stopped 'cause the winter storm got too strong. We gave him a cup of tea, cleaned his boots, and dried his cloak. Poor man looked so worn and tired." He paused and scratched at his head. "Honestly, we'd hoped he'd stay the night and resume his travels in the morning—we don't normally get visitors, but he woke partway through the night and left. A goodbye would've been nice," he sniffed.

Ochako's breath caught in her throat. Eijirou continued, glancing at Shouto, who switched his gaze between them, arms still firmly crossed.

"That was the last time any of us saw him," Eijirou said. He turned back to Ochako and rubbed the side of his face. "Is he your friend?"

Ochako released a barely audible sigh, crawling back to her previous position, and her head fell against the wooden footboard. She shut her eyes, willing them not to swim with anymore tears. She'd cried too much over the past few hours. "He was more than that."

"Oh?" This came from Shouto, and she imagined that that one word carried a heavier meaning. Something about it felt troubled and a little disapproving.

"Lovers?" Eijirou gasped, and his hands flew to his mouth in surprise.

As an answer, she lolled her head toward them and offered them a tired smile. "He was my closest friend, the closest thing to a brother to me." Her voice broke, and she cursed herself. "He came back in a carriage that brought me here, and now I can't leave."

The two objects fell silent, and she felt the loss of words from Eijirou's solid form. Shouto, on the other hand, seemed deep in thought, one candle rubbing his chin. "We didn't know," Eijirou said slowly. "We'd just assumed he'd left and gone on his way."

The silence became stifling, like vines had wrapped themselves around her neck, constricting her words. Eijirou shuffled his foot against the rug and tapped his side, evidently troubled by the news.

A knock echoed through the room, shattering the moment, and Ochako pushed herself up, hand wrapped around the top of the footboard, grateful for the change. "Come in," she said, and the door swung open to reveal Mina on her cart, steam rising from her spout. It rolled in as Mina hopped around, her lid clattering with each leap.

"As promised, I've brought you a new cup. I hope you're fine with mint. I didn't want to give you earl grey tea right before dinner since it's so late into the day, but I can brew you a new cup tomorrow morning, if you'd like. Or how about some chamomile before bed—" One of the front wheels collided with Eijirou's back, and the clock flew forward with a yelp. Ochako swooped down, catching him with both hands, and set him on the bed, eyeing him with concern.

Mina jerked forward and tea spilled from her rim and the spout. The lid slid forward, and she huffed in frustration, tilting forward and back to try to slide it back into place. Ochako reached over and righted it for her, and the teapot smile gratefully.

"Thank you, dear. I can normally do it myself, but it's nice to get some help once in a while." She hopped up, twisting to face Eijirou, and it might have been Ochako's imagination, but the steam billowed a little harder. "You!" she screeched. "Stop getting in my way!"

The clock sat up, incredulous, and pointed at himself. "Me? Get in your way?" The disbelief weighed in his tone. "Stop trying to run me over!"

"Ugh, he's always like this," Mina complained to Ochako. "A teapot can only see so much. I already told him, 'If I lean over the side, I'll stain everything with tea.' Does he listen? No—"

"—the least you can do is not run me over!" Eijirou protested, waving his arms in the air in exasperation. On the bed, he stood eye-level with Mina, who ignored him.

"—he doesn't, so I told him, 'Listen for the cart! I can't see where I go all the time!' And does he? No! Then I get blamed," Mina huffed. "Men," she added, shaking her spout. Tilting down, she poured Ochako a cup, and they watched the liquid bubble with heat.

For a moment, the three of them watched it boil in the teacup. "Uh," Mina let out an awkward laugh. "Sorry I got so heated. You should wait before drinking that."

Ochako nodded and sat back, perching herself on the frame of the bed. Eijirou hobbled across the covers and leapt off the bed, landing with a quiet grunt. Shouto just shook his head before excusing himself, and they watched as he hopped out of the room, door clicking shut behind him.

"Anyway, I'm also here to ask if you'd like dinner. Your meal is set in the dining hall, though you won't be dining alone, if that's all right with you." Mina rolled the cart back slowly, and this time, Eijirou scurried away from the wheels, glaring at them with venom. Ochako's mind flashed to the night before, over to the stranger who'd carried her to bed.

The fear and pressure mounted on her shoulders, and she must have looked troubled because Mina added, "It's completely up to you."

With that, the tension alleviated, and Ochako pushed herself back to settle on the covers. "Could I take my meal here? I don't—I don't feel well enough to dine in anyone's company."

"Of course," Mina exclaimed. "It's understandable. I'll bring it up to you. Come on, Eijirou. I'll need your help." The clock groaned before climbing onto the lowest level of the cart.

Before they could roll themselves out, Ochako leapt up with an outstretched hand. "Mina," she called, and the cart paused. Mina and Eijirou turned to face her, movements inquisitive. Ochako pulled back her hand to her chest, rubbing at her wrist. "Could you join me? Up here, I mean." Her voice faltered, and she bit her tongue.

For a moment, no one said anything, the teapot surprised at her request. Ochako chewed on the inside her cheek, berating herself for asking in the first place. Her request made no sense—if she wanted company, why wouldn't she just dine with whoever's already in the dining hall?

Feeling the need to explain herself, she began to babble. "I just want a familiar face—"

"—of course." Mina's tone had softened considerably. Eijirou moved to sit at the edge of the cart, legs swinging off the edge as he grabbed one of its legs to hang onto. He waved goodbye as the door swung shut behind them, and Ochako was once again, left to her thoughts.

--

Dinner turned out to be a quiet affair with a simple tray of bread and soup. Ochako dunked her bread into her soup, silently admiring the blend of spices that'd been cooked into the rich soup. The bread held a homemade quality that immediately brought her mind to Izuku, and the first bite had brought a wave of sadness and nostalgia to her chest. She would've probably burst into tears at her situation, spiraling into self-pity, had the teapot not paid her company.

Mina, true to her word, had stayed by her side, regaling her with tales of the castle and its previous inhabitants. The teapot proved to be an enthusiastic storyteller, speaking animatedly while waving her spout and bouncing her lid, and some of her stories left Ochako giggling into her palms.

When the sun finally sank into the horizon, a chill made itself home in her room, and she threw the cover over her legs as Mina brewed a new pot of chamomile tea. The fireplace flared up on its own, scaring Ochako, who had to remind herself that the castle seemed to be made from magic.

Finally, sometime late in the night, the chamomile began to take effect, and her eyelids began to feel like lead. At her third yawn, Mina paused in the middle of her story and bid her goodnight, promising to finish the following day.

With a full belly and chamomile in her system, it wasn't difficult for her to drift off to sleep.

--

"Do you feel as if something's going to happen?" Ochako asked. She crouched in front of the fire, poking at the wood that crackled and splintered in the heat.

"Always," her father answered, as she put the poker back into place. Standing, she rubbed her hands on her apron, scowling at the soot that lined her palms. Her father reclined on his armchair, hands clasped together in his lap. "That's the beauty of living—knowing something will happen tomorrow and the day after."

The amusement that lined his tone caused her to crack a smile, and she moved to sit on the ground, legs folded before her. "You know that's not what I meant," she complained, leaning her head against his armrest. He reached down and tousled her hair in apology. "I mean, like something big or life changing."

"Sometimes," he said, retracting his hand with a sigh. She missed the warmth in his touch. "But it's hard to gain a feel for these type of things. Big and unexpected normally come with unpredictable events, which I believe you've found yourself in?"

She flinched. "You could say that," she said quietly. "I feel like I'm caught in the middle of something big."

He hummed. "Is it dangerous?"

Silence. "I don't know," she admitted. Countering him, she asked, "Do you believe in magic?"

His response came immediately. "Of course! There are so many things we don't understand—how could there not be?"

"Then, what would you do?" She wrung her hands into her apron, hoping to gain a wise, solid answer.

"Follow the fairy tales; use them as a guide," he said, and she tilted her head up to meet his twinkling eye. "When strange situations are thrust upon those who are unfortunate, they accept their circumstances and work hard to turn them into something fortunate."

At her confused expression, he explained, "What I mean is magic or no magic, strange things will always happen to us, whether we're ready or not. It's up to us whether we let it fester into something bad or use it to our advantage and make it into something good."

"Make it into something good, huh," she muttered.

He chuckled and tousled her hair again.

--

Ochako had only ever seen the castle at night, so she was taken by surprise when Mina convinced her to join her on a mini tour of the castle.

"It really is a beautiful place to live," Mina said with a wistful sigh as Ochako pulled the shawl over her shoulders. After spending a day in her sleeping gown, the dress that Itsuka had picked out for her pinched at her waist, and she felt a little out of place without her apron. "It looked a lot better before, but it's difficult to clean the castle as objects, though we do try."

"Are there many of you?" Ochako asked, and Mina chuckled sadly.

"There are, but we're scattered all over the place. I haven't seen some of my friends since...well, I can't really remember." A hint of sadness tinged her tone, and Ochako didn't press the matter. Instead, Mina rolled the cart forward, and the doors swung open.

Sunlight streamed through the large windows on either side of the hall, illuminating the suits of armor that lined the walls. Velvet curtains hung on both sides, pulled open to provide a beautiful view of the surrounding forest. Paintings adorned the walls, depicting nobles and other aristocratic faces Ochako didn't recognize.

The ceiling rose high above her, and she watched floating dust motes hover in midair, twisting and turning at the slightest draft that blew overhead. A red carpet had been unfurled over the stone floors, a little faded yet still rich in color.

Mina rolled ahead, and she turned with a knowing glint in her eye. "Do you like it?" she asked, and Ochako nodded, mute from the beauty that'd been hidden in the night. "It's definitely eerie at night, but during the day? Beautiful. Absolutely stunning."

Ochako observed everything they passed, wondered at the beautiful paintings, strokes prominent in the natural light, and admired the amount of thought that must have been put into designing the castle. Though it was large and her steps echoed, it somehow managed to retain a feeling of home.   

"Come along. I'll take you to the main hall and the kitchens. If you're lucky, Rikidou might have something in the oven," Mina chuckled, and she bounced in excitement. Ochako quirked her lip, a little reluctant, but she followed the cart as it rolled down the hall. Mina pointed at each painting, telling her the tales and scandals that happened behind closed doors. Although Ochako tried to listen, all she could wonder at was how Mina would go up or down any flight of stairs.

Her question was soon answered as they approached a staircase, and Mina's cart twisted without any hesitation, continuing her never-ending chatter. Somehow, the topic had switched to Eijirou—again. There was something certain between the two, not just a friendly rivalry, but something that hinted at more.

The staircase, which spanned three times her length, had been separated down the middle by a smooth ramp. At first, Ochako debated grabbing onto the edge of the cart to slow Mina's momentum, but as they descended, Mina's cart moved at its normal pace. For a moment, Ochako completely forgot that she'd been listening to a teapot giving her a tour of a magical castle. Of course nothing would happen to Mina.

Mina's spout gestured around their setting. "Your room is on the second floor, and we're actually heading into the main hall, or as we used to know it, the great hall. It was used as a ballroom..."

Ochako stopped listening, pausing in the middle of the staircase, and her grip around the rail tightened as she took in the beauty and splendor of the hall. Massive was an understatement.

The walls towered above them, leading to ornately painted ceilings that depicted cherubs hiding in the clouds, their faces caught between laughter and mischievousness. Large windows sat high above between columns that segmented the walls, and sunlight streamed into the ballroom, casting a warm glow around the room. A large chandelier hung in the center, with smaller chandeliers lined down the hall. Their crystals reflected the sunlight, rivaling the stars that shone at night.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Mina asked, pride tinting her tone, as she sat at the bottom of the steps. Ochako could only nod, and she nearly tripped when she slipped on a step. Grabbing onto the rail, she let loose a nervous laugh. This time, she made sure to watch where she stepped.

Her footsteps echoed throughout the hall, ricocheting against the walls. With brightly colored dresses twirling under candlelight and a live orchestra, the balls held in the castle must have been gorgeous. She tried to imagine it full of people. Tried to hear the lively music, the laughter, and the steps and claps that occurred in the past.

"Did you ever attend?" she asked, and Mina giggled.

"I did! The master of this castle is kind and good-natured, and he allowed everyone who worked in the castle to attend his parties," she answered, hopping around to face Ochako. A bright glint shone in her eyes at the memories that must have flashed through her mind. Her cart continued to roll forward, pushing through a door hidden behind a large plant. "Come, this way to the kitchen."

A question that Ochako had held since first meeting Mina itched at her like a mosquito bite, and her steps paused. Mina, upon hearing the lack of steps behind her, twisted to face her, spout cocked in question. "When we first met," Ochako said slowly, attempting to phrase her question appropriately, "you said that you used to be a young woman."

Mina answered with a nod, and her spout straightened as she waited for the rest of the question.

"Magic turned you into a teapot," she continued. "Was it the master of the castle who cursed you?"

The teapot sighed, a gentle whistle through her spout, and a wisp of steam escaped its hole. "No, not at all. We are all victims as much as you are; we've just endured it for much longer. It's our normal way of life now, but I believe that the one who suffers the most is the master."

In that moment, Ochako felt her heart ache for all the inhabitants of the castle. To lose a life they'd always known, then thrust into a bleak situation with no end in sight, futures stripped away—they were all fighting something unknown. Something unseen. The sentiment pulled at her heartstrings, and she fisted her dress in one hand.

"Is there any way to break the curse?" she asked, stepping forward. There must have been a clue or a hint as to how to reverse its effects. Just as certain poisons had their cures, curses should work the same way. At least, that's how things worked in fairy tales.

Mina hopped back around, keeping her expression hidden. "None of us, except the master—and I suspect, Shouto—know much about the curse itself." Her voice dropped. There was a fragility to her words, hinting that she didn't like speaking about the topic much. Guilt gnawed at Ochako's stomach for asking such a sensitive question.

"I'm sorry," she supplied in lieu of nothing. "I shouldn't have asked."

Mina scoffed. "There's no way you could've known, and I'm not going to fault you for curiosity. Now, let's head to the kitchen."

--

Ochako laid in bed, a hand rubbing her stomach in satisfaction. Rikidou, the pastry chef, had given her an assortment of treats to test, ranging from beautifully decorated cakes to an odd grey goo that'd tasted fantastic. He came in the form of a large stove, one that'd housed a variety of knives and pans. Everything about the large being would have intimidated her if not for the small toque that sat atop his head.

"There's so much! You shouldn't have," she'd said, eyes wide and scanning the display.

Rikidou had waved a pan dismissively. "You're our guest," he'd said, and that was that. The rest had been history, and she'd almost been tempted to ask Mina for a ride in her cart back to her room with how full she'd been.

She could still taste the sugars that lingered on her tongue, sweet from the fresh cream and fruits he'd used to decorate his cakes. From the meringue he'd whipped up to make the macarons to the dark chocolate he'd used in his pastries.

At first, the sight had dimmed her spirits, reminding her that the situation would be much better if she wasn't being held prisoner. Then, she'd thought back to Izuku, and they dimmed even further. It wasn't until she'd dipped her finger into the grey goo that they rose, and she'd allowed herself to indulge.

All of it sat comfortably in her stomach, and she sighed in delight. If, and that was a big 'if', she were to leave, she'd consider bringing Izuku back just so he could learn and collaborate with Rikidou. Both bakers created delicious pastries, but if they worked together, she was convinced they could create something magical.

A knock sounded from the door, and she could barely lift her head. "Come in," she called, and the door cracked open to reveal Itsuka, holding a tub.

"Would you like to bathe before dinner?" she asked, nudging herself in. The tub rattled, and bottles of oils and scents clattered from within.

Ochako, with some effort, pushed herself into sitting position, releasing a quiet groan. "I don't know if I can make it to dinner," she admitted and sheepishly scratched her head.

Itsuka chuckled, pulling open the closet. "Mina told me about your adventures in the kitchen. I don't think you're aware, but you made Ridiko very happy today."

Ochako pointed at herself, somewhat baffled. Itsuka bobbed her head in affirmation. "As objects, none of us eat. Only the master eats, and he doesn't care for sweets, which was Ridiko's specialty. He's glad he's being given the chance to bake again."

"He made so much," Ochako said, thinking back to the counter full of sweets. "I don't know how I'm going to dine later."

The coat rack pulled out a simple blue dress and slung it over her bed. She shrugged in response and began to pour hot water into the tub. Steam filled the air, and Itsuka motioned at her to pull off her dress. "He's taken that into consideration. You'll just have a simple soup for supper. If you wish for anymore, just let Eijirou or Shouto know. They will be there as well."

Ochako slid from the bed, suddenly nervous at the thought of dining with the owner of the castle. She pulled the gown from her head, wrapping an arm around herself, and slid into hot water. This time, it smelled like jasmine, and it did wonders for her full stomach, food having been replaced by butterflies. "Mina says he's kind and good-natured."

Itsuka paused with a bottle in midair, hovering over Ochako's head. "Kind and good-natured...are not the first words I'd use with Master Bakugou." This was Ochako's first time hearing his name, and she kept her gaze on the surface of the water, trying to keep a cool head. The steam did nothing to help. "He's many things, and it's difficult to describe him as a whole."

"How would you describe him?" Ochako asked. Suddenly, Mina's words held no weight, and she waited on a bated breath for Itsuka's answer. If he wasn't kind and good-natured, was he cruel and bitter?

Itsuka hummed, and she squirted some oil into Ochako's hair. "It's difficult to say," she said. "You'll just have to meet him yourself to see."

--

"This way," Mina said as she led Ochako down the hall. She balled her dress into her hands, rubbing her sweaty palms against the fabric. It wrinkled as she let go, and she found that she sorely missed her apron. Her nervous habit had destroyed so many beautiful dresses, and she felt vulnerable without her apron wrapped around her waist.

They rounded a corner, leading to a set of double doors. Shouto stood in front, and he bowed as she approached. "Good evening," he greeted, then dismissed Mina with a polite, "Thank you."

The teapot bobbed in response to Shouto, and she gave Ochako a smile and waved her spout in support. "Remember, he can be kind," she reminded her before rolling away. Ochako nodded shakily, and she and Shouto watched her leave.

"Don't be alarmed," Shouto said as Mina disappeared around the corner. "He's not...exactly the most handsome, nor is he the most amiable these days."

His words sparked a fire of curiosity in her, and she thought back to the sick house. She'd seen so many injuries, so many deformations—she was certain she could take anything. He wasn't handsome—so what? Ochako wasn't vain, nor did she care much for people's appearances. 

"And don't stare too much," Shouto added, and something in his gaze darkened.

Cocking her head, she opened her mouth to ask him why when the doors began to swing open, and Shouto hopped in through a sliver in the door before a word could escape her. The first thing she saw was Eijirou sitting in the middle of the table, waiting for her appearance, and when he noticed her, he waved happily.

Shouto hopped to the table, pulling himself up using the leg of the long table, and swung himself onto the surface. A fire flickered in the hearth, turning Eijirou and Shouto into moving silhouettes. The candelabra gestured to one end of the table, and she turned to find an empty seat at the end, a simple bowl and spoon illuminated by candlelight.

If that was her end of the table...

Then...

With anticipation thrumming in her chest, she slowly turned to face the other end. And gasped at the mound of darkness that sat in the shadows, barely visible in the candlelight. She couldn't help the noise that escaped her, and her hands flew to her mouth, where her bottom lip trembled in shock.

The master of the castle wasn't human.

He was a beast.

What sat in the chair looked to be an odd cross between a bear, a wolf, a lion, and a man, dark fur covering every inch of his body. His hind legs resembled those of a wolf, large paws that curled into the ground. His mane looked to be shaggy and unkempt, and his ears twitched at her sharp intake of breath.

As she continued to stare, she took note that not all of him had become animalistic. In fact, there were qualities that held humanistic mannerisms. For one, he wore clothes—a large baggy shirt that hid most of his torso from sight, pants that tore at his hind legs, and a cloak that shadowed his large frame. In one hand, she realized he held a spoon, and with practiced difficulty, dipped it into his soup. His face, though resembled a beast, feathered through expressions that flickered between anger, somberness, and shame.

"I'm sorry for staring," she said meekly. Eijirou nodded toward her seat, and she made her way to the opposite end of the table. Her chair slid back on its own, and she perched on it lightly before it pushed her forward. The beast ignored her, refusing to meet her gaze across the table. He acted as if he hadn't heard her, continuing to eat his meal.

Eijirou and Shouto glanced between them, unsure how to proceed, and Shouto gestured to the beast. The clock nodded, and they hobbled to him, whispering to him to no avail as he continued to ignore everything and everyone around him.

"I'm Ochako," she tried, this time raising her voice. Either he didn't hear her or he pretended not to. With his rejection, she lowered her gaze to her soup, watching the pieces of vegetables float atop a creamy liquid. She swallowed heavily, gut still full of apprehension, and her appetite melted away.

The sick house never prepared her for something like this. She had dealt with injuries that left scars across faces and burns across bodies. Accidents that broke bone and tore flesh. Sicknesses that marred faces until they were practically unrecognizable.

"What's your name?" she tried again, but her voice faltered toward the end. No matter how badly she tried to remain civilized, she couldn't help the stream of fear that trickled through her veins. It made her nervous, instigated a fight or flight response that, though justified, wasn't needed. Her position certainly mimicked the flight response: the metal from the spoon dug into her palms, and her back stood ramrod straight. Her feet tapped restlessly against the rug, prepared to rush through the door and back into the confines of her room.

"Please, if not your name, then can you let me know if or when I can leave?" she pleaded, setting down her silverware. It'd left a long mark gauged in her skin, and she rubbed at its downward slope. Swallowing heavily, she added, "As much as I enjoyed your hospitality, I'd very much like to leave." The quake in her tone betrayed her calm demeanor.

More fierce whispers arose from the other end of the table, and she recognized the light tone in Eijirou's voice. He gestured toward her, waving one hand up and down as his words rushed into an babble of gibberish when it reached her end. The beast's eyes flickered toward the clock before moving to her. Then, they darted back to his meal.

With a loud sigh, Eijirou gave up, and he snapped a loud, "Fine. Be that way." Turning, he made his way to her and sat under the candle, crossing his arms.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, keeping her voice low. Eijirou harrumphed and shook his head.

"Stubborn bastard," he muttered. He noticed her clean spoon and gestured down at her bowl. The furrow left his brow as he stood. "Please, enjoy your soup. Rikidou made it especially for you. He said you'd need something light."

A small smile played at the corners of her lips when she thought back to the cook and how eager albeit shy he'd been to greet her. Eijirou's words prompted her to take a slight sip, and she felt the warm soup slide down her throat, warming her body. The moment it touched her tongue, an explosion of flavor followed through, and she sighed in content.

A loud scrape pierced the room, and she and Eijirou watched as the beast pushed himself to his full height. Even from a distance, she could see that he would tower over her, dwarfing her size. The set in his shoulders told of past regality and pride, but now only held ghosts in its place. For the first time, he firmly set his ruby red eyes on her. The intensity of his glare caused a visceral reaction within her, and she scrambled back until she hit the chair.

He lowered his head, and his glare strengthened. "You can try." Ochako gasped at his voice—gravelly and throaty. Harsh and guttural. Full of repressed anger and menace. With that, he swept the cloak over his shoulders, shrouding himself from her, and made his way from the room. Shouto watched him leave, then groaned and shook his head before leaping off the table in one fell swoop. His footfalls clattered along the ground as he hopped to catch up.

Eijirou turned to her with an apology on his lips and loss in his expression. It was clear that he wanted to go after them, so she nodded toward the door. Sinking into a deep bow, he excused himself and leapt off of the edge with a gentle tinker of metal against metal. As he disappeared down the hall, she heard him berate, "Bakugou, your manners are abhorrent..."

Left in silence, save for the crackling of the fire at the hearth, she was left to her own devices. Bewildered at the continuous unfolding of magic in the castle, she couldn't help but think back to the beast's words.

At first, his message remained unclear, but then she understood that he'd answered her request.

As much as I enjoyed your hospitality, I'd very much like to leave.

You can try.

Was that a threat? Was he threatening her? Was Mina wrong in that he hadn't cast the spell? She forced out a breath and balled her hands into fists. Hissed as her nails dug into her skin.

Confusion never mixed well with anger, and both swirled in her chest, inciting a nauseating roll in her stomach. She stood, feeling the chair's slight resistance as it scraped back. With a quiet grumble, she stalked from the room, mapping the darkened halls in her mind until she came upon the one that led to familiar heavy-set doors.

Instead of cowering, she stood tall, shoulders square and spine straightened. This time, she wasn't the same girl who'd been thrown into the castle, battered weak from the cold and shock and resigned to her fate. Candles lit as she neared the door, and her gaze adjusted enough that she could recognize the gates that'd sealed her in.

The memory of a spell electrified by her touch, shooting energy into every fiber of her being, sent shivers down her spine. Small hairs rose on her arms and on the back of her neck, but she trudged forward.

Standing before it, she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. With her heart pounding in her chest, she raised a hand and placed it on the handle. Cold to the touch, she swallowed and wrapped her fingers tighter around the metal.

You can try.

The beast's words rattled in her mind, and that proved to be the catalyst for her frustration. She yanked on it, hoping it'd blast open, yet it remained steadfast. Then, she pushed, throwing her shoulder and her weight into the surface. The sound of the collision shot into the air, a 'bang' that echoed with each slam of her body against the door.

A sharp pain ricocheted down her arm, and she grunted. Even in the face of failure, she tried again. Again and again.

Until the breath left her lungs in pants and her mouth went dry. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, and she knew the bruise she would find in the morning would not be pretty. But if anything, she had to try.

The split in the wood remained sealed and unyielding. Not even a draft could escape or trespass through the double doors. It barely budged, let alone rattled; the lack of movement indicated that her efforts were for nothing. It wouldn't open. The castle wouldn't let her leave.

You can try.

His infuriating words replayed themselves in her head, and she released a cry of frustration, kicking at the door. The only reward she received was a lingering pain that shot through her foot, then languidly traveled up her leg. With a muffled curse, she grabbed at it, massaging her toe. The amalgamation of emotions that swelled in her chest welled up in her eyes, and she slammed a fist weakly against the door.

A quiet shuffle sounded behind her, and she whipped around to see a set of ruby red eyes set in a dark silhouette. The beast watched her, head lifted, and he snorted at her futile attempts at escaping. For an indecipherable moment, they assessed each other, his form blurry through her teary gaze, yet she continued to watch until he turned away, shaking his thick mane.  

With a leap forward, he fell on all fours and disappeared from her sight. His movements were practically silent save for the quiet thump of his paws as he maneuvered up the steps.

Ochako exhaled, lifting her head to stare at the tops of the door. Her fist unfurled, and her palm splayed flat against the rough wooden surface, fingertips scraping against wood grains. She allowed herself to feel the quiet gusts that blew outside. Allowed herself to think of what she'd be doing now if she weren't trapped in the castle.

Allowed herself to wallow once more before retreating to her room.

--

"Life is odd, is it not?" This time, she stood outside, perched cross-legged on a patch of grass as her father hefted an ax over his shoulder. He grunted as it swung down, cleaving a log in half. She ducked as half of it flew over her head, twisting through the air before landing with a solid 'thump' against the dirt ground.

"I've got it," she called, then pushed herself up, dusting her hands off her apron. Her father shouted his thanks as he twisted around, one hand hovering above his eyes as he searched for the other half.

She grabbed the half, feeling its wooden grains dig into her palms, and electricity splintered through her arm. Releasing a surprised yelp, she dropped it back into the dirt. The image of a door flashed through her mind, and she shook her head, staring incredulously at the wooden half.

"Ochako, are you all right?"

Sniffing, she reached down, hesitating for a moment before picking it back up. This time, it felt cool to the touch, and she rolled it around her hand.

"I'm fine," she called back. Turning, she found her father sitting on the stump of wood, holding onto the other half. He motioned at her to come over, and she settled back onto her patch of grass, taking care to tuck her skirt under her legs.

She offered up her half, and he took it in his other hand.

"Life is odd," her father repeated, and he leaned forward, setting his elbows on both knees. She tilted her head up, watching a bead of sweat travel down his cheeks until it disappeared into his beard. He held up the two halves before her and slowly put them together.

Immediately, their edges sealed against one another. Blue light glowed along the seams, and when it disappeared, they were left with one whole log. It was as if her father hadn't just chopped it in half.

He held it out to her, and she took it, dragging a finger down the invisible seam. Somehow, she knew where it'd split, yet she couldn't seem to pry it apart.

"I don't understand," she said, turning the log in her hands. She observed it, searching for any clues, and he gently took it back from her.

"Anything that's sealed can be broken," he said. Her nose scrunched in confusion. With a grunt, he twisted it back into two halves. "Sometimes, you must have patience. When the time comes, you shall be able to do the same."

He placed the two halves back together, and they resealed themselves. Silently, she took his offering and held it in her lap. Gripping both sides, she attempted to do the same, but found that neither side budged.

"I don't understand," she huffed, and he chuckled, tousling her hair.

"You will, dear."

--

Itsuka tied the bow around her waist, letting it sit loosely against her back. "Hold on, I've almost got it," the coat rack grunted, and Ochako ran a hand down the soft fabric, feeling it glide between her fingers.

"Itsuka, this is too much," Ochako said, tugging on a lock of hair. "A simple gown would have sufficed."

"Nonsense!" Itsuka exclaimed and stood straight, then stepped back, admiring her work. "There," she sighed, "You look beautiful." Her tone had softened considerably.

Her face flushed from the compliment, unaccustomed to receiving praise for her appearance. In town, she'd considered herself average compared to many of the other girls. Her face too round, eyes too big. Hair a dull shade of brown. All in all, there was nothing special about her.

Ochako twisted in the mirror, watching the dress twirl around her legs. The bow's darker shade of rose complemented the pale shade of pink that made up the gown. Somehow, even with flexible rods as arms, Itsuka had managed to fix her hair into an elegant up-do, leaving the front strands to frame her face.

A knock sounded from the door before it cracked open, and Mina rolled in to the room. She took one look at Ochako and hopped in excitement. "Oh, you look stunning! And no need to look so nervous—dinner is just a formality."

"Thank you, but I really don't think it's necessary to dress up for dinner. At least, with the master of the castle." Her tone turned a sharp turn toward the end, and she fisted her hands at her side. Itsuka and Mina exchanged looks with one another.

"Was he a brute? He can be a brute," Itsuka deadpanned with a shake of her head.

"Itsuka!" Mina hissed. A bit of steam rose from her spout.

"He just seemed...so angry," Ochako said, furrowing her brow. "And a little condescending, if I'm honest."

This time, both objects snorted, and Ochako watched them curiously. Itsuka coughed a laugh. "That sounds like him," she said. "Master Bakugou can be both angry and condescending. It's how he's always been, especially as the master of the castle."

"But he's not just that," Mina countered. She threw Ochako a meaningful look. "He's a very complicated person, especially with the situation he's been thrown into. If you make an effort to talk to him, he may open up—"

"—fat chance," Itsuka interrupted.

"Ultimately," Mina said, eyeing Itsuka. "He's not a bad person."

The coat rack nodded. "That, I can agree with. He's not a bad person."

Ochako pursed her mouth. None of the objects, except Itsuka, had spoken bad things about him, but even then, Itsuka's words had not been harsh.

"I could make an effort," she began and sat down at the vanity. She gazed into her reflection before lowering it to her lap, where her fingers drew indiscernible patterns along the smooth fabric. "But it takes two to have a conversation."

--

"Oh wow," Eijirou uttered as he watched Ochako approach, and her face flamed at the wonder in his tone. "You look amazing," he said with a nod of approval, then bowed. This time, it was the clock who waited at the door; the candelabra was nowhere in sight.

"Thank you," she said, clearing her throat. Even with sweaty palms, she smoothed down the front of the dress to dry them to no avail. Tonight, she would have to face the beast once more, and this time, she was prepared.

"Are you ready?" Eijirou asked, letting his hand hover over the door. Sooner or later, she'd have to face the beast again, so she nodded. He returned it with a nod of support and set his palm on the door. At the simplest touch, it slowly creaked open, and she found the beast sitting in his side of the room, already cutting into his meal.

His movements were clumsy, silverware slipping from between his large hands, and they clattered against the dish. She remembered to curtsey as Itsuka had shown her, but the beast paid her no attention.

Eijirou's sigh was barely audible, but she heard it anyway, and he smiled up at her as he gestured to her seat. This time, there was a roast that sat before her, surrounded by potatoes, carrots, and onions. Its appearance reminded her of the tavern that Denki ran in town, and she swallowed the memory.

Eijirou began his climb up the table, but before he could make it all the way up, she lift him and set him on the table. His mouth set into a little 'o', and he smiled gratefully. It was a little odd to feel wood flex against her hands, as she was used to its rigidity. "Thank you for saving me the trouble," he laughed. At the sound, the beast's eyes flickered to them, and Eijirou waddled toward him.

Again, the chair slid back, allowing her to perch on its edge, before pushing her forward. This time, she was determined to gain some answers from him, even if she had to push—hard.

"I'm Ochako," she introduced herself a second time, and this time, her words left her mouth confidently. Picking up her fork and knife, she began to cut into her dinner. A low rumble from his end of the table paused her movements.

"You said so yesterday," the beast grumbled in reluctance. "I remember." His voice remained the same from before, gravelly and harsh. And though it scared her, she found herself excited at gaining a response—a prospect for a conversation. It was a step forward in the right direction.

She assumed his response came after some persuasion from the clock and the candelabra, both of whom nodded in approval at him. The beast scowled, but neither Eijirou or Shouto seemed afraid. In fact, both seemed pleased with him.

"So what is your name?" she asked and bit into the meat. She had to suppress the moan at how it practically melted in her mouth; Rikidou had outdone himself. Instead, she coughed lightly into her palm.

She watched as Eijirou motioned with the beast to go on, and the beast released an exasperated sigh. For a moment, he looked as if he was this close to swatting the clock off of the table. He swallowed thickly, glare intensifying against the clock. Shouto gestured toward Ochako, and the beast turned his glare on her.

Though they pierced her, she refused to budge, watching him steadily as she ate. He appraised her wearily.

"Bakugou Katsuki," he finally relented. Now, she had a name to put to the face, and in her eyes, this further humanized him.

"What do I call you?" she asked slowly. "How do I address you?" In truth, she struggled with formalities. So used to being around her friends in town, she put up her guard in the midst of power.

"Whatever," the beast answered, not meeting her gaze. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Then is Katsuki fine?"

The beast grunted, and she took it as a confirmation. "Did you not hear me the first time?" he rumbled. "It doesn't matter to me."

 She refused to let his rude remarks faze her. "Then I'll call you Katsuki." His silverware scraped against his plate, and she winced at the wound and rubbed at her ears. Whether it was in displeasure or as an accident, she didn't know, but he had said whichever would work. Clearing her throat, she dug through her brain for her next question.

"Can I ask you a few things?" she tried.

He groaned, and his knife clattered to the table. But he didn't deny her request. Instead, he grumbled unhappily as he struggled to grab the silverware. Shouto hopped forward to assist him, but one glare from Katsuki stopped him in his tracks.

"Is the castle cursed?" This time, his fork clattered to the table. It bounced off the table, landing quietly in the rug. Eijirou leapt off the table and waddled from the room. In the meantime, Katsuki sat back and watched her, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

"Those who work here—they used to be human," she continued, setting down her fork and knife. She mimicked his position, crossing her arms over her chest, and stuck out her chin as she refused to be intimidated. "Does this apply to you as well?"

He cocked his head at her. "Do I look human?" he countered. "Do I look anything like you? Does this—" He grabbed a fistful of his mane and tugged it to make a point. "—look anything remotely human?"

"No, but neither do teapots, clocks, or candelabras, yet they used to be human. They used to be like me," Ochako said coolly. "Are you cursed? Or were you the one who cursed them?" She knew it was a low blow, but if it could get her answers, then so be it.

Katsuki lifted his head, jaw clenched. His glare intensified, and his nostrils flared. Suddenly, his arm swung down, slamming the table with a large fist. The plates and silverware clattered, and the candelabras before them teetered. Ochako inhaled sharply at his display of aggression, but she remained steadfast.

"How dare you," he seethed. His voice had gone even lower, even more harsh as he struggled to contain his ragged breaths. Something underlined his words, something other than anger—pain. "How dare you insinuate that I would do something like this."

She swallowed, and a light shook at her. It took her a moment to remember that Shouto had not left with Eijirou. Instead, he stood between the two as he shook his head at her, as if to say please stop. She'd pushed the beast too far with her last question.

"Why am I here?" she asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the curse. "Why did the carriage bring Izuku back, toss him in the snow, and grab me? Why did it bring me to the castle?"

At that, Katsuki snorted, darting his gaze to the fire. "Izuku—was that his name? That green-haired thief and liar who took advantage of my hospitality?"

Her blood boiled, and she snapped, "Izuku is neither a thief nor a liar! He's an honest, hard-working man, twice the amount you'll ever be."

"Then why did I catch him stealing from my castle?" he sneered. "Why did he not leave empty handed the way honest, hard-working men do?"

"What did he steal?" she demanded. Her dress crumpled in her hands as they balled into fists. "Tell me."

"Does it matter? A thief is a thief as long as what he takes does not belong to him," Katsuki said.

"Izuku would never," she protested. "He would never..." A slight memory pushed itself into her head, and she remembered that as she had been grab, a flower had been thrown out. "A flower. He took a flower," she said incredulously. "So you punished him for taking a flower? Are you out of your mind?" Gradually, her voice increased into an enraged albeit baffled shriek.

"He took what was mine!" the beast roared, and its force was enough to flicked the candlelight.

Even though it should have scared her, the whole probability of all this happening because of a flower incensed her. "And that warrants punishment?" she screeched. The chair scraped as she slammed her palms down to push herself onto her feet. "Your carriage whisked me away from town in the middle of the night because of a flower? Was your intention to punish the both of us for taking a flower? Are you utterly insane?"

"Don't question me!" he bellowed, and the chair fell back as he stood, the motion abrupt. His eyes, ruby red, blazed in fire.

Everything—her situation, her instinct—screamed at her to just stop, to stop herself before saying something that she would later regret. But the fury that coursed through her veins egged her on; its heat could have set the entire castle on fire. "So you have me trapped here? An unwilling prisoner as punishment?! You absolute madman!"

With a roar, he slammed both hands on the table, and the wood splintered at the edges. At once, it snapped into two, and their plates, wine, and silverware clattered to the ground, filling the air with shattering porcelain. Shouto scrambled off, sliding off the edges before he could face the collision.

The beast heaved a breath, chest rising and falling even under the oversized shirt. He pointed at her and growled. "You aren't even supposed to be here!" he shouted. "I don't want you here! So just leave! Leave and never set foot in this castle again!" With that, he growled violently before dropping onto all fours and bounding out of the room.

"I would leave if I could," she shrieked at his retreating figure. A stifling silence fell upon the room, pierced only by her ragged breaths and the crackling of the fire. Shouto hopped toward the door but paused. He turned to her, and his small expression read loss, which looked unusual on his brass face. Without a word, he hopped out of the door, following Katsuki's exit.

Just as he left, Eijirou wobbled back in, a fork cradled in both hands. He took one look at the damage and her shaking figure, turned back around, and disappeared. She let out a shaky breath and sank back onto the chair, which gently nudged her into a better position. With her head cradled in her hands, she let out a frustrated scream.

--

She laid in bed, tossing and turning with the sheets tangled between her legs. Thoughts of her conversation with the beast left wrinkles in her sheets as she grabbed fistfuls in her bursts of anger.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" she cried, muffling her words against her pillow. Katsuki was many things, Mina had said, and yet all Ochako could think of were things like brash, rude, cruel, short-tempered, coarse, crude, uncivil—every terrible word she could think of applied to him. The only description Mina left, kind, made no sense to Ochako, who disliked the beast with every fiber of her being.

Dinner left her with vague answers. All she'd gotten from it were three things.

First, the beast's name was Bakugou Katsuki.

Second, he was adamant that he hadn't cast the spell on the castle's inhabitants or on himself.

Third, he didn't want her here.

Therein laid the foundation for even more questions. For if the beast wasn't the one who wielded magic, then who? Who had cast such a terrible spell against such delightful people, excluding the beast, and why?

If he didn't want her here, then why was she here? Why had she been traded with Izuku, dragged from her home against her will? Was this a part of the curse or was this some sick game she'd been forced into?

Either way, plagued with such questions left her wide awake, staring at the shadows cast by the moon. The mystery only seemed to deepen the more she delved into it, and her frustration heightened.

With a stubborn frown, she shut her eyes, casting her thoughts far from her, and hoped for another dream with her father.

--

"Be careful," she warned, setting the bowl of soup in front of her father. He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the soup. She eyed the steam that rose from the creamy liquid, dotted with chopped vegetables and potatoes. With two quick puffs of air, her father deemed it safe to eat and popped the spoon in his mouth.

Immediately, he tore it from his mouth, panting. "Hot. Dear, this is hot," he rasped. His words held a lisp from sticking his tongue out, and she shook her head, the corner of her lip quirking into half a smile.

"I told you to be careful," she chuckled and settled her bowl onto the table. He fanned at his mouth and somehow managed a pout, even with his tongue sticking from his mouth. Ever so ridiculous, she snorted at her father before grabbing him a cup of water.

He downed it with one swoop, and a stray drop escaped the corner of his mouth and disappeared into his beard.

"You warned me," he huffed. "Now, I get to reap my consequences." She shook her head, resisting the urge to dig in like her father. In that sense, she was more like her mother. Patience had been more of her virtue, even if it could be found in both of her parents.

"Papa," she started and sat back, feeling the wooden frame dig into her back. "Can I ask you something?"

He motioned at her to continue, glaring ruefully at the soup as if it were the reason for his burned tongue and not his actions. She lifted the log in her lap and set it on the table, somewhat surprised at its sudden appearance.

He let out an unsurprised hum and cleared his throat. "Does this have to do with sealing and breaking?"

She nodded, knitting her brows. "I don't understand how you broke it."

Picking it up, he observed all sides of it, then twisted it. It split down the middle, and he held out both halves. "Like that?"

 She pointed at him, gesticulating at the halves. "Exactly! Like that!"

He thinned his lips before sticking the two pieces back into one whole. "Sometimes, there is no how," he began. "Sometimes, it just happens. You just—"

"—you have to have patience," she said. "You've told me before."

At that, he held up a finger, eyes sparkling with an untold secret. "Ah, what if I told you that none of those things matter, aside from patience?"

Confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Patience is virtue, dear. Now, let me ask you this: what will you do after you've unsealed the wood?" He demonstrated again, breaking it into two then re-sealing them.

"I—I don't know," she admitted.

He sighed fondly and set it back onto the center of the table. "What you do with it is a matter of your choice. Do you choose to throw it into the fire, or do you choose never to use it again?"

At a loss, she opened her mouth, only to close it when she couldn't utter an answer. He picked up his spoon and dipped it back into the soup. This time, he blew at it, taking care to properly cool it before taking a sip.

"What if it doesn't burn? The log, I mean."

"You'll figure out what to do after you've given it a chance," he answered gently.

With a wave of his hand, he gestured at her spoon and exclaimed, "Eat up, dear. If you wait too long, it's going to get too cold."

She smiled at him, exhaling a quiet laugh at his antics. Before she could dip it into her soup, the room shook, ground trembling beneath her feet. Frantic, she grabbed at her father's hand, eyes wide with fear. The cabinets rattled, and the sunlight that streamed from the window intensified.

"Papa, what's going on?" she yelped, just as a crash sounded. A shattered plate scattered over the ground, and soon, others followed.

He stroked his beard, as calm as ever, then looked over at her, a weariness in his expression. "My dear, this is where you choose whether to throw it into the fire or to never use it again."

--

She gasped, sitting straight. Her flimsy gown plastered to her back, slick with sweat. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, and she placed a hand over her racing heart, hoping to still it with a gentle touch.

Something in the castle had shifted. The air had changed, no longer as stifling, and she breathed in a lungful. The feeling of cool, crisp air rushed through her body, and she slid out of bed. Her footsteps remained silent as she pulled off her gown, replacing it with the simple blue gown. Her apron, courtesy of Itsuka, sat neatly folded atop the vanity, and she pulled it on, tying it to her back.

Maybe...just maybe, her dream had meant something.

With hard yanks, she pulled on her boots and glanced outside. The trees that decorated the nighttime horizon were covered with a light layer of white, and the idea of trudging through ice brought a grimace to her face. She plucked open the wardrobe and rummaged through until she found an appropriate cloak.

Heavy and woolen, it would protect her from the cold. It swung over her shoulders easily, and she fastened it shut. Finally, she threw it over her head, obscuring her face.

With a nod of finality, she gazed around her room once more, taking in the large bed, the vanity, and her nightgown. A breath escaped her, and she shuddered.

Don't think too much. Just check.

The door creaked as she pulled it open, and she took care to shut it with the least amount of noise possible. She had no idea whether the objects slept or not, but she hadn't seen Itsuka, Mina, Eijirou, Rikidou, or Shouto eat anything. There was a chance that they didn't require sleep as well.

She crept down the hall, making sure to stay on the rug, as it muffled her footfalls. The paintings that lined the walls seemed so much more ominous at night, and it felt as if they were watching her escape. The darkness only amplified her fear, and she half-expected one of the suits of armor to leap out at her and thwart her attempt.

Luckily, nothing stopped her until she stood at the front entrance, gazing up and down the familiar structure. She turned around, eyeing the castle, and thought back to the new friends she'd made.

I'm sorry, Mina. I'm sorry, Itsuka. I'm sorry, Rikidou. I'm sorry, Eijirou. I'm sorry Shouto. I'm so, so sorry.

It felt as she were abandoning them all to this curse, and regret churned in her gut. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to face the door and placed a hand on the handle. She wrapped her fingers around it and felt it rattle within her palm.

She yanked at it, and the door swung open, blasting her with a gale of cold air. Baffled, she blinked against the unexpected intrusion. As things settled, she peeked outside to find snow drifting languidly through the air and a pile of white against her boots. A breath full of cold air rushed down her lungs as she breathed in the frigid smell of freedom.

Do you choose to throw it into the fire, or do you choose never to use it again?

"I choose to throw it in the fire," she muttered. Turning, she gave the castle one last look, tracing its arches and magnificent structure, before pivoting on her heel and shutting the door behind her.

--

The sky remained clear, no traces of clouds, and the moon hung clear in the sky. Its crescent grin laughed at her plight as she trudged through the snow, mocking her misfortune. No matter how far she walked in either direction, everything remained the same.

Trees loomed overhead, arching toward the sky with empty branches that held handfuls of snow, and some of them slung icicles over their arms. Water droplets sat half formed at their tips, in the midst of falling before succumbing to winter's frozen touch.

Ochako shivered, pulling the cloak tighter around her body, and she winced as a light breeze attempted to push back her hood. Her cheeks had gone numb, right after her nose and ears lost feeling, and she brought her hands to her face, pushing the palms of her hands against her frigid skin. Even her fingers were close to submitting to the glacial air; they shook and trembled in the open, and she tucked them under her arms in an effort to regain some feeling.

She'd been walking for some time already. It could have been half an hour, it could have been three hours. In the dark forest, time passed oddly, especially veiled in the haze of night. After the castle's gates had disappeared behind her, giving way to more trees and shrubs, she'd lost her way.

Her strategy had been to go straight, for going in one direction would surely lead her to the other edge of the woods, or even better, to a path for her to follow. Just one path would be enough to lead her home—it didn't matter, as long as she reached some form of civilization before she froze to death.

And even if she didn't perish in the night, she would surely die from the lack of water and food. The regret that'd churned in her stomach had turned bitter the moment she realized she'd hurtled her way into freedom without any thought or preparation. The most she'd done was throw a cloak around her, yet that would do little to stave off any problems other than temperature.

Rubbing her hands together, she conjured up the image of a warm bed next to a crackling hearth and felt a psychosomatic shiver run down her spine. If she were back home, she'd either snuggle deeper into bed or read late into the night, flipping through her new apothecary book Tenya had given her.

In the morning, she'd go on her walk, utter a slight conversation with the river, where no one could eavesdrop, before heading back to the bakery to help Izuku and Tsuyu prepare for opening. The small building would be warm from their use of the ovens, and the smell of freshly baked bread would waft through the front.

The thought of town, the bakery, and her friends were the only things that kept her advancing through the cold. If she could only find some sort of path or trail—crushed plants or broken twigs. Her greatest challenger was the snow, as it hid every and all traces of travel. Any prints left by horses or carriages would be blanketed immediately. Even her own footprints were beginning to disappear. She turned and could barely make out her path from the castle.

For a moment, she entertained the notion of heading back. Of staying somewhere safe until the sun peeked over the horizon, where she could then ask any of the objects for guidance to the nearest town or village. The problem, she scowled, would be dealing with the ill-tempered, foul-mouthed beast.

At this point, everything around her looked the same no matter the direction. A grey puff billowed from her lips as she sighed, and she tugged the cloak tighter against her body. There was nothing she could do but march forward and hope for the best.

--

Weariness laced her body, and she could feel the last of her strength leaving her. Time held no constraints in the dark, but it'd been long enough that the feeling in some parts of her body had gone numb.

First, the chill had taken her nose and her ears. Then, it'd claimed her fingers and toes. Now, its violent kiss left her lips raw and cracked.

Her body shuddered uncontrollably, and she stumbled as she took the next step. The edges of her vision darkened, and her small flame of willpower began to splutter, dwindling with each passing second. Weakly, she attempted to push herself up, inwardly crying for her body to respond, to continue fighting for survival.

If she froze in the wild, no one would know. No one would be able to find her body until spring, and that was under the assumption she wouldn't be consumed by wolves or anything else that lurked in the forest.

The castle and its inhabitants, including the beast, would assume that she'd made it back to the town. The town would assume her to be dead, notwithstanding Izuku and Tsuyu. Her closest friends would continue to search for her despite the horrible conditions for travel, and Izuku—

Izuku wouldn't stop searching until he found her. His desperation and perseverance knew no bounds, and it hurt her chest to know that he'd go through ice and fire, through thick and thin to ensure her safety. How did she know this? Because she would do the same in his place.

A shaky whine tumbled from her lips, melancholy and broken. Her eyelids grew heavier, not just weighted down by the ice on her lashes, but from the exhaustion that spread from her chest. The snow pillowed her head and body, and the cloak did its job against a particularly nasty gale.

She blinked to find a light layer of white sitting along her arm, settling on the back of her hand, and she knew. She knew death was welcoming her into its arms, pulling her spirit into its frozen embrace.

At last, the flame that lit her will to live flickered into nothing, leaving nothing but a thin trail of smoke. She lost the battle against the darkness and slipped into its gentle lull.

--

Nothing.

She was suspended in nothing.

Was this death? The inability to see. To hear. To smell. To feel. To do...anything.

"Ochako."

A voice called from afar, and her feet landed on solid ground. Grass weaved through her toes, and suddenly, the world bloomed into color. The darkness washed away as color bled into its skin, and she glanced down at her hands as she flexed her fingers. Below that, she could make out the white apron tied around her waist, and one of her pockets held the apothecary book Tenya had given her.

The other held something wrapped in cloth, and she pulled it out to find one of her favorite pastries sitting in the palm of her hand, its strawberry redder and brighter than any fruit she'd ever seen. Her mouth watered, and she took a bite, humming happily at the taste of fresh cream that spread around her mouth.

"Ochako." She glanced up to find her father standing before her, head cocked. A small smile played on his lips, and he slowly walked toward her. Behind him, her mother waved, kind eyes warm and inviting.

"Papa. Mama," she breathed, and the pastry tumbled from her hands. She ran toward them, throwing her arms around them both. The impact knocked all three of them over, and she broke into an incredulous, unfettered laugh. Warmth swelled in her chest, and it spread throughout her body, inflating the happiness that welled in her eyes. "I've missed you both so much."

"Oh, Ochako," her mother's familiar voice brought a second wave of fresh tears, and Ochako buried her face into her mother's shoulder. A rough hand tousled her hair, and she knew it belonged to her father. Almost unwillingly, she pulled back, wiping her face against her sleeve. "We've missed you as well."

Ochako huffed a laugh. All of her emotions lodged in her throat like a stone, and she could barely utter a word. Her mother reached up and stroked the back of her hand down Ochako's cheeks, and she closed her eyes at the familiar gesture. She reached up, grabbing her hand, and gazed at her.

"Can we go home?" she sniffed. "I want to go home."

At that, her parents' expressions turned somber, and she didn't like the downturn of their eyes. Her father reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, pursing his lips in regret.

"I'm afraid not," he said softly. "Not yet, at least."

His rejection stung, and she let go of her mother's hand, allowing her own to drop to her side. Disbelief replaced her joy, and she took a step forward. "Why?" she asked, then her voice raised. "Why not? What do you mean by 'not yet'?"

"There's another path for you, dear." Her mother gestured behind her, and Ochako turned to find a growing light emit from deep within the forest. It hummed, and bright tendrils slipped between the trees, threading toward them. The image should have terrified her, but its warmth called to her. They lightly wrapped around her wrists, twining up her arms and down her body.

"I don't understand," she said, furrowing her brows. "What is this?"

Her father's gaze followed the light, and he took a step back, taking her mother's hand into his own. "It's where you're meant to go," he said.

She shook her head. That wasn't what it meant—it couldn't be. Her place belonged with them. "But I want to go home," she protested. "I want to go with you!"

Her mother glanced at her father, and as she nodded, he let go of her hand. She stepped toward Ochako and placed her palm over her heart. Gazing deep into her eyes, she spoke.

"Your heart belongs elsewhere, not here. It belongs with those who still love you, those who can love you," she said softly. "Tsuyu, Kyouka, Tooru, Izuku, and so many more."

Deep down, Ochako knew she was right, but her heart couldn't handle losing her parents a second time. "I don't want to leave you," she admitted quietly. Her mother's hand traveled up until it palmed against her cheek.

"I know, dear, I know, but you know—you've always known—that we're always with you," her mother said. With that, she pressed her lips against Ochako's forehead. "We'll always be guiding you, whether it be from your memories or in your dreams, we're always watching over you."

"Go," her father said, a quirk to his lips. He nodded toward the light behind her. "You shouldn't spend all of your time here. Go back, fulfill your dreams. Be happy, and remember—"

"—be brave, be kind, be yourself," they said simultaneously.

"That's my girl." He beamed. "Now, go."

She turned on her heel but glanced over her shoulder, heart constricting as she etched their faces into her mind. They waved at her, and her father put his arm around her mother's shoulder. Her mother blew her a kiss, and Ochako returned it with one of her own, pressing the tips of her fingers against her mouth.

With that, she took a deep breath, and the tendrils of light grew until it set around her shoulders, shadowing her like a cloak. Wiping her wet cheeks dry, she stood straight, chin high, and entered the light.

--

"You idiot," a familiar gravelly voice growled. Something tickled as it brushed against the side of her face. The intrusion yanked her from the depths of darkness, and she gradually heard a crackle of fire from somewhere nearby. A whisper of rustling clothes shuffled by her ear, and she could sense someone settle beside her head.

Something heavy weighed on her body, pressing her into the ground, and her fingers brushed against something soft and warm. A groan fell from her lips, and she stirred, slowly rousing from unconsciousness and head lolling to the side. Her eyes cracked open into a half-lidded stare, her vision blurred with an orange haze, and heat washed against her face.

Gradually, her vision adjusted, and she found herself staring into a fireplace. The weight of her body grew as she turned onto her side, hoping to roll closer to the inviting heat. The effort it took was massive, but she managed it, chest heaving with exertion.

"Any further, and you're going to burn yourself."

So what if she burned? At least she'd be able to feel her limbs again. Ignoring the voice, she snuggled closer until a rough hand grabbed at her shoulders and gently pulled her back flat, and she found herself staring into a animalistic face.

Even if she'd dined with the beast before, she'd never seen him at such a close proximity. Her hunch had been right; his face resembled an odd combination of a lion and a man. His features resembled that of an animal, yet his eyes and his expression spoke of human emotion and intelligence. At the moment, she could tell from the curl of his mouth that he was brimming from annoyance.

Swallowing heavily, she attempted to push herself up but collapsed under the weight of her body when her arms gave way. Katsuki pushed her down with an uncharacteristic gentleness that baffled her. Was this really the same person who'd destroyed the table they'd dined at?

"Why—did you carry me back?" she asked. If possible the annoyance on his face deepened, and he sat back, resting against the armchair that stood in front of the fire.

"Only an idiot would run in the dead of night during winter," he spat. "Did you want to die?"

"Of course not," she snapped back. The irritation that swept through her seemed the melt the remaining traces of ice from her veins, and with labored breaths, she pushed herself into sitting position. He growled, and she held up a hand to stop him, the other clutching her ribs. "You wanted me to leave! You didn't want me here—I didn't want to be here!"

The fury in his gaze intensified, and his hackles rose. "That doesn't mean you leave in the middle of the night and freeze half to death!" he bellowed, nostrils flaring.

Equally as fired up she retorted, "Maybe if you hadn't been such a rude prick—"

"—rude prick?! Maybe if you hadn't accused me of witchcraft—"

"—witchcraft?! I never accused you of anything! You're the one who accused Izuku of theft—"

"—theft that he committed! He took what was MINE and tried to leave—"

"—how dare you! Izuku would never! And if we're talking about leaving, you're the one who told me to leave! You told me to leave and never set foot in the castle again—"

"—your stubbornness almost killed you—"

"—my stubbornness? Your infuriating attitude—"

"Excuse me?" A voice sliced through their conversation, and they turned to see a cart roll into the room. Ochako felt her spirits sink as Shouto stood at the helm of the cart. Eijirou sat on one of the lower levels, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

Guilt-ridden at leaving, Ochako pulled back, not realizing she'd been leaning closer to the beast as they'd yelled at each other. She rubbed her arm and lowered her head, using the curtain of her hair to shield her face. She couldn't face the objects, not after they'd been so kind to her in the first place; she'd just upped and left them—abandoned them without a goodbye for her own selfish whims.

Katsuki grunted and stood. "Mina," he instructed, tone lowering into a softer pitch, and Ochako flinched. A slight clatter echoed out of sight, but when he turned, he cradled a cup of tea in his hands, dwarfed by the enormous size of his palms. Without a word, he offered it to her. She stared up at him, then slowly took it from him, feeling his fur brush against her hands. It was softer than it looked, warmer than she'd anticipated, and she gripped the saucer with both hands.

"Drink," he ordered. "Then rest. Leave at your own will—I won't go after you a second time." He stared down at her small form, the rest of his body hidden under his cloak. As he turned to leave, Shouto stopped him, leaping over the cart to stand in his way.

Though Katsuki could have easily stepped over him, he remained where he stood, glaring down at the candelabra. "Out of my way," he snarled, but Shouto remained steadfast.

"Your wounds need to be tended to," the candelabra deadpanned.

Wounds? Ochako lowered her cup onto her saucer, and her surprise caused porcelain to clatter against porcelain. The sound reverberated up her arm and throughout the room. Both beast and candelabra turned to her, questioning.  

Did he get injured at her expense? Had he somehow hurt himself trying to save her from the cold? The thought bewildered her, and she set the saucer and teacup onto the ground, careful not to tip it over as she struggled to stand.

"I thought you were smart enough to know not to get up," he barked, but he reached out to grip at her forearms, steadying her. She glanced down, trailing her eyes up the scratches on his arms and the scarlet that stained his shirt.

"You're hurt," she breathed. At that, he snatched back his arms, hiding them under his cloak. "Wait, let me see." Her demand remained in the air between them, and she cocked a stubborn brow. The beast watched her carefully before relenting as an arm slowly protruded from the shadows of his cloak.

She reached over, gently taking his wrist into her hands, and twisted it so that she could observe his wounds. Thankfully, they weren't deep enough to warrant a needle or thread, but they held a risk of inflammation.

"I can clean it," she said, twisting her head. "I worked in a sick house in town. I can dress it properly, if you let me."

Before he could respond, Shouto spoke up, "What do you need?"

"I haven't agreed," Katsuki snapped. The candelabra regarded him coolly.

"Your health presides over your pride," Shouto said and turned back to Ochako, repeating, "So, what do you need?"

--

"THAT HURTS!" Katsuki howled, and she grabbed onto his arm with both hands, soaking the alcohol into her skirt. His muscle tightened, and his hand clenched into a large fist in her lap.

"Hold still!" she shouted, taking care to grab onto the flask before it could spill onto the ground.

He snarled at her, baring his teeth threateningly. "I'll hold still when you stop burning me!" he roared. She wrestled his arm with her body, knowing one flick from him could potentially knock her unconscious.

"It's supposed to burn!" she cried. "That's how you clean a wound. This is the worst part of it all, I promise!" He heaved ragged breaths, chest rising and falling as he glared at her. His jaw clenched, mane trembling as he looked away.

She held up the flask, watching him carefully.

"Just do it," he rasped, and she shook her head before pouring more onto his wounds. He hissed, and his teeth gnashed together in an audible snap. His arm quivered under her touch, and she placed a hand over his wrist in an effort to calm him. At last, satisfied that his arm has been properly cleaned, she set the flask to the side and waited for him to look up.

Dipping a finger into the steaming water, she determined that it was warm enough to clean the rest of his wounds up. She released his arm, and he hissed a final breath before turning back to her, eyeing her movements carefully. With a sigh, she rinsed a rag, allowing it to soak up water before wringing it over the bucket.

"This may sting too," she warned and dabbed it onto his wounds, careful not to press too hard and further irritate his skin. He inhaled sharply, but it must not have burned as badly as the alcohol because the tension in his arm lessened. She continued to clean him, ignoring the way the water tinged with crimson as she rinsed the rag out.

Finally, after drying him off, she wrapped his arm tightly, careful to cover the range of his wounds. His fur made it a little more difficult to see his flesh, but with patience, she was able to dress it properly. With a light pat, she released him, and he pulled back, sniffing at his bandages.

"How did you get these?" she inquired, cocking her head. "And don't say that it came from saving me—I already know that."

The corner of his mouth quirked, and he snorted, amused. "Wolves," he finally said, then looked away. "They were sniffing at your body when I found you. Had to fight them off before—you know."

Her eyes widened, and her head bowed as her gaze fell into her lap. Not only had she practically abandoned her new friends, but she'd also caused the beast physical harm to his arm and whatever else he hid from her.

"Where else?" she asked quietly. He raised a brow at her and cradled his arm to his chest. Through the flap of his cloak, she noticed more stains, some crimson, some brown. Gingerly, she sat forward and pushed it aside, and he jerked from her, hiding his side from her.

She caught a flash of torn fabric and inhaled sharply. "Take off your shirt and cloak," she ordered, and he glared at her, petulance sitting on his brow. "I'm cleaning and dressing your wounds, so stop hiding them from me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Could have fooled me," he muttered, eying the flask of alcohol. Then, almost begrudgingly, he did as he was told, wincing as his clothes brushed against his side wound. She pursed her mouth, leaning forward for a better look, and pushed his arm out of the way.

Three long cuts slashed down his ribs, and she made a face, sitting back.

"This will hurt," she warned, and he released a defeated snort, glaring at the flask.

"Let's get it over with."

--

She helped wrap the cloak around his shoulders, his tattered shirt hanging off of her arm. It sat heavily, bogged down by the weight of melted snow and water from her cleaning. He watched her as she stepped back, and she eyed the cloth wrapped around his wide chest.

"It should hurt less tomorrow," she said, "but I'll have to change it daily to keep them from festering into inflammation."

He rose a thick brow and cocked his head, mane shaking with movement. "You're free to leave whenever you feel like it," he said, confused by her words. "I'm not binding you to the castle. You're free to leave as you please."

She shook her head. The least she could do was tend to his wounds before leaving for town, especially after all the trouble he'd gone through to save her from either freezing to death or becoming a meal for a pack of wolves. Plus, even back at the sick house, she always made sure her patients would be fully recovered before letting them go.

"It's the least I can do until you're better," she said, wiping her hands on her dirty apron. It'd been stained with blood, alcohol, and some dirt.

Katsuki lifted an arm, trailing down her intricate wrapping. "I can do it myself," he said stubbornly. "And if I can't, I have help."

She snorted. "Not to belittle anyone, but having a second pair of hands will help you immensely. I'd like to see you do things yourself."

The beast turned away, smoothing the bandage around his chest. "It's been that way for years," he muttered. "I can do this myself."

Her heart sank, and he glanced up at her silence before pointing at her with a flourish. "Don't pity me," he snarled. "I don't need your pity."

She remained silent, caught off-guard by his admission. Years, she thought. Years of  having to deal with a festering wound deep in his soul, permeated with anger and loneliness. Of rejection and loss. He'd spent years taking care of himself while providing for his inhabitants.

A scowl curled on his face as if she'd spoken her thoughts aloud. "I'm going to bed."

With that he stomped off, cloak whirling at his feet. She watched him leave, hugging his shirt to her stomach. Before he rounded the corner, he stopped, one hand situated on the frame. She waited for an explosion of anger or a petulant outburst.

Instead, he paused, and she waited. Then, he uttered a quiet, "Thank you," and slipped away.

--

By the time she entered her previous room, sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminated everything with a bright golden glow. With a tired sigh, she settled on the edge of the bed, resting her hand on the frame. Her other pulled at her apron, and she slung it behind her before falling back and feeling her body bounce at the motion.

Staring into the intricately painted ceiling, she thought back to the beast. She'd been too brash in her assumptions of him. Sure, he was still rude, ill-tempered, and belligerent, but he wasn't all-around awful like she thought he'd been.

Even though he bellowed, growled, and snarled, he'd never lifted a hand to her, and his anger had been justified after entering the forest to save her from the cold and the wolves. The closest he'd come to insulting her had been speaking ill of Izuku, which she still disliked immensely. But bandaging him had opened her eyes just a little.

She could see that he treated his servants with respect, knowing them by their names and speaking to them in lowered tones. In fact, in all the times she'd witnessed him interact with them, none had ever cowered from him. They'd treated him with utmost respect, other than Itsuka, who seemed a little more blunt with her words, but she'd never called him cruel. In fact, she'd agreed with Mina in that he wasn't a bad person.

That didn't mean he was good. Katsuki had his flaws, but perhaps her judgments had been made too quickly. His first impressions were terrible, but he'd thanked her and given her the choice to return home. From that, she could tell that he had some—a strong emphasis on 'some'—kindness within him.

A knock came from the door, and it slowly swung open. The familiar rattle of a cart entered, and Ochako shut her eyes, feeling guilt permeate her chest. Sooner or later, she'd have to face her choices. Sitting up, she watched Mina enter, steam pouring from her spout.

"Tea?" Mina offered quietly. Ochako nodded mutely, and the cart rolled closer. Mina hopped forward, tipping herself to pour a fragrant tea into the teacup. After she finished, she nudged it closer to Ochako, who took it with a quiet thanks.

"Mina," she started, setting the saucer and teacup on her lap. Her finger ran around the rim, feeling the steam moisten her skin. "I'm sorry."

The teapot gazed at her sadly, and Ochako felt her heart constrict. "I'm sorry for leaving without a word. That was wrong of me—you all treated me so kindly, yet I took it all for granted." She sniffed and bit her tongue; she was the last person that should have been crying.

For a moment, Mina didn't respond, and Ochako inwardly convinced herself that if Mina never wanted to talk to her again, then it was something she wholeheartedly deserved. She swallowed heavily, and her fingers shook, rattling the porcelain.

Then, Mina sighed. "It's all right," she said, and Ochako lifted her head in surprise to find the teapot smiling sadly. "It's understandable. We all knew how much you wanted to go home, but a goodbye would have been nice. And to leave in the middle of the night in the freezing cold—it's a good thing Eijirou saw you leave and alerted Master Bakugou before it was too late."

Ochako made a mental note to thank the clock after apologizing the next time she saw him. "Still, I'm sorry," she repeated, this time, barely audible. "I shouldn't have left without a proper goodbye."

Steam rose from Mina's spout. "The next time you go, just remember to say goodbye—properly." With that the teapot smiled, and she gestured at her cup. "Drink up, or it'll go cold."

--

This time around, dinner felt much more amicable. The unpleasant atmosphere that'd plagued her and the beast had been broken by their earlier interaction. That's not to say that it wasn't awkward, but she could eat her meal without feeling stifled or uncomfortable in Katsuki's presence.

For the most part, they ate in silence, save for Eijirou's quiet conversation with Shouto on Katsuki's side of the table. They spoke in hushed tones, glancing at the beast, their gaze traveling over his bandaged arm. Neither flinched as he glared at them before hiding it under his cloak.

She dipped a chunk of her bread into her soup before popping it into her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, her mind flashed to the bakery and her friends and wondered how she could let them know that she was safe and sound. With a quiet breath, she swirled her spoon around her bowl, and the porcelain clinked against the side.

"What?" The word startled her, and she dropped her spoon. It clattered against the bowl before sliding into the soup. With a quiet curse, she fished it out and gazed over at Katsuki, who watched her indifferently. Eijirou and Shouto's conversation, however, had fallen quiet as they watched the beginnings of their interaction.  

"Nothing," she answered on reflex and sheepishly wiped the handle of her spoon off. Katsuki grunted, returning to his meal. Shouto and Eijirou watched them carefully, and she hummed. "Actually," she started. "Could I write home?"

She pushed around a floating vegetable, keeping her gaze locked on her food. "It's just...I want to let Izuku know I'm all right so that he doesn't have to worry."

He scoffed, and her grip on the spoon tightened as she waited for some sort of insult or reference to Izuku as a thief. A retort sat on the tip of her tongue, ready to aim at him if needed.

Instead, he nodded as Eijirou leaned in to whisper something into his ear. When he lifted his head, his gaze caught hers. "I'll have my diplomat assist you tomorrow. She'll let you know how to send it off."

She sent him a grateful smile, at which he averted his eyes, and he lowered his head. Eijirou nodded at him in approval, and Shouto watched her carefully.

"Thank you," she said.

Katsuki grunted.

--

For the first time in a long time, she slept deeply and without a trace of her mother or father in her dreams. She laid in bed, her eyes trained to the ceiling illuminated by the rising sun, thinking back to her previous dreams.

Maybe they hadn't been dreams. Perhaps they'd been messages from her parents, encouraging her to stay strong. A week ago, she would've scoffed at the idea, insisting that it wasn't possible for those in the afterlife to communicate with those who lived their realm.

But in a cursed castle, full of magical objects and a beast that seemed to have leapt from all sorts of fairy tales, she couldn't dismiss the idea. She turned onto her side, facing the sun, and felt its rising rays warm her face.

It was a new day, and in a way, it felt like a new beginning.

--

"Your diplomat will assist me in writing the letter?" Ochako asked. Katsuki didn't bother to turn as he pulled himself up the steps, one hand wrapped around the rail. She noted that because of his injuries, he hadn't dropped onto all fours, choosing to remain on his hind legs. The action of falling must have hurt him because whenever he leaned down, a hiss left his mouth.

He made the final step and gestured for her to follow him. She had never been to this side of the castle, tucked away in the corners. It looked almost identical to the corridor her room was located in, except the paintings here depicted a mix of landscapes and portraits.

"She will," he confirmed gruffly. His sudden pause almost caused her to crash into his back, and his glare forced her to take a step back. She was tempted to stick her tongue out at him in petulance, but he was helping her with a favor, so she kept it in her mouth, biting down on her cheek instead.

"I can write," she offered. "I just need a quill and some parchment. I'm not illiterate." The last part was mumbled to herself. The beast pretended not to hear her and cleared his throat.

With three loud raps on the door, Katsuki waited, and Ochako watched in interest as his tail swished behind his legs. Funny, she hadn't realized he had a tail in the first place. It almost always remained hidden behind the cover of his cloak, but the sudden appearance of it intrigued her.

It suddenly stopped, and she suddenly met his fiery gaze. "What're you staring at?" he growled, and though it sounded menacing, she caught a hint of embarrassment lining his words. So she held up two hands in defense, shaking her head like a child caught with their hand in a pile of sweets.

Their attention broke as the door swung open and sunlight beamed into the hall. "Come in." The voice that invited them in was delicate yet regal. It held noble nuances, and Ochako wondered who could possibly hold so much command and regality. Her hands began to sweat, and she wiped them along the front of her dress, suddenly wondering when Itsuka would be back with her apron.

"Momo?" Katsuki asked, and he shifted so she could enter. Ochako blinked at the sudden onslaught of sunlight in her eyes, and they grew wide at the amount of books that lined the small study. A bed sat in the corner, next to a wide window with lovely red curtains pulled to the side. A small desk sat next to it, parchments stacked neatly to one side with books lined on its small shelf.

"I'm here, Master Bakugou." It came from the desk, but Ochako didn't see anyone in view. It was just her and Katsuki in the study.

"I have someone who needs a letter written," he said, his eyes trained to the desk. Ochako wondered whether the desk was alive like Itsuka and Mina, but it didn't move. She stepped closer to him and grabbed onto his cloak.

"I only need a quill, some ink, and parchment," she hissed quietly to him. He ignored her and continued to watch the desk. Suddenly, something clattered on the wood, and she turned from him to watch as a bottle of ink hopped onto the surface, a feathered quill swinging side to side with elegance.

"A quill and parchment at your service." Momo's feather tilted down in a bow, and Ochako felt her cheeks burn. The corner of Katsuki's mouth quirked as he smirked at her, and she fumed at his lack of information. With a slight bow of his head, he excused himself, and Momo returned the action. He swept from the study, leaving the two of them alone.

"Hello," Ochako said nervously. "I'm sorry about before; I didn't know what form you took." Her words trailed off awkwardly. Momo regarded her, then gestured at the chair under the desk. With a deep breath, she made her way forward and pulled it out before perching on it. Though she wasn't in Katsuki's presence, she still felt the need to sit tall and straight.

Momo's feather bent down to pull a clean sheet of parchment from the side. "It's no worries," she said. "I understand. Many of the castle's inhabitants have taken different forms. Who have you met?"

Ochako hummed. "I've met Mina, Itsuka, Eijirou, Shouto, Rikidou, and now, you." She watched as Momo prepared the parchment, using the base of the ink bottle to smooth it out. Observing closely, she noticed a small face on the opaque bottle.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Momo said, and she turned to her with a small smile, barely visible. "It's been a while since I've had to write a letter for someone. Most of my work had been drafting official documents for Master Bakugou. But since...well—" She gestured down at herself, smile becoming bitter. Momo didn't have to elaborate for Ochako to understand. "Now, I just read books and write in my spare time."

"Do you ever get lonely here?" Ochako asked softly, and Momo shook her feather.

"No, I have Mina and Itsuka visit every so often, as does Shouto and Eijirou. Others, like Rikidou, have a harder time coming up the steps to find me. Master Bakugou comes to see me occasionally as well," she answered. Her bottle on the side, Momo's quill dipped into the ink twice before detaching to hover over the parchment.

"Now," she began, "what would you like me to write?"

--

Dear Izuku,

I want you to know that I am well. I'm in no danger, despite the events of that fateful night. I'm not sure what you saw on your travels, but I assume you stopped at the castle. Izuku, it's enchanted—all of it. Somehow, everyone who lives there has been turned to objects, but have no fear. They're all so kind, and I am fond of their friendship.

As you can tell, this is not my penmanship; it's far too elegant to be my script. The castle's official diplomat, Momo, is aiding me in writing this letter. To prove to you that it is me and not a forgery, I will tell you something only the both of us know: that you have a birthmark between your shoulder blades in the shape of a horned owl.

I'm especially keen on Mina, the teapot, who brews me a warm cup of tea every morning and evening before bed. She's been so accommodating since my arrival. You and Tsuyu would love her. I just know it.  

Shouto is a candelabra, and though he may be taciturn, he is very knowledgeable. There's something about him I can't put my finger on, and he watches me like he knows something I don't. It's a little unsettling, but the others say that's just his disposition.

Eijirou, the clock, is so cheerful, and oftentimes, he reminds me of our friend, Denki. Their friendship would rival the sun with how brightly the two would shine. He's done much for me, and he played a part in saving my life.

Fret not! I will explain.

But first, Izuku, I have to ask. The master of the castle has accused you of thievery, though he will not specify what it is you've stolen. My memory conjures the image of a flower, but surely that can't be it? I've told him that you are incapable of theft, but he insists that you've taken something of his.

I don't believe it, but if it is as he says, then I can assume you've met him. I know his appearance leaves much to be desired, but underneath everything is a man worthy of a possible acquaintance.

One night, I stupidly ran from the castle, hoping to find a route back home. I did not consider the snow. I did not consider the wolves. My mind was set on reaching the town, and I nearly froze to death. Eijirou had seen me leave, and he had informed the master, who rescued me from death. In doing so, he injured himself, and now I am tending to his wounds until he heals. Once he is able-bodied, I will return home.

On the surface, he is a beast. Inwardly, I'm not sure. He's short-tempered, but I sense a hint of kindness within, as he's allowing me to write to you. He says I'm able to go home whenever I like, but I can't leave. Not yet, but I'll be back soon.

Until then, I miss you. I miss Tsuyu. I miss the bakery. I miss everyone, and I hope to see you soon.  

All of my love,

Ochako

--

"Are you sure the carriage will know where to take it?" Ochako asked for the fifth time. She dabbed at one of the wounds, taking care not to press too hard as Katsuki hissed. Whether it came from frustration or from the pain, she wasn't sure. At this point, it could be either.

"I told you already," he groaned, exasperated with her question. "Yes. It's an enchanted carriage. It'll know exactly where to go." She dunked the cloth in the warm water, then rinsed it out, careful not to make a face at the little bit of scarlet that twirled through the water.

"But will he get it?" she emphasized. The muscles on his arm twitched, and she knew the question was grating on his nerves. She couldn't help it: she wanted to know whether it'd fall into his hands or not. Izuku had been on the castle grounds before, so he would understand her letter, even if he hadn't met the talking objects. His encounter with the magical carriage would be enough to convince him that magic existed.

Anyone else though, excluding Tsuyu, would believe her to be a lunatic. A woman who'd gone mad in the woods. In the wrong hands, news could spread like wildfire, and she'd probably be exiled from the town.

"I don't know," he exclaimed, throwing his uninjured arm onto his lap. "I don't know whether he's going to get your letter or not! There, happy?"

Pouting, she took care to press a little harder against a smaller wound, and he growled. "No, not happy at all."

"You did that on purpose!" he accused, and she ignored his comment, moving to discard the cloth in the basin of water. Nodding at Itsuka, the coat rack picked it up and left the room to fetch more clean water. "That hurt," he continued, moving to scratch at his arm.

She stopped him, her own arm shooting out to block his effort. "Don't scratch at your injuries," she chided. "You'll only reopen them—again." With a grunt, he dropped his arm and watched her use a clean cloth to dry him off. "I told you not to exert yourself," she said, "and that's exactly what you did."

He bared his teeth at her, lips pulling back in a snarl. "I had to."

"What were you doing that was so important that you tore open one of your wounds?" she exclaimed shrilly and wrapped the fresh bandage tightly over his arm. He grunted, and she took a second to tame her temper before loosening it enough to allow his arm some breathing space.

He mumbled something incoherent, and she leaned in. "I was helping Rikidou move things in the kitchen," he relented. "He hates moving crates of fruits and vegetables because they always roll under his stove, and he's unable to bend down to grab at them."

Her movements slowed as she tied the bandage in place, berating herself for judging him too quickly and harshly once more. "Ah," she uttered. "Well, be more careful next time. Your cuts will never heal if they keep tearing open." With a brush of her hands, she sat back, just as Itsuka returned with a new basin of warm water.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at the coat rack. She bowed toward Ochako, then to Katsuki, who nodded at her, before leaving the pair alone. Turning back to Katsuki, she motioned at him to remove his shirt and cloak. He stood on his hind legs, towering over her as he slung the cloak over the armchair and pulled his shirt over his head.

When he settled, she didn't waste a minute as she leaned in close and ghosted a hand down his side. He inhaled a sharp intake of breath. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, frantically pulling away. She dipped a clean cloth into the water, taking care to soak it all the way before rinsing it out. Then, with careful precision, she undid the knot, and pulled the bandage from him.

Luckily, they hadn't re-opened like the one on his arm, but they were still more angry than she would have liked to see. With a frown, she dabbed it with the wet cloth, lifting his arm a little higher to gain access.

"What do you do during the day?" she asked, hoping to take his mind off of the pain. "I don't imagine you're able to go into town."

He snorted, a sound that rumbled down his chest. "As if," he answered. "They'd have my head on a pitchfork faster than you can say 'run'." Her face creased at the bloody image that came to mind, and she shook her head to rid of it. Tilting down, she began to clean at the skin around the wound, taking care not to press against the angry pink slashes.

"So what do you do?" she repeated, "Do you just help everyone out around the castle, like what you did with Rikidou today?"

He grunted, shifting to give her better access. "Essentially. We all help out around the castle in any way we can, but there's still enough in the castle to entertain ourselves."

"Such as?" she pressed on, and when he didn't respond, she pulled back to see him watching her with a raised brow. "What is it?"

His nostrils flared, and at first she thought she'd accidentally prodded a sensitive area, but the barest hint of his teeth and the curl of his mouth caused her to realize that he was amused. "What?" she asked again, a little more defensively.

"Are you bored in the castle?" he asked, and she squawked indignantly.

No.

Yes.

"No," she huffed stubbornly, returning to the cuts. With a push, she hefted his arm higher, and she took petty satisfaction at the hiss of pain that came after. "I'm just trying to make conversation."

In truth, staying put in her room all day was beginning to feel very dry. Even the conversations that the castle's inhabitants offered her couldn't quell the curiosity she held toward the rest of the unexplored castle. Her legs needed to stretch, and she considered exploring on her own, if not for the possibility of getting hopelessly lost in the massive towers.

"Then there's no need to show you the library or the music rooms." She could practically hear Katsuki's smirk in his words, and she took care to lightly swipe at one of the cuts. It turned into a low hiss, and she pulled back, dunking the pink cloth into the warm water. With a pout, she turned back to him, furrowing her brows in frustration.

"You're so insufferable," she commented and began to wrap the clean bandages around his chest. He huffed a laugh, and they fell into silence as she continued to pull the bandages around the wide expanse of his chest. He radiated warmth, so much so that the fire crackling behind them felt unnecessary.

When she finished, she sat back, nodding in satisfaction at the clean knot that sat over the wound. She rose from her spot, wiping her hands against a dry rag. He watched her every movement, and she couldn't help the self-consciousness that rose to her cheeks. Turning away, she slung everything onto the side of the basin.

"Well, that's it for tonight. We'll check on it again tomorrow," she said, words oddly stilted. His hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she turned to meet his intense gaze, which had softened into a quiet ember.

"Thank you for today," he said quietly. She blinked up at him, then waved both hands in front of her chest.

"It's just cleaning a wound—"

"That's not what I meant," he said and dropped his hand, leaving an empty spot on her shoulder. "Thank you for giving Momo something to do." Her mouth formed a small 'o' in surprise. The beast stepped back, scratching the back of his neck. "I have her write letters occasionally, but she knows I can never send them out, so to have you give her a purpose—thank you."

As he finished, he turned on the spot, rubbing the shoulder of his injured arm. He shuffled away from her and slung his cloak over one shoulder. She gaped at him, at the unexpected gratitude he'd given her. From the crease between his brows and the sincerity in his words, she could tell that he'd been worried for Momo for a while, maybe a little more than the others.

"Goodnight," he said, gruff, and began to leave. She stepped forward, watching his retreating figure.

"Wait," she cried, and he paused in his tracks and granted her a cursory glance over his shoulder. She lowered her hand to her side and glanced away. "Show me the library tomorrow?" she asked softly.

He chuckled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

--

"How big is it?" she asked, trailing behind Katsuki, his cloak sweeping the ground as he strode ahead.

"Just wait," he groaned, exasperated by her numerous questions. She frowned, pulling her lips thin. He'd kept mum since the morning, refusing to answer any of her questions about the library. In fact, partway through breakfast, he'd begun to ignore her questions, transitioning his focus to eating his bread and cheese.

No amount of cajoling on her part could sway his attention, and she learned that his stubbornness could rival her own. He continued to lead them down the large corridor, lit by open windows that streamed sunlight through their panes. Some of the lights tinted various shades of blue and red, as each other window depicted lovely paintings made from stained glass.

Pillars sat between each window, holding vases that housed various blooms. Their sweet scents drifted through the air, and Ochako sighed, suddenly wondering what flowers they held during spring and how much sweeter the aroma would be. She couldn't even begin to imagine the depths of their colors, the fragrance of their nectar.

"How big is this castle?" Her voice echoed as she tilted her head at the high ceilings that sat above her. It was a question for herself, quiet enough that Katsuki knew she wasn't addressing him, so he only glanced at her before turning back.

"We're almost there," he promised, and true to his word, he suddenly paused in front of a large set of double doors. He set the tips of his fingers on the handle, and they left trails within the dust. He turned to her, one corner of his mouth lifted in a grimace. "I haven't been in here for a while," he admitted. "But it used to be one of my favorite places to get away."

"Why did you stop going?" She kept her distance, remembering that Katsuki liked his space and privacy.

He shrugged in answer but turned away so that she couldn't see his face. "There were too many other things to do, too many people to help." Even without looking at him, she knew that was only half of the truth. He took a deep breath and pulled open the door. "Welcome."

Immediately, the hall flooded with even more light, and she blinked to adjust her vision. Then, she gasped. Katsuki stepped aside, allowing her to enter his sanctuary. Three large windows sat in the opposite wall, their curtains pulled aside to reveal glass that sat at waist level and rose high into the ceiling, offering the room vast amounts of natural light. They offered a clear view of the forest, rife with beauty and serenity. Snow sat at their ledges and long icicles hung like crystals from above.

Books and volumes lined the tall shelves that ran across the room, their rows punctuated by mini statues and other paperweights. A large circular rug sat over the wooden floorboards, and two armchairs sat in the space next to her, both angled toward a clean fireplace. With her heart thrumming in her chest, she turned to Katsuki, her eyes wide with wonder.

"It's incredible," she laughed, and like a child, she rushed to the windows, feeling the cool air brush against her skin as she set the heels of her palms against the sill. Her breath left a grey bloom across the pane, and she sighed, moving to one of the shelves. A familiar title caught her eye, and she leaned down. "You have a collection of fairy tales! This one is the same copy my father used to read to me as a child, just after dinner." With a gentle pull, it came loose, and a plume of dust flew into the air.

Waving a hand through the twirling dust motes, she stepped back, letting the volume sit on her forearm. The heavy weight comforted her, and she twisted it open carefully, flipping through the pages of intricate drawings and printed words. A shot of nostalgia tugged at her heartstrings, and she turned with a flourish to find Katsuki leaning against the doorframe, watching her carefully.

"Can I come here tonight? Just after dinner?" she asked, stepping toward him. He shrugged with a nod, and she felt her chest swell with excitement. Then, she noticed the discomfort on his face and moved toward him. "What's wrong?" Her brows knitted as she shut the book, pulling it to her chest.

He shrugged again, and she pierced his bubble, placing a hand on his bandaged arm, careful not to put any pressure on it. "What is it?" she tried, concerned. "Are you all right?"

He pulled away but didn't snap at her. Instead, he stepped to the side, toeing the invisible barrier between the hall and the library. "I haven't been here in so long." His voice remained quiet. "It brings back so many memories."

She felt a lump rise to her throat. "Good or bad?"

"Hm?"

"Good or bad memories?"

Katsuki scoffed, and his face filled with an indecipherable emotion. "A little of both, I guess, but that's none of your business." She could tell it was meant to be brusque, but the effect was diminished by the pained look in his eye. Careful not to drop the tome, she reached down to grab at his hand, ignoring the way his claws scratched lightly against her skin.

"Come," she said, and his eyes widened as she gently tugged him in, switching between her and their joined hands. "Whether they're good or bad memories, they're still your own. And you can always make more." Reluctant, he allowed himself to be pulled in, and they didn't stop until they stood in the center of the room.

Inhaling, she watched him take it in. Watched his expression morph into one that she recognized. The emotion that swam through his gaze as it swept through the room was one of reminiscence and wistfulness. She released his hand and stepped back, and his arm dropped to his side.

"There," she said softly enough that her voice didn't echo—her message meant only for the two of them. "You've come back."

--

"Could I come with you?" Katsuki cleared his throat, and Ochako glanced up from her roast after skewering a chunk of potato. Shouto and Eijirou glanced between them, interest heavy in their gazes.

She tilted her head, confused by his request. They'd been talking about Rikidou and his dedication for the art of cooking, and Katsuki had just finished speaking about the all the other dishes the chef could make before lapsing into a comfortable silence.

"Come with me?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "To the library."

There was a slight clatter from the middle of the table, and she found that Eijirou had stepped back, tripping over a glass of pepper, before falling onto his rear. His eyes were wide with disbelief, and he mumbled his apologies.

"Of—of course," she agreed, stunned by his request. "We can read by the fire."

--

Something about watching the snowfall at night fascinated her, especially with the way the flurries danced in gales. It was even more beautiful to see it rain from the large windows, almost as if watching a painting come to life.

She perched on the edge of the armchair, feet crossed as Katsuki stoked a fire. He grunted, shifting the wood so that the flame could burn brighter. When it roared to life, he stood, moving to settle on the other armchair.

Smiling at him, she noticed that he sat rigid and uncomfortable in his seat and raised a questioning brow. He caught her gaze before tearing it away, moving his hands away from the arms to settle in his lap.

"Is there a problem?" she asked. He huffed, shaking his head, and she finally noticed him picking at his claws.

Sudden realization occurred to her: he hadn't stopped coming to the library because there were too many things to do or too many people to help. He'd stopped because of his fear of ruining the books. With a quiet sigh, she stood and dropped herself onto the rug, splaying the book open in front of the fire. She slid her legs to the side, bracing her weight on one hand as she flipped to the first page.

"Would you like to read with me?" she offered. "It's hard to see far from the fire."

A moment of hesitation played on his brows before he slowly nodded. Then, he joined her, throwing his cape to the side. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he craned his head at the old, delicate paintings that decorated the pages. "Can you see?"

"Yes," he said gruffly, but she noted the way his head craned down to catch a glimpse of the page. There was no way they could read together, especially since she just knew they read at different speeds, so she picked it up and set it on her lap.

"—hey—"

"I'll read it out loud," she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's what my father used to do. Is that all right with you?" She glanced at him from beneath her lashes, and the tension in his shoulders left as he hunched over to get a better look at the book.

"It's fine," he grunted.

Stifling a smile, she placed her finger on the first word and began to read.

--

The music room sat on the second floor, not far from her room, and she noted that the handles weren't covered in dust. Katsuki cleared his throat, gripping the handle. He seemed to stand taller, more confident than he'd been before, and she eyed the bandage that peeked through his shirt. Her efforts must have been paying off, as he seemed to be in much less pain than the first night.

"Do you come here more often?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Much more often. Like Momo, the person who resides here can't leave this room," he said, clearing his throat. Her interest piqued as she wondered what form this person took. Surely, it had to be a musical instrument. Perhaps something delicate, like Kyouka's violin. The thought of her friend sent a pang through her chest, but she reminded herself that she'd sent Izuku the letter. Best case scenario: he'd possibly reassure the rest of the townspeople that she'd return soon.

She didn't even want to entertain the worst case scenario.

With a nod, Katsuki pulled open the door, and she noted that the room was much smaller than the library. Shelves sat on one end of the room, away from the sunlight, and she recognized some of the cases as violin cases. Kyouka had a similar one, though hers was much more beaten up.

The other end of the room held a trio of paintings depicting audiences and string quartets. The center one showed the back of a pianist, one of his hands hung in the air next to his head. The other rested on the keys, three of his fingers striking a chord. Even without seeing the pianist's face, the wild disarray of hair and his strong posture gave her a sense of heated passion.

As beautiful as the ornate room stood and the paintings hung, nothing could stop her from gravitating toward the grand piano that sat in the center of the room, its dark wood flashing in the light.

"Master Bakugou." A voice greeted, and she realized it came from the piano. It was a low and quiet voice, one that spoke of a taciturn being.

Katsuki nodded. "Fumikage," he greeted.

The piano coughed as Katsuki ushered her toward the keys. There, above the black and white keys sat a face. Dark eyes peered at her curiously, and she noticed that there wasn't a mouth for him to speak through.

"Could I trouble you?" Fumikage asked, eyes sliding to Katsuki. The beast nodded, and he moved to lift the lid, setting it on a prop. When he stepped back, a mellifluous sigh swept around the room, enveloping her with the slight tinkle of music. "That feels so much better."

The voice came from within the piano, no longer muffled and caged. Ochako moved to peer into the body, eyes roaming the golden strings that seemed to stretch on forever.

"It's been a while since I've had an audience," Fumikage croaked, and Katsuki nodded. "As much as I appreciate seeing some familiar faces, it's been a long time since I've seen an unfamiliar one." Katsuki gestured at Ochako to come to sit on the armchair while he stood next to her, arms crossed. "Do you play, miss?"

"I'm afraid not," she answered sheepishly. "I don't have the greatest affinity toward music."

"Neither does Master Bakugou," Fumikage chuckled, and Katsuki threw him a glare. "But that's all right." The keys suddenly shifted, and an elegant chord sang through the air. "If he did, then there'd be no need for a musician in the castle."

She leaned back as Fumikage continued to play softly. "Do you have a preference?" Fumikage asked, and Katsuki glanced down at her. "Any songs, any tunes? Master Bakugou enjoys a baroque style, but you may enjoy a more romantic tune."

"I'll listen to anything," she said, intertwining her fingers on her lap. "Baroque, romantic, whichever you believe I'll enjoy."

"Romantic it is." His eyes flashed with a muted delight just as the melody transitioned into something like a lullaby. Its lower keys remained quiet as the upper keys filled with moving notes, trills and accents. Enraptured, she watched the keys sink and lift with beautiful combinations.

It soothed her immensely as the melody and harmony twined around each other, floating through the air in a light accompaniment. She sighed, feeling at ease. The room seemed to contain the tune, wrapping it tight around her.

To her side, Katsuki remained standing, arms crossed tightly across his chest as he watched the keys as well. She reached up and tapped on his arm, and he tilted his head down at her. Patting the seat next to her, he shook his head, but she insisted with a nod. When he shook his head again, she shrugged, returning to face the music.

As soon as it ended, she burst into applause. "That was beautiful!" she exclaimed, and Fumikage huffed a laugh.

"I was afraid my skills wouldn't be as polished," he admitted, and she shook her head.

"It was flawless." She clasped her hands to her chest. "Beautiful."

"Then I'll play another for you?" he offered.

Nodding enthusiastically, she sat forward, settling her hands on her lap. "Please do!"

As Fumikage considered which piece to play, Ochako leaned toward Katsuki. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to sit? Anyone would get tired from standing too long."

"I'm not just anyone," he claimed, and she snorted in an unladylike manner.

The music resumed, and they all lapsed into another phase of silence.

--

"They're healing nicely," she said, peering at the scratches on the side of his chest. A yawn pressed against her mouth, and she exhaled it into her shoulder. "I'd give it another few days before they begin to scar."

"Tired?" Katsuki commented, and she shook her head, blinking to keep herself awake. "Weak," he scoffed. She ignored him, dabbing the cloth at his side. 

"I'm fine. Fumikage's music is so soothing, though it's a bit sad that he can't move around," she said. "As much as I enjoyed his music, I hope he didn't take offense when I fell asleep." The memory caused her cheeks to burn.

"You snored," he pointed out, and she gasped, pulling back to stare at him. The wet rag hung limp in her hands.

"Really? Please tell me I didn't," she breathed, and her humiliation deepened. His face, devoid of any expression, scanned her panicked look. Then, he turned away, snorting loudly. The realization that she'd been tricked caused her to growl in annoyance. "You scared me. I really thought I started to snore. That would've been humiliating."

"You didn't," he snickered, "but you wouldn't have been the first if you did." She scowled and returned to wiping the area around his wound. "His music has that effect on a lot of people."  

"I can see that," she muttered, pulling back to grab at the roll of fresh bandages. "Sit higher, please."

As she rummaged through the mess of things around her, he spoke, "You said you worked at the sick house?"

"I did," she answered, not looking up. Her face scrunched in confusion. Where did his sudden interest come from?

"What part of it interests you the most?" he asked. She thought back to her duties back in town and hummed at the psychosomatic feeling of cutting herbs from the sick house's small garden.

"Apothecary," she answered easily. "The sick house has a small garden where they plant certain herbs with medicinal qualities. I loved brewing teas for those who were sick, but in truth, I think I just enjoyed being outside. Flowers, plants—I love them all."

He remained silent as she began to roll the strips of cloth around his chest. She sighed as she thought back to the sick house—to Tooru and how she must have worried at her disappearance. For some unfathomable reason, her mind brought her back to that conversation about Neito, and she shuddered.

Even the beast would be a better option than marrying that psychopath. At least Katsuki treated her with more respect, even if he still poked fun at her and scoffed at her. His teasing sometimes amused her as much as it annoyed her. He helped the inhabitants of the castle in the best ways he could, which was more than she could say for the other man, who only flaunted his family's wealth.

She shook the thoughts out of her head, furrowing her brows at the realization that she'd just considered the beast as a prospective partner. Tying the knots together, she sat back and wiped off her hands with another yawn.

"Go to bed," he said gruffly, eyeing her with a raised brow. "You look like you're about to fall over."

"I will after I clean up," she said, picking up the dirty bandages, and he waved her off. To her surprise, he lifted them from her and began to clean.

"Go to bed. I can handle this," he ordered, and from his tone, she knew arguing against him would be a lost cause. Blinking at his darkened silhouette, she suppressed another yawn, which she knew he'd used against her.

"Thank you," she uttered. Turning, she began to make her way back to her room when Katsuki stopped her with a call.

"Wear your cloak tomorrow," he said, but by the time she turned back around, he'd already gone back to cleaning their space by the fire.

--

"Are we going out?" she asked excitedly. The woolen cloak sat heavily on her shoulders, weighing down her dress. Her footfalls echoed over wood as she kept pace behind the beast. He turned over his shoulder to glare at her.

"Shut up," he growled, but there was no bite to his words. "I want to show you something."

"So, a surprise?" she wondered out loud. He grunted, and she clapped her hands in delight. Though the prospect of leaving the castle thrilled her, she was still a little hesitant to do so after her near-encounter with death. The feeling, or lack thereof—in her fingers and toes, her ears and nose, her lips—was something she'd never forget. She was sure that the brush with her parents, though foggy and unclear in her memory, was where she'd toed the line between life and death. Completely convinced it was something stronger than just a dream or a hallucination.

She clutched the sides of her cloak, balling them into fists and shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind. So preoccupied, she barely noticed when Katsuki spoke.

"What? No more questions? I'm surprised you're able to keep your mouth shut for so long," he commented, and she hated the genuine element of surprise that accompanied the teasing in his tone.

She harrumphed, turning away and lifting her chin indignantly. She wasn't even going to dignify his comment with a response. Katsuki huffed noiselessly, and they continued down the hall. They stopped by the kitchens, where Rikidou offered them a loaf of freshly baked bread.

When he saw that they were dressed to go outside, he had them wait, disappearing into the large storage before emerging with a woven basket hanging from his side.

"For later," he said and wrapped the bread before setting it in the basket with cheeses and fresh fruit. He handed it off to Ochako, who slung it over her arm gratefully. They thanked him and continued past the kitchens until they reached a door.

"Close your eyes," he said gruffly, but he couldn't hide the note of excitement in his tone. She watched him carefully, wondering whether he would instead shove her into the snow as a joke. It seemed like something he'd do. He waited with a bated breath, watching her with those ruby red eyes, and she could see the impatience in the curl of his mouth.

Reluctant, she closed her eyes and hugged the basket handle to her chest, angling the opening to her chest to prevent the food from spilling out lest he actually push her into the snow.

"No peeking," he ordered, and she could feel the light breeze of his hands waving over her face as he made sure her eyes remained closed.

"I'm not. I'm not," she reassured him and started when she felt him grasp at her hand. Her fingertips brushed against his palms as he slid his hand into hers, wrapping his fingers around her own in a loose grasp. The action startled her, eliciting a small albeit sharp intake of breath.

The dull thud of her heartbeat against her eardrums accompanied the sound of the wooden door unlocking. And then frigid air blew across her face, darting past her body and tossing up her hair and skirt. She inhaled, feeling its crispness swirl in her chest. This time, the experience was vastly different from that fateful night, as she had a warm hand to guide her into the unknown.

"Careful," Katsuki mumbled. "Don't look just yet." She nodded, shivering lightly as he tugged her outside. Her boots crunched against snow, sank into its pillow-like substance. The cloak fluttered open with the wind, and she could feel the winter's breath on her arm, inciting gooseflesh to erupt over her skin. Her breath left her in a warm puff against her lips, and carefully, he led her further out. The sun glowed like fire beneath her eyelids, brilliant and warm.

"All right," he mumbled and dropped her hand. "You can look."

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked a few times before her hands flew to her mouth. Her vision bloomed with color, all of it muted in a blanket of crystalline, lily-white snow. He'd taken her to a garden, and even in winter's perilous conditions, the cold seemed to have granted mercy on all that blossomed from the ground.

She twisted on the spot, overwhelmed with its beauty and noticed a small stream that had frozen over. Nearby, various plants grew, including familiar herbs that she recognized: rosemary, lavender, jasmine—all sorts of beautiful plants that couldn't have survived through the season. Even the tomatoes that hung next to her were plump and round, ripe and ready for plucking.

Astonished, she lowered the hood of her cloak and stepped closer to the junipers that hung over them, their branches speckled with berries that poked from the snow. Hydrangea bushes lined the castle walls, their colorful arrays of pinks, blues and purples a splash of color against the grey stone. Ivy vines scaled up the walls with small, white flowers twisting in the breeze. Garden arches stood to the side, one after the other, their iron rods straight and tall as they carried grapes on their backs.

"I don't understand," she breathed. "How are they—how is this possible?" If the castle was cursed, then this would be its counter, a blessing in the form of nature. She twisted around, taking as much of the scenery in as possible. It seemed that every nook and cranny of the garden thrived with life.

He took hold of her elbow and steered her to the right, and they treaded along a snow-covered path. Blooms quivered around them, swaying through light breezes that carded through her hair, flicking her strands from her face. They'd practically made it to the front of the castle when he finally stopped, pulling her ahead to see that the he'd paused in front of a bushel of climbing roses.

Their scarlet petals bled into the snow, and Katsuki lifted a hand to brush the snow off of one of them. The bushel trembled, and a light layer of snow rained down on them. She felt her heart constrict at their beauty and remembered her morning treks. As her eyes roamed their scarlet and smaragdine accents, her gaze caught onto an empty stem.

The beast remained in place as he watched her move forward, leaning down to observe its gaping hole. Reaching over, her finger ghosted over its smooth stem. The brief memory of a flower being tossed from the carriage struck her mind, and suddenly, the flower in mind bloomed scarlet.

Izuku's promise echoed in her head: Then I'll bring you a rose. The most beautiful of them all, and you can give it to the river as thanks.

"This is what he took," she breathed and whirled to face the beast, whose disgruntled expression surprised her. "Isn't it?"

"They were my mother's favorite flowers," he said quietly. "She took care of these personally before she fell ill. Even then, she kept them alive." He reached forward and cupped one in his hand, and a thumb caressed the velvet petals. His eyes held a tinge of sadness, and she suddenly understood his rage.

"He took one because of me," she uttered, barely audible, but he heard her anyway and turned to face her. "Every morning, I would travel into the forest, not far from town. I'd speak my worries to a river, where I knew no one could hear me. And to thank it for its time, I would give it a rose."

"Why a rose?"

With a sigh, she tucked her hair behind her ear and stood back. It was a question Izuku had asked her before, as he and Tsuyu were the only ones who knew about her morning walks. "I don't know," she admitted. "It could be because of their beauty, their depth of color, but I've always loved roses more than any other flower. I assume he wanted to bring one back for me to thank the river for his safe journey." Averting her eyes, her face flamed. "It sounds stupid, I know."

At that, Katsuki shook his head, and ice slid off of his mane. "It's not stupid," he said and released the flower, letting it bounce back into place. "But I meant what I said that night you left—you weren't meant to be here." She winced at the harsh memory, at the heated exchange between them.

"I ordered the carriage to take him home and to come back alone," he growled. "I didn't want anyone to become trapped in this cursed castle."

"Then...why am I here?" she asked. They began to make their way back to the garden. "Why did it grab me and bring me here?"

He looked away, unable to meet her eyes as her question hung in the air. "I don't know," he answered.

Somehow, she knew he was lying.

--

Her days in the castle blurred into a week, and soon enough, two weeks had passed. During the day, her activities rotated between the objects. Sometimes, she would accompany Mina to pay a visit to Momo, where Ochako would ask her to write letters to Izuku. Whenever that happened, Momo's eyes would light up, and Ochako never tired of the way her elegant script looped and curved on parchment.

Sometimes, she would sit in the parlor with the teapot, where Mina would pour her a cup of fresh tea. They would talk for hours: Ochako would tell her stories about the bakery and town, and Mina would regale her with stories of the other objects. Once in a while, she would mention Katsuki, and Ochako couldn't believe some of the stories she told of him. At times, Itsuka would join them, and her blunt and scathing comments often had Ochako giggling into her tea.

Other times, she would walk around the castle with Eijirou as he pointed out certain rooms and spoke of their history. He spoke of nobles and their families, and she found that he loved to gossip as much as Mina, though he focused his tales on brave knights that went on quests to help the royal family.

Sometimes, Shouto would join them, and he would gently correct his friend, then tell Ochako a much less exaggerated story, which once prompted the clock pat the candelabra on the back with a complaining, "You're no fun!"

With Rikidou, she helped him pluck vegetables from the garden, towing them in with sweat gliding down her temple, and Katsuki would carry in the heavier items. As a reward, Rikidou would whip up a dessert in what seemed like no time, and she'd moan happily at the cake that melted in her mouth.

Her visits to Fumikage were often, and he enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his music. Once, without Katsuki nearby, he'd played a familiar tune, and she'd sung along—badly—until they both broke into laughter. There were times when she would sneak a book from the library and settle in the music room, where she read with music floating through the air.

Her nights consisted of staying by Katsuki's side, cleaning his wounds, which had begun to scar over nicely. They no longer hurt to the touch, and he was able to stand to his full height. She noticed that he walked on two legs more often that he had at the beginning, where he'd drop to all fours.

After her cleaning, they would enter the library, where she'd read to him until the fire burned out, and they retired to bed. She found that the more time she spent with him, the more she enjoyed his company. She liked to banter with him, and his snipping comments held a quick wit that kept her on her toes.

During colder nights, she liked to sit closer to him. The heat from his fur warmed her face and once, before she knew it, she'd laid her cheek on him. The first time she'd done it, he'd stiffened, then complained that he wasn't a pillow for her to use. Instead of shrugging her off like she'd expected,  he'd remained still, and she'd nearly fallen asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.

As her comfort grew, so did her frustration. No matter who she spoke to, who she tried to persuade, no one told her anything about the curse. To be fair, many of the objects didn't know much either, and they told her whatever they knew. The only two who seemed to know anything were Katsuki and Shouto, and they always clammed up whenever she tried to broach the subject.

Katsuki's wounds slowly healed, and her reason for staying had become her excuse to remain in the castle. She grew torn as each day passed. On one hand, she couldn't bear to leave her newfound friends. She enjoyed their company immensely, and no matter how difficult or impossible the situation was, she grew determined to break their curse.

On the other, her heart yearned to see her friends from town. She worried for Izuku, Tsuyu, and the bakery. Worried for Tooru, Mashirao, Hitoshi, and their sick house, along with their patients. She knew deep in her bones that winter swept illnesses through town, capturing townspeople in its merciless jaw. She wondered over Kyouka and Denki. Wondered how her disappearance had affected the town.

The only thing that soothed her worries were the letters she sent to Izuku. Though, there was a limit as to how many she could send before she truly yearned to see him again.

--

"I don't know if you know this," Eijirou said, and he leaned back on her vanity, placing his weight on the heels of his hands. She watched him kick his stubby legs back and forth as she brushed her hair. "But you're good for him."

Raising her brows, she exhaled sharply through her nose with a tight smile. Her brush caught on a knot, and she tugged at it with a grimace. "What do you mean?" she asked, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair should have been short enough not to tangle, yet she sat at her vanity, struggling with that very issue.

"I mean," Eijirou emphasized, "he's been a lot better with you around."

She gave up, setting the brush on the table, and used her fingers to untangle the knot, pulling away some of the flying strands. "I still don't understand," she said. Pain radiated through her scalp, and she huffed.

"Well, before you arrived, he used to just brood most of the time. Sure, he'd help around the castle and whatnot, but the weight of this curse sits heavy on his shoulders," Eijirou said. She lowered her hands to her lap, interest lost in the knot that disappeared into the mess of her hair.

"I thought he didn't cast the spell," she said, and Eijirou shook his head.

"He didn't, but I think, as master of the castle, he feels some sort of responsibility toward each and every one of us." Eijirou pursed his mouth in thought. "It's an open secret that he visits everyone whenever possible, either to share company or to make sure we're doing well."

"Is that so?" she whispered. The more she learned about the beast, the more complicated she found him to be. Oftentimes angry and aggressive, there were moments when he'd reveal his gentle side; their moments in the library were proof of it.

"He's also not as temperamental." Eijirou shrugged.

"He still is," she protested and thought to the days when his mood contained him to his room. She and Mina had once tried to coax him to come to dinner, only for him to roar at them to leave.

"He's always been temperamental as a child, but the curse made him angrier and lonelier than before—it's hard to break that habit," Eijirou pointed out. "And you can understand his frustration when you ran into the night without any food, any water, anything on your back. He's a beast, but he's not a monster."

She shank back, biting her lip at the memory. At how she'd nearly frozen to death from her own stubbornness and stupidity. "Right," she uttered weakly.

"You're both very stubborn," he chuckled.

"I know," she moaned, and the back of her neck burned.

"But I also haven't seen my closest friend enter the library since the curse was cast," he said delicately. "It used to be his favorite place to hide from everyone in the castle. He'd read until the sun set beyond the horizon. Actually, he taught me to read there, did you know?"

She shook her head, and as hard as tried, she could only imagine two faceless boys huddling around the book as one prodded at the page. The thought saddened her—she didn't even know what any of them looked like as people.

"He smiles more—laughs more," Eijirou added. "He's out and about more. You've brought some life back into him. I don't think any of us have seen him like that for a very long time. And it's not just him either. You've given Momo new purpose, Fumikage a new audience, and Rikidou a new mouth to feed. Everyone's just so much more livelier, so I wanted to say thank you."

With a sigh, Eijirou stood, dusting off his small, wooden hands, and his insides tinkered as he rose. He bowed to her and said, "I stand by my statement: you're good for him—for all of us, even if neither of you know it." Then he smiled lightly and bowed again. "Goodnight."

He hopped to the ground, and she watched him leave. Just as the doors clicked shut, she whispered, "Goodnight."

--

Another two weeks hastened by, and she found herself in the kitchen with Katsuki and Rikidou. The latter watched her carefully as she shuffled her feet back and forth, her hands clasped behind her back. Katsuki leaned on the counter, arms folded as his hips rested on the marble surface. She could feel his amusement from the way he watched her shift uncomfortably, and the back of her neck burned as a blush dusted her cheeks pink.

"You can use my kitchen," Rikidou finally said, and she heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Everything is in the storage, but mark my words." He leaned in and held a wooden spoon closer to her face like he was brandishing a knife. "If you leave a mess, I will ban you from sweets for the rest of your life."

Katsuki barked out a laugh, and they twisted to find him facing away, a hand curled at his mouth. Turning back, she nodded, feeling the spoon rub against her chin. "I won't," she promised. With a harrumph, Rikidou stepped back.

The moment he left the room, she heaved a sigh of relief, putting a hand to her chest to calm the hummingbird that fluttered within.

"I can't believe he threatened you with sweets," Katsuki guffawed, and she pouted. Brushing past him, she entered the storage and searched for the ingredients they needed for the pastry. There was an abundance of food, so it took her a few minutes to find everything she needed. By the time she reappeared in the kitchen, she found Katsuki setting bowls and spoons on the table. "What are you making?" he inquired.

She held up her armful of ingredients, and without speaking, he understood her request and helped her place the eggs on the counter. For the rest, she dumped them on the side and brushed the flour off of her hands. "I'm not the greatest baker," she started, "but I did convince Izuku to teach me how to make my favorite strawberry pastry."

Katsuki proved to be very apt in the kitchen, bustling easily as he heated the strawberries on the stove. She folded the dough, grunting lightly as she pushed and pulled at it. As they worked together, he listened as she recalled memories of the bakery.

"I'm actually never allowed in the kitchen except to help them with this specific pastry," she laughed. "Izuku and Tsuyu—well, everyone—knows how much I love sweets, so they've barred me from entering. The one morning Izuku allowed me to help, I ended up eating most of the berries, and to this day, he won't let me live it down."

Katsuki chuckled, a rough sound that rumbled from his chest. "Why am I not surprised?" he said and leaned on the counter, watching her work the dough. "I've never met anyone who liked sweets more than Mina."

"You don't like sweets?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Not really. I enjoyed Rikidou's spiced dishes, but I almost always skipped dessert. The only ones I liked were his spiced chocolates, but even then, he rarely made them because they weren't popular with the rest of my family," he said. "My father loved sweets though. My mother enjoyed them in moderation."

She smiled and pulled the dough closer to herself. "More for me then," she teased, and he lightly punched her arm. Then, he reached up, brushing his hand through her hair. She froze, heart racing in her chest, and he pulled back so she could see the flour on his finger.

"Absolutely not," he sniffed. "I helped make the jam, so I should get something too."

"Maybe you can just eat the jam," she suggested, mouth quirking in a smirk, and he raised both brows in a challenge. He gently hip-checked her to the side, and she laughed, pushing him back, gasping as she noticed the flour print on his fur. He glanced down, and something in his eyes stirred.

She stepped back, holding both hands up in a placating manner. "That was an accident." Nothing prepared her for the dust of flour to puff at her face, and she squawked in surprise. In petty retaliation, she charged at him and planted her hands his arms, leaving prints everywhere.

After their minor competition, she finally slid the dough into the oven and stood, swiping the back of her hand against her cheek. Turning, she swept her gaze across the messy kitchen and felt her heart sink. "We should clean," she groaned.

Katsuki pulled two brooms from the storage and tossed one to her. "Or you could just never eat sweets again," he suggested, and she nearly threw her broom at him.

As they swept the ground, she continued to talk about the town, telling him about the sick house. He listened attentively and asked her questions about her patients and her duties. She answered them to the best of her memory.

"It wasn't always terrible," she remembered. "If we had leftover pastries from the night before, Izuku would help me bring them to the sick house, and we'd shared them with the recovered patients. It made them feel much better, which helped the days feel brighter."

"You have many memories with Izuku," he commented, and she sighed, dumping the flour into the bin. She straightened and settled both palms on the top of the broom, resting her chin on the backs of her hands. "Do you miss him?"

"Always," she answered easily. "I miss him a lot. He's the only family I have left." He rose and dumped the rest of the flour into the bin. He watched her carefully; she couldn't decipher the expression in his eyes, but the way they sloped caused his face to fall.

"I'm sorry," he said, and she read the guilt in his tone. "I'll show you something later, after dinner." A moment of silence fell between them, and as they finished cleaning, she glanced into the oven. Her spirits lifted as she noticed the golden brown crust, and when she opened the oven, the kitchen filled with the smell of freshly baked bread.

"They're done," she exclaimed. With a cloth, she pulled them from the heat and settled them on the counter. "Katsuki, do you have the jam ready?" With a flourish and some patience, the pastries were finally ready, and she held one up, eyeing the glazed sugar on top.

"You did well with the jam," she commented in approval. "Especially for someone who dislikes sweets."

--

After dinner, he took her by the arm and pulled her to the garden. They settled on a stone bench under an archway, where he pulled out a small, handheld mirror from within his cloak and offered it to her. Cocking her head, she took the handle into her palms. She ghosted a finger down the ivory vines that twined around the handle, pausing at the small roses that punctuated the design.

"I used this to find you when you left that night," he said, and she glanced up at him in confusion. "It shows you what you're looking for."

"It's magic?" she whispered, laying the back on her palm. The frame felt smooth, a little worn, and sturdy in her hands. Her reflection gazed back at her as she held it up to her face. "How does it work?"

"Just face it and say, 'Show me', and say the name of the person," he instructed, ruby red gaze intense as it bore into hers. "And they'll appear in the mirror."

She held it up, then glanced at him. He nodded in approval, and she took a deep breath. "Will they see me?" she asked, worry fluttering to life in her chest.

Katsuki shook his head. "It's like a one way glass. You'll be able to see them, but they won't be able to see you."

Turning back to the glass, she spoke, conviction strong in her words. "Show me Izuku," she commanded. The glass glowed, and she instinctively turned away. It dimmed immediately, and she stared at the scene before her.

Shrouded in darkness, with a single candle for light, Izuku burrowed his head into his arms, his hands fisted in his hair. Tsuyu sat close to him, smoothing one hand over his hair as she gripped his shoulders, which shook heavily. Her heart broke as he glanced up to their friend, revealing his face.

His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed dark with exhaustion, and his nose glowed red as he swiped at it. Tears rolled down his haggard cheeks, and she felt her own well in her eyes. His shirt looked to be a mess, rumpled with wrinkles, and a handkerchief had been crumpled in his hands.

"I can't find her," he cried, voice cracking, and Tsuyu held him tighter. "I can't—Tsuyu, what do I do?" She hushed him and rummaged in her skirt to bring out a piece of bread.

"Eat," she ordered, and he shoved it away.

"I'm not hungry," he rasped, and insistent, she pushed it at him.

"Eat," she tried again. "You haven't eaten since last night. At least eat something."

"Tsuyu, stop," he moaned, dropping his forehead onto his arm. "I can't think—I have to find 'chako."

A third voice hushed them, and Izuku lifted his head, glaring wearily at the third person. Ochako leaned closer trying to catch a better glimpse. "It's all right. We'll find her. I'll make sure of it." The familiar sliminess of it sent shivers down her spine, but she couldn't quite remember who it belonged to.

With that, the image vanished from view, and she was left staring into her watery reflection. "No!" she cried, gripping the handle with both hands. "No, no, no. We sent him the letters. We sent them to him. He should have gotten them."

Where did it all go wrong? There was no way the letters weren't sent off. She and Katsuki had seen it off after she'd given the carriage explicit instructions on where to place the envelopes.

"I—" She turned to Katsuki, but her voice caught in her throat. Just like Izuku, her tears escaped their constraints and rolled over her cheeks, falling into her lap.

"You have to go," he said softly. He appeared conflicted, but the sadness in his eyes told her he knew this day would come. "Go. Pack your bags. I'll ready the carriage."

As he stood, she grabbed onto his arm, and he stopped in his tracks.

"Thank you," she whispered. He ghosted the back of his fingers over her face, and she closed her eyes at the gesture. "Thank you."

When she re-opened her eyes, he had gone.

--

Her blood felt like fire as it tore through her veins. She rummaged through the wardrobe to find an unused knapsack and began to shove her gown into it. With the mirror still in her hands, she wrapped it with a cloth before setting it in the dress.

A tentative knock came from behind her, and Mina rolled in on the cart. "I can't have tea right now, Mina," she cried, swiping the back of her hand against her face.

"I'm not here with tea," she said sadly, and Ochako whirled around to find her pushing a small basket toward her. "It's for your trip." She reached into the basket with unsteady hands to find a loaf of bread and cheese waiting for her. A fresh batch of tears burned her eyes, and she folded the food into the cloth, stuffing them in her basket.

"Thank you," Ochako said, then slung the knapsack over her shoulder. She tossed her cloak around her shoulders, throwing up the hood. It would ward against the chill. This time, she wouldn't leave the castle unprepared.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Shouto leapt into the room. "Wait," he shouted, and it was so commanding that both teapot and woman froze in their place. Eijirou appeared behind him, grasping the side of the door with labored breaths.

"I tried to stop him," Eijirou gasped. "But he says he has to talk to you."

"I have to go," she exclaimed, and Shouto stood in her way, spreading both arms out in front of her. It was a little ridiculous, as she could easily step over him, but his determination was fierce enough to keep her in place.

"It's urgent," he tried, and she could feel the frustration burn through her body.

"Get out of my way," she growled and stepped around him without waiting. Mina's cart rolled out of her way. "What's important is that I go back to town. Izuku hasn't received my letters, and he still thinks I'm being held captive. What could be more important?" This time, the tears that blurred her vision erupted from anger. She grabbed onto the handle of the door when Shouto spoke up.

"It's about the curse," he said quietly. Everything froze. The curse. The one subject no one had dared to talk about. Eijirou and Mina glanced at each other, wide-eyed, and then at Ochako, whose mouth dropped in a small 'o'. Her hand dropped, and she turned to him with a shaky breath. "It's the reason you're here, and if you leave, the curse remains permanent."

The last bit of strength left her legs, and she collapsed to the ground. The knapsack slid off of her shoulders as she clenched her jaw. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Her hands balled into fists, nails scratching against the ground.

"What do you mean?" she rasped, glaring at Shouto, who remain unfazed by her distress.

"Please," he begged. "Just listen."

--

Six Years Ago

Shouto stood off to the side, hands balled into fists as Katsuki stood on the other end of the bed. Katsuki's father had been propped onto a mound of pillows, and his labored breaths gradually became weaker. Eijirou stood to his friend's side, and Shouto could see that he struggled to keep his composure. But as time passed, his face began to crumple.

Katsuki remained rigid, face devoid of any expression as he watched his father wither away. His stare roamed his father's tired face, eyeing the wrinkles that folded at the corner of his eyes. It moved to his chest, where it rose and fell at an unsteady rate.

This was Bakugou Masaru's final moment, and they all knew it.

Katsuki especially.

The candles continued to dim, and they waited until at last, Masaru's breathing stopped with a long exhale. His expression seemed to slacken, no longer burdened by life. Shouto hovered a hand over his mouth, and feeling no air, shook his head.

Without a word, Katsuki turned and stormed off as Eijirou and Shouto watched his retreating figure. The slam of the door reverberated around the room, and they were sure it echoed down the corridor.

"Get the doctor," Shouto said lowly. Eijirou, still staring at Masaru's slackened face, nodded, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, collecting and steeling himself before marching out of the room. Shouto gave the man one more look before following suit.

As the door clicked shut behind him, he released a sigh and leaned his back against the wooden surface. Clutching the handle behind him, he let his head fall back and felt his hair fall from his face.

His friend was taking this hard—he knew. After Bakugou Mitsuki had succumbed to her illness, Masaru had become a shell of his former self. It was as if he'd died with her in that very moment. When she drew her last breath, all life had drained from his eyes.

Not long after, he began to fall ill. The family physician couldn't figure out what was ailing him and concluded that he suffered from a broken heart. Masaru lost his appetite, his passion, and his love for the world. All light bled from him, and he simply gave up on living.

Katsuki, who remained by his side taking care of the castle, its inhabitants, and his father, grew bitter and resentful, but Shouto knew how much he still loved his father. Combined with the loss of his mother, Shouto knew a large amount of hurt plagued the prince.

He released the handle and stepped away. Mina pushed her cart down the hall, and at his solemn expression, she swallowed heavily and turned away. A pot of tea sat atop the cart, its steam billowing into the air. They all knew this day would come; they just didn't know when. Masaru's passing happened so much quicker than they'd expected.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Shouto strode down the corridor and made his way to the first floor. His hunch had been correct, as light flickered from beneath the library door. He sighed, steeling himself, and pulled open the door.

Katsuki slumped at his favorite armchair, one hand hiding his face as he stared into the fire.

"Katsuki," he started, and normally the prince would burst at his arrival. This time, he gained no reaction as he neared the fire.

"Fuck off," Katsuki grumbled. Those two words were filled with so much weight that Shouto could barely single out each feeling: ire, grief, loss, and so many more. It was a conglomeration of emotions that Shouto could understand, for he'd gone through the same thing with the loss of his mother.

Left in silence, he knew he wouldn't be subjected to an explosion of anger, let alone another reply. So he settled into the other armchair, unwilling to leave him alone. Periodically, he'd stare over at Katsuki's despondent figure, but the prince never moved. Just kept his eyes on the flames that crackled in the hearth.

The candles slowly melted, wax dripping off the side, and their shadows grew weak as the fire dwindled. The ferocity of the gale howled outside, and ice tumbled against the window. Soon enough, the clock chimed midnight.

Suddenly, three consecutive knocks pierced the castle, and they looked up. Shouto glanced at Katsuki, his brow knitting as he wondered who would disrupt the castle this late at night. Just as he began to suggest that Katsuki remain in his place, the prince stood with such force that the armchair scraped back.

"Who the fuck?" he snarled. Shouto's heart sank into his stomach: a grieving Katsuki was a volatile Katsuki. The prince threw open the door and surged toward the front of the castle, and Shouto hurriedly followed, keeping pace with his long strides.

They made it to the large double doors in no time, and Katsuki threw them open to find an old crone standing at the foot of the castle. She stood two heads shorter than them and held a large wooden staff. Even with the roaring wind, she did not tremble, and Shouto immediately sensed danger.

"What do you want?" Katsuki growled, keeping his hands on the edges of the doors. In a warning, Shouto reached over to grab at his shoulder, but the prince merely shrugged him off with a harsh glare.

"A place to stay for the night," she said shakily. Both of her withered hands wrapped around the staff as she stared up at the prince. Her grey cloak billowed in the frigid air, revealing a light gown. This only reinforced Shouto's suspicions, but before he could say a word, Katsuki finally exploded.

"Go away. Get out!" Katsuki shouted, ire in his words. He slammed one of the doors shut and did the same with the other. Unfortunately, it bounced back, and they glanced down to see the foot of the staff block off the entrance.

"Now, dear, you wouldn't just leave an old woman like me standing in the cold, would you?" Her voice had changed, becoming smoother and filling with coy. The door slowly swung open to reveal a maiden standing in the crone's place. Her face had grown youthful, cheeks plump with life, and the hood of her cloak blew back to reveal long, fawn-colored hair.

They were dealing with a witch, and a powerful one at that. Shouto stepped back in defense, but Katsuki, still wrapped in his grief, paid no heed to the change. He kicked at her walking staff, the fire in his glare heated enough to rival the sun.

"I said," he snarled and leaned in close to the witch's face, "go away. Leave and never pass through those gates again." Her coy expression fell into offense, and just as the door clicked shut, they burst open in a brilliant flash of light. The force of the explosion knocked Shouto off of his feet, and he fell back, arms shielding his face.

"How dare you!" she shrieked, and her words wrapped with wrath. She pointed her staff at Katsuki, who stood defiantly, shooting flames from his eyes.

"LEAVE!" he roared, and Shouto finally clambered up and tackled the prince to the side. When he tilted his head up, he found the witch's blazing eyes situated on him. She murmured something under her breath, and something in him constricted. He gasped, rolling off of Katsuki, and an unimaginable pain spiked through his body.

His face contorted in pain, and he folded in half. It was as if someone had spiked his blood with acid, and he couldn't protrude a sound as he felt his body convulse and change. Everything in the castle grew in size, and his vision began to tunnel. After a horrifying moment, all of the pain evaporated, and he slowly sat up.

Katsuki, who'd somehow grown into a giant, trained his horrified eyes onto Shouto's body, and Shouto raised his hands, feeling panic at the bronze and wax that stared back at him. Instead of hands, he now held two candles, and he no longer had feet. His legs had melded into a handle, and he teetered as he stood, pressing the wax against his chest.

"Heed my words, prince," the witch sneered. She pointed the staff at Katsuki, who pivoted to face her. Anger and terror marred his expression, but at this point, there was nothing he could do. As she spoke, an ethereal quality weaved itself into her words.

On the night of winter's eve,
A traveler will arrive,
And with a rose, he shall leave.

An exchange shall take place:
The girl for a flower,
Both with beauty and grace.

Three nights the doors will seal shut
An entry for your exit.
A path for redemption, but

Shall she leave your gates thrice
Your curse shall remain,
and you, crushed in its vice.

With that, the light that encircled her grew brighter and brighter as she brandished her staff until Shouto had to look away. The last thing he heard was Katsuki's pained scream, and the world faded from view.

--

"So if I leave these gates three times, he'll remain a beast forever?" Ochako whispered, her heart in her throat. Mina and Eijirou gaped at Shouto, who lowered his gaze in shame. "But I—I've already gone once."

"And he's willing to let you go again," Shouto explained. "He didn't want any of you to know the contents of the curse because he felt that it had been his responsibility that everyone had been affected. Caught in his grief, he thought the witch would only punish him, but he hadn't anticipated that she would place a curse on the whole castle."

Eijirou was the first of the objects to speak up, and he spluttered, "So if Ochako leaves three times, we're stuck as objects forever?" Before he could finish his question, Shouto was already shaking his head, and the flame above him flickered.

"Before she left, she whispered something to me—a passing warning. Because he was the sole cause of her anger, the curse would only remain on him, and he'd remain a beast forever. We, punished by association, would return to our original forms," he said. "I've told him this, but he's still willing to shoulder all of the punishment for our sake."

"The reason he didn't want you to come was because he was afraid you'd have to shoulder such a large decision: change us back or stay forever until you find a way to break the curse," he continued. "He's as much as a victim as the rest of us."

"Goddamn it all!" Eijirou suddenly roared, and he punched the side of the vanity. "Why doesn't he ever ask for help? Why does he always feel the need to fix everything on his own?!" 

"I never knew," Mina uttered, taken aback by Shouto's explanation. "I always assumed I'd be stuck as a teapot until I shattered on accident. I...I never allowed myself to feel any hope."

Ochako sniffed, pulling the knapsack back over her shoulder and rose from her spot. She gazed resolutely at Shouto through her blurred vision, and her grip tightened on the strap of her bag. "I've left once. I'll come back, and I'll break the curse," she promised. "I'll free you all, and I'll free the beast."

--

The moment the carriage lurched forward, she burst into tears. Her heart ached for Shouto. For Mina. For Eijirou. For Itsuka. For Rikidou. For everyone who had been touched by the curse.

But her tears fell the hottest for Katsuki.

Hours after his father had passed away and caught in his grief, he'd angered a witch and had been turned into a beast. The timing had been awful, and she couldn't fault his reaction. Nor could she imagine the pain and loss he'd felt at losing his humanity just a few hours after losing a precious family member. And then to realize that his consequences not only affected him but everyone who he cared for...

It was a fate she could never wish upon anyone.

She cried for his selflessness, at how he'd shouldered the burden and blame for years. How he was willing to sacrifice his human form to save the rest of the castle. How he'd tried to keep her from coming to castle in order to save her from this fate.

Heaving a breath, she clutched at her chest and sat back, feeling the carriage tumble beneath her. It sped through the woods, leaping over bushels and logs covered in a light layer of ice. It twisted around trees that stood in the way, and she could feel the urgency in its movements. Glancing outside, she realized that unlike the first time, it was taking a direct route back to town.

The moon hung overhead, the same mocking smile leering down at her as it disappeared and reappeared through treetops. It gleamed past dark foliage, and when the carriage took a turn, it disappeared behind them, giving a lazy chase.

Ochako sat back and pulled the knapsack to her chest. With a shaky breath, she rummaged through to find the mirror and pulled it out. "Show me the beast," she breathed. "Show me Katsuki."

Her reflection disappeared in a flash of light to reveal Katsuki sitting in the parlor, his head in his hands. Shouto stood on the side table next to him, speaking quietly.

"She had a right to know," Shouto murmured. He hopped to the edge of the table and sat down, facing his friend.

Katsuki sighed, a heavy breath that rumbled in his chest, and when he glanced up, a soft sob escaped her lips. Never had she seen him so desolate, so devoid of all hope. The fire in his eyes had burned to ash, leaving sad wisps of smoke to dissipate into the air. "I know," he muttered in defeat. "I know."

"If you knew, why did you let her go?"

At that, Katsuki sat back, and his gaze trained on the fire. He touched his previously injured arm, stroking down one of the cuts. "Because I care for her," he finally said, and her heart hammered against her ribcage. "She was never meant to be here in the first place. It wouldn't be fair for me to keep her here for selfish purposes."

"So you let her go," Shouto concluded. He reached over and placed a small hand on Katsuki's shoulder. The beast glanced down but didn't shrug him off.

"Yeah, I did."

The image cleared from the glass, and she hugged it to her chest. "I'll come back," she promised quietly. "I'll come back, I swear."

As the carriage rattled beneath her, she stuffed the mirror back into her bag and took a deep breath, clearing her mind. For now, she had to sort her priorities, so she erased all forms of the curse from her head. Even with maximum effort, Katsuki and the castle remained in the back of her mind. Closing her eyes, she began to plan her course of action.

Before she could return to the castle, she had to let her friends know she was safe. That was the priority. There was no saying how long the curse would take to break, so she had to let them know that she would leave for a long period of time and hopefully return soon. The decision would break Izuku's heart, but she had to show him how desperately she cared for those at the castle.

After that, she'd go back and remain at the castle until she made sure all the objects and the beast were returned to their human forms. No matter how long it took.

On the bright side, she could possibly get the beast to allow Izuku and some of her other friends to visit.

The carriage broke through the trees in no time, and she peered out the window to see a familiar sight looming closer and closer with each gallop the carriage took. Late at night, there were only a few stragglers in the streets, so she slammed her hand on the carriage, where it slowed to a stop.

"I'll come back," she whispered. "Go back into the forest, and I'll call for you if you're needed." The carriage door opened on its own accord, and she stepped into the snow, slinging the knapsack over her shoulder. The door shut again, and the carriage dipped on its front legs in a slight bow. She nodded at it before trudging her way down the path.

With her cloak over her head, no one stopped her, only gave her silhouette a passing glance. Nothing seemed to have changed over the course of a month, but she hadn't expected it to anyway. Finally, as she rounded a corner, her breath caught in her throat at a familiar sight.

The bakery—her home—had remained the same. Yet no light flickered from the windows, not even through the break in the curtains. She grabbed onto the handle and shook it, but it never twisted—locked. Then, she pounded on the wood, hoping the sound could rouse someone from sleep.

"Oi! What're you doing?"

With a gasp, she whirled to find Denki standing in front of her, a staff in one hand. He glared at her, and she noted the anger and exhaustion on his face. A bag of meat sat at his feet, and she realized he had been heading back to his tavern.

"Denki," she breathed. With no one else around, she pulled off the hood and stepped forward. His eyes widened at her appearance, and the staff fell into the snow, disappearing in a plume of white. His face blanched, and he straightened, jaw falling open as he gaped openly at her.

"Ochako?" he whispered. She nodded and stretched out her arm, reaching to brush her hand against his. He leapt at the contact, scrambling back. "Is it really you?" he rasped.

She nodded and pointed at the bakery behind her. "Where is Izuku? Is he inside? In bed? Why isn't the bakery open. It should still be open at this time."

"I don't understand," he croaked. "You're missing. You've been missing. How are you back? Most of us thought you were dead and that Izuku had gone mad in the woods."

Izuku? Mad? A sense of urgency gripped her, and she ran forward and grasped onto his upper arms. "Please," she pleaded. "Where is he? Where is Tsuyu?"

He stammered, gaze switching between her and the bakery. "They're probably at Monoma Neito's house. That's where they've been for the past three weeks, searching for you and planning in his cellar. The bakery hasn't been open since Izuku came back and you disappeared." Her heart sank, and she turned back to the closed bakery, which had taken on an empty, almost ghostly form.

"I—I have to go," she stuttered, turning and throwing her hood back on.

"Ochako!" Denki called, and she glanced over her shoulder. "It's good to see you again."

--

She'd been to the Monoma mansion a total of three times, as that's where most of the town's balls were held. Three times before she'd stopped going because of Neito's relentless pursuit for her hand. Each time she'd gone, he'd remained by her side, scaring off anyone who'd approached them, and she'd abhorred the way he would place his hand on the small of her back, as if they were already a married couple.

No matter how many times she would hide, he would somehow find her. The only way he stayed away was if she attached herself to Izuku's side. Doing so made her feel bad for her close friend, so she'd stopped going.

Now, in the dead of night, it looked even more foreboding. With a deep breath, she pulled on the knocker and rapped on the door thrice. As she waited, her impatience grew, and she tried the handle, only for the door to swing open.

A gasp tore from her lips as she tumbled into the dark. It was eerie, as if no one was home, and she picked herself off. Dusting her palms off, she began to roam the first floor, listening for any words that could indicate any signs of life. It wasn't until she noticed light flickering beneath a door that her hopes rose.

Quietly, she pulled it open to reveal a flight of stairs.

"—I told you! The path split in two!" Izuku's voice floated up the stairs, and she nearly cried at the familiar nuances of his voice. With that, she tore down the stairs, footfalls echoing, and the voices hushed.

As soon as she hit the last step, she lurched back as a flame was brandished to her face. She shrieked and fell back, and as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, she suddenly saw Neito standing before her, the look of shock plain on his face.

"Ochako?" There it was—that slimy voice she'd heard in the mirror, and she should have known it would be him. He waved the flame to her face, eyes wide as he took in her appearance. A chair scraped back abruptly, and she turned to find a dark figure approach the flame.

"Ochako?" And there he was—Midoriya Izuku. His hair sat in a disarray on his head, and his eyes, rimmed with red, stared at her as if she were a ghost. His cheeks had sunken in, and she could see that her disappearance had taken a large toll on him.

With a cry, she lunged forward and tackled him, wrapping her arms around him. They stumbled back, colliding with another being, and Tsuyu grunted. The trio fell back, and Tsuyu crawled from beneath them to grab at Ochako's face, peering at her features properly.

"Ochako," she breathed and let go, only to promptly tackle the two into a hug. Ochako laughed, feeling her head spin at seeing her closest friends again. "Where have you been?"

"Never mind that," Ochako said, sitting up. "Why are you here?" She clutched onto Izuku for dear life as he did the same to her. Ducking his head, he pressed his ear to her chest, eyes fluttering shut as he listened for her heart.

"I thought you were a ghost," he murmured softly, and she carded her hand through his hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "No one believed you were taken by a magical carriage—no one. Only Neito." At the mention of the name, she remembered they had an audience, and she tilted her head up to find him still by the staircase, an odd look to his face.

Tsuyu stood, and she offered a hand. Izuku's arm remained tight around her waist, reluctant to let her go until Ochako lifted his chin and gestured up. They both rose as well, and she grabbed onto Tsuyu's hand, feeling Izuku keep his arms around her waist as if she would dissipate like smoke if he let go.

"Thank you for offering to help," she said to Neito, offering a small, cursory nod. "But I'm back now, so there's no need."

"It was nothing," he said rigidly, and she noted that his posture stood stiff. Something burned in his gaze, not unlike the one she'd seen on his face when he'd attacked Hitoshi. "We're just glad you're back."

Finally, Izuku pulled back, and she and Tsuyu led him to the round table, where many hand-drawn maps had been strewn across the surface. Notes scattered their yellowed parchment, and a large 'x' sat in the trail, presumably where it split in two. The second path looked fresh, ink smudged along the page.

Their shadows danced as they moved. The multiple lanterns placed across the cellar flickered at their movement, and Izuku settled into a chair. Tsuyu perched next to him, and Ochako did the same on his other side. Her closest friend swiveled toward her and reached down.

"Are you hurt? How did you escape the beast?" Izuku asked as he clutched both of her hands. His eyes looked frenzied, almost fearful. "How did you manage to get away?"

She blinked at the question, uncomprehending. "I didn't get away. He let me go," she said. She pulled her hands from his and grasped his wrists. "I don't understand. Did you not receive my letters?"

"Letters?" Tsuyu repeated, leaning forward. "We received no word from you. It's as if you'd vanished into thin air. No one knew where you were. Izuku went to the forest multiple times to search for you, day and night, and he'd always return empty-handed."

"I—I've been at the castle," Ochako stammered. They both watched her carefully. "I've been helping those who live there with their duties, and I've been tending to the beast's wounds—"

Neito made an odd noise in the back of his throat, and they all turned their attention to him. "You've been tending to a beast? A monster? I know you like to waste your time at the sick house, but he's not one of your patients."

"He's not a monster," she snapped in defense. "He's short-tempered and ill-mannered, yes. But he's not cruel. He's as human as the rest of us." Grabbing at her bag, she rummaged through it until her hand closed around a familiar ivory handle. She pulled out the mirror and held it to her face. "Show me Katsuki!" she commanded.

A bright light filled the room, and when it disappeared, she was met with the image of Katuski sitting on a bed, her apron folded in his hands. He pulled it to his chest and sighed, closing his eyes. "See?" she cried and twisted it to face the others.

Tsuyu gasped at the image, her hands flying to her mouth. Izuku paled, and Neito's brows furrowed as his mouth curled into a sneer. "He's not dangerous," she reaffirmed, pulling the image back to her. Her gaze softened as she watched him, feeling something warm flutter in her chest.

"Have you fallen in love with him?" Neito's words sliced through the moment, and the image disappeared. The mirror reflected her astonished gape.

"What?"

"I said—" Neito's tone took a dangerous turn. "Have you fallen in love with him?" Everything about him demanded an answer.

"I," she stammered. "I don't—I—" She found that she couldn't answer him, and they fell into silence as they awaited her answer. When it was clear she would offer none, Neito scoffed, turning away.

"I knew it," he said quietly. "He has you under a spell. He's enchanted you." His conclusion baffled her, and she stood abruptly. "You're not yourself anymore." He snatched the mirror from her hands, and she lunged for it. 

"Now, hang on!" Izuku yelped. "Let's hear her out—"

"She's unharmed. Her words must have some truth to them," Tsuyu protested.

Neito only shook his head, and the mirror remained clutched to his side. He huffed a quiet laugh that grew and grew until the sound burst from his chest. Without a word, he dashed up the stairs, and Ochako surged after him, grasping after the mirror. Tsuyu and Izuku released a shout, and they dashed after her.

Before she could grab at it, he slammed the door, and it rattled as he locked it. In a fit of desperation, she grabbed onto the knob with both hands and jolted it. "What are you doing?" she cried. Izuku gently moved her to the side and grabbed the knob, shaking it as he grunted with effort.

Neito's footfalls disappeared before they returned, and she heard the gentle, telltale shuffling of parchment.

"'On the surface, he is a beast. Inwardly, I'm not sure. He's short-tempered, but I sense a hint of kindness within, as he's allowing me to write to you. He says I'm able to go home whenever I like, but I can't leave. Not yet, but I'll be back soon,'" he read, and she pounded on the door.

Her letter! That was her letter!

"'Until then, I miss you. I miss Tsuyu. I miss the bakery. I miss everyone, and I hope to see you soon. All of my love, Ochako,'" he finished, and her face burned with fury. "You know? I honestly thought you'd gone insane. Writing about talking candelabras and clocks. Becoming friends with a teapot. I thought these letters were coming from an asylum, but now I know you've been bewitched."

"You monster!" she shrieked. "Let us out!" She slammed her fists against the door, feeling it rattle under her hands. "Those were meant for Izuku and Tsuyu, not you!"

He scoffed, and the sound was muffled through the door. "Then it shouldn't have been left on the doorstep of the bakery, where anyone could find it." There was a faint rustle as he tapped the pile of letters against the door. "Now I know you've been cursed. Don't worry, my dear. I'll execute the beast and release you from his grasp, and we'll have our happily ever after."

His words sent a chill down her spine, and she threw herself at the door desperately. "No!" she screamed. "Neito, no! Don't go near him! Don't go near the castle!" But he never responded, and they heard his footfalls grow farther and farther away.

"No," she cried and grabbed onto the knob. No matter how hard she turned it, it never budged.

"So it's true," Izuku whispered. "You wrote to us." Ochako slid down the door, and her grip on the knob loosened. Weakly, she nodded. Her flame of hope dwindled, and her face crumpled before falling into her hands.

"But he threatened to kill Izuku," Tsuyu protested, and she leaned down to crouch beside Ochako's figure.

With a sniff, she shook her head. "He did it to scare him off. Katsuki is an angry man, cursed on the day of his father's death. I think," she started, lifting her head and gazing at Izuku, "when you took the rose, he felt angry and scared. Angry because you were stealing the last good memory of his mother. Scared because it was the beginning of the curse's prophecy."

"Prophecy?" Izuku and Tsuyu said simultaneously.

"'On the night of winter's eve, a traveler will arrive, and with a rose, he shall leave. An exchange shall take place: the girl for a flower, both with beauty and grace,'" she recited, recalling Shouto's words. "He said I was never meant to come to the castle. He said he'd ordered it to come back alone."

At that, Izuku's expression grew thunderstruck with realization. "That's exactly what he ordered that night. 'Go and come back alone.' That's what he said. I thought he'd ordered it to kill me."

"No," she cried softly. "He wouldn't kill anyone. He risked his life to save mine, becoming injured as he fought off a pack of wolves to bring me to safety. Healing him took time, but I wrote to you in the month I'd gone. He would never kidnap me—that was the curse: an exchange had to take place, and for the first three nights, the door sealed shut, allowing no one in or out. After the third night, I ran away but nearly froze to death."

"So Neito's about to murder an innocent soul," Tsuyu breathed. "We'd just figured out the route to the castle. He knows where it is." Scrambling up, she tore down the stairs again. "We don't have much time if we want to stop him. Help me look for something that could break down the door."

"Come on," Izuku said and reached down to grab at her hand. He yanked her up and pulled her down the stairs, where they began to rummage through the cellar. Many of the crates held miscellaneous items, like broken lanterns and old family pictures. Others held books that would be no use against breaking down a door.

Izuku seemed to be on the same page, throwing parchments and scrolls to the ground. Hope seemed to dwindle smaller and smaller when Tsuyu uttered a cry. They turned to see the swish of her dress as she rushed up the steps, and with wide-eyed glances at each other, they dashed after her.

"I completely forgot," Tsuyu said as she pulled on her hair, and a pin came free in her fingers. Lifting it in triumph, she leaned down and began to pick at the lock. Eventually, after some twisting and work, the knob finally gave, and all three of them toppled to the ground. Ochako was the first to push herself, and she found the sheaf of parchments lying on the table.

Her hands trembled as she picked them up. All of them were written in Momo's elegant script, and her mouth wobbled. They were all her letters—everything she'd written to Izuku and Tsuyu, hoping they would be reassured by her safety.

A hand grabbed at her wrist, and she found Izuku staring intently at her. "We have to go," he said firmly. With a nod, she stuffed the letters into her bag and followed them out. As fast as they could run, they dashed through the silent town. Her chest heaved for air, and her legs ached as she ran, but nothing burned as brightly as her desperation to save Katsuki.

Three figures stood at the tavern entrance, and as soon as they noticed the trio, one of them waved to them. "Oi! You guys, wait!" Denki rushed in front of them, stopping them in their tracks. "Wait."

"Ochako!" She turned to find Tooru and Kyouka staring at her, both wide-eyed with disbelief. Tooru stepped forward and grabbed onto her arm, gazing at her face like it was for the very first time. "Denki told me he'd seen you, but I couldn't—" Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she pulled her into a tight embrace.

Izuku stepped toward Denki. "Where is Neito?" he asked. Denki gestured into the building, and they were met with the sight of an empty tavern—an unusual phenomenon.

"He barged in and started shouting about a beast that was going to eat their children and that it needed to be slain—that it'd taken Ochako and cursed her. Of course, no one believed him until he used some magic mirror. From there on out, it was pandemonium. He rounded up many of the townspeople in the tavern—took as many able-bodied men and women as he could," Denki explained, his face as white as a ghost. "I told him that he was insane and that I'd seen you earlier, but at that point, no one was listening anymore—"

Kyouka placed a hand on Denki's arm to stop it from shaking. She gave him a look before moving it to Izuku. "He left about two hours ago," she said. "Is it true? Did the beast really curse you, Ochako?"

"No," she shouted, then backtracked as their expressions tightened into shock. "I'm sorry," she said, lowering her voice. "It's just—that's a lie. The beast let me go freely—I was never held captive by him. He treated me with respect and offered to let me go home. It was me who chose to stay."

Kyouka nodded her head slowly. "It's still hard to believe that a beast could be kind, but monstrosity takes other forms." Her lips curled as she glanced toward the forest. "I never trusted Neito. Not once, not ever."

Izuku pulled at his hair, grabbing onto Ochako's arm. "If he left two hours ago—"

"—then he'll be at the castle soon," Ochako breathed. Her mind felt dizzy, panicked as she thought of the siege the people would lay on the castle. Humans could be driven by fear, and Neito was herding them like sheep. "We have to go."

Denki held out an arm. "Wait, how will you get there? I only have one horse left. Everyone else took theirs with them to the castle."

"We have a way," Ochako explained. "But once word gets around—"

"You go," Kyouka said sternly. Her grip on Denki's arm tightened, and her eyes hardened like steel. "Denki and I will persuade the rest of the townspeople to stay in place. There's already a small mob on the way. You don't have much time. Go!"

Izuku pulled Ochako along, and Tooru stumbled after them, pulling her dress up as she ran after them. Tsuyu followed, and the four of them dashed into the night.

"Wait! Wait!" Tooru shrieked. "How will we get there in time?"

Ochako turned over her shoulder, a wiry smile on her lips. "We're taking a carriage."

--

Tooru screeched as she latched onto curtains, grasping them to her chest as she struggled to keep from collapsing. Tsuyu's face had taken on a light green sheen in the moonlight as she doubled over, clutching her stomach.

Izuku and Ochako, who'd both ridden the carriage before, only stared out the windows. Her shoulders tensed as she thought of how she would stop Neito from executing Katsuki. In her mind, she knew he could fight back—he had the strength of three men, but in her soul, she knew he wouldn't hurt Neito. He wouldn't hurt anyone.

The objects, on the other hand, could hide the best they could. They could fight with the element of surprise on their side, but Ochako wasn't sure how some, like Mina and Eijirou, would fare fighting against a scared mob. Shouto could use fire, and Rikidou would definitely have no trouble, as he wielded the knives and pans.

"Ochako." Izuku's voice broke her trance, and she turned to find him staring at her. Tooru and Tsuyu watched them, used them to distract themselves from the rocking carriage. "You never answered Neito's question in the cellar." There was a bated breath as her closest friend struggled to ask her the question. "Do you love the beast?"

Tooru inhaled a sharp intake of breath, caught completely off-guard, and Tsuyu trained her eyes on Ochako's face. Did she? Ochako turned away, facing the moon as it leered down at her, mind troubled by the question. Was it possible to fall for someone within a month's time?

She thought to Katsuki and the way he helped others without thought. Visiting Momo to give her letters to write. Giving Fumikage an audience when the musician had lost his own. Helping Rikidou work in the kitchen, even with tasks as mundane as pulling onions from the dirt. Spending time with Mina as she poured him countless cups of tea. Listening to Shouto and Eijirou as they came to him with their concerns around the castle.

Saving her—a complete stranger—from the cold and fending off wolves.

She thought to the countless nights they stayed in the library, her reading out loud to him, interrupted by his witty comments that never failed to amuse her. Thought to spending hours with him and Fumikage, arguing which had been better: baroque or romantic. Thought to the days they spent in the garden, tending to various herbs as she pointed out their tastes and medicinal qualities. Thought to that one day she'd shown him how to bake her favorite pastry and their mini flour fight. Thought to the quiet moments where they'd just converse together as she'd changed his bandages.

He never talked down to her. Never disrespected her. He treated her as an equal, more so than Neito ever did. He never treated her as fragile as many of the other townspeople did.

He had given her up and let her leave, knowing what was at stake for his humanity.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. The stars glittered above, and she sighed quietly. "I suppose I do."

--

To their horror, the siege was already underway. The large double doors had been splintered, thrown wide open. One of the ornate, rose knockers sat in the snow, its petals peeking from the mound of snow trodden by a crowd. Ochako leaned down to pick it up, brushing the ice away with shaking hands.

The sounds of pandemonium could be heard from within, shouts of pain and anger. Some were of astonishment. Metal clashed against metal, and Rikidou bellowed out in anger. She could hear Eijirou shout something akin to a battle cry, and Mina screamed. Even Itsuka had joined the fray as she shrieked.

A hand covered hers, and she looked up to see Izuku's hardened stare. "There's no time," he said urgently. "You need to find him before Neito does."

"Ochako!" A familiar voice rang, and they both glanced down to find Shouto standing at the doorway, his eyes filled with a wild frenzy that came from panic. "You—did you send them here?" Barely concealed anger quivered in his tone, and the flame on his head erupted upward.

Tsuyu and Tooru skidded to a stop behind them, their eyes wide as they stared at the candelabra. Even though they'd been briefed in the carriage, seeing it in person was as jarring as it was mind blowing.

"I remember you!" Izuku said, and the nuances in his tone betrayed his bewilderment.

"No!" Ochako crouched down, and Shouto hopped back, somewhat disbelieving and betrayed. "I would never. You know I could never," she pleaded. "The man who led them here. He'd intercepted my letters and trapped us in the cellar. He intends to kill Katsuki. Please! You need to take me to him before that monster does first."

A long moment passed between them, and Izuku also crouched down. "Please," he said. "She's telling the truth. Neito—that man—is planning on executing the beast."

The sounds of battle continued within, and seeking no other option, Shouto relented. He hopped into the castle, gesturing up. "He's in the west tower. On the third room to the right. That's where you'll find him." Ochako followed him in. "I'll take you as far as I can."

A large figure stumbled toward them, wielding a pitchfork. The farmer's gaze was trained on Shouto, ignoring the quartet's presence. He brandished it over his head, and Izuku cried, "No!" before tackling him away. The duo slammed into the wall, and the farmer slid down, his eyes disoriented from the hit.

"Go!" he shouted, throwing a hand out at her. "We'll help the rest! Stop Neito and help the beast!" Tsuyu lunged for the pitchform and twisted it in her hands. Her braid fell over her shoulder, and she nodded at Ochako.

"Go, we've got this," she said firmly.

"Ochako." Tooru's hand on her arm stopped her in her place. Her eyes bore into Ochako's, sincere and regretful. "I'm sorry about what I said before. About Neito—I had no idea he was like this. I'm sorry for pushing you at him."

Ochako covered her hand with her own, feeling her cold fingers contrast with her warm palm. With a resolute stare, she nodded to accept her apology. Tooru's lips quirked into a small smile, and she released her. "Go," she said. "Go and save your beloved."

With no time left to spare, Ochako gripped onto Shouto's handle and lifted him into the air with a slight apology. He seemed unfazed, pointing toward the staircase. They dodged a portly shopkeeper with a torch as he fought Itsuka, who brandished a broom with expertise. Ochako ducked as fire whirled over her head, and fear encapsulated her veins as she ran.

"Up the stairs," Shouto cried. To their left, a scalding waterfall cascaded from above, Mina's familiar silhouette sitting atop of the banister. She continued to tip over, and steam billowed into the air. Behind her, Eijirou reinforced her, flourishing two needles against another townsman. He closed in on the clock, a sick leer on his face, and Eijirou stood his ground. There was a nervous twitch in his brow, and the townsman lifted his club.

With a cry, Ochako tackled him over, and Shouto rolled out of her grip. Eijirou yelped with surprise and moved to help Shouto up. She pushed herself up, ignoring the way the townsman shouted as Eijirou shoved the needles into him, and Shouto gestured up.

"Go! Third room to the right!" he repeated. The flame on his head grew, spreading along his arms as he aided the clock. From somewhere far away, she heard a bellowing slam, and then the sound of piano keys reverberated angrily through the hall, adding to the discordant chaos.

She continued to rush up the steps, and the sounds of the siege grew quieter and quieter as she retreated. The silence that met her ears felt stifling, filling with the roar of blood and the gallop of her heart against her chest. Her calves burned as she continued to run up the steps, her hands gliding against the cool stone.

Atop of the steps, she found that the third room to the right had been cracked open. Voices floated from within, and she knew Neito had found the beast. Stepping forward, she peeked through the crack to find Neito's silhouette against the moonlight. Katsuki stood on the balcony, hunched over with an arrow in his shoulder.

With a deep breath, she tried to collect her thoughts, but only one flitted to mind: be brave, be kind, be yourself. This was the time to protect her loved ones the best she could.

"No," she cried and threw open the door. "Stop!" she shouted and lunged at Neito. The arrow fired from his crossbow, lodging into the ceiling. Neito grunted as they fell to the ground. Disoriented, she picked herself up to find broken arrows scattered across the floor. "Katsuki," she breathed, drinking in his appearance. "Katsuki, you're hurt."

"Ochako," he whispered, and the bewilderment in his eyes told that he hadn't expected her return. "You came back."

Before she could close the distance between them, an arm threw itself around her shoulders as Neito leaned on her. His arm squeezed around her neck, and she gasped, hands scrabbling at his arm.

"She came to watch you be executed," he laughed coolly, no signs of panic in his tone. "I know you have her under your spell. Break it, and I might let you live." At his words, Ochako shook her head, her eyes pleading for Katsuki not to believe any of his words. But his eyes were trained on Neito's form.

"Let her go," he growled. If anything, Neito's arm tightened around her neck, and she clutched onto his arm, digging her nails into his skin. This didn't faze Neito, who only tightened his grip. "Let Ochako go!"

Neito cocked his head, and the smile that sliced across his face held arrogance and cockiness. "And why would I do that? Why would I let go of my beloved?"

The word seemed to stop Katsuki in his tracks. His eyes flickered between the two in disbelief, and she wanted to cry out at the hurt that radiated from his gaze. "Oh? You didn't know?" The sliminess in his words—in his lies—disgusted her. "She didn't tell you about our engagement? About our future marriage?" All the fight seemed to leave Katsuki's hunched form, and his arms slackened to his side. A trickle of darkness puckered from the arrow wound and slid down, disappearing into his fur.

Her eyes grew wide at his words, and fury melted the ice in her veins. She tried to elbow him, but he dodged it easily. Her denial sat in her throat, lodged there as he choked her. Neito slackened his grip on the crossbow, lifting it so that it sat on his shoulder, its arrow pointed up. His hips cocked as he mockingly pouted before smirking.

He laughed at the pain displayed on Katsuki's face. "What? Did you think she could ever love you, beast? That she would leave the greatest and wealthiest hunter in town to stay by your side?"

"I—"

"You what?" Neito interjected, raising a brow condescendingly. "You thought you could keep her here? She'd be miserable. After all, you two are nothing alike."

That's not true! She wanted to cry—she wanted to rip herself from Neito's iron grasp and throw herself into Katsuki's arms.

Katsuki stepped forward, one arm outstretched as his hurt stare landed on Ochako's face. She tried to shake her head, but the iron lock around her throat prevented her from doing anything. All she could do was use what little air she had to breathe. Neito lowered the crossbow, leveling it with his shoulder.

"Ochak—"

Neito pushed her away as an arrow flew from its constraints and thudded against Katsuki's chest. She could only watch as he stood in place, and his ruby red eyes moved to the arrow before rolling into the back of his head as they fluttered shut. As he fell, the scream that left her mouth sounded nothing like her, shrill and pained. She screamed until her breathing fell ragged from her chest, and she crawled toward him, only to feel a foot against her ribs, shoving her back.

"Too easy," Neito said as he stared down at the beast. He moved near him, and placed a boot against Katsuki's side. With a kick, the beast rolled onto his back, and his head lolled to the side, unmoving. "Pathetic."

Then, he rounded to Ochako, whose vision blurred as hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

Get up! she pleaded. Please don't be dead! Get up!

Neito crouched down, grabbed her elbow, and yanked her up. He smiled at her and slung the crossbow over his shoulder. Brushing a lock of hair from her face, he murmured, "You're free from the spell, my dear."

Incensed, she slapped his hand away, stepping back with ire burning in her chest. "Stay away from me, you monster!" she spat. Running forward, she shoved him back, pounding a fist to his chest. "How could you kill him?!"

At her words, his face darkened. He grabbed onto one of her wrists, caging it in his grasp. Leaning down, his breath fanned her face as he spoke. "Don't make this difficult." His raised his other arm, and she noticed the glint of silver too late. The butt of his knife slammed against her head, and pain bloomed through her skull.

Slumping over, she barely noticed as he heaved her over his free shoulder, and she swayed like a rag doll.

"There, there," Neito crooned. "I've got you."

And then the world went dark.

--

The bite of ice against her skin jolted her awake, and the frigid air nipped at her cheeks. The back of her head throbbed, and pain splintered throughout her head. Nausea rolled against her stomach as her upper body swayed from side to side, and her arms swung heavily over her head.

Gradually, she opened her eyes with a silent groan, only to be met with a dark cloak as it swept against ice. Her vision blurred, and something knocked into her side. Turning, she blearily stared at the crossbow that gently knocked against her. A pair of legs trudged through the snow, and when she tilted her head up, the castle loomed in the distance.

With a gasp, she twisted herself to see them headed toward an arch.

The gate.

Shall she leave your gates thrice
Your curse shall remain,
and you, crushed in its vice.

"No," she moaned weakly. Her thoughts flashed to Katsuki's unmoving body as he laid on the ground, two arrows protruding from his body. It didn't matter whether he was dead or not. She had promised to break the curse, and that's what she intended to do.

"You're awake," Neito commented, and his arm wrapped tighter around her legs. The casualness of his tone baffled her. It was as if he hadn't just led a siege on a castle and killed a person.

As her consciousness began to return, she realized that in a few minutes, they would pass the gates, leaving Katsuki to remain a beast forever. The thought spurred her into action, and she began to struggle, pounding her arms against his back.

"Let me go!" she shrieked. "Let go of me!" His arms tightened around her legs as she screamed, wiggling her body back and forth. He struggled with her, using both arms to lock her legs down, but she continued to flail, screaming into the night. "LET ME GO!"

"Katsuki! Katsuki!" she sobbed, and the desperation slammed itself into his back. "KATSUKI!"

A roar echoed behind them, and she jerked up to see a dark mound staggering through the snow, a cloak flapping through the wind. Katsuki pushed against the wind and ice, tearing through thick and thin as he stumbled forward. Rivulets of red swam down his body to splash scarlet in the snow, and she reached out to him.

Neito twisted around, and at the state of the beast, he smirked, lifting his chin at his weakened state. "No matter. You'll be dead soon anyway." He continued to make his way down the bridge, and she struggled even more as they neared the gate.

"Katsuki!" she cried even louder, and Neito grunted as she aimed a kick at his stomach. In retaliation, he jolted her, and she cried out as her head knocked against the crossbow. It sent a lightning strike through her head. "Katsuki!" she continued to scream. "KATSUKI!"

"Ochako!" Katsuki roared weakly. His voice was almost lost to the wind, rasping with effort as he followed them desperately, staggering over the mounds of snow that slowed him down.

To her horror, the gate loomed overhead, and she could only watch as Neito crossed the boundary with her on his shoulder. Immediately, the air shifted around them.

Suddenly, the skies burst with color, and white light exploded from the castle, searing through the windows and shooting into the dark clouds. It was like watching lightning shoot into the clouds in a thousand continuous strikes, and the ground rumbled beneath them. The light grew brighter and brighter, its halo around the castle growing massive until she could no longer watch.

Just as she shielded her eyes, she caught sight of Katsuki, who'd frozen in place. His ruby red eyes caught hers, held her gaze for the longest second, before he collapsed onto his side.

And suddenly she was jerked into the air. The sound of Izuku's cry overpowered Neito's grunt as he threw himself at them, tackling Neito down, and Ochako blindly fell into the snow. She scrambled for purchase, fisting her hands into the snow, and ice slid between her fingers.

The ghost of the light imprinted itself in her vision, and even as she blinked, a haze swirled through her sight. Weakly, she pushed herself up, shaking the snow from her hair. Her head thrummed with pain, and she gazed to her side, where Neito laid in the snow, Izuku sitting on top as he slammed his fists into his face. The crossbow lay discarded further into the forest, nowhere near Neito's dangerous hands.

The sky had cleared up, leaving no trace of dark, swirling clouds. Stars dotted along the midnight canvas, glittering like diamonds that littered the sky. The ice that'd twisted around them had dissipated, leaving nothing but winter's bated breath lingering in the air.

But the only thing she could think of was her beast. Her Katsuki.

A dark mound laid in the snow, unmoving, and she crawled toward it. Her heart pounded in her chest, overcoming the weakness in her limbs. With some semblance of desperate strength, she pushed herself up and stumbled toward him, her mind in a daze as it revolted against the image of his unmoving body.

"No," she murmured. "No." At his side, she collapsed onto her knees and grabbed onto his shoulder, pulling him until he rolled onto his back. His eyes remained closed, and she yearned to see those ruby eyes just once more. Her eyes burned, brimming with unshed tears, and she carded a hand through his mane. "No."

She slid his head over her lap as her hands traveled down his chest, where it no longer rose and fell. They ghosted over the wounds that she'd spent weeks cleaning and healing, and moved down his arm, her fingertips brushing against his scars. They stopped at his hand, and she pulled it up, bringing it to her face.

"Please, no," she whispered. A tear escaped its constraints, and slid down her cheek, hot and heavy against the chill of the night. Cradling his hand to her face, she nestled the apple of her cheek against his palm. "Stay with me, Katsuki." With that, she pressed a gentle kiss against his palm and began to sob his name, curling over him. "Please stay with me."

This was a pain she'd never felt in her lifetime. So raw that it sliced through her like a jagged dagger sawing through her chest. It punctured her heart, and something akin to lightning splintered throughout her body, weaving through her bones and ending at her fingertips. She sobbed for him, for the end of their story and a broken promise.

So caught up in her grief, she almost missed a glow that began to emit against her eyes. His body grew hot under her hands, and she pulled back with a sharp gasp. Even through the tears that blurred her vision, she could see that the beast had begun to glow. So startled by the turn of events, she couldn't find a flutter of hope as she watched the magic unfold.

Light fell from the sky, like little shooting stars that speckled around them, bursting as they touched the snow and ice. They aimed toward Katsuki, drawn to the glow on his skin, and fell against his body. A few of them bounced off of her hands, but the impact only spread warmth underneath her skin.

The light burned through the arrows, leaving nothing in its wake. From there, it traveled into his chest, where it split into four arrows of light. They moved through each limb, spreading the glow through his arms and legs until they beamed from his fingertips and toes. A final burst of light raced up his chest, illuminating his neck and head.

Ochako scrambled back as the light and heat from his body intensified until it was like she was gazing into the sun, and the heat scalded her. She shielded her eyes from the intensity, feeling her heart hum and sing a song of hope in her chest. Gradually, the light receded, and the stars stopped raining from the sky. Peace returned to the air, and she slowly lowered her hand.

There, in the snow, no longer laid a beast.

Instead, a young man had taken his place, and she exhaled shakily as she crawled toward him. His eyes remained shut, expression slack as if asleep, and she brushed her fingers down the slope his nose before grazing the side of his strong jaw. A light puff of air blew against her thumb as she swiped it against his bottom lip, and he shuddered as his chest began to rise and fall.

"Katsuki?" she whimpered. The young man groaned, and his eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing the same pair of ruby red eyes she'd grown so fond of, and her heart soared. They flickered in her direction, blinking as if gazing at her through a haze.

"'chako?" he muttered. Her eyes burned with tears, but this time they fled her eyes in relief as she huffed a laugh. With a tired moan, he pushed himself up, arms shaking with weakness. She gripped his biceps, feeling firm muscle beneath her fingertips as she aided him into a sitting position. As he slumped over, she wrapped an arm around  his shoulders, keeping him upright.

He turned his head to her and raised an arm, ghosting the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "Ochako," he repeated, and she reveled in the same gravelly voice that'd burned itself into her memory, leaning into his touch. As his arm fell, she caught it with her free hand, and both watched as her fingers traced the scars that puckered over his forearm.

This was him.

This was her Katsuki.

"You're alive," she breathed. "You're still by my side." Relief, happiness, and an amalgamation of emotions crested in her chest, rising until they soared into the nighttime sky, as bright as the shooting stars that'd sparkled at their side.

His other hand caught her fingers, enclosing them in a gentle hold, and brought them up to his face, where he lightly kissed her fingertips. "You came back," he murmured. "You saved me." She dropped the arm around his shoulders, moving to hold his hand and slowly intertwining their fingers.

"It's about time, right?" She threw him a watery smile, and he returned it with his own, still a little stunned at the situation. Then, without another word, he reached up and cupped her cheek with a warm palm, leaving his other hand intertwined with hers. She expelled a loose breath as she leaned into his touch, and he closed the distance between them.

His lips were remarkably soft as they pressed against her own, swallowing the gasp that escaped her. He remained gentle with her, barely brushing his lips against hers, yet she craved for more. Experimentally, she pushed closer, and taking the invitation, he kissed her deeper, stealing away her breath.

She'd never experienced something so intimate. So close, so wonderful. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, holding its breath as they kissed under the moon. As she shifted closer, her hand laid flat against his chest, where she could feel the hummingbird-like heartbeat flutter against her palm. That little indication of life warmed her, and she smiled, feeling a hot tear roll down her cheek.

At last, when she pulled away, he chased her and pressed a chaste kiss against the corner of her mouth. Her face burned with heat, cheeks blooming with color, but she couldn't tear her gaze from him. His hand remained cupped to her face, and she pressed her forehead against his.

Everything in the moment felt so right. The way she fit into his arms, the way his lips had slotted through hers. It was as if everything had faded around them, leaving them in their own little world, and she turned to press her lips lightly against his palm.

"Thank you," he whispered.

--

Katsuki grunted as she helped him hobble into the castle, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. As exhaustion plagued his features, she pulled him into the parlor, where they found a tall figure standing in front of the fire, his back straight and rigid as he stared into the flames.

She noted the unique, two-toned hair: one side red, the other white. He turned at their arrival, and she was stunned to see that his eyes matched the oddity. One was crystalline blue, the other a stormy grey. He switched his heterochromatic gaze between her and Katsuki, and she shrunk back from the intensity in his expression as well as the handsome sharpness to his face.

"It's nice to see you back to normal," he greeted, and Ochako recognized the austere tone.

Katsuki released a harsh breath as he settled into the armchair. "You too, Shouto."

Shouto twisted to her, and with one arm on his torso, the other to his back, he bowed to her. "Thank you for breaking the curse."

Something sparked in her memory, and she grasped at her head, brows furrowing. Why did their names sound so familiar? It felt like trying to nurse a headache, and she blinked at them.

"You wouldn't happen to be Todoroki Shouto, would you?" she asked hesitantly. Her gaze flickered between the two men, who watched her intently. Realization hit her, and she could hit herself for not realizing before. "You're the two missing princes."

Shouto raised a brow but nodded. He raised a hand to stroke at his chin in thought. "When the witch cast the spell, we believe its effects rippled through the land. It would explain how no one outside of the castle had realized two of its royal members had disappeared without notice—"

"SHOUTO!" The cry came from the large hall, and running footfalls tumbled over the stone. Another young man skidded to a stop in front of the trio, and he froze, switching his gaze between Ochako, Katsuki, and Shouto. But his eyes lingered the longest on Katsuki, who glared at him tiredly.

Ochako stared at the shock of red hair, its style a little longer than Katsuki's blond spikes. His face was ruggedly handsome, softened by the boyish roundness that hadn't fully left his eyes.

"You're human again," he breathed, shock blatant in his expression. "Oh my..." His eyes slid to Ochako, and he charged at her, picking her up by the waist and twirling her around. "You broke the spell!" he cried. She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled through her chest at his childish excitement, and they ignored Katsuki's loud, "Oi!"

"Eijirou," she continued to laugh as he finally set her down, the both of them dizzy from the twirl. "You're much taller than you were before." He stood a head taller than her, as did the two other men in the room, and he grinned at her.

"Of course! Though I'm still not sure why I was turned into a clock in the first place," he mumbled and scratched the back of his head.

Suddenly, a blur of pink shot into the room and tackled Ochako into a hug. They stumbled back before falling onto the plush rug, and Ochako caught a flash of bubble gum pink hair. The woman pushed herself up and stared at Ochako's stunned expression, her own face streaked with tears, and she lunged at her again, pulling her into a second hug.

"Thank you," she cried, and the voice that belonged to her tugged on Ochako's heartstrings. Without any hesitation, she held her tighter and buried her face into her shoulder.

When they finally pulled back, Ochako clasped her hand between her own. "No, thank you, Mina, for being my first friend in the castle," she said softly, and Mina's bright eyes brimmed with fresh tears.

Mina sniffed, swiping a hand across her face as she sobbed in happiness. "I don't have any tea to give you," she blubbered, and Ochako laughed, pulling her back into a hug.

"No, let me return the favor," Ochako offered, her eyes twinkling. "I'd love to make you a cup of tea."

--

It turned out, with Rikidou on their side, he alone had been able to overwhelm most of the townspeople. Most of them, farmers and shopkeepers, who already feared the unknown elements of magic, had been thrown out or had run from the witchcraft that'd plagued the castle.

Those who'd remained left right when Neito had crossed the boundary, and the castle had erupted into light. They'd scampered through the snow, shouting obscenities as they ran back to town.

The only ones who'd remained were Tsuyu, Tooru, and Izuku. The latter had run into the night, circling the castle in the hopes of catching the hunter by surprise. Now, Neito sat in the prison in the castle cellar, far from the rest of them.

All seemed well, except all of the recently transformed people struggled to adapt to their human selves. Eijirou sometimes complained that he couldn't fall asleep without the sound of a ticking clock, and Itsuka would growl in frustration as she adjusted to having fingers again. Even the most composed of them all, Shouto, would sometimes enter a dark room without a lantern, expecting things to be lit automatically.

The most humorous, though, came in the form of Katsuki as he tried to eat soup.

So used to having thicker arms and a mane to obstruct the path to his food, he would move his spoon in a large circle before sticking it to his mouth. His hands also fumbled with his silverware, grasping at them with his fists before he remembered that he now had normal-sized hands. As amusing as it was, she couldn't help the wave of sympathy that overcame her as she watched him struggle.

To make a point, as she hadn't been born into a noble family, she picked up her bowl and drank it from the rim. He caught her eye, and she glanced away, making the motion more prominent. One corner of his mouth quirked into a half-smile, and he followed suit. Nobody, not even Shouto, batted an eyelash.

As lovely as it was to feel a semblance of normality, Ochako couldn't help a thought that plagued her mind. She lowered her bowl to the table with a heavy sigh.

"Something on your mind?" Shouto whispered from next to her, and she jumped, twisting to him so quickly her neck cricked. To refrain from taking over the conversation with a pained whine, she sucked in her lips. "Did I startle you?" he asked, amused. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," she said and shook her head. "It's just—I've been thinking."

"Is something bothering you?" This came from Katsuki, and the conversation quieted a notch. She fidgeted in her seat, balling her hands into fists to wipe away the excess sweat from her palms.

"A little," she admitted. "I've been wondering about the curse." The two men raised their brows in surprise. "Specifically, the second half of the rhyme: 'Three nights the doors will seal shut. An entry for your exit. A path for redemption, but shall she leave your gates thrice, your curse shall remain, and you, crushed in its vice,'" she quoted.

Katsuki raised his brow, and Shouto nodded as he gestured for her to go on. "Well, the path for redemption. What was the redemption?"

Shouto took a deep breath as Katsuki picked up his spoon, swirling it around his soup. The discomfort grew evident on his face from the change in topic, and she mentally apologized to him.

"Well, I have some theories, but I don't think we'll ever be sure," Shouto answered with a slight shrug. "I think Katsuki's self-sacrifice played a large part in saving him—or well, the both of you."

"Self-sacrifice?" Even Katsuki didn't sound convinced, and his face twisted into disbelief. "Where'd you get that from?"

"A hunch. I don't know whether you remember or not, but you had two arrows sticking out of you—" Ochako flinched at the memory, and Katsuki's jaw twitched. "And you still went after them knowing Neito was dangerous and that Ochako was in danger," Shouto explained.

"Love makes you do all sorts of crazy things," Eijirou interrupted as he slid between Shouto and Ochako to refill her glass of water. "He—" Eijirou nodded at Katsuki, who grunted. "—might not have seen it, but we all saw the change."

At the word 'love', heat blossomed across her face, and she cursed at how easily she blushed. A smirk sliced over Katsuki's face, and she could feel the tide of teasing that he was about to unleash. So she stood, excusing herself, and rushed out of the room.

--

It was one of those days where everyone was busy with something. Mina was entertaining Tsuyu and Tooru in the parlor, where she recounted the events of the curse. Fumikage was spending the day with Kyouka after Ochako had introduced them a few days prior, and the amount of musical jargon they spoke was enough to leave Ochako at a loss. Eijirou was busy aiding Rikidou with picking vegetables, and they'd waved her off when she'd offered to help. Katsuki and Shouto were holed up in the library, conducting their princely duties.

Just as loneliness began to set, a set of footfalls lifted her spirits, and she shifted over on the bench. Her close friend grinned at her and took her invitation. Judging from the white that dusted his trousers, she could deduce that he'd just come from the kitchens.

"Were you learning from Rikidou?" she asked, nudging his shoulder, and he laughed.

"No, he was learning from me today," he replied, pushing her back playfully. "I taught him how to make our summer tarts. He's going to teach me his lavender lemon cake tomorrow, which will fit in perfectly at the bakery."  

Izuku sighed as he dropped next to Ochako, setting his flour-stained hands to his lap. He gestured to the ballroom, which had brightened considerably. It was as if the castle had undergone some form of purification, no longer dingy with dust and grime. "So this is what it looks like without the curse," he said, inhaling deeply. "Was it always like this or is it just different at night?"

She tilted her head up, feeling the sun that filtered through the large windows graze across her face in a warm caress. It glinted off the chandeliers, and shards of light refracted onto the pristine walls. Dust motes twirled above, and she nodded, biting her bottom lip. It was as if someone had pulled the curtains back, letting in the sun.

"Something's definitely different," she answered. "It's not the same."

"That's because it isn't." Footfalls reverberated through the room, interrupting their moment.

They turned to find Katsuki and Shouto walking toward them, the latter with his hands folded behind his back. Shouto gestured around the ballroom as Katsuki remained silent, his gaze trained on Ochako. Blushing, she sent him a timid smile, and he softened.

"This is what the ballroom used to look like before the witch cursed it," Shouto explained. "If you go around the castle, you'll notice a few differences. The most prominent one will probably be the lack of gargoyles at the front of the castle."

His heterochromatic eyes flickered to Izuku, whose wide stare swept across the room, before moving to Katsuki and Ochako. He cleared his throat and offered a hand to Izuku. The latter startled, and he stared up at the prince. "I have some business to attend to," Shouto said, then softly added, "Would you like to join me?"

Izuku had always hung his heart on his sleeve, and this time was no different as he accepted his hand. "Where are we going?" he stuttered, and Shouto quirked a corner of his mouth.

"I'm visiting a friend, Momo. She'll be helping me draft official letters to my kingdom," he explained.  

Shouto led him away but not before throwing Katsuki a meaningful look. As they retreated, the pair left behind waited until they could no longer hear their footsteps. It was then that Katsuki offered his hand to her.

Confused, she cocked her head before taking it, and he swept her off of her feet. She let out a squeak of surprise, which faded when he set her down and held her hand, placing the other on her waist. On instinct, she grabbed his upper arm with her free hand, and he pulled her close.

"Katsuki, I don't know how to dance," she protested, gripping him tightly as he moved them through the ballroom.

He shrugged, a casual lift of his regal shoulders. "Me neither. Didn't really pay attention to any of my classes." With that being said, she still noted that he was a smooth dancer, pulling her through cascades of sunlight. At one point, he twirled her, and she beamed at him as her heart flipped in her chest.

They danced to a beat of their own, and she giggled when he dipped her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Her face flushed as he pulled her back up, and her mind grew fuzzy with happiness.

"Will you read with me tonight?" she asked quietly, tilting her head up to gaze at him meaningfully before pressing her forehead against his shoulder. She could feel him nod as he buried his nose into her hair.

"Of course."

--

A thought struck her as they slowly fell asleep by the fire, and she lifted her head from Katsuki's shoulder. His gravelly voice soothed her as he read out loud, and at her gesture, he paused, turning to watch her with a question on his brow.

"Can I show you something tomorrow?" she asked. He flipped the book shut and tossed it onto the rug in front of them.

"Fumikage's having his first concert tomorrow evening," he answered, and she shook her head with a small smile. The pianist had been a bundle of nerves, wringing his fingers at the idea of playing to a new, albeit small audience that consisted of her friends from town.

For the first time, Denki, Tenya, and Mashirao would travel to the castle, accompanied by Tsuyu, Tooru, Kyouka and Izuku, who'd already been to the castle a few times since the siege. Others from the castle were going to join them in celebrating Fumikage's return.

She knew Mina and Eijirou were ecstatic to hear their friend play live again. Shouto and Momo were already confirmed to attend. Even Itsuka and Rikidou, who were both busy late into the night planned to support the pianist's return.

"It'll be in the morning," she reassured him.

--

"This early?" Katsuki grumbled under his breath, and she laughed quietly, slipped her arm into his. They walked down a familiar path, ducking low-hanging branches that trembled with ice, and their boots sank into the pillow-like mounds of snow.

"Just a little further," she said and tugged him along. He continued to complain under his breath, angrily cursing as at the twigs whose snaps echoed through the woods, but he continued to let her lead him deeper into the forest.

Soon, the sound of rushing water met her ears, and she sighed with familiarity. The wild rosebush that sat nearby hung with red roses, and she pulled herself away to crouch down, plucking one for herself. Twirling it in her hands, she resumed her place next to Katsuki, and they continued to travel toward the sound of water.

Finally, they reached the edge of the river. Ice no longer floated along its banks, but it still ran sluggishly, a lazy stream of water broken by rocks that jutted from their depths. They crouched down, and she held the rose in front of her.

"Good morning," she greeted. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Katsuki remained silent, watching her intently. "Mama, papa, if you're listening, I wanted to thank you for so much. Thank you for giving me strength through difficult times. Thank you for telling me not to give up and for guiding me through hard times."

She turned to Katsuki, a soft smile playing on the corner of her lips. "Times are strange, and I know I'll face more difficulties in the future, but I think I'll be fine. I met my best friend, my strength, my love of my life, and he's...everything to me. I wanted to let you know how happy I am staying by his side and that you don't need to worry anymore."

"Everything will be all right—we will be all right," she concluded. Just as she lifted the rose to place into the water, Katsuki stopped her, placing a hand over her wrist to lower it back to her lap. She blinked at him and watched as he reached into his cloak and pulled out a rose of his own.

Her eyes grew wide as she recognized it from that unforgettable night: it was the rose that Izuku had taken for her.

He pinched the stem between his fingers and cleared his throat, twirling it. "I'm no good with my words," he started awkwardly, "but this rose symbolizes the beginning of the end. The moment it was taken, I was afraid, but I knew it would lead me to someone who could break my curse. I didn't realize it would be someone I would fall in love with." He glanced at her, then moved his gaze to the rose, where he spun it between his fingers. "And Ochako's right: there will be difficult times ahead, but with her by my side, I don't have to worry." She reached over and intertwined her fingers with his. "We'll get by together."

At the finality of his tone, she knew it was time. They both lowered their roses into the water just as the sun broke over the horizon. Its rays shot through the sky, painting it fiery shades of gold and yellow, and cascaded onto their roses, illuminating their scarlet petals. They quivered in the water, twirling and pirouetting with the current, as if performing a dance for two.

Ochako leaned her head onto his shoulder, and he rested his cheek on top of her hair. They watched their roses travel downstream, and as they disappeared, Ochako turned her head and pressed a kiss into his shoulder.

"A new beginning?" she murmured, content with the way they sat next to the river and the way his breath fanned into her hair.

"A new beginning," he affirmed. "Together?"

"Together."