Chapter Text
Curfew sets in at nine p.m.
Ordinarily, enforcement of the curfew is arbitrary. There’s no real reason for any of the students to be roving around the U.A. campus in the dead of night. By nine o’clock, most are tucked away in their dorm rooms, cramming for maths tests or writing assignments on hero politics, or if they’re feeling audacious, crowded together in the common area watching bad pre-quirk movies.
These days, there’s even less reason to be wandering about. These days, by nine o’clock, students are in bed, cocooned in the comfort of blankets and smothered by the weight of gloom. A melancholy cloud hangs low and leaden over Heights Alliance.
It’s quiet—the calm before the storm.
At eleven-thirty, Ochako shrugs on her windbreaker, snatches up the ragged backpack from underneath her desk, and steels her nerves.
The letter she’d almost stepped on this morning is folded neatly and tucked into the innermost pocket of her backpack, kept safe from the condensation of her water bottle and the rustling of her supplies. The words inked into the paper are seared on the back of her eyelids and make her eyes burn hot and wet.
Uraraka, thank you for everything.
“Thank you for everything”? As if anything Ochako ever did could measure up to all that he had done. She had only ever run from everything he had ever stood up to face. During the attacks on the U.S.J. and their training camp, at Kamino, even during the Shie Hassaikai raid—Ochako was always the one hiding or trailing behind, pathetic and weak-kneed.
I felt that I had to reveal my secret to everyone in Class A, so I’m leaving these letters for you guys.
Letters? What a coward! Wasn’t he meant to be a hero? Wasn’t he meant to be brave and determined and strong? Or was she looking up at his pedestal from an angle that was too close, too sharp, only to find that when he tumbled off that it wasn’t as tall as she’d imagined?
My unique power was passed down to me from All Might, which is why Shigaraki and All for One are now coming after me.
That did explain a lot: his sudden disappearance mid-battle, his involvement in the fight at ground zero, even the way he handled his quirk at the beginning of the school year. Like a child, uncertain and reckless, exercising no restraint and no control.
And yet, almost a year later, nothing has changed.
White, white, white, bleeding through her memories. White sheets, white walls, white casts, white face. The only colour that pushes through the white is green, like the leaves of a wreath left atop a casket by those in mourning. Over and over and over again. The backdrop of a hospital room is now so familiar and yet she will never become accustomed to the stillness of a mangled body; the fear, the grief, the worry, and the incessant questioning of why. Why does he do this to himself? Why does he do this to them?
Did he not trust them, was that it? Did he not think that they were capable of fending for themselves? He knew them—had trained with them, fought with them, bled with them. Did he know that they would do the same for him?
Or did he just not believe in them? Did he think that the reveal of such an earth-shattering secret would cause them to look at him differently, with disgust or mistrust? Was his faith in them built on a house of cards so tenuous that one strong blow could send it toppling down?
Ochako thought she knew him. After a year of being friends—of half that time living together in the dorms, sharing meals and comforts—she thought she was acquainted with his idiosyncrasies, his anxieties, his fears, and his charms.
Long nights stretched out across his bed with a warm body pressed up against each side and a laptop humming on her lap with whatever movie they’d decided on. Other nights scattered about the common area, pencils and erasers and papers littering the floor in chaotic organisation, questions flying through the silence as they studied, comfortable in the presence of friends.
Were those nothing? Did they mean nothing? Did any of them really know him at all?
She will ask him. When she finds him.
Ochako stands in front of her door, fists balled and shaking at her sides, and the last tears that she will allow herself to shed settle on the curves of her cheeks.
This is the last time I cry, Ochako vows. The next time I cry, it will be when I see him again.
And those words he’d given them? She will make him take them back.
At eleven-forty-two, Ochako leaves her dorm room behind. With one hand pressed against the door to steady its swing, Ochako presses slowly down on the handle and pushes. The door opens without a sound. Ochako lets out her breath in a relieved sigh as she steps out onto the fourth-floor landing and repeats the process in reverse, shutting the door silently and leaving no one the wiser of her escape.
The elevator is far too conspicuous so Ochako opts for the stairs. One last time, she adjusts the straps on her shoulders, turns towards the staircase, and comes face-to-face with a pair of wide, black eyes descending from the fifth floor.
Ochako and Yaoyorozu freeze in stalemate.
Surprise is quickly followed by overwhelming panic that grips Ochako’s heart in a taut fist. It thump, thump, thumps against her rib cage in a quick, staccato rhythm that she’s sure the entire floor can hear. Her shoulders leap towards her ears, fingers tightening around her bag straps, and she waits for Yaoyorozu’s voice to alert the dorms to her transgression.
But as the seconds tick by and neither of them moves, Ochako begins to breathe again.
Yaoyorozu is not wearing her sleepwear. She’s dressed in green camo pants and a plain t-shirt, a black travel pack on her back and strapped across her chest. It hits her then: Yaoyorozu is on no midnight stroll either. As Ochako’s fingers slowly unclench and her shoulders retreat, she frowns.
‘Uraraka-san?’ Yaoyorozu hisses, breaking the standoff. She straightens, trying to assume composure, but the illusion is marred by her actions. ‘What are you doing? You should be asleep!’
Ochako blinks, regarding the vice president unabashedly. ‘What about you?’
Yaoyorozu flushes bright red up her neck, rose settling prettily on her high cheekbones; even when sneaking out, she manages to look the epitome of poise. Her fingers play unheard notes along her thighs.
‘I can’t stand by and watch,’ Yaoyorozu admits. ‘Not again.’ As soon as the faucet comes on, the words pour out, faster, harsher. ‘This time, I’m going to do something. I’m going to take matters into my own hands. I refuse to stand on the sidelines. Not this time, not again.’
She’s trembling when she finishes.
That’s right. Yaoyorozu went with them that night. Despite everything, the fear of all they stood to lose—their education, their future, their lives —she and the others had gone to Kamino with the intent of challenging the League of Villains and rescuing Bakugō. Five of them had gone and six of them had safely returned. What that took and what they had to face remained much of a mystery, except for the haunted shadow behind their eyes when they came back.
Yaoyorozu was the class’ vice president; she’s dependable, responsible and resourceful. She was everyone’s friend. There’s something beneath those layers, though, something that was briefly visible during Yaoyorozu’s final exam and that Ochako is only just seeing clearly now. It’s wrapped tightly in high expectations but now that Ochako knows where the layers begin, she can pull them away.
Ochako moulds her hands around Yaoyorozu’s, cups them between fingers frigid with fear.
‘I’m scared too, you know,’ she whispers. Her breath blows warm on their joined hands. ‘I’m scared I’ll never see him again, that I’ll never get to tell him how I feel.’
Ochako has never admitted that before, though her friends had poked and prodded. It seems so silly now. What was she so afraid of? Losing him? It was laughable, the notion, that by doing nothing and by saying nothing, she had done the very thing she’d tried to prevent. If she’d known him—truly known him—she never would have feared driving him away. He was far too kindhearted for that. He was far too kind-hearted for his own good.
‘I am so scared,’ Ochako’s voice cracks with the lumps of tears that she swallows down, that she won’t let fall, ‘that he doesn’t know how much we care about him—that he doesn’t realise how much he means to everyone.’
Yaoyorozu squeezes her fingers. ‘We’ll find him.’
Ochako scrubs at her eyes with her forearm. ‘I know we will. Because I won’t be able to rest until we do.’
The girls link arms, hold their hands close, and press their sides together as they descend, stealing each other's warmth and comfort. Their bags make clunky sounds with every step so they take the stairs slowly to counteract the noise. When they reach the final landing, Ochako opens her mouth to speak but—
‘It’s about time.’
Ice drips down Ochako’s spine, and she feels Yaoyorozu tense at her side. Neither of them had expected an initial confrontation, let alone another, and yet they feel their pulses skyrocket once again.
Because Shinsō and Todoroki are waiting for them at the bottom of the staircase.
‘What are you two doing?’
Yaoyorozu puts on her sternest tone but it's thrown off by her blatantly hypocritical appearance. Ochako isn’t surprised when the boys aren’t phased. Shinsō smoothly raises one eyebrow as Todoroki studies the wall, eyes tracing the indents from various dorm mishaps.
Todoroki is wearing his temperature-gauging wristguards, the new ones reinforced with armour-like plating. A Hawks beanie that Ochako doesn't think he bought himself covers most of his telltale bicoloured hair. Shinsō's capturing weapon is wrapped snug on his shoulders, and within the folds, Ochako can see his Artificial Vocal Cords hanging from his neck. Neither of them are supposed to have their hero equipment—their costumes have all been shipped off for damage repairs or shut inside the classroom since the mission was declared over. Both of them are dressed for the dark.
‘You too, huh?’
Ochako tries to laugh, but it comes out a half-hearted huff. In hindsight, it makes sense that she’s not the only one that intended on sneaking out. He had affected all of them. And maybe none so much as the two boys in front of her, once impassive and alone, and now a part of something much bigger.
Shinsō leans on Todoroki’s shoulder. ‘I had a feeling you’d go after them. I asked Todoroki if he wanted to team up with me and join you.’
‘But why?’
Shinsō shrugs. ‘Same reason as you.’
A breeze curls around his words but a typhoon rages in his eyes. Shinsō is rarely so expressive. Ochako wonders if the letters and his disappearance has shaken him more than they thought. He’s a newcomer to the class—he has barely weeks where they have had a year together—but already he has staked a claim on his position among them.
Yaoyorozu sighs, jarring Ochako out of her reverie. ‘While I do not condone these sorts of actions, I can’t deny that for me to lecture you both would be rather … self-righteous of me.’
In spite of their bluster, both boys hold a significant amount of respect for Yaoyorozu, evidenced by the way they deflate at her acquiescence, relief brushing away their stony features. When Shinsō smiles at them, it lacks the cynical mask of his usual smirks.
‘Come on, the others are waiting.’
‘The others?’ Yaoyorozu whispers faintly.
The lights downstairs are off but several flashlights positioned meticulously about the space illuminates a very subdued commotion. A tap is running and several sets of brisk footsteps thud across the floor.
‘—very disappointing.’ Īda’s voice is audible before they even enter the common area, his words whispered and loud.
‘You act like this wasn’t also your plan all along.’
The sound of muffled snickers mingles with Iida’s indignant splutters.
In the kitchen, Satō and Shōji are rationing out bottles of water, protein bars, and homemade onigiri. There are some containers of premade meals stacked on the dining table. Asui and Jirō assist by emptying all of the cupboards of their contents—none of their food will be going to waste.
Kōda is closer to the front door, knelt over a cardboard box containing a bowl of water, a handful of cabbage and spinach leaves, and his rabbit. There’s an envelope on the ground next to him and a half-written note clutched in his timid grip. Hagakure runs a kind hand up and down his back.
The rest of their classmates sit in a circle on the couches and the common room floor with their backpacks cradled in their laps, chattering softly amongst themselves. Ashido cheers as they walk into the room.
‘You’re here!
‘Shh!’
Hushes are aimed at Ashido from all corners of the room and she flushes a sharp magenta even as she and Kaminari clamber to their feet and join them in the hall.
‘Yaomomo,’ Kaminari chides. ‘Even you! What would Aizawa-sensei say if he saw you now?’
Yaoyorozu crosses her arms beneath her chest and sniffs, ignoring the blush creeping up from her neck. ‘At least my behaviour might surprise him, Kaminari. Your constant breaking of the rules would surely make your involvement no surprise to him at all.’
Ashido howls.
‘We didn’t plan this,’ Todoroki admits to Ochako quietly. Beyond their exchange, Kaminari slaps a hand over Ashido’s mouth, then shrieks and lurches away when she licks it. ‘When Shinsō and I came down, most of them were already here. I don’t think any of them knew we planned to sneak out. Everyone just … had the same idea.’
‘Wow,’ Ochako breathes.
Everyone was there. Everyone … except—
‘Oi!’
Two figures stride into view from the direction of the boys’ staircase and something inside Ochako lifts. There shouldn’t be tears coming to Ochako’s eyes; she shouldn’t be filled with as much hope as she is. But she can’t help it. Because when she turns around to see a disgruntled Bakugō trailing after Kirishima down the stairs a soft voice whispers in her ear, it will be okay. They are all here.
Across the hall, Ochako meets Bakugō’s burning gaze. She likes to think that as much as he doesn’t like her, Bakugō does respect her, or at least he respects her strength.
It means more than words that he’s here. The violent, explosive blond has come a long way from who he was on their first day at U.A.; the relationships he has with his classmates have evolved into something tenuously (dare she say) friendly. But with him … Ochako had lost faith that he and Bakugō would ever be able to coexist amicably. That Bakugō’s here now—that he’s here …
The moment drags on too long. Bakugō nods curtly and turns away.
Kaminari coos from his position bound in Ashido’s headlock. ‘Kacchan does care!’
Bakugō’s face twists like he’s downed a full glass of lemon juice in one gulp. ‘Fuck you!’
‘Language!’ Īda shouts. ‘And please refrain from shouting lest we alert the teachers!’
‘But Īda—you’re shouting.’
Īda stalls like an old-fashioned car, the ancient manual models that aren’t made anymore. Ashido laughs hard enough that she clutches onto Kaminari for support, but he’s bent double himself, and they both go sliding down to the ground. The sound is curious and unfamiliar. Laughter has been a rarity since the war ended, and completely absent since the letters had arrived on their doorsteps.
‘Uraraka, are you okay?’
Todoroki’s voice somehow seeps through the cotton in her ears and she turns to look at him in a state of detachment. He wears an aloof exterior like a jacket but Ochako knows him a little better now, better than the beginning of the school year when he introduced himself as I’m-not-here-to-make-friends-kun. The slender crease of Todoroki’s brow evinces his genuine concern.
Is she okay?
The situation could not be further from okay. Pandemonium currently ruled Japan, from Tokyo’s city streets to the mountain ranges of Tōhoku, and the people were terrified enough to pick up their baseball bats and their kitchen knives and start fighting back. Civilian armies were forming all over the country. And then, as if that weren’t enough, she’d lost her best friend to his own insecurities and fears. He left them behind—he left her behind.
‘You know,’ murmurs Todoroki. ‘He lied to me too.’
Ochako waits for him to continue. Todoroki sighs and fidgets with the edge of his wristguards, focusing an exorbitant amount of attention on straightening the plating.
‘You know all about me and my parents.’ It’s not a question. Of course they knew, it had been announced to the world by Todoroki’s own brother, Dabi. ‘Well, I told him most of it during the sports festival, and he helped—’ Todoroki takes a shaky breath, ‘—he said some things that made me realise I was being petty and selfish.’
‘Your fight.’ Ochako can recall the battle between two of the most powerful students in their class; the blinding hot, the piercing cold, and the ozone in the air holding the entire stadium on edge as the arena erupted in a cataclysmic blast. There was too much raw emotion to be just a battle for a place in the semifinals. ‘So that’s what that was about.’
Todoroki’s lip quirks. ‘Back then, I accused him of being All Might’s illegitimate son.’ At that, Ochako can barely hold back her own smile—that’s a very Todoroki-like thing to do. Todoroki tips his head back and for a moment he seems peaceful, not like someone whose family’s dirty laundry has just been hung out for the world to see. ‘I guess I wasn’t so wrong after all.’
His fingers are still curled around his wristguard when Ochako takes his warm left hand in both of her small ones.
‘You know he didn’t want to lie to you,’ she says. ‘He didn’t mean to hurt you.’
Todoroki frowns. ‘He’s the one who taught me that intentions don’t excuse your actions.’
Ochako doesn’t have much she can say to that.
Todoroki sighs and again squeezes her hand. ‘I know that, I do … He probably thought he was protecting us by going after Shigaraki and All For One by himself. But, he’s not. He's being selfish. He's only doing this so the least amount of guilt falls on him.’
‘I don’t know why any of us are surprised, really. It’s just like him to prioritise our lives over his own. I just can’t believe he didn’t think he could trust us.’
‘We’ll remind him.’
Todoroki’s level voice makes Ochako shiver, the coolness emanating carefully controlled fury. Rather like his quirk in a way. He fights so hard to maintain an air of cold indifference but underneath all of that is a roaring passion like a supernova. It’s comforting to know that she’s not the only one that's angry.
So, maybe she’s not okay. But at her back, Ochako has an army of her own. An army built upon mutual respect and loyalty and long, rigorous battles fought at each others’ sides. The harsh weight that hangs over the school is a lot easier to hold up when they’re all working together. They bear it together, what he left them; the frustration, the desperation, the rage, and the pain.
Alone, she wouldn’t stand a chance. But Ochako was never alone. And neither was he.
Ochako grins and Todoroki mirrors it with a small, determined smile of his own. ‘Let’s go get Deku back.’
As the clock ticks over to twelve-ten a.m., Ochako leaves behind Heights Alliance, U.A. High School, and her future as a pro hero. She isn’t afraid, though. Nineteen classmates—allies, companions, friends—follow her lead.
Together, they march into the red dawn.