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Deku’s jacket sits quietly in her room. He’d left it there after slinging it across the worn, wooden desk chair, taking just a moment to rest after walking her to her room after their patrols at their respective intern agencies. She’ll have to remember to run it to him tomorrow.
Ochako crosses the room and fingers the material. It’s one of the few jackets he owned that wasn’t hero merchandise. It was a plain- blue jean jacket with a grey, cotton hood. Luckily, it wasn’t a particularly cold night, and due to the fact that it was near curfew, he shouldn’t need it at all tonight now that they were indoors.
She smooths the soft material of the hood down over the back of Deku’s jacket and kneels, grappling for the attaché case she keeps her hero suit in setting near one of the kitchen table’s legs. A couple of deft flicks of her fingers leave the case splayed open for her, and she rummages around. Finding her utility belt, she works that open as well, retrieving her sought after item from one of its specially made nooks.
She smiles when she looks at its never-changing face, thumb brushing over the painted wood finish of the netsuke he’d given to her years ago during their first Christmas season together.
Before things got really precarious soon after.
Ochako has tomorrow off, so she proudly sets the small All Might- licensed netsuke on the old bookshelf that is against the far wall of her compact living room. Like All Might is watching over her.
Like Deku is watching over her. It honestly is a nice feeling, and it’s one of the many reasons she still keeps it on her person during her patrols, even after over three years.
Ochako catches where this line of thinking is going and halts it immediately, letting out a heavy sigh. It had been a long three years. She had anticipated these feelings she had for Deku gradually fading over time due to their futility, but it seems the opposite is what happened. She’d only experienced them growing the more she tried to ignore them, like a houseplant pushed haphazardly into a lonely corner that grew and flourished anyway despite how little you tried to feed it.
With a hard swallow, Ochako turns away from the jacket, which smells faintly like cedar and the mild detergent that the school provides for everyone to use in the laundry room. Spinning on her barefooted heels, she flops down onto her bed, the springs squeaking in protest of her weight.
Graduation is approaching fast. and Ochako feels like she’s running out of time, but for what, she isn’t sure.
Ochako sleeps through her alarm the next morning and finds herself rolling out of bed and freshening up just enough to presentable, before grabbing her attaché case and flinging herself out of her room. Legs pound fiercely at tile and cement stairs beneath her, carrying her as quickly as possible through the dozens of intersecting corridors to her homeroom.
She’s out of breath when she finally rounds the corner at her classroom, skidding on her heels as she turns into the third door on the left.
She makes it before Aizawa, she realizes with relief. Due to how their first year went, he was given special permission to remain their homeroom teacher for the duration of their high school experience. Countless mornings now she’s watched him saunter in, looking tired, the hitch in his walk bearing the scars from his own heroism. Ochako knows he now wears a simple prosthetic, having retired from hero work soon after losing his leg and committing to teaching completely. There’s something comforting about having always had him as a steadfast presence in her life here at U.A, but this morning she’s glad to have beat him to class.
“Bonjour, Uraraka-chan! You are in a terribly big hurry, no?” Aoyama choruses from seat number one with all his usual vigor.
She hurries past her friend, sitting in her seat behind Iida’s hulking form that’s hunched behind a book. “I’m running a little late as you may have noticed!” she calls, quickly unpacking her materials, setting her case between her feet beneath her desk. She has a patrol immediately following her last class, so most times she finds it better to carry her hero costume along.
Aoyama presses a finger to his lips thoughtfully. “Well, Sensei isn’t here yet as you can see, Uraraka-chan, so you can breathe. You made it before a few of our classmates.”
Ochako takes a few moments to scan the room. Aoyama is right—quite a few of them are missing. Mostly the usual suspects: Kaminari, Mineta, and Kirishima, who is just famous for oversleeping. One seat that she notices empty is surprising, and that seat belongs to Deku. He, unlike the others, is known for never being tardy.
She hopes everything is alright. Just at the notion of him, her mind wanders to the small trinket tucked safely within her costume that sat folded and neat just a few inches away. It had been so long ago, yet the thought of him, of them, makes her worry her bottom lip between her teeth.
Which she does more than she’s willing to admit as of late.
Aoyama flashes her one of those secret, inquiring glances, like he’s asking a question that he already knows the answer to. Ochako sees the teasing glint there, and she makes a conscious effort to clear her mind, opening her notebook as she waits for Aizawa to enter the classroom.
Not even a whole minute later, Deku bursts through the entranceway, huffing the whole way to his seat. Unruly curls bounce as he takes his seat, and suddenly that corner of the room becomes a no-man’s-land for Ochako.
She hears him faintly mumble to himself beneath his erratic breath, but their seating configuration means that she can’t see his face. She only notices scarred hands coming up to scratch the back of his head, carding through the short hair on his nape.
It’s funny. She’d always thought of him as so plain at first--the kind of guy that can easily fade into the background. But now he’s almost always the first thing she notices in a room. Easily her best friend in this school, yet…
Then Aizawa blessedly strides into the classroom at that moment, cutting off the train of thought. Not all heroes wear capes—some wear scarves.
The school day progresses much the same as it always does. She cycles through note taking and listening to Yaoyorozu and Deku competing in their impromptu race to correctly answer all questions first. Even on the cusp of their hero training being over, it startles Ochako to think of just how much and how little things have changed.
Her final class for the day ends, and she’s packing her things away before racing off to Ryukyu’s agency when she feels something looming over her. After haphazardly cramming her worn notebook into her schoolbag, her eyes cut up from her task.
Deep green greets her, and she swallows hard.
“Hiya,” he greets her simply, sporting that small smile of his.
Ochako blinks, curling her toes in her school slippers as she strains to remember what words are and how to form them. After a steadying exhale through her nose and a quick one through her mouth, she manages to yank speech back into her throat.
“Hey, Deku-kun. Everything okay?”
He adjusts the strap of his custard- yellow bag over shoulders that had broadened over the last two years since she’d met him before their entrance exam.
“Oh, umm, everything is fine!” he assures her. “I just wanted to wish you good luck on your patrol today. We didn’t get to talk before homeroom today. I barely made it to class on time.”
He laughs sheepishly at the mention of tardiness. Ochako knows how Deku hates being late.
“It happens,” she tells him. “I slept through my alarm, too, and had only just made it in right before you.”
His left heavily scarred hand raises, scratching his chin. “Err, no. I didn’t sleep through my alarms. I couldn’t find the jacket that Mom bought for me last Christmas, and it was driving me crazy. Nearly made myself late looking for it.”
Oh. Ohhhh. His jacket is still draped around her desk chair. In her rush this morning, she completely forgot to bring it with her and return it.
“Oh my gosh, Deku-kun. I totally meant to bring it back to you in class, but I left it in my room!”
Ochako felt frustration with herself, but Deku immediately lit up.
“Oh, I remember now; I left it in Uraraka-san’s room! Wow, I’m just glad it’s someplace safe. It’s no big deal. I know you have to rush off to Ryukyu-san’s. I’ll come by and get it afterward, okay?” he smiles at her again, and it feels like someone threw the imaginary trap door beneath her feet. Everything rushes into her stomach then drops into her feet all at once. “Just have a good patrol.”
“O-okay. Well, if you’re sure, I’ll just return it later, Deku-kun. See you tonight,” she replies, and that plant she pushed into corner continues to buck against the odds and bloom despite all her best efforts.
“You’re running late, Ochako-chan,” Tsuyu comments bluntly in that classic Tsu way that Ochako has come to appreciate over their years of friendship.
Tsu is standing outside the door of the locker rooms after Ochako finishes changing and putting her things away. “Y-yeah. Got held up by Deku-kun after class.”
Tsu clicks her tongue thoughtfully. “He must have wanted to schedule another one of those false-study sessions, huh?”
Ochako sighs, walking quickly down the corridor, Tsu keeping pace beside her. “They’re not fake, Tsu. We get plenty of studying done, and Iida and Todoroki-kun are there usually. He just needs help in English studies—I don’t mind.”
“But he does better than you in that class,” she reminds her.
This is familiar conversation she has with Tsu every couple of weeks. Ochako is never sure how to answer any of her questions, especially since most of them are just declaratives that she makes even though Ochako herself knows very well that Deku does better than her in almost all of their courses.
“Gee, thanks Tsu.”
Her friend lightly bumps their shoulders as they walk. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just wondering if you’re ever planning on talking to him before graduation. We don’t have that long, you know.”
As if she needs reminded of how little time they all have left together. “Deku-kun and I talk all the time. Graduation won’t change that.”
“Probably not, but you know how he is. He’ll dive into hero work, and you will, too. He’s not planning on moving to American like All Might did, is he? It would make a lot of sense, knowing how he is. Isn’t his father still that way?”
Just the idea of that puts a weight in her stomach. She hadn’t considered his father being a factor. She’s pretty sure he’s over the idea of trying to emulate All Might’s career that closely, but having family is a pretty good incentive for such a big change.
The pair of them exit through the heavy double doors at the end of the corridor, the sudden burst of sunlight after being indoors for a while is bright. Ochako squints against the radiance. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
She’s never outright told Tsuyu how she feels about Deku, but her friend is infuriatingly perceptive, as are a lot of the girls. Or maybe Ochako is just terrible at keeping secrets—she isn’t sure which is true. Since their last year at U.A began, Tsu every so often brings up their looming graduation and questions Ochako on what she plans to do.
“Not trying to frustrate you, kero. I just want to encourage you to make a decision. I don’t want you to graduate with any regrets.”
Their boots click against the pavement as they head toward the four blocks a ten-minute walk away that makes up their patrol area. She chews over the answer already on her lips, the one she always gives.
“We’ve talked about this a lot before, Tsu. I already made up my mind a long time ago.”
Tsu isn’t like Mina with her lighthearted teasing. She’s more pragmatic with her probing of the subject with herself and Deku.
“Is deciding not to address it at all really making up your mind, Ochako-chan?”
They stop at a red crosswalk and wait for the traffic to subside and the signal to change so they can pass. “It’s still a decision, Tsu. I don’t know why you and some of the others make such a big deal out of this. I like Deku-kun a little and it really isn’t a big deal. We’ll both graduate, and I’ll move on, but we’ll stay good friends. That’s the plan.”
“It does not sound like a very good one, kero.”
The signal turns green and the two wordlessly walk across the intersection. Once they safely cross, Ochako exhales loudly. This conversation is never her favorite, and as much as she appreciates what she knows is genuine concern, she made up her mind about how to handle her care for Deku in their first year.
“Tsu-chan, I know you mean well, but I really don’t want this on my mind today. Deku-kun and I have a wonderful friendship and I’m happy with that.”
“But you could be happier.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like Mina-chan.”
Tsuyu purses her lips, placing a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “You know that’s not, entirely inaccurate. Sorry, Ochako-chan. I just want you to be happy.”
It doesn’t take much to soften her after her semi-regular talk with Tsuyu.
“Come on, Froppy. It’s time to focus and being heroes in training.”
Blessedly, she’s taken up on her suggestion. Tsuyu has always been the best mix of persistent and accommodating.
“Roger, Uravity.”
And the subject is dropped like so many times before, but as usual, Ochako’s heart and the tiny netsuke tucked carefully away in her belt feel heavy enough to be the weight of the world. And maybe they are.
Maybe they’re the weight of her world.
“Oh, I can’t thank you enough, Uravity! You really will be the shining star in the rescue hero field one day!” an older woman shouts from the earth below, a grapefruit- sized speck from Ochako’s vantage point. The compliment flatters and flusters her in equal measure; it hardly seems like the daring rescue the woman makes it out to be. With a sigh, she leaps off from the thick limb she’s perched upon, quickly touching her calf, stealing the gravity from her own person.
The feeling of weightlessness makes Ochako’s blood almost shake in her veins. It’s not a feeling she imagines she’ll ever get over, no matter how long she lives with her zero-gravity quirk. But the feeling of pain grounds her as she floats the substantial distance from the treetop she just leapt from.
Cat claws are firmly embedded in her arm, which cradles a spooked cat. She uses her free one to briefly grip abranch and push herself downward. She repeats the process a couple more times as needed, and soon her boots touch down on the grass below.
“Oh, my little Dango! You’re safe. Now, take your claws out of Uravity. She’s your savior after all, you scaredy cat.”
The orange tabby goes back to its owner without protest. The elderly woman kisses and fusses over it a few moments before quickly grabbing Ochako hand where small beads of blood dot an impossibly narrow cut made by Dango’s claws. The older woman gasps under her breath.
“It’s not bad, really. He was just scared—”
The woman protests vehemently. “Nonsense! That is a terrible thing to do, Dango! Wait right here, dearie. I’ll be right back!”
Before Ochako can try to talk her out of fussing over her unimportant cat scratch, she scurries back into her quaint home by the street. Ochako has half a mind to leave before the grandmother-like civilian returns, but somehow that feels too wrong to go through with.
The woman returns after a couple minutes, carrying a basket with a cloth over instead of the cat. Balancing her burden in the crook of her elbow, she takes Ochako’s hand once again and wipes across her knuckles with what looks like an anti-bacterial wipe.
“Oh! Um, ma’am, that really isn’t—”
The woman gently wipes away the very minimal amount of blood until she is satisfied, paying Ochako’s words no mind. “Now, don’t forget to dress and disinfect this before you go to sleep tonight. Cat scratches can get infected if they’re bad enough.”
Ochako, giving up, gives her a wobbly, grateful smile. “Well, thank you. I just hope the neighbor’s dog doesn’t run Dango up a tree again.”
This has been her patrol route at Ryukyu’s agency all year. Ochako met a lot of familiar faces during that time period, including this woman. She’s never had to help her until today, but Ochako has noticed her tending her small garden on many patrols.
The woman rolls her eyes. “That dog next door is a big baby in its defense. Dango is just a scaredy cat.”
Ochako had the claw marks to verify that. Once finished cleaning the small wound, the woman untucks the covered basket from under her arm and presents it to her.
“Here, dear. As a thank you,” she tells Ochako, handing the package over. “Baking bread is a hobby of mine and I want to give you one I baked earlier this afternoon.
The warm, homey smell hits Ochako then. It reminds her of evening when Sato is making use of the dormitory kitchen to bake goodies for the class. She doesn’t try to refuse this time—honestly, the smell coming from the still-warm basket is much too appealing to think of it.
“Thank you so much. That’s kind of you.”
The older woman waves off the gratitude. “Nonsense. It’s the least I could do. I don’t know what I’d do without Dango, the little scoundrel. Nothing good ever comes without a little work, but I’m sure someone going into hero work knows that well.”
Ochako does, but somehow hearing the woman say it so plainly makes her think of her conversation with Tsuyu. She knows risk and reward are intertwined, but this isn’t playing with money or good-natured betting. Her friendship with Deku is probably the most precious thing in the world to her besides her family.
Those stakes are too high.
“Thank you again for everything,” Ochako replies, suddenly feeling that heavy feeling return. It’s not unlike the way her body bares down after she returns her own gravity before she touches back down to the earth.
“Oh, wait, dear. You dropped something I think.”
Ochako instinctively looks down at her feet and boiling hot embarrassment leaps into her face as she realizes what it is. Her All Might netsuke is pressed into the wet turf by a boot print that looks very much like hers. She stoops quickly and lifts it from the dirt, jamming it as carefully as possible back into its compartment in her belt which was opened somehow in her cat rescue.
“Gosh, thank you! I didn’t even realize!”
The older woman hums. “What a cute little trinket. You must be quite a fan of All Might. I’m sure having him as a teacher has been a treat.”
Ochako always has admired All Might, of course. But Deku was the original owner and collector of all things All Might, but of course she wasn’t going to divulge the sentimental value of the Secret Santa gift to someone she didn’t know that well.
“Yes, umm, well thank you for the bread!” Ochako blurts out. “I really should be going now!”
Embarrassment gets the better of her as Ochako hurries back down the block to rendezvous with Tsuyu so they can walk back to Heights Alliance together before the other can ask any more questions or make any more observations.
The walk home had been quiet between the two of them. Tsuyu’s patrol had been even more uneventful than Ochako’s. After accidentally dropping her netsuke and acting like a flustered mess over its mere existence in front of a civilian, she is happy to be back in the safety of her dorm. The loaf of bread sits on her desk and her books and costume case are dropped unceremoniously on the floor nearby.
Exhaling deeply, she sits on the side of her bed, bouncing on it slightly as if that will somehow stave off the jittery feeling crawling beneath her skin. It doesn’t. All in all, it hadn’t been a bad patrol, yet she still feels exhausted from all her embarrassment at her netsuke falling it when it’s supposed to be locked safely away within a compartment on her belt.
Remembering how she’d stepped on it while it laid nestled in the wet earth from the light rain earlier, Ochako reaches over and pulls her case over. She makes quick work of the latches and rifles through the thick nylons thrown haphazardly into the case, finding her belt tucked away at the bottom.
She pops the compartment open and finds what she’s looking for: one small All Might- themed netsuke caked with dark mud. She carefully removes it and tosses the belt onto her bed before retrieving an old, ill-fitting t-shirt from her drawers and a small bottle of a solution given to her by the support department to polish the boots of her suit. It shouldn’t hurt the polished wood.
Back at her spot on the bed, Ochako unscrews the cap of the bottle and quickly tips it over onto a patch of the old t-shirt she presses tight against the opening. Just enough for a small dab of the liquid. Setting the bottle aside, she gets to work. She uses a dry spot on the cotton fabric to brush away the bits of dried and caked earth.
Before long, All Might’s bright, shining smile is on full display again, albeit a bit dingy. Ochako then uses the bit of the shirt soaked with the solution and rubs at the polished wood in small, careful circles. Before long only is the grime removed from her good luck charm, but the sheen of the finish begins to shine once again.
A familiar lump settles into her throat as she recalls receiving the gift during their class exchange during first year. She knew immediately it’d come from Deku and her heart had felt full to bursting. He hadn’t put the gift into the pot knowing she would get it, Ochako knew this. Yet, it was enough to seal her fate for the next three years.
She watches the never-changing smile of the small All Might charm and can’t help but always think of Deku. She isn’t sure if it’s because of his deep admiration for the man or their close bond as student and pupil, but she feels the same safety and security in their smiles.
There are few things that feel like home to Ochako, and Deku is one of them—in large part because of the smile that mirrors his mentor. He had always had her back, and his smile is the chief reminder of everything about Deku that grabbed hold of her in first year and refuses to let go all this time later.
Even facing graduation and separation like they are, that lump of affection drifts somewhere behind her eyes, and she feels the pressure of tears threatening to squeeze from the corners of her eyes as she runs her thumb along the shining finish of the netsuke. Ochako has always tried to not let her feelings become something that makes her sad, but her time at this school is ending. She doesn’t want to lose contact with anyone in her class, but Deku most of all…
It’s a different kind of determination she has. But she knows how razor sharp his focus is. Does he have the same will as she does to not let their plans for the future take precedence over their friendship?
It’s strange, feeling that way now, when back in first year this was precisely the reason she wanted to push her feelings for her classmate so far down that she didn’t think about them. Despite all her efforts, he’s only become more a part of her and her goals as time has stretched on. How he feels in turn has only become more of an unknown.
Ochako blinks back the moisture brimming and clinging to her eyelashes. A firm knock on the door breaks the self-imposed tension in the air.
“C-come in!” she calls, clearing her throat of the pesky feelings and scrubbing her face.
To add insult to injury, Deku’s head of wild curls are the first thing Ochako sees as her door squeaks open. He steps through and she quickly stuffs her netsuke under her pillow and puts her cleaning materials away.
Deku comes in, lips spread in that criminally boyish grin. And it persists until he presumably picks up on the odd air in the room.
“Oh, umm. Is this a bad time? I just came to grab my jacket. I didn’t want you to have to leave your room after your patrol. I’m sure you’re tired.”
“I saved a cat from a tree,” she croaks, fumbling through regaining her composure.
He closes the door behind himself and just stands there for a few pregnant moments. Big, scarred hands fumble at his sides. An anxious habit of his she’s picked up on over their time together. Ochako bites her bottom lip, trying to betray nothing, remembering the netsuke is suffering under a mountain of pillows just a foot away.
“Are you okay, Uraraka-san? I’m sorry; I probably should have messaged you first.”
She’s making him nervous so Ochako quickly decides to get ahold of her emotions.
“No, it’s fine. Your jacket is on the desk chair.”
He nods and crosses the room for it, folding it roughly and tucking it under his arm. She expects him to leave the room, but he hesitates, eyes flicking back over to her.
“So a cat from a tree?” he laughs. “That must have been something.”
“Yeah, she gave me that loaf of bread as payment.”
He sniffs the air deeply. “Mm. I knew I smelled fresh bread when I walked in. A fitting reward for the best rescue hero in our class.”
“I think that’s what Yaoyorozu-chan wants to do. A little hard to compete with, Deku-kun.”
He sits down unprompted beside her on the bed, bouncing a little. “Well, if you won’t take the title of best, then at least take my favorite. But you’re really both, Uraraka-san.”
She knows he doesn’t mean to, but it feels very much like flirting, and her heart doesn’t know what to do with all that. It flutters beneath her chest, warm and out of control. If he was just sweet talking like Kaminari likes to, she could just write it off. But this is Deku. Ochako knows he means every word, and it makes everything bubbling inside her before he walked in all the more frantic. She only hopes she’s doing a better job of feigning composure than she thinks.
“If you say so,” she replies finally.
He smiles that smile that reminds her so much of the grin of the netsuke. Sparkling and shining and all around hazardous for her health.
“I really do. Some cats have all the luck, huh?”
He earns a gentle shove on the shoulder.
“Stop that, Deku-kun.”
A part of her is very serious, but he only laughs in reply. A few moments of silence following sweet words is all it apparently takes to loosen her tongue enough to blurt out something foolish.
“Do you think we’ll stay close after graduation?”
Deku’s smile turns thoughtful. He drops his jacket into his lap, eyes cutting from where they were looking at his feet to meet hers.
“I hope we do. I’m not sure if I can do this without you.”
“But what if… What if… We end up on opposite sides of the country? Or you end up somewhere else entirely?”
“Well, what if I just decide to go where you go?”
Ochako’s breath catches somewhere between her chest and throat. “B-be serious, Deku-kun. I’m asking you an honest question.”
His hands thread and weave together on his lap. “I am being serious! I don’t have any concrete plans aside from wanting to help people, and ummm…” he trails off, voice lowering in pitch, softening. “I don’t want to be away from you either, Uraraka-san. You’re my best friend and I just. You know. Would miss you.”
Ochako is sure she isn’t hearing him right. She’s tempted to pinch herself to make sure she isn’t having some sort of fever dream. So she does, and she doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night in her bed, so she figures this is really a conversation she’s having with Deku right now.
“I’d miss you too, Deku-kun.”
His mouth falls open a little and he leans over just a bit. The lightest shade of flush settles over the smattering of freckles on his cheeks as he speaks. “So, um, don’t worry about graduation. As long as we both want to be part of each other’s lives, we’ll find a way.”
It sounds so simple when he says it like that, and it makes Ochako feel like all her worrying about the future has been for nothing. She’s sure everyone vows to stay in contact after graduation and maybe it’s just something you say because it’s the acceptable thing, but she believes it when he says it. He’s Deku, after all. He can do it, and she certainly will try her best.
The thought of them staying together is, well, everything she’s ever wanted. To have the career she wants with her best friend by her side. She didn’t think it was possible that both their lives and goals could intwine, but Deku seems so sure that Ochako can’t help but feel fresh resolve settle in her gut to do everything in her power to make sure it happens.
“I don’t think I’ll ever not want to be your best friend, Deku-kun, so no worries about that.”
He beams, and Ochako knows he puts purest diamond to shame with how he brightens up the room. It shines like the nesuke she has tucked underneath her pillow, except better, because it’s Deku and he’s here and he’s real. It’s nothing like cold, painted wood, no matter how much she cherishes it.
Because it’s not really the trinket she cherishes. It’s the person it came from, even if he’s doomed to never know what it means to her. Some secrets can hold off until after graduation.
After, however? Who knows what the future will hold? Ochako hopes accepting that will get easier. At least she has the security of knowing the friendship means as much to Deku as it does to her. She hopes it’ll help keep the worrying at bay.
“Well, I’m sure you’re tired. I guess I’ll let you get to bed, Uraraka-san.”
“Oh, sure. Yeah. Goodnight, Deku-kun.”
Deku gets up with his jacket and crosses the room to her door. His hand is poised over the knob but he hesitates for a moment and turns back to Ochako one last time.
“Don’t feel like you can’t talk to me about anything,” he tells her. “I honestly was worried about after graduation, too. I mean, I don’t want to drift apart from anyone, but you most of all. I really don’t.”
“Yeah, same.”
He opens the door and scrambles from the room, and Ochako feels just a bit lighter than she did before he came in. There’s still a lot of unknowns with their futures and how she can have both her dream and the one she wants to share it with, but there’s a silver lining to that.
And if for Ochako it comes in the form of a smile from her best friend or the sparkle in the netsuke he gave her, well, that her business.