Archive of Our Own

Mist that would be fog come twilight swallowed Izuku and Ochako as their bucket of bolts gasped and growled up the pockmarked incline into the mountains. They’d borrowed the car from Ochako’s parents, and it was having a hell of a time with the weathered road, struggling with the switchbacks and crumbling stone. A few too many times for comfort, it had stalled or gurgled, chilling Izuku and Ochako to the core.  

This high in the mountains, cell phone reception was nigh nonexistent, making the prospect of breaking down deeply undesirable. Being stranded—or worse—was not how the pair had planned to snag the daily newspapers’ headlines. The young journalists had much less macabre plans in mind.  

“Deku-kun,” Ochako squeaked as the car was rocked by a pothole. “How much farther?”  

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles going white. 

“Well,” Izuku muttered, his eyes boring into the crinkled map in his lap. “Not much closer than the last time you asked, which was only—” He glanced at his All Mighty Press watch. “—five minutes ago.” 

A whimper escaped Ochako, and she forced a smile. 

“Sorry. I’m just...ready to be there.”  She pinched her eyes closed for a second and sucked in a breath. When she opened them, her expression relaxed, and a look of determination stole over her. “Let’s run over everything again.” 

“Right!” Izuku smiled.  

Ochako was nearing her wit’s end, but she wasn’t a quitter. He respected that about her. No matter how tough the going got, she kept on trucking.  

Setting their map aside, Izuku retrieved his composition notebook from his backpack and flipped it open. He thumbed through several pages that detailed the missing person reports, a topographical map of the mountain range, the contact information for the owner of the minshuku they’d be lodging at, a taped-in news clipping about the castle ruins, and an extreme number of tsuchinoko sketches. When he reached their itinerary, he stopped, smoothing out the coffee-stained page. 

“There’s no official check-in at the minshuku. On the phone, I gave Shuzenji-san a window of when I thought we’d be arriving based on traffic, weather, road conditions, and that sort of thing. She said that was fine, so I don’t think we need to worry about that too much, though it would be nice to get there before dark so that we aren’t imposing on her.”  

A nervous laugh bubbled out of Izuku, and he ran a hand through his curls. He’d hoped they’d arrive well before sunset, but at the rate they were going, they’d be lucky to get there before the moon ascended, illuminating the fog with her ghastly pallor. 

“We’ll have missed dinner, but they serve breakfast. So we’ll manage.” Izuku grimaced, his stomach protesting. “Tomorrow, we can split up to get started on the interviews. I don’t think many people live in the area, but I gathered from Shuzenji-san that there’s a few families around. After all that, we can check out the forest and, of course, the ruins.” 

At the mention of the castle, Ochako nodded resolutely. They’d been over these details countless times as they poured over their investigation. 

“And,” Izuku continued, excitement welling up in his chest, “if we’re lucky, we’ll find a tsuchinoko!” 

“If it’s a tsuchinoko,” Ochako snorted, rolling her eyes with a fondness that softened her lack of confidence in Izuku’s theory. 

He was set on finding the legendary cryptid. In his mind, it was the only explanation for the strange disappearances in the mountains. For longer than they’d been alive, there’d been rumors that tsuchinoko lived in this area. While they were said to be no more dangerous than their sibling species, there was no denying that a fair number of tourists with intentions of photographing them never returned from their mountain escapades. 

Which is how Izuku and Ochako found themselves following in their footsteps, eager to be the first to do what those had not: They were going to get their big break by solving the mystery behind the disappearances and capturing substantial evidence of a tsuchinoko. They were going to become envied investigative journalists. Then, Izuku could prove everyone back home who’d said he’d never amount to anything wrong, and Ochako would be able to provide for her parents.  

Still, Ochako didn’t quite buy into Izuku’s tsuchinoko theory. She wasn’t a staunch nonbeliever, but she had proposed that there were many plausible explanations for the disappearances that were less fantastic than a chubby cryptid turned man-eater. There were bears, boars, and cliffsides, after all. A person could theoretically die countless ways in these mountains.  

“What if it’s just a regular snake, Deku-kun? There’s plenty of venomous snakes in the mountains.” Ochako’s lips curled in amusement.  

“Well, if we find that out, then we’ll have solved what happened to the missing persons.” He shrugged. “But, I really hope it’s a tsuchinoko!” 

“For your sake, I hope so too,” Ochako giggled.  

Her laugh wasn’t a rare thing, but it made him blush anyway. He was glad he could have that effect on her—even if they’d only ever be friends, much to his heart’s disappointment. 

“Oh my gosh!” Ochako shouted, startling Izuku. “Is that it?! Are we here?” 

Squinting, Izuku could make out the looming silhouette of what had to be the Shuzenji minshuku. Drawing nearer confirmed their suspicions, and instant relief washed over them. The family-owned bed and breakfast was a sight for sore eyes, and Izuku could feel the knots in his stomach beginning to relax. 

With nightfall and the dense fog, he couldn’t make out much of the minshuku or its surroundings, but that didn’t matter much at the moment.  

“Do you have the rings?” Ochako asked, turning to face Izuku. She’d parked the car and was looking at him expectantly, her pink cheeks somewhat rosier than usual. 

“Mm.” He nodded, fishing around in his pocket to pull out a small ring box. Inside, a pair of modest wedding bands awaited them. 

“This one is yours,” he said, plucking his mother’s ring from the box.  

When Inko had learned of Izuku and Ochako’s plan to assume the cover of a newlywed couple, she’d gushed about how cute a match they were and offered her ring—and his father’s—to aid their endeavor. Izuku had insisted it was too much, but she wouldn’t hear it, pushing the tiny box into his hands with a wistful twinkle in her eyes. 

Izuku gestured for Ochako to extend her hand, and she obliged, her blush deepening as he slid the ring onto her finger. For a moment, his touch lingered as he marveled at the feeling of her hand resting in his. Her skin was soft and silky, a stark contrast to the calluses on her finger pads. He was deep in thought, considering how they might feel against his skin, when she swallowed and pulled her hand back. 

“Sorry, Urara—er...Ochako,” Izuku fumbled her name, remembering that they’d agreed to use their given names as part of their cover.  

Ochako blinked, her brown eyes wide and owlish, before tearing her gaze away from Izuku as if to hide her expression.  

“We shouldn’t make Shuzenji-san wait.” She fiddled with the cuff of her jacket. “We’re quite late already.” 

“Right,” Izuku agreed, sliding his father’s ring onto his finger. He studied the plain band, displeased with the sudden tightness that blossomed in his chest. Shaking unwanted thoughts out of his head, he grabbed his backpack and slid out of the car. 

Shuzenji Chiyo was a sweet, older woman, short in stature but kind of heart. She greeted Izuku and Ochako with a mother’s warmth, ushering them into her family’s humble home. She laughed brightly when Izuku called her ‘oneesan’ and offered them melonpan that they scarfed down as politely as their ravenous stomachs would allow. 

“Breakfast will be ready at seven,” Chiyo promised, showing them to their room. “Please enjoy your stay. We are honored that a couple as lovely as yourselves have chosen to honeymoon at our minshuku. We will do whatever we can to make your stay enjoyable.” Wishing Izuku and Ochako goodnight, Chiyo took her leave, sliding the room’s door shut behind her.  

Izuku examined the room and was hit by a realization that had yet to occur to him during all his hours of planning. He’d schemed up a little story about how Ochako was his college sweetheart and how he’d proposed to her on a balmy summer night under the stars at the site of their first kiss. They were wearing his parents’ rings and using each other’s given names in front of Chiyo, which made them blush fiercely. But he’d been too busy daydreaming about finding a tsuchinoko with his colleague turned crush to consider that there would only be one futon in their small room. 

Izuku swallowed.  

“So…” Ochako seemed to be having the same revelation, her cheeks a shade short of cherry. “How do… How should…” 

“Um.” Izuku swallowed. “Well, I can...sleep...uh…” 

“No, no, no.” Ochako shook her head, puffing her cheeks out for a moment before letting her breath go in a gust. “This is silly. It doesn’t have to be weird, right? We’re friends. We can just...stay on our own sides. It’s fine.” She looked to Izuku for his agreeance, sureness swimming in her beautiful brown eyes. 

“Yeah, of course,” Izuku replied, his heart sinking with the reminder that his crush was one-sided.  

It didn’t take long for the pair to ready themselves for bed, and they quickly found themselves staring at the ceiling, lying stiffer than boards on opposite sides of their futon that felt several sizes too small. Izuku’s heart thudded in his chest as if he’d just run a wind sprint, and he was sure Ochako could hear its frantic thumping.  

The silence of the room hung over them, depressing Izuku’s lungs until he could barely bring himself to suck in air. He felt lightheaded and wished he could fall asleep on command—anything to end the awkwardness of attempting to sleep little more than a foot away from Ochako. 

“Deku-kun?” Ochako whispered.  

Izuku’s heart leaped into his throat at the suddenness of her voice. He turned to look at her, hoping that his expression was schooled into one of mild, amicable interest. At least the familiar nickname was soothing; it was a far less troublesome moniker to hear breathed so gently from her lips than his given name. 

“Do you really think we’re gonna find a tsuchinoko tomorrow?” She chewed the tip of her thumb, waiting for Izuku’s reply. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But even if we don’t find it, I’ll have gotten to investigate this case with you, and that’s gotta count for something.” He smiled in earnest at her, feeling his heart swell at the admission.  

Even if Izuku daydreamed about tucking Ochako’s hair behind her ear when she was hard at work, pouring over case files, or fantasized about leaning in to see if her lips tasted as sweet as the dango he’d made a habit of bringing her from the corner konbini, he loved her as a friend too and would until the day he died. His respect and admiration for her were unwavering, and he wasn’t about to let unreturned romantic feelings tarnish the time he spent with her. Life was simply too short. 

As long as she’d have him, he’d be by her side. Through thick, thin, and— 

A horrible hiss that sounded like a laugh cut through the comfortable quiet.  

Izuku’s blood froze, his body going rigid as he tried to decide if the noise warranted investigation.  

“What was that?” Ochako breathed, fear creeping into her voice. 

Izuku didn’t answer, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing. He listened hard, tuning his ears with as much focus as he could muster. 

Cold howling winds were a whisper against their window. A distinct feline yowl sliced through the buzz of early autumn cicadas. And— 

The sounds of tall grass being parted as something large—and heavy—was dragged along the ground carried to Izuku’s ears. His mouth dried, a tremor finding his hands. 

There was a name for that kind of sound. 

Izuku opened his eyes, finding Ochako’s still on him. She shook her head and held a finger to her lips. He nodded but remained otherwise frozen, afraid that he’d alert whatever was outside to their presence if he moved.  

All the while, the cogs in his mind whirred at a fevered pitch. Without intending to, Izuku found his hand buried in his backpack, grasping his camera. 

“Deku-kun,” Ochako breathed, her eyes wide with worry. “Please. You can’t.” 

“But what if it’s—” 

Ochako’s hand shot out, pinning his shoulder back down against the futon.  

“No,” she said. “We’ll look in the morning. There’s too much fog, and it’s late. If something happened to you…” She trailed off as a shiver rattled her shoulders, and she pulled her hand back, hugging her arms to herself. 

“What if we can’t find it tomorrow?” Izuku’s fingers curled around the camera’s body. He itched to pull it out and race outside, momentary fear be damned. There could be a tsuchinoko out there! 

Ochako’s brow furrowed, and guilt welled up behind her eyes. She chewed her lip, and Izuku could read her conflict clear as katakana, scrawled across her pink cheeks.  

“Sorry,” he murmured, tearing his gaze from her. “I just got...excited, ya know? I don’t want this trip to be a waste of time.” 

“It won’t be,” she said. “You said it yourself; time spent together is time well spent.” A gentle smile curved her lips, and Izuku realized he’d been awaiting its return with bated breath. “And either way, we’ll have something to write about. We can always review the minshuku or write an article on the area, similar to those unsolved myth videos you watch. That would be fun, I think.” 

“You’re right, Uraraka-san. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“No,” she stifled a giggle. “You were overthinking.”   

Fears forgotten, the pair fell into a comfortable silence. Gentle rain began to patter outside their window, and the peaceful sound dulled the harsh howl of the wind, lulling them to sleep. 

They didn’t wake till morning, unwitting to the guest, who had passed their window, peaking in with hungry yellow eyes.  

A fat bead of coffee wriggled down the side of Izuku’s cup, plopping off the bottom and dripping onto his open notebook, disfiguring a painstakingly detailed tsuchinoko sketch. Cursing softly under his breath, Izuku scrubbed at the spill.  

His efforts were futile, and he was forced to resign himself, returning to cross-checking the missing persons reports as he finished his eggs and rice. Of course, he’d already circled several points of interest on the map. Still, he was curious about which locations were nearest the minshuku. After the previous night’s incident, those spots were prime for investigation.  

“Deepest apologies for the interruption, Midoriya-kun.” Chiyo bustled over Izuku, extending her landline in offering. “Your lovely wife rang. She wishes to speak to you.” 

“Oh.” Surprise rippled in Izuku’s voice, and a deep blush saturated his cheeks, memories of the early morning revisiting him.  

He’d woken to find Ochako curled against his chest, his arm draped over her waist, holding her close. Even now, he flushed at the thought of how comfortable he’d been with her in his arms and how good her hair had smelled as it tickled his nose. He’d done his best to free his arm and wiggle out of her space, but she’d woken and promptly scrambled out of bed, babbling ceaseless apologies.  

After that, she’d put away her breakfast in record time, grabbed her coat, and scurried out the door, calling over her shoulder that it was best that she got an early start on interviewing the area’s few locals, as promised. Izuku’s cell phone had lain silent all morning, though that was little surprise given the delicate state of reception. The service around the minshuku fared little better than it had further down the mountain.  

“Ochako?” Izuku pressed his cheek against the phone, his stomach a jumble of emotions. Maybe she needed him, or perhaps she’d gotten a break in their investigation. Excitement at the possibility overwhelmed his unease. 

“Izuchan!” Ochako chirped through the phone, a subtle purr punctuating her tone.  

Unable to school his surprise, Izuku blanched, pulling back to peer at the phone. 

“Uh, Ochako?”  

“Yes, silly! Who else?” Ochako giggled, her tone girlish and saccharine.  

Izuku’s brain itched to over-analyze Ochako’s shift from the state she’d been in as she’d rushed out earlier to whatever her current high-spirited mood was. There was also the matter of the nickname. While they had agreed to use given names, he hadn’t expected her to get creative and call him Izuchan. 

If he was honest, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Of course, she was well aware that he called his childhood friend Kacchan, so perhaps, that was where she’d gotten the idea. Still, the nickname sounded so utterly foreign to his ears that his skin prickled with fine bumps upon hearing it from her lips.  

“Izuchan?” Ochako whined into the phone. “Don’t go all silent on me, kay? Hey! You there?” 

“Oh!” Izuku spluttered, returning to himself. He shook his head and attempted to focus. He could over-analyze this later. Now wasn’t the time for muttering and introspection. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?” 

“Gah!” she huffed. “It’s good you’re so cute, ya know? Otherwise, you’d be awful troublesome.” Worrisome snickering trickled through the line, and it took everything in Izuku’s power not to get sidetracked into further analysis of Ochako’s demeanor.  

“So, there’s this really cool castle,” she hummed. “You gotta meet me there ASAP!” 

“What? Now? But—” 

Izuku’s confusion was mounting by the second. He’d known for a while that Ochako was a go-getter once she set her mind to something, but he’d never seen her go so utterly off book before. They’d gone over their itinerary too many times to count, and they’d agreed to visit the ruins together and only after they’d exhausted their other leads and interviewed as many locals as they could.  

“No, ‘but’s!” Ochako sung. “I met a real cool cutie up here, and she said it’s totally cool if you wanna stop by. And she said—” She paused, seeming to breathe heavily into the phone. “That we could stay for dinner—or longer! Said longer was fine too.”  

“S-stay for dinner? Or longer?” Izuku yelped, waving a hand. “But Ochako, we already have reservations here.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, hoping Chiyo was out of earshot.  

“Izuchan!” Ochako pouted, her voice crackling over the line. “We hafta! Please? Don’t leave me here alone.” Her voice softened, and Izuku could make out the sound of sniffling.  

“What happened to the interviews?” he asked, still at a loss for why Ochako had jumped the gun on their plans. 

“The interviews?” 

Static fizzled over the line, and Izuku pulled the receiver away from his ear.  

“Yeah, the—” Izuku shook his head again. Nothing about this conversation made sense to him. It was as if Ochako had lost all memory of their plans. 

“Ochako, is everything okay?” Izuku didn’t bother to hide the worry that crept into this tone. 

“Oh, the interviews! Right, right! Silly me,” Ochako giggled. “Sorry, Izuchan. I’m just so excited to meet you! I totally forgot myself for a minute there.”  

Her response did little to calm Izuku’s nerves, and he had half a mind to push the matter. The last time he’d let a friend brush off his concern, he’d regretted not checking in with them more closely. He didn’t want to find himself in a similar situation with Ochako that he had with Tenya.  

Before he could voice that, though, she continued.  

“You can do interviews here! Doesn’t that make the most sense? We can ask all about the things.” 

“Uh…” Izuku’s head was swimming. She wasn’t wrong, though. Interviewing the castle’s owner could be big for them. All of his research had told him that the grounds were mere ruins, but if someone was actually living there, well, they’d be sorely remiss to neglect documenting their take on the tsuchinoko situation.  

“Yeah, we were supposed to visit anyways,” he conceded. “Do you think she knows anything about the tsuchinoko? I mean, she has to, right? If she’s been living in the area.” 

“Tsuchinoko?” Ochako’s tone was hesitant. “Guess you’ll just have to ask and see.” 

“You mean you haven’t asked her yet?” Izuku nearly spilled his coffee in surprise. “You asked about the disappearances, though, right?” 

“Oh, people come and go, don’t they? They never really stay.” Ochako’s words were baffling. Izuku started to worry that she’d been drugged or suffered a concussion. It wasn’t like her to sound so wistful out of the blue like that.  

“The missing persons?” Izuku clarified. “From the reports?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Ochako hummed. “She said she knows all about that. She can probably tell you whatever you want to know, but you gotta hurry, kay? If you don’t come real soon, she might not tell you at all.” 

“Sheesh,” Izuku sighed. “Alright. I’ll join you there as soon as I can, then. I promised to help Shuzenji-san move some wood.” 

“Shuzenji-san?” Ochako’s voice hissed through the line, sharp and cold. 

“Yeah,” Izuku said carefully. “I’m sorry for the delay! I know our investigation is important, but she just needs a little help with the lifting. She said it’s hard on her now that her daughter has moved out. I really didn’t think it would be a big deal.” He laughed and ran a hand through his messy curls. “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, promise.” 

“Kay,” Ochako said, her voice no less arctic. “Just hurry. I’m awfully lonely, Izuchan.” 

With that, the line went dead, leaving Izuku to stare at the phone, baffled and perturbed.   

“Something troubling you, dear?” Chiyo’s expression was warm, her smile welcoming. “You seem a bit preoccupied.”  

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Izuku hefted an armful of firewood onto the rack. They’d stowed quite a bit already, but Chiyo wanted to bring as much into the house as there was room for, explaining that it was bothersome to make so many trips out to the wood shack and that her old bones had a hard time with the chore during the chillier seasons.   

“Well, I won’t pry it from you,” she said. “But an old woman does have some wisdom.” 

“Ura—er, my wife and I are here to inves—explore the area. We wanted to honeymoon here because we’d heard we could catch a glimpse of your rumored tsuchinoko. We planned to hike and take pictures, maybe even visit the ruins.” 

Chiyo’s smile faded, her eyes glazing over for a moment before she blinked, fixing Izuku with an unreadable expression.  

“And, uh, well,” Izuku continued. “She’s gone ahead without me. It’s unlike her. I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s super independent and totally capable, but we’re a team. So, it’s weird that she’d just… I don’t know.” Izuku frowned. “Anyway, she’s asked me to come to the castle. I guess there’s a woman there that knows about the tsuchinoko.” 

“I have no right to ask this of you, Midoriya-kun,” Chiyo said, her tone steely. “But you mustn’t go to that castle. Nothing good comes to those that visit. It’s a dangerous place, and I fear your young wife may have lost her way. Stay here as long as you like. I pray she returns to you, but you mustn’t look for her. You mustn’t enter the snake’s forest.”
“So there is a tsuchinoko?” Izuku gasped, steepling his hands before his face. “A real one?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t indulge you any on this matter.” Chiyo’s lips pinched, and she turned away from Izuku. “Please understand I wish only well for you, but I cannot discuss this further. My heart’s too old and will surely break.”  

She stood with her back to Izuku for a moment, as if there was more she did wish to say, but, in the end, she hurried away, disappearing into her home. 

Izuku watched her retreat, feeling more befuddled than he had in years. The morning had amounted to a rather surreal experience. First, Ochako, and then Chiyo—both adding fuel to Izuku’s already frayed nerves. He felt a bit sick. Anxiety clawed at his ribs, and doubt wormed through his mind. He hadn’t expected to feel so at odds with his objectives.  

Still, warning or no, he couldn’t leave Ochako alone at the castle, especially if the area was as dangerous as Chiyo claimed. He simply couldn’t stand by when a friend was in need.  

He was able to calm his mind some with the reflection that, as long as she stayed at the castle, Ochako would be safe from the tsuchinoko. It offered him little peace, but it was enough to keep his mind from spiraling.  

Izuku returned to the wood shack to grab the last load of logs. He’d promised Chiyo he’d help, so he’d do that much before making haste to the castle ruins. Lost in thought, he paid little mind to where he stepped and froze when an unsettling crunch resounded from underfoot.  

Peering down, Izuku found a peculiar, malformed pellet of sorts. It looked rather like the kind of thing an owl might regurgitate—or a snake, perhaps. Only this pellet wasn’t an average, or even remotely normal, size. No, it was large—the size of a rabbit or small cat. 

He stooped to look closer, identifying matted tufts of fur and splintered bones. A shiver tore up his spine. Whatever had left this behind was no ordinary predator, he decided.  

Izuku stared at Ochako’s parent’s car. It sat, untouched from the night before, in front of the minshuku. He’d half expected Ochako to have taken it. Then again, she was no stranger to hitting the pavement when it came to investigations. 

Pulling their map from his bag, Izuku settled into the driver’s seat. Not being able to rely on GPS was a bit of a drag, but he was comfortable enough navigating the old school way. He had spent a great deal of time studying the region, after all. 

Again, the car gasped and gurgled as Izuku coaxed it up the mountain’s steep incline. His heart thundered against his ribs each time the car shuddered, groaning to himself as the vibrations became more violent. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to the Urarakas that he’d totaled their car, assuming he survived the matter to explain himself. 

Before long, it began to rain, and then it began to pour. It wasn’t yet evening, but the sky was dark with storm clouds. Already, Izuku could barely see the road, and he knew that, if the car lost traction on the rain-slicked road, his heart would surely stop.  

The vehicle’s headlights were feeble in the growing gloom, and all Izuku could think about, as they flickered and waned, was poor Ochako having walked this whole way alone on foot. It hadn’t been raining before, but the trek was long and arduous. She must have been terribly tired after such a journey, though her energy when they'd spoken suggested otherwise. Perhaps, she’d gotten a lift from a local. Maybe, she’d met the castle’s owner in town. That must be it, he decided.  

By the time Izuku reached the mountain’s peak, he’d checked his map a dozen times to confirm he was still on track. He was sure it shouldn’t have taken as long as it had to reach the ruins and had now ruled out Ochako having walked. It simply wasn’t feasible given that it had taken him well over an hour by car.  

Pulling through the castle’s front gate, Izuku parked and turned off the car. The rain had let up some, and he was able to survey what ought to have been ruins but was actually a rather rundown castle. It was quite disconcerting.  

It was well known that the Japanese government had laid claim to most of the salvageable castles in the country, refurbished them, and opened a number to the public. There was no word of a castle in these parts, only rumors about possibly haunted or snake-infested ruins. So it made little sense that Izuku had driven through an ornately carved, albeit weather-worn, wooden gate into a courtyard surrounded by a rather sturdy outer wall. The castle itself wasn’t nearly in poor enough state to have been abandoned by the government, so whoever possessed it must have been wealthy indeed or was perhaps descended from the feudal lord, who’d first built it.  

This observation aside, it didn’t escape Izuku’s notice that the grounds were in a desperately sorry state—if he were to put it kindly. Whoever the mystery owner of the castle was clearly didn’t but stock into caring for the place’s upkeep. Knotweed grew wild along the outer wall and up against the castle, and a sea of coniferous trees swallowed the skyline.  

Izuku felt quite small as he peered through the windshield. He didn’t have long to ponder his existence, though, as a girlish squeal pierced the air, shocking him stiff before he could catch his breath. 

Ochako sprinted to the car, jerking at the driver’s side door handle until Izuku unlocked it. A ruby flush painted her pale cheeks, and her beautiful brown eyes looked honeyed with the car’s cab light illuminating them.  

Reaching into the car, Ochako tugged Izuku out, threw her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his curls.  

“Uraraka-san, I—” 

“Oh, Izuchan!” she purred against his neck, nustling her cold nose against the curve of his jaw. “I’ve been dying for you to get here. It’s been so awful waiting. I thought you were gonna stand me up.” 

Izuku couldn’t breathe. The air in his lungs had been sucked clean out by her embrace and the almost sultry nature of her voice. His knees felt a bit weak, and their elevation of the mountain was certainly no help. 

“I wouldn’t stand you up,” was all he managed to choke out, his words pitching up as a nervous laugh bubbled up in his chest. 

“Really?” Ochako breathed, pulling back to inspect his face. Her lips were parted in surprise, her eyes wide with awe.  

Nodding feebly, Izuku tried to extract himself from Ochako. He managed to free all but his hand, which she now clasped tightly in her own, her grasp unrelenting, even as her nails dug into his skin. 

“Let’s go in,” Ochako said, rubbing at her arm. “It’s itchy out here.”  

Unable to protest, Izuku allowed himself to be led into the castle, neglecting to grab his backpack from the car.  

Ochako dragged him up the front steps and through a set of heavy wooden doors that groaned as she pushed them apart. Beyond the entrance lay a long hallway, lined with time-worn shoji, whose lattice designs bore an ornate serpentine pattern that tickled Izuku’s attention. Ochako gave him little time to study it, though, all but jerking him over as he stopped to remove his shoes. Moreover, there didn’t seem to be hide nor hair of any form of house slippers, which regrettably left Izuku to pad after Ochako barefoot as she led him along like a child might lead a dog. 

Despite the hallway leading out into a courtyard, the castle’s air was stale and suffocating, thick with dust and a particularly pungent smell that made Izuku’s stomach turn. It was a rather rancid odor that he struggled to identify, reeking like rotten meat and cheap perfume.  

Unable to stomach the stench, Izuku pressed his sleeve to his nose. The faint smell of his mom’s detergent eased his nausea but didn’t entirely mask the castle’s oppressive bouquet.   

“C’mon, c’mon!” Ochako chirped, tugging Izuku down the hall.  

“It’s a bit,” Izuku choked, wheezing as dust filled his lungs, “dusty in here, don’t you think?” He coughed a few times in an attempt to clear his airway to little effect.  

“Dusty?” Ochako turned to look at Izuku. Her head lolled like that of a broken doll, her eyes owlish and unassuming. “You think so?” 

“Just a little hard to breath is all,” Izuku said, threading his free hand into his curls. It was a nervous action that was beginning to become a habit when he was around her.  

“Oh,” Ochako said, puckering her lips and tapping them in thought. “Well, you don’t mind, right?” 

“It’s not my place to say.” Izuku shrugged. He didn’t want to risk their host overhearing and end up offending her, especially not before having ever met. He did find it odd, though, that a person could live in such conditions. Surely, anyone would go mad living in such filth.  

Ochako made a sudden turn into an open room that’s minimalist decor seemed to consist of innumerable spiderwebs, a horribly stained and pockmarked chabudai, and several musty zabuton cushions that appeared untouched, save for the generous layer of grime discoloring them. 

“You eat, right? Dinner?” Ochako asked, finally releasing Izuku’s hand in favor of fluffing up the cushions, which only served to send debris into the air.  

“Um…” Izuku hesitated. A growing sense of unease crawled under his skin. “Isn’t it a bit early for dinner?” 

“I think it’s dinner time,” Ochako stated, the tip of her tongue peeking past her lips as she wet them. 

“Actually, I’m not really hungry.” Izuku hovered in the doorway. The inexplicable urge to bolt back to the car surged within him, and it took considerable effort to stand his ground as the hairs on his arms raised.  

“I don’t mean to be rude, of course,” he added. “I hope our host will understand. Speaking of which, where is she? I think I’d like to head back to the minshuku as soon as we’re done interviewing her.”  

“Izuchan,” Ochako whined, stalking toward him and clutching at his collar. “You can’t go. We haven’t had any fun yet!” 

“Uraraka-san,” Izuku said, swallowing thickly. Her entire front was now pressing into his chest so closely that she must have been able to feel the way his heart thudded against his ribs.  

“Ochako,” she corrected. 

“R-right. Ochako.” 

“That’s better,” she purred, releasing her grip on his collar and snaking her arms around his waist. Pressing her cheek to his chest, she hugged him, her arms constricting around him until he felt as though his lungs may burst.  

“Where is the host?” Izuku asked quietly, staring at the top of Ochako’s head so intently he could count her hairs.  

“Well,” Ochako sighed against him. “You took too long getting here, so she’s already in bed, you see. We’ll have to wait till later to talk to her, but I can show you to our room.” 

“R-room?” Izuku spluttered, prying Ochako off his front to read her face. “But Ura—Ochako, I just said—” 

“I know what you said, silly,” she laughed. “But it would be rude to turn her down, right?” She blinked up at him, fluttering her dark eyelashes.  

“I...suppose,” he agreed, feeling his stomach sink.  

He was nearing his limit with Ochako’s strange behavior, the castle’s unkempt and offputting state, his jumbled nerves, and the blatant lack of tsuchinoko sightings. He hadn’t risked life and limb driving up the mountain, twice no less, to visit some musty dwelling; he’d come to do what every investigative journalist dreamed of doing, dammit!  

His feeble concession seemed to be more than enough for Ochako, as she promptly dragged him from the room and down the hall.  

If the shoji before had been ornate, the doors Izuku and Ochako stood before now were painstakingly crafted, which made their neglect even more shameful. Gaping wounds in the paper suggested a struggle, slashes and stains disfiguring the recurring serpentine motifs painted across them. 

Seeing this didn’t seem to phase Ochako the way it did Izuku. Her face, usually expressive and unguarded like an open book, didn’t betray an ounce of surprise, let alone indicate that she’d noticed at all. Izuku, on the other hand, was finding it harder and harder not to use his strength to his advantage, haul Ochako out of the castle, and abandon all attempts to hunt for tsuchinoko. His bed back home sounded more appealing with each passing minute. 

Sliding the shoji open, Ochako pulled Izuku into the room, closing the door behind them.  

The black of the room was oppressive, decompressing Izuku’s lungs as though it were a physical weight on his chest. His breaths felt shorter, his knees weaker, the dense smell of rot waning as his senses were denied. Lost in the darkness, it was only then that he realized Ochako had disappeared from his side. 

The sound of a match being struck scratched at Izuku’s raw nerves, sandpaper rough. He jumped, and a harsh, cold shudder tore up his spine. Aside from the now pounding rain and rolling thunder leaking in through the castle’s outer walls, the room was as silent as a grave, save for the gasping flame that flickered inches from his face, illuminating Ochako’s startlingly caramel eyes. A trick of the light, he reassured himself.   

“Izu- chan,” she whispered. “You’re too pale. The blood’s gone from your face.”  

A cool finger ghosted over Izuku’s cheek, and he flinched. 

“Don’t be mean,” Ochako breathed, her tone bruised and fraying.  

“I-I’m sorry,” Izuku said, forcing the words past the knot in his throat. “You surprised me.” 

“But surprises are a good thing, no?” she asked, her voice fading with the match’s life, disappearing into the blackness that swallowed them. 

The sound of a second match being struck carried from further away this time, and Izuku watched as Ochako knelt to light a small lamp, which was sat by where a window might have been but wasn’t.   

Shadows stretched from the lamp, dancing across the room’s blackened floorboards and eating at the edge of a futon several sizes too small. Sharing the space with Ochako would prove cozier than the night before, especially with her change in attitude. Izuku, still frozen where he stood, flushed at the thought. 

Returning to his side, Ochako grabbed Izuku, tugged him over to the futon, and planted her palm into his chest, shoving him back onto it. He gasped and toppled ungracefully, reaching out to brace his fall, an action which only served to strain his wrist.  

Ochako giggled and crawled atop him, straddling his lap and pinning his shoulders down, her nails digging into his skin through his t-shirt. 

“So,” she purred, the sound breathy and heated. “How does this work?” 

“How does what work?” Izuku choked.  

It was all too much, and Ochako’s weight pressing into him was the last straw. 

Panicked, he grabbed her hips and attempted to dispel her—anything to get more distance between them. Ochako had other plans, though. She clung to him, rolling onto her back, and Izuku, chagrined and his freckled cheek’s flaming, found himself hovering over her. Worse, she clamped her thighs around his waist, preventing his hasty retreat.  

As much as he’d daydreamed about being close to Ochako, he couldn’t stomach the thought of her attempting anything like what she seemed to be attempting just because she thought it was what he wanted. His stomach twisted into knots. Somehow, he’d made a mess of things. He must have said something to give himself away when she’d apologized for snuggling up to him that morning. He had to have—and now, she thought this was how she could fix things. 

“Uraraka-san,” he pleaded. “This isn’t what I want.” 

Ochako blinked, her expression wiped blank, and then, she paled, releasing Izuku and shoving him away.  

“But I thought…” Her voice was small, a meager whisper, and for as uncomfortable as Izuku was, its sound provided some reassurance that she was still the Ochako he knew—the Ochako he loved and that loved him, even if only as a friend. 

“I thought you loved h—” 

“What?” Izuku scrambled up to a seated position. “L-love? Who? Love? I don’t love anyone.” He waved his hands frantically and laughed. “I mean, of course, I love you, like, as a friend but I—” 

“So you do love me?” Ochako scooted closer, transfixed despite Izuku’s wild gesturing.  

“Yes,” he replied thickly and with little thought to how hoarse he sounded. It was as close as he’d get to a proper confession—as honest as he could be without the truth spilling out.  

“Izuku,” Ochako whispered, blessedly dropping the ‘chan,’ though in doing so stealing his breath again. “Will you hold me?” 

His mouth was cotton dry, his tongue too heavy to utter the simplest of sounds.   

“I get cold,” she added. 

Part of him wanted to say no. Even though she’d requested it of him, guilt still burned in his blood, and he wasn’t sure he could hold her without breaking his heart. 

Still, he couldn’t say no—not to Ochako. 

Repositioning himself, Izuku gathered Ochako into his arms, his heart tightening in his chest when her fingers fisted the front of his t-shirt. He draped an arm over her, his hand finding the soft curve of her waist. 

He’d survived the previous night; he’d survive this one too. After all, loneliness and longing had their own calms. 

Eyelids growing heavy, Izuku’s consciousness began to unravel, his mind growing weary, his senses dulling. The tension in his body never truly faded, though, and terror crept into his dreams, taking refuge in the shadowed corners of his mind.  

His sleep was fitful, but he didn’t wake. Not to the howling wind or torrential rain. 

Nor to the sensation of needlepoint teeth sinking into his flesh.  

Izuku woke late into the next day, light-headed and vision blurred around the edges. His stomach ached, and his muscles protested as he attempted to push himself up. Resigning himself, for the time being, he used the dregs of his strength to roll his head and survey the room. 

It was brighter than before, illuminated by gloomy beams of grey light that bled through the walls. More marked than the room’s decor was Ochako’s absence.  

She was gone, and there was no warmth in the futon beside Izuku, leaving him to assume she’d wandered off long before he woke.  

With a sigh, he stared at the ceiling, his eye-catching a particularly bulbous spider in a corner, its hairy legs worrying over its silk bound prey. Of course, there were spiders, he thought glumly, though perhaps it was a sign that his trip would right itself. The spindly-legged arachnids were the bearers of good fortune, after all. 

He had to hope, especially as his sense and, with them, the pungent odor of decay returned to him. 

Sitting, Izuku groaned, his neck twinging. He felt at his skin, finding that it was raised and hot to the touch as though infected. Pressing on the heated mound deepened the ache, and Izuku knew without a doubt that something was wrong. 

His memories of the night before returned in force, all the more haunting now that he’d been afflicted or assailed by something. Unable to see his neck, renewed panic flooded his nervous system, burning through his body like a shock of ice water. 

He scrambled to his feet, inattentive to his rumpled state, and staggered across the room searching for a reflective surface. He needed to see his neck, and then he needed to find Ochako so that they could leave. They could figure things out at the minshuku—or not at all! 

Izuku’s desperation mounted the longer he searched. He felt through his pockets, swearing when he remembered he’d left his bag in the car. He had no phone, nothing of his own. Not even his shoes.  

Turning to leave, his heart stuttered, his eyes finally catching on the floorboards. They’d looked blackened before, but now, by the light of day, he could see them clearly—could see the dirty, rust-brown stains that coated the floor like spilled paint. Could understand part of why the castle’s air was so suffocating. And when his eyes found the shredded shoji, he knew he couldn’t doubt his intuition. 

The gaping knife wounds in its paper were similarly tarnished, splattered so thickly the blood flaked.  

Izuku’s stomach turned, his body dry-heaving. If he’d held anything in it at all, he’d have surely vomited.  

It was time to go, Izuku decided. 

So, he bolted. 

As silently as he could manage and hoping that he found Ochako along the way.  

Perhaps, their host had an excuse. Maybe this could all be explained away easily and with a carelessly waved hand. Castles had seen unsavory acts, the same as any other historical site. This one was clearly no different. Still, the air should have cleared by now, he thought. The scent of death shouldn’t have been so heavy.  

Skidding out to the car, Izuku’s heart stopped. He’d hoped to find Ochako, but what he found was a locked gate and slashed tires. 

“No, no, no!” Izuku wailed, rushing to the car. Its driver side door hung open, its cab lights off. 

Eyes prickling, Izuku reached into the car to turn the key. As he feared, the battery was dead, likely drained from the door sitting open overnight. Flipping his visor down, he inspected his neck, his breath catching in his throat. 

A cherry wine bruise had blossomed across the skin above his jugular vein, a pair of puncture wounds glaring at him from its epicenter. The two dots burned themselves into his mind and reached through his ribs to clench his frantically beating heart with taloned nails. They were spaced apart just enough that Izuku’s mind ran away with him. 

And oh did it run.  

He wasn’t a fan of horror, per se. He didn’t mind the genre; he merely preferred to spend his time delving into folklore, most notably concerning yokai. It was an obsession that had led to his dedicated tsuchinoko hunt. 

Still, he was well aware of what a bite like that could mean—and just superstitious enough to believe that, perhaps, their host wasn’t what she had seemed. Though, in fairness, he had little to judge by, having only heard her off-handedly referred to as “a real cool cutie” by Ochako. Other than her testimony, his presumption was entirely based on the castle and its macabre state.  

With a last look at the bite mark on his neck, Izuku grabbed his bag and ran to the gate. The thick wooden doors were drawn and seemed to have no intention of moving when he attempted to shoulder them open.  

They were trapped. 

He’d have to find them another way out. 

But first, he needed to find Ochako.  

No matter how his skin crawled or his blood churned, he couldn’t leave without her. 

Even if it meant walking back into the belly of the beast. 

Izuku was brave. He was sweating through his t-shirt, and his hands shook like leaves in a windstorm. But he was brave 

Room by eerie room, he searched the castle, his blood roaring in his ears. There was no sign of Ochako. Her absence was a festering wound, more troublesome than the bite on his neck. He missed the sound of her honey-sweet voice, her warm brown doe eyes, those round pink cheeks, and the way a smile teased her lips when he rambled. He missed those things and so much more. He’d take all their awkward moments, brought on by this trip, if he could only just find her and make a break for it with her calloused hand in his.  

Turning a corner, Izuku slammed into something large and firm that was most definitely moving.  

A body. 

Izuku stumbled, his hands shooting out to steady himself. He clutched at the body, grasping its arms for balance.  

“Izuchan?”  

Izuku blinked. He righted himself. And then, he looked up. 

Ochako stood before him, her eyes wide and mouth agape.  

Only, now that he could see her, truly see her, study her, his chest grew tight. Numbness washed over him. Had he simply not noticed before? Or had she been more careful?  

Ochako—this Ochako—studied him with eyes the wrong shade of brown, too golden, too amber. Her cheeks were heavily flushed but not in the way he was accustomed to. The voice that had said his name was too bright and breathy, its pitch wrong, and a pair of fangs peaked past her upper lip, glinting in the gray light of a rainy afternoon. 

He was hallucinating, he told himself. He was wrong. He was tired and unwell, and his mind was playing tricks on him. 

This was Ochako. She had to be. But… 

A gentle thumb brushed his cheek.  

Izuku’s skin burned. 

Perhaps, he couldn’t trust his eyes. 

But the velvety smoothness of her fingertip said enough, and he should have realized that the night before.  

Whoever this person was, they didn’t know Ochako—didn’t know her well enough to fool her closest friend. Not anymore. 

Ochako knew the plan. She knew they were going to the ruins last. She knew about the interviews—about the tsuchinoko investigation. She would have taken the car. She would have taken him with her. 

This being wasn’t just an imposter, attempting to wear his best friend’s skin: they were the only other person atop the mountain. He’d stake his life on it. 

And that meant, he had no lifeline. He was left with nothing but his wit and analytical mind. 

“What’s wrong?” the creature asked, canting her head to gaze up Izuku. 

“Nothing.” Izuku forced a smile, his mouth dry as cotton. “Was just looking for you.” 

“Oh, perfect!” She beamed. “I wanted to show you—” 

“Actually,” he interrupted. “I don’t mean to burden our host, but I’m awfully hungry. Is there any chance she has something to spare? If not, I’m afraid we should be going. I have a, uh, condition.” It was an obvious lie, but he was counting on the imposter to play along. “You remember, right? If I don’t eat, well, you know.” He laughed, hoping the sound didn’t betray his nerves.  

“Right.” She nodded, tapping the corner of her mouth. “I’m sure I can find something. Wait here, kay?” 

“Thanks, Ochako,” Izuku said, layering false warmth into his tone. “I can always count on you.” 

The Ochako look-alike lit up, threw her arms around him in a terrifying hug, and then blessedly padded off down the hall, back the way she’d come. 

Izuku didn’t wait to see what she’d bring him. He didn’t care about interviewing her or finding out what kind of yokai she might be.  

Fear could make men more determined. 

Izuku was only as trapped as his mind, he told himself. 

That was how he managed to scale the castle’s outer wall, digging his nails into the crevices and hauling himself over its crumbling precipice.  

Then he ran, his muscles burning with exertion. 

He ran, and he ran. 

Deep into the forest.  

Stumbling and fumbling. 

Heart hammering. 

He didn’t intend to stop—no matter how far, no matter how long it took—until he reached the minshuku.  

But he did stop. 

Izuku caught sight of a blonde woman, sitting at the base of a tree. Relief crashed over him. He had never been more grateful to see a stranger. 

“Excuse me!” Izuku called out to her, his lungs burning and gasping. “Please, you have to help me.” 

The blonde rose to her feet, brushed off her skirt, and smiled. 

Her yellow eyes were slit. Her teeth fanged. 

“Oh, Izuchan,” she simpered, a furious blush saturating her cheeks. “Of course I will!” 

Time froze.  

Izuku couldn’t breathe. 

Couldn’t move. 

Not even when the blonde’s jaw unhinged and a massive snake erupted from her throat, shedding its human skin.  

When she’d woken, Ochako had found herself snuggled up to Izuku. At first, she’d thought she was dreaming and was far too comfortable in the warmth of his arms. She hadn’t wanted the dream to end. That is until she realized she wasn’t dreaming, and he was attempting to free his arm from her. 

Embarrassed and horrified, Ochako had sprung away from him and ran from the room. It was bad enough to have enjoyed his embrace without his knowledge, but him waking first to find her pressed against him was too much. The shame of it overwhelmed her.  

She was a horrible friend, possibly the worst.  

She’d promised to help with the investigation, and now, here she was using their cover story to her advantage. Her stomach had knotted. She was some kind of monster, and her crush was getting out of control. She should have been more careful. She shouldn’t have suggested that they share the futon. 

“Ugh,” Ochako groaned, her fingers tapping against her thigh as she walked. She had made such a mess of things, and now Izuku probably thought she was pushy or perverted.  

They were to have met over breakfast and discussed the investigation, but she’d wolfed her eggs and rice down at an alarming rate and dashed out the door before Izuku could so much as stretch his infuriatingly toned arms and roll out of bed. 

No way was she sticking around to see that. Not after making such a fool of herself.  

He’d have been sweet to her too. She knew it—knew no matter how much she messed up, he’d still look at her like she hung the moon because he was sweet like that and would never begrudge a friend.  

Ochako pulled her hood lower over her eyes. It helped little against the rain, which was pouring fit for a monsoon. 

She’d conducted as many interviews as she could, which wasn’t many, and had found little useful. Half of the problem lay in the lack of local witnesses. There were few people living this far out and fewer still that were close enough to where people had gone missing to know much about it. The other half of the issue was that, of the people she had talked to, everyone had become tight-lipped when she’d brought up Izuku’s tsuchinoko theory, and at any mention of the ruins, they’d bowed politely but asked her to leave, effectively throwing her out of their homes. 

Now, she just wanted to get back to the minshuku and warm up, even if it meant facing Izuku.  It wouldn’t be so bad, she hoped. He’d probably get caught up in his excitement to hear what she’d found. With any luck, they would both forget it had ever happened.  

It was dark by the time Ochako reached the minshuku. Night had fallen swiftly, and the rain and its clouds blotted out the stars, leaving only the moon to cast its light upon the mountainside.  

She noticed that her parent’s car was gone and shook her head with a smile. Izuku was probably still out, sucked into his work. 

Slipping back into the minshuku, Ochako called out for Chiyo and busied herself with removing her wet shoes. She couldn’t wait to warm up, and, though it felt greedy to hope, there was always the chance that Chiyo might have sweets for her to munch.  

“Midoriya-san?” Chiyo’s hands shook as she approached Ochako. Her complexion paled, and her every movement was hesitant as though she was afraid of Ochako. 

“Good evening, Shuzenji-san,” Ochako smiled and bowed. “I take it Dek—uh, my husband hasn't returned yet?” 

Her question was met by silence.  

Chiyo’s expression shifted, her apprehension melting away to reveal pity.  

“Oh, dear,” the older woman sighed. “Allow me to prepare some tea, if you’d like it.” 

“That would be lovely, if you’re willing,” Ochako said, bowing again before peeling off her rain-soaked jacket.  

She followed Chiyo, taking a seat as her host roasted hojicha in a porcelain teapot painted with red camellia flowers, a favorite of hers. Watching Chiyo work helped put Ochako’s mind to rest, and the familiar caramel-like smell of the tea soothed her nerves. 

Chiyo didn’t speak as she prepared the tea, and it wasn’t until she poured Ochako a cup and placed it before her that she let out any noise at all. A bone-weary sigh.  

“Itadakimasu,” Ochako hummed, bowing her head. She reached for the cup, letting its heat seep into her hands. Its warmth alone was grounding, and she couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips as she watched steam curl from the cup. 

“Um, Shuzenji-san?” Ochako said after some time. She’d drank most of her tea and had half-expected Chiyo to have answered her earlier question by now, but the woman sat gray-faced, staring at her tea, which she’d left entirely untouched.  

“I’m sorry, dear,” Chiyo sighed, shaking herself from her stupor. “Is the tea alright?” 

“It’s lovely,” Ochako assured. “Um, I was wondering, though, you haven’t happened to have seen my husband, have you? I thought he’d be back by now. He does have a tendency to get lost in his work, but it’s getting late—and I’m a bit worried about him driving our car in this rain. It’s not in the greatest shape, and...”  

She trailed off and shook her head, pushing down the troublesome ‘what if’s that had welled up in her mind. 

“I fear he won’t be returning,” Chiyo said solemnly, her grasp on her cup tightening until her knuckles whitened. “I’m deeply sorry, my dear.” 

Confusion stole over Ochako like a hungry riptide, yanking her feet out from under her and tugging her into a deep sense of foreboding. The timbre of Chiyo’s tone was disconcerting and made her head feel fuzzy. Static crackled in Ochako’s veins, her blood buzzing like a live wire. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I apologize, for I cannot say much.” Chiyo released her cup in favor of folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes didn’t leave her tea, though, unable to meet Ochako’s gaze. “But, in my heart, I know that your husband has gone where he ought not to have and will surely suffer for it. I regret to say it’s unlikely we’ll meet again. He’s gone from us now.” 

“Gone from us?” Ochako parroted, finding herself on her feet. Her hands trembled at her sides, and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. “I’m sorry, Shuzenji-san, but may I ask what you mean?” 

“I warned him not to go,” Chiyo said. “Told him not to enter the snake’s forest. He didn’t listen.” She paused and then added, “His love for you is overwhelming. He rushed to your aid, knowing the dangers.” 

“The dangers?” Ochako squeaked, her cheeks cherry red. Her attention was torn, snagged by Chiyo’s misguided declaration of Izuku’s love. Shoving her butterflies aside, Ochako clenched her fists, reducing their tremors. “What did you warn him about? And what do you mean about him rushing to help me?” 

“I cannot say more. Please, forgive me.” Chiyo rose to her feet, bowing slightly to Ochako. “My heart is already more broken than you know.” 

Dread formed a pit in Ochako’s stomach. Her chest was tight, and she was having difficulty breathing. She didn’t understand Chiyo’s vague admissions, and she was starting to believe that Izuku was in danger, which was a harrowing feeling that left her hollow.  

If he was in danger, she had to rush to him. She had to help him. 

Losing her best friend would break her. 

Chiyo made as if to leave, but Ochako’s body moved before her mind could stop her—before her dignity could get the better of her. 

“Please,” she cried, throwing herself at Chiyo’s feet. She bowed low, pressing her forehead to the floor. “Shuzenji-san, I love him.” 

The confession plucked the cork out of Ochako’s carefully bottled emotions. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her voice cracked, broken by the truth’s weight. 

She’d know she loved Izuku for a long time. After years spent in denial, she’d finally faced her heart’s desires, but she’d vowed to keep their friendship sacred. She couldn’t risk losing him over an unwanted confession. So, she’d never acted on her feelings. Never spoken those words aloud.  

“Oh,” Chiyo gasped, clasping a wrinkled hand to her mouth. “Please, Midoriya-san. I’m not strong enough to tell you what you want to hear. Please don’t make this harder on this old woman.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ochako cried, her eyes scrunched as tears streamed down her nose to land on the floor. “He-he’s my...best f-friend, and I—” Her throat seized, choking her plea. “A-and I can’t lose him. P-please, if you can’t tell me about the danger, tell me where he is so that I can go to him.” 

Silence hung over the women, blanketing them in air too thick to breathe. 

“There is a monster,” Chiyo murmured.  

Ochako’s shoulders tightened, and she forced herself up, looking to Chiyo. The older woman swallowed and continued, her eyes glassy as she whispered. 

“It took my husband from me. It’s taken many others too. You’re unwise to enter the forest, but I’m too old to stop you. Nor is it my place to prevent you from going to your husband.” 

She paused, her eyes seeing through Ochako into a space beyond. 

“If you must go to him, be strong. Be brave. Be cunning. The snake is wicked and smart, a deceiver. You will be alone. Trust no one. Your survival will depend on it.” 

Chiyo stood like a statue, unmoving, even to breath. 

“Where do I go?” Ochako asked, her skin prickling. There was no decision to be made. She would do anything to rescue Izuku.  

“The ruins,” Chiyo breathed. 

“The ruins?” Ochako gasped “But that’s—”  

It was well over an hour’s journey by car, if Izuku’s calculations had been correct. They’d gone over his itinerary enough for her to remember that. However, it would take longer with the brewing storm, and she no longer had the car. 

Which left… 

“Midoriya-san,” Chiyo said. “I’ve been a terrible host. Allowing me to make amends.” 

Ochako’s muscles burned, but she’d sooner die than stop pedaling. She couldn’t give up, not on Izuku. She felt incredibly silly as she gripped the handlebars, but working the borrowed bike to its breaking point was better than walking if it meant she’d get to Izuku faster. 

Her calves were on fire, and her thighs trembled from the effort. The borrowed bike, belonging to Chiyo’s daughter, wasn’t built to handle rain-slicked inclines. It was also old, rusted in some places, and creaking loudly as Ochako chewed the inside of her cheek bloody. Plateaus in the road were her only saving grace, allowing her to build speed.   

Her knuckles were white, having grown cold and bloodless as she clung to the bike. She was prepared to ride through the night. She’d continue through the morning too.  

Whatever it took. 

She’d save Izuku. 

The bike’s front tire hit a hole in the road. 

Without any form of a headlamp, Ochako hadn’t seen it, and with her vision obscured by the rain, she’d ridden right into it. 

The sound of the bike’s chain snapping hurt more than the spill she’d taken from the bike. Her hands were scraped raw, her jeans torn. Her knees stung, and there was, without a doubt, no hope for the bike’s survival.  

Scraping herself to her feet, Ochako took a shaky step forward. 

The rest of her journey would be on foot. 

So be it, she thought bitterly. That changed nothing. She wouldn’t give up now; she was tougher than that. 

Izuku woke underground. 

His body ached. His neck was crusted with blood, and his head was throbbing. 

He was alone, though, and that was relief enough. He couldn’t remember much of what had happened in the forest, but the yellow-eyed snake as it lunged for his throat wasn’t something he could forget. He remembered that well. 

And he remembered being called Izuchan.  

He should have known from the moment Chiyo had handed him that phone, and he cursed himself for not seeing the signs. He’d always prided himself on being observant, but he’d been led astray by his desire to find a tsuchinoko, which he now knew wasn’t bound to happen. In fact, it was never going to happen, he realized, his morose mood souring further. 

The worst part of this all was that he had put himself and Ochako in danger. He’d put his best friend in danger. At least, he could take comfort in the fact that she was far from the castle.  

A part of him wondered if she’d called the police. He had to assume that by now she knew he was missing. Even if Chiyo had stayed silent on the matter, which he wasn’t sure she would have, there would be no way that Ochako would let him disappear like the others. 

He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t let him go that easily. Her heart was too caring and loyal. She’d never leave a friend in need. He could count on that much. 

Still, a small part of him hoped that she would leave him be. While he wasn’t throwing in the towel yet, he didn’t want her getting involved either. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if harm came to her. 

No, he decided. It was definitely best if she called the police and let the matter lie in their hands. So for her sake, he hoped Chiyo had been as tight-lipped as when he’d spoken to her. At least then, he’d only have to worry about his own skin. 

Pulling himself to his feet, Izuku surveyed his surroundings. He’d been able to tell he was underground by the coolness in the stale air and the blackness that swallowed him whole.  

Feeling around, Izuku found what he took to be a wall. He ran his hands along its surface, his fingers finding grooves between what he deemed to be stones. Assuming he’d been returned to the castle, he could safely surmise that he was in a dungeon of sorts, likely beneath the main building. 

He walked along the wall, turning when he bumped into a corner. He pressed onward, continuing until he found a second not much further along. So he was in a cell—and a small one at that.  

The third time he bumped into something, his hand found splintering wood, and he hissed in surprise as it scrapped him, its tiny needles digging into his hand.  

The door, he thought. It had to be.  

Izuku investigated the front of the cell, feeling around until he found the door. He continued to run his hands over the wood, looking for hinges, for a lock, for anything. Mostly he just found splinters that burrowed under his skin, but with the threat of death hanging over him, there was little time to worry over trite matters.  

When his fingers finally dragged over cold metal, his heart soared. Feeling over the hardware, he did his best to decipher what he was working with.  

Around the hinges, the wood felt softer. Rotten, he hoped.  

Trailing his hand across the door, Izuku found the lock. Then, he lined himself up and kicked as close to the metal as he could, driving into the door with as much force as he could muster. 

It wasn’t enough. 

So, he kicked again. 

And again. 

Until the wood succumbed, tearing apart under the weight of Izuku’s desperation and determination.  

Outside the cell, Izuku shuddered. A fresh wave of terror poured over him like tar, thick and viscous, clogging his airways. His head spun, and his eyes refused to focus. The darkness of the dungeon was suffocating and disorienting. He felt more vulnerable than he had locked in, and he knew that every step he took could, and likely would, bring him closer to the yellow-eyed snake demon. 

Still, he had little choice. 

So, he whispered a desperate, mumbled prayer to his ancestors, asking them to guide him, and followed his gut, creeping down the left side of the tunnel as softly as he could.  

He tiptoed on and on, sure he was going mad, sure he’d gone the wrong way. He kept one hand to the wall, choking on fresh fear when it disappeared from his reach. Stumbling, he managed to find it again and carried on, pressed to it until faint white light filtered into the tunnel. 

Having made his way out of the depth of the earth, Izuku quickened his pace, creeping through an unexplored wing in the castle’s main floor. He walked on the balls of his feet, careful not to let his heels touch the ground. He knew nothing about the snake demon, other than his inference that it had shapeshifting abilities. If there was any logic to this nightmare, though, Izuku could assume that it, at the very least, was akin to a common snake.  

If he could remain quiet and soft-footed, his odds of escape would increase. 

But there was one thing for which he could not account. 

If his fear overwhelmed him, the demon snake would surely smell him, pinpointing his location in the castle. And if that came to pass, he’d have to resort to a dead sprint, which he wasn’t sure would be enough, especially given that he was sure he wouldn't be able to scale the castle’s outer wall again. Surely not.  

What he needed was to arm himself, quickly and wasting little time. 

It was a gamble to hunt for a weapon, but it was a risk he decided to take. If he could find one, he was sure it would increase his odds of survival, assuming he wasn’t found in the process.  

With as much care as a surgeon mid-transplant, Izuku slid the door to a room open. He was thankful for the grey light that leaked through the castle’s sealed windows and didn’t dally, searching the room as quickly as he could without making a sound.  

The creaking of wood on wood as he opened the drawer of a cabinet made his blood run cold, and he froze in place, holding the entirety of his weight on the ball of his left foot. He didn’t dare turn to look at the shoji behind him, afraid that if he did, he’d be confronted by a sight he didn’t wish to see.  

Instead, he hovered, holding his breath, his eyes fixed on the drawer. 

It was empty.  

An unlucky hand, if ever he was dealt one. 

Izuku counted in his head until his calf began to burn, and only when he was sure he couldn’t hold his weight any longer did he dare to close the drawer and move to the next room.  

It wasn’t until he entered the seventh and final room in that hall that he found anything promising. Inside, he found what appeared to be a traditional sword chest, which he pried open, cringing as its joints squealed.  

Again, he froze, his lungs deflated and blood humming with uncomfortable static. By now, he was certain the snake demon must have smelt his fear. It must have—what with the way he was choking on it, trembling under its unwanted caress.  

His eyes were glued to the chest. 

This time, fortune favored him. 

Cushioned on musty velvet lay a tanto.  

It felt out of place in the chest, far too plain to be kept in the place of a sword.  

It would do, though.  

Izuku inhaled a fraction, just enough to keep himself from feeling overly faint. He was already quite dizzy and couldn’t afford to rob his brain of oxygen.  

The silence of the castle roared in Izuku’s ears, and he was sure his heart was beating too loudly for his safety.  

A sharp pain twinged in his chest, and he grimaced. His heart had been working overtime for a while now. The thought wasn’t comforting, but there was little he could do.  

Reaching out, Izuku grasped the tanto, his fingers curling around the hilt.  

He’d hoped to feel safer with it in his hand. 

He didn’t—and he wished he hadn’t wasted time hunting for it. 

The blade felt like a promise, a guarantee that he’d face the demon. With it in his hand, he was certain that blood would be spilled. He could only hope it wasn’t his own. 

Down the hall, a floorboard groaned.  

Izuku’s heart seized. For a horrible moment, he felt as though it may burst in his chest.  

Rustling by the shoji sent a cold spike of adrenaline through him, and his grip on the tanto tightened. 

His vision swam, and he blinked rapidly. His back felt bare, exposed to the door. 

A hand slid over his bicep. 

Izuku spun around, thrusting the tanto at his attacker. 

“Deku-kun!” Ochako gasped, her voice a terrified whisper.  

There she was. 

Wind-tangled chestnut hair. Red-rimmed umber eyes. Grime-smeared round cheeks. 

She looked like she’d been through hell, but she most definitely looked like— 

“Uraraka-san?” Izuku choked, his awareness drawing to the tip of the tanto that was now pressed to Ochako’s belly. 

“I…” he breathed, staring and unable to move, horrified by what he’d almost done. 

“I almost stabbed you,” he whispered, more to himself than to Ochako. 

His hand shook, and the tanto slipped in his grasp, nearly tumbling to the floor before his hand clenched around the hilt, catching it. 

“But you didn’t,” Ochako whispered back, reaching to cup Izuku’s face between her trembling hands. 

“If I’d hurt you…” Izuku trailed off. Ochako shook her head fervently, but he was already spiraling. “I thought you were her. I thought you were the...and I almost...you could have…” A painful lump was forming in his throat, so tight he could barely continue. 

“I love you, Ochako, and I…” 

Ochako squished Izuku’s face between her hands, pinching the tops of his cheeks with her thumbs and forefingers. The pain grounded him, and he clapped his mouth shut, looking at her wide-eyed. 

His heart was racing for an entirely new reason now. 

“Deku-kun, I—” 

Wind rattled the castle, and Ochako shuddered. Izuku wanted to reach out and gather her into his arms, hold her close, and never let her go. He wanted to close his eyes and will them away to someplace safe, where nothing mattered and they could forget about this entire trip. 

And he desperately wished he hadn’t confessed like that. 

“Let’s go,” she mouthed silently. “Follow me.” 

Izuku nodded. Ochako released her grip on his face, but before she could pull back, he caught her wrist and pulled her nearer, leaning in to whisper close to her ear. 

“Snake.” 

This close, he could hear her breath catch. He gave her wrist what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze and pulled back, letting go of her. 

A brave smile was plastered to her face, but Izuku could see unease in her bloodshot eyes.  

To Izuku’s horror, the path Ochako took led them toward the courtyard at the end of the main hall, which was sure to bring them closer to the yellow-eyed demon. His heart thumped erratically, and his muscles coiled, preparing to fight or flee at a moment’s notice.  

His palm was slick with sweat, but he fisted the tanto’s hilt with an iron grip so tight his knuckles turned boney. Staying close to Ochako’s back, Izuku followed, his own feeling more exposed than it had when she’d startled him. 

Any moment, the snake could return. 

Any moment, it could strike. 

Smell them. Hear them.  

Devour them. 

If Izuku’s jaw hadn’t been clamped with more force than a bear trap, he might have retched.  

Even so, his stomach continued to churn. His nerves stinging as though rubbed raw, his ears burning at the slightest of sounds. 

It was pathetic, he thought. Here was Ochako, brave and determined with fear in her eyes but the guts to press on anyway.  

He needed to do better, be better. He couldn’t afford to let her down. He couldn’t afford to be the reason she got hurt. 

Izuku stepped wrong. 

The floorboard creaked. 

Ochako froze. 

Izuku froze. 

Silence threatened to crush them. 

Izuku counted. 

To seven. 

On a loop. 

Hoping. 

The castle settled. The snake didn’t show itself. 

Izuku sagged in relief. 

Ochako craned her neck to peer at him. Her face was as white as a sheet, even her pink cheeks were pale, their usual color a ghostly watermark on her waxy skin. 

Again, she offered him the best smile she could muster. It only made him feel worse. She’d risked life and limb to find him, unbeknownst to what lay within the castle’s walls, and here she was trying to comfort him. Here she was rescuing him because he hadn’t managed to do it himself. 

She was the most amazing woman he knew, strong and stubborn as an ox, tender-hearted too. And the goodness of that heart had led her here—into the demon’s lair—because she was too kind a person to stand idle while someone was in need. 

Izuku could feel his heart shatter, and the phantom blood that pooled in his belly, dripping from his ribs, hurt more than anything the demon-snake could do to him. He was sure of it. 

Reaching back, Ochako’s hand found his, and they continued. Only stopping once they’d reached the end of the hall. They huddled in the archway, scouring the desolate courtyard for signs of the snake.  

Ochako gave Izuku’s hand a gentle squeeze and then tugged. He allowed himself to be led out of the hallway, and like that, they skirted the courtyard, walking on the outer balls of their feet. 

Furthest from where they’d entered the space, a skeletal maple tree reached over the roof’s lowest ledge, a number of its branches crawling up and digging into broken tiles. Ochako pointed with her free hand, tracing from the tree up along the castle. 

She intended for them to climb, he realized, chewing the inside of his cheek to a bloody pulp.  

And they did. 

Izuku hoisted Ochako so slowly his arms shook, burning from the effort. He gritted his teeth, and blood filled his mouth, the soft tissue of his cheek rupturing. He didn’t dare spit. The sound and smell weren’t worth the risk. Swallowing, he concentrated on lifting Ochako high enough to grab the lowest branch.  

It was a sturdy bough—thankfully. Ochako pulled weight up, steadying herself on the branch like a cat before crawling toward the roof. Izuku gingerly placed the tanto between his teeth, biting the hilt. Then, he crouched, preparing to jump. 

He’d have one shot at it—one clean shot. If he didn’t reach the branch, he’d land amid the dry leaves littered around the tree, and if he jumped with too much force, he’d shake it, rattling its branches.  

So, he could only jump once, and he needed to be precise. 

Izuku inhaled. The scent of death wasn’t as strong here. The air was almost fresh. He let it fill his aching lungs, and then he jumped. 

His hands grazed the branch, its bark tearing at his palms as he scrambled for purchase. Ochako inhaled sharply, clinging to the bough as it bowed. Izuku dug his fingers in, pain lancing up his arms as his weight pried his nails back from their beds. 

As slowly as he’d lifted Ochako, he pulled himself up, scooting onto the branch behind her. The mountain winds were picking up again. With any luck, the noise would cover the sound of the branches shaking as they crawled toward the roof.  

Patches of the roof’s tiles were loose, and several scraped against each other harshly as Ochako shifted her weight onto them. She inched away from Izuku, clearing the path for him, and waited as he followed suit.  

The branch, freed of Izuku’s weight, bounced back, rustling the tree and sending a shower of freshly fallen leaves raining down.  

They froze, their eyes locked on one another, too afraid to look back.  

The distance sound of whistling carried to their ears, a coincidence—surely.  

As still as stone, they perched like onigawara amid the loose tiles and decaying leaves, unmoving until the sound faded. 

Izuku closed his eyes, indulging in a silent sigh around the hilt of the tanto. 

Ochako nodded, fierceness flicking across her expression. She crawled up toward the roof’s peak. There, they’d have to pull themselves up onto another ledge to pass over and onto the outer-facing portion of the roof.   

Izuku pushed off the tiles to follow. 

His foot slipped, digging between a pair of skewed tiles. 

His heart leapt into his throat as they slid across the roof, clattering at an uncomfortably loud decibel. 

One tile coiled with another, losing its momentum. 

The other did not. 

It fell from the roof, exploding in a cloud of ceramic shrapnel.  

Izuku’s body pitched backward as if to faint, but a firm hand grasped his wrist. 

Ochako’s touch did little to comfort him, though—not when a young woman with blonde hair had wandered out into the courtyard. 

A forked tongue slid from her mouth and licked the air. 

A bone-chilling hiss carried to Izuku, giving him gooseflesh. At least the wind was blowing in their favor. He hoped it would be enough. 

“Izu-ku-chan!” The blonde sang, cocking her head and scanning the courtyard. “And a yummy-smelling guest?” She turned in the direction of Izuku and Ochako, her yellow eyes inspecting the shattered tile. “Oh! I hope it’s Ochako-chan!” 

Any second now, she would look up. 

Any second now, she would see Izuku and Ochako, and then she would shed her skin and strike, burying her fangs in their helpless bodies.  

“Okay,” she hummed. “A game, then! A game!” She giggled, clutching the hem of her ragged cardigan. “You hide! And I will find you.”   

Her words were childish, playful even, but they trailed off in a hiss so sharp they sliced through Izuku, flaying the remains of his composure. Panic bloomed in his chest like a corpse flower, pungent and nauseating. His breaths came faster, and Ochako’s grip on his wrist was all that kept him tethered. 

The blonde spun around, looking left and then right. She bent forward, her hands on her hips, and flicked her serpentine tongue.  

“Alrighty!” she called out. “I’m looooking for you, Izu- ku.” 

The wind changed directions. 

“Oh!” the blonde gasped, her head whipping around. “Sneaky, sneaky. Okay.” 

Smoothing her skirt, she skipped off into the hallway from which Izuku and Ochako had come. 

Izuku couldn’t believe it. He didn’t. 

They couldn’t be that lucky. 

Still, waiting around to see if she came back wasn’t wise. So, Izuku and Ochako resumed their climb. 

They managed to reach the outer-facing portion of the roof without further calamity, though Izuku was mildly horrified to see that this side of the castle sat flush with an incredibly steep drop with jagged rocks at the bottom. Put precisely, it had been built backed up to the mountain’s seaward-facing cliff, and Izuku, who was overly aware of how loose the roof’s tiles were, did not find that thrilling in the least.  

With slow, even movements, Ochako continued to crawl, leading Izuku to where she’d climbed up to enter. Some meters away, the castle’s outer wall, which also ran flush to the cliff, had crumbled considerably, its stone no doubt having fallen into the sea.  

So, while it had been wildly dangerous to do so, it was easy to see why Ochako had chosen this place to enter the castle’s grounds. She must have shimmied around at the wall’s weakest point, where its stones were loosest. 

Reaching the castle’s corner, Izuku and Ochako dropped off the roof and crept toward the cliffside. They would be able to move faster in the open forest, and once they’d made decent ground, they could run in earnest. 

Izuku could almost taste their freedom. His lungs felt fuller, and adrenaline-fueled static buzzed between his ears. They were so close. 

He went first. 

It was more nerve-wracking than he’d expected it to be. He passed the tanto to Ochako and then clung to the wall, swinging over the drop and around to the other side, tapping his toe around for stable footing before shifting his weight fully and bringing his other around.  

Scooting back, Izuku made room for Ochako. Returning the tanto, she did as he had, reaching with her leg to find sturdy ground. She hugged the wall, swallowing and taking a deep breath before she brought her other leg around. 

Izuku’s eyes prickled as relief crashed over him. 

They were free. 

For a moment, they stood, their gazes locked, wind whipping their hair and cutting their cheeks. 

Then, Ochako stepped forward. 

And lost her footing. 

Izuku lunged forward, reaching to grab her wrist, to grab anything. 

The feeling of his hand slipping along her skin as she fell stopped his heart; it was a feeling that would haunt him. 

Their fingers tangled, locking together. Izuku braced himself, his grip crushing Ochako’s hand. 

But it was too late. 

She’d already screamed. 

Izuku’s blood roared in his ears. He jerked Ochako to his chest, wrapping an arm around her waist. He didn’t want to let her go, but they had to move—and fast. 

Abandoning their furtiveness, they ran.  

Of course, they were disadvantaged, not knowing the terrain. 

They did their best, though, scrambling over boulders and jumping over downed trees. It wasn’t easy: both were very nearly spent, each running on the fumes of their adrenaline. 

Izuku’s chest was tight and his heart weak, pulsating with sharp pain. If he’d had any choice at all, he’d have lied down, but— 

“I see you, Ochako! Izuku!” the snake demon squealed, her voice hitting the backs of their necks as they struggled through shrubs. 

Izuku didn’t dare turn, didn’t dare waste a moment checking to see how close the shape-shifting creature was. 

With bloodied feet, he kept running, his eyes darting between where he was heading and checking to see if Ochako was still by his side.  

“You can’t run! That’s not fair!”  

Izuku couldn’t have responded if he wanted to; his lungs were burning in his chest, being consumed by the wild desperation raging through his nervous system. 

Beside him, he could hear Ochako’s labored breathing as she tried to keep pace. He could tell she was fading, and that scared him more than his own pain or the demon hot on their heels. 

With his eyes on Ochako, Izuku didn’t see the trench.  

He went down hard, the tanto flying out of his hand and his shin slamming into a felled branch. A sickening crack split the air, and Izuku screamed as a sharp shock ran up the length of his leg.  

“Deku-kun!” Ochako spun, rushing to his side.  

Izuku retched. His head swam, and he was sure he blacked out because, between one blink and the next, Ochako had pulled him from the trench and was frantically fussing over his leg. 

“Is it broken?” Ochako squeaked, attempting to roll up Izuku’s pant leg with shaking hands. 

“Just go,” Izuku rasped. 

Even if he could put weight on his leg, he’d slow her down, and then— 

“Hey! This is mine. Did you steal it from me, Izuchan?” Giggles filtered through the trees, burning Izuku’s ears. Skipping into view, the blonde scooped the tanto from the ground, twirling it carelessly between her fingers.  

Ochako scrambled back, attempting to drag Izuku. Pain burst in his leg, and he yelled through his clenched teeth. 

“I’m so sorry, Deku-kun,” Ochako whispered through a sob, “b-but I have no choice.” 

She pulled again, this time harder. Izuku’s entire right side throbbed, and he hissed, choking down another scream as his leg bent wrong. 

“O-cha-ko.” Her name rolled off the demon’s forked tongue with strange inflection. “Where are you going? We haven’t gotten to play yet.” 

She grinned, her canines elongating past her lower lip. Had it not been for her horrible yellow eyes, slit down the middle, she’d have looked like a vampire.  

“I’m Toga, by the way, but since we’re friends, you can call me Himiko, kay?” 

In her excitement, Himiko’s skin began to flake, peeling back to expose her scaled cheeks. She blinked several times, revealing the milkiness of her extra eyelids, and her forked tongue darted between her lips. Licking a fang, she canted her head, her lips pulling wide into a face-splitting grin that did little to hide how wide her jaw could open. 

“Are you ready?” she hissed. 

Her bracing crouch was the only warning they got. 

Himiko leapt forward, slashing at Ochako with the tanto. 

Ochako moved fast, but Himiko moved faster, slicing Ochako’s cheek, just below her eye. Blood rushed to the surface, beading and then trickling down. 

“Oh,” Himiko gasped. “You smell so yummy, Ochako-chan. I bet you taste good too!” Giddy and flushed, she licked the blade, moaning happily. 

“I’m gonna hafta cut you again!” she squealed, bouncing in anticipation. 

“Leave us alone!” Ochako yelled, shielding Izuku from Himiko.  

“Alone?” Himiko's expression fell sharply, hurt and frustration flashing behind her eyes. “You’re not going to leave me like momma and poppa did, are you?” 

She crouched again, her body pulling and swaying with inhuman flexibility as she calibrated her next strike.  

“You’re not going to die and leave me all alone, ARE YOU?!” she shrieked, her voice perforating Izuku’s lungs.  

Himiko lunged again. Ochako dodged, barely. The blade whistled past her head, and the severed strands of her hair drifted to the forest floor. 

“Uraraka-san, run!” Izuku croaked, his tone painted by the desperation seeping between his ribs.  

He knew in his heart that she wouldn’t listen, but he couldn’t stomach watching her get cut down in front of him, especially when it was his fault.  

“Please,” he pleaded, rolling onto his left side and pulling himself to his feet.  

A fresh flash of hot pain blossomed from his calf as his weight shifted, forcing him to smother another scream. 

“No, no, NO!” Himiko slashed at Ochako again, her eyes glazing over. 

Her behavior made little sense to Izuku. She was trying to kill them, but… 

“If you leave me, I’ll be lonely again!” she wailed, her body colliding with Ochako as she attempted to shove past to reach Izuku.  

They went down in a tangled heap, and Izuku saw the flash of steel that preceded Ochako’s scream—saw it well enough to know that the raggedness in her tone meant she’d been stabbed. 

Izuku lurched forward, gritting his teeth through the pain. His eyes searched the forest floor frantically and fell onto a broken branch, thin enough to be snapped off and used as a stake. With the remainder of his strength, he wrenched it free. 

“Uraraka-san!” he yelled, tossing the stake her way.  

Clutching the tanto protruding from her thigh with one hand, Ochako grasped for the stake with her other, unable to fend against Himiko. 

Incapable of reaching them in time, Izuku watched in horror as Himiko sank her fangs deep into Ochako’s neck, prying a blood-curdling scream from her lips. 

As soon as it left her, she resumed her struggle, releasing her hold on the tanto to fist Himiko’s hair and rip her from her neck. Again, she cried out, but this time, fury and determination saturated the sound.  

She writhed in Himiko’s grasp, twisting and turning until she rolled them. 

Then, straddling Himiko, Ochako staked the demon through the heart. 

A tortured hiss erupted from Himiko, and her body shook violently. But Ochako didn’t relent. She gripped the stake with trembling hands, her body hunched over, and she didn’t let go until Himiko lay still, her chest struggling to rise under Ochako’s weight. 

“You two sure are cute,” Himiko said, laying her head in her pooling blood. She stared up through the trees, her eyes glassy as if she were someplace far away in her mind. “I wouldn’t have minded being friends forever.” 

Something in the way she said the words made Izuku uncomfortable in a new way, a guilty way. 

It was unfair, he thought. They’d barely restrained her. He wasn’t even sure if she could die, but the way she spoke held a finality that weighed on him.  

“I’ve always been alone,” Himiko whispered, reaching up to touch Ochako’s cut cheek. “But I don’t think I’ll be any more, not if I’m leaving now—with my friends beside me.” 

Izuku watched Ochako’s shoulders shake, saw her knuckles tighten around the stake. She didn’t let go, though—didn’t move to swat Himiko’s hand away. 

“They always said no one would ever love me, but I don’t think that’s true—because true love is watching someone die and staying until the very end. So, I think that means that you love me—and I’m grateful.” 

“Stop it,” Ochako gritted out. “You don’t get to say that after hurting Deku-kun. You don’t get to.” 

“Izuchan.” Himiko’s head lolled to the side, her amber eyes seeming to glow in the growing darkness. A thin stream of blood trickled from her mouth. “I’m glad I got to meet you. Don’t forget me, kay? Promise.” 

“I…” Izuku’s throat was tight. He wasn’t going to promise to remember her; he wanted to forget—wanted Himiko scrubbed from his memory. Still, an indescribable sadness etched itself into his bones as he watched the light fade from her eyes. 

“I won’t be able to,” he whispered, watching Himiko’s lips curl into a smile. 

Her subtle movements stilled, and Ochako finally released the stake, pulling it from Himiko’s chest and throwing it aside.  

Izuku limped toward them, falling to his knees when his leg gave out from the pain. Dragging himself the rest of the way, he thought about how lucky they were and how easily he could have lost Ochako.  

Without thinking, he reached to brush her hair behind her ear and froze when her big, brown eyes met his. Tears welled up in them but refused to spill down her dirt and blood-smeared cheeks. 

“I killed her, Deku-kun. I killed that...that…” 

“You rescued me,” he corrected, whipping away her tears as they began to fall. “Thank you for that.” 

Ochako laid her hand over his, holding it to her face. Careful not to disturb the tanto, Izuku wrapped an arm around Ochako’s waist and pulled her off Himiko’s body. Her defeated expression broke his heart, and he longed to comfort her, wishing he had better words to offer. 

Izuku shrugged out of his jacket and tugged his t-shirt off over his head. Putting his jacket back on over his undershirt, he set about ripping his t-shirt into strips, which he used to tie the tanto in place. Then, he used the remaining scraps and the bloodied stake to splint his leg.  

His mom would have chided him for how poorly dressed their wounds were, but he found that he couldn’t be bothered to do better, not when they were lucky to be alive at all and still lost in the woods. 

Himiko might have faded with the setting sun, but Izuku and Ochako were still far from safety.  

“Can you walk at all?” Izuku asked. 

“Can you?” Ochako replied, a welcome wryness buried under her lingering shock. 

“I don’t really think so—if I’m honest,” he laughed, rubbing at the back of his head. “But I’m not dying out here and neither are you. So, let’s do our best, okay?” 

“Mm,” she hummed, nodding. 

Leaning on each other, they hobbled for what felt like hours. Sometimes crawling. Occasionally collapsing—but never giving up. 

When they finally found the road, they wept in relief, hugging each other where they lay on the ground. 

“We should keep moving,” Ochako panted.  

“Gimme a moment,” Izuku sighed, holding his side. The throbbing in his leg had dulled some, but his entire body was sore from various aches and pains. 

Gentle rain began to fall, and a distant rumble, which sounded too good to be true, carried up the mountain. The sound grew louder and louder still—until a pair of headlights rounded a bend in the road. 

The truck that pulled up beside them was oddly familiar, but it wasn’t until the driver climbed out that Izuku realized why. 

“My actions have been dishonorable,” Chiyo whispered, tears in her eyes. “And I see that I’m too late to protect you, but perhaps not so late that I can’t help.” She fluttered to Ochako’s side.  

“If you can forgive an old woman her wrongdoings, would you allow me to take you down the mountain?” Her voice shook, though not nearly as bad as her hands. 

“We’d be most grateful,” Izuku said, bowing his head as best he could from the ground. 

“Oh, dearie. Please don’t. I already can’t forgive myself.” 

It took a great deal of shuffling and painstaking maneuvering, but with Chiyo’s help, Izuku and Ochako were able to crawl into the truck’s bed without overly aggravating their injuries.  

They lay shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the night sky as Chiyo turned the truck. With his vision still clouded, the stars looked like fireflies to Izuku.  

“Is it true what you said back there?” Ochako asked quietly. “That you love me?” She swallowed, unable to hide her blush from Izuku when he turned his head to look at her. 

“Or were you just saying that because—” 

“I meant it,” he admitted. “I’ve loved you for a long time, actually.” 

Izuku’s chest grew tight as he waited for Ochako to respond; her silence was too great to bear. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she breathed. 

“Fear, I guess.” Izuku tore his gaze away from her, returning to the stars. “I didn’t want to lose you, and I thought that, if you didn’t feel the same, I would.” 

“I see,” she said, her voice small. “I was worried about that too.” 

Izuku blinked and looked at Ochako. A brilliant blush stained her cheeks. 

“You…” he trailed off, unbelieving. 

“I love you too,” she said. 

The falling rain grew harder, plastering their clothes and hair to them, and they started to laugh, chuckling at first and then devolving into a fit of giggles. Izuku felt Ochako’s hand pressing against the back of his, and he smiled, the weight in his chest lifting as he threaded their fingers together. 

“So,” Ochako snickered. “What does that mean, then?” 

“That we’re both idiots?” Izuku suggested. 

“No,” she snorted. “I mean where do we go from here?” 

“How about on a real vacation?” 

“Let’s start with a date.” 

“Okay.” Izuku grinned. “Something boring and mundane sound good?” 

“Mundane, sure,” she giggled. “But not boring. I could never be bored with you, Deku-kun.” 

“Izuku is fine,” he said, blushing as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“Oh?” Ochako’s eyes widened. “Okay, well, Ochako is fine too.” 

“Ochako?” 

“Yes, Izuku?” 

“You’re incredible.” 

“Aww, I don’t know about—” 

“You are, and I love you.” 

The smile Ochako gave Izuku in response was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.