Work Text:
Ochako moved to Musutafu right after she received the confirmation letter that she entered UA.
The boxes had already been packed. She would have to move, no matter if she entered UA or Shiketsu or any of the other top hero schools she tried the entrance exam of. None of the schools were near where her family lived.
Ochako was glad she got into UA. Even if UA wasn’t the top hero school in the world, Musutafu was the best place to move to.
The studio apartment they rented belonged to her aunt, for one. She was willing to rent it to Ochako at three quarters of the original price. It was a steal if there ever was one.
Her childhood friend Izuku lived here as well. Their parents had worked together on a construction project many years ago. Izuku’s mother had brought Izuku to more than one meeting, and Ochako’s parents had done so as well.
There weren’t many things for two bored seven-years-olds to do while waiting for their parents to finish a dull meeting, and so they had become friends.
Ochako had stayed in contact with Izuku long after the construction job ended. They texted and video chatted whenever they could find time. She hadn’t seen Izuku face-to-face for quite some time, though. She’d hoped they’d get to meet again during UA’s entrance exam, but between the actual exam and the zero-pointer breaking her leg, there simply wasn’t time to find Izuku.
Still, both of them were going to UA! She didn’t doubt Izuku would get into a hero school, of course—quirkless or not, he was the most tenacious person she had ever known—but she still couldn’t believe they had both managed to pass UA’s notoriously difficult entrance exam.
She was so happy they’d get to study at the same school! Perhaps they’d even get to be in the same class! They could study together, train together, fight together…
Well, she was getting ahead of herself. She still had to unpack all of these boxes before school started.
Maybe Izuku could come to her apartment for a two-people house-warming party, as celebration for getting into UA.
That would give her motivation to finish unpacking.
Someone rang the doorbell when Ochako was unpacking her boxes.
“Coming!” She yelled, pressing the tips of her fingers together to release the box of books she had been moving.
She opened the door, and her heart skipped a beat.
Izuku smiled at her—at least, she thought he was attempting to smile. It looked much more like a grimace. A purple bruise was smeared across his cheek, a hole was burnt into his gakuran, and his skin—his skin—
“Um. Hi, Ochako.” Izuku swallowed, “Can I come in?”
Ochako dug frantically for the first-aid kit she knew she had packed into one of the boxes.
Her mum had insisted she bring it along with her. Ochako had agreed reluctantly, and randomly tossed it into one of the boxes. She never thought she’d need to use it.
She was seriously regretting that decision now.
Izuku was lying on her bed, breathing heavily. The apartment wasn’t big enough for a couch—not that her family had enough money to buy an extra one—so the bed was the only place Izuku could comfortably lie on. Who cared that it was her bed? Propriety was the last thing on her mind right now.
Ochako scowled, shoving away another box. The image of Izuku’s—Izuku’s burns flashed in her mind again. Raw, red, and shiny with fluids she did not want to think about. Blisters dotted the injury, some whole and new, others burst and oozing yellow fluids.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it! The starburst-shaped burn was layered over several other burns, old enough to have scarred over.
This wasn’t the first time whatever happened to Izuku had occurred.
Ochako swallowed. The faint scent of burnt caramel and cooked meat lingered in her lungs. What could she even do to help Izuku?
She had read about first aid in an attempt to prepare for the heroics course, of course, even though she couldn’t afford to take an actual first-aid course. But all that knowledge had fled her the moment she saw Izuku’s burns.
She…she needed…burn cream…and something to clean and cover the wound.
Cursing, she gave up looking for the elusive first-aid kit, and stormed to the bathroom instead.
Ochako returned to Izuku’s side with a wet towel and a roll of plastic wrap.
Izuku looked at the items in her hands and blinked. “I…ah…you really don’t have to…!”
“What do you mean I don’t have to?” Ochako grumbled as she inexpertly tore his gakuran away from his wound with a pair of scissors. As much as it pained her to destroy the uniform, there wasn’t much she could do to salvage it. “You showed up at my apartment with a burn wound literally the day after I moved in. What am I supposed to do? Not help you?” She paused. Kami. The burn was larger than she had thought. “You know, when I texted you my address and told you to drop by whenever, this isn’t what I had in mind.”
Izuku flinched. “…sorry.”
“No—no! Don’t apologize! I just…didn’t expect the first time we meet after three years to be…like this.” Ochako sighed as she placed the cool towel onto the burn. Honestly, Izuku could be so self-deprecatory sometimes.
“It’s not…that bad, this time.” Izuku mumbled. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have troubled you with this. Usually I can just treat the burns myself; I just…Kacchan burnt my gakuran this time, and Mum’s already at home. I can’t…go back like this. Mum would see me and…I just came here to borrow some clothes, okay? You don’t have to treat my burns.”
Ochako hummed, already occupying herself with cutting the plastic wrap. It wasn’t the ideal thing to wrap a fresh burn in, but the books said they’d work in a pinch—wait.
Kacchan?
“Kacchan?” Ochako hisses, “As in Bakugo Katsuki, that piece of shit who bullies you for being quirkless? He did this to you?”
Izuku hesitated. “…I mean…umm…”
Ochako had heard plenty about Bakugo Katsuki. Apparently, he had been Izuku’s childhood friend once, but turned against him when he found out Izuku was quirkless. In Ochako’s opinion, he didn’t deserve Izuku’s lingering affection of him at all; what sort of asshole would turn against their friend because they had a disability?
That quirkist, ableist piece of—Ochako clenched her jaws, trying very hard not to expel a series of expletives about this person she had never met. Izuku didn’t need her angry, or fantasizing about ten different ways of punting Bakugo into next week; he needed her calm and level-headed, capable of handling this blatant hate crime.
She doesn’t quite succeed. “Answer me, Izuku. Is he or is he not the one to burn you?”
Izuku swallowed. “…yes.”
Ochako nodded sharply. She placed the wrapping plastic on her bed, and turned to grab her phone. “I’m calling your mum.”
“Wh—wait!” Izuku cried. He tried to sit up, like the idiot he was, and hissed in pain. “Ochako, don’t!”
Clenching his teeth, he tried to sit up again. Ochako glanced back at him and scowled, “Stop trying to sit up!”
“Then—then don’t call my mum!” Izuku begged her, eyes wide and teary. He sniffled. “She doesn’t—she shouldn’t—Kacchan’s mum is her best friend! She shouldn’t—she shouldn’t—“
Bakugo’s mum was Auntie Inko’s best friend? And neither of them realized how badly Bakugo was hurting Izuku? That was even worse! “She shouldn’t know that her best friend’s son beats you on a daily basis?”
Izuku winced. “It…it usually isn’t as bad as this. It’s just a second-degree burn! Mum—”
Ochako inhaled sharply, “Just a—” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Calm. Izuku needed her to stay calm. “You just said you’ve had worse!” She said, not quite shouting.
Izuku grimaced, “It…isn’t the best or the worst…?”
“It isn’t—” Ochako hissed, then took a deep breath. “…okay. Okay. Look, Izuku. Bakugo…got into UA, right?” She remembered that detail from a passing comment Izuku made during their phone call last week. “He got into the heroics course.”
“Yes…?” Izuku frowned.
“He’s going to be a pro hero, with a licence. And a lot of popularity. A lot of sway over the public.”
“Of course!” Izuku said, perking up. “He has a lot of potential! I know you don’t like him, but can’t you imagine how effective he’d be when capturing villains? He’d clean up the streets in an instant; make the city—no, the country—safer for everyone else! That’s why he’s gonna be a great hero!”
Ochako wished Izuku could understand the absolute bullshit coming out of his mouth. She liked him a lot, but she sometimes felt like he was lacking a lot in emotional intelligence. Bakugo could beat him to a pulp—did beat him to a pulp—and Izuku would still come out of it singing Bakugo’s praises.
Bakugo did not deserve that kind of loyalty.
“Yes.” Ochako said dryly. “A hero who commits hate crimes against quirkless people.” She glanced pointedly at Izuku’s wound.
Izuku paused. He opened his mouth, and then shut it again. “It…it isn’t a hate crime!”
“He burnt you, Izuku. He burnt you because you were quirkless, and your existence offended him on a personal level. That’s the literal definition of a hate crime.”
Izuku opened his mouth to protest. He closed it, then opened his mouth again to tell her, “You still can’t tell my mum! She’d be so upset, and her friendship with Auntie Mitsuki would be over! Auntie Mitsuki would be so upset, too, and—”
“Do you think your mum would be happy if you were Bakugo’s bully, and Bakugo refused to tell his mum to stop you?”
Izuku had no counterargument this time.
“Look.” Ochako sighed. She moved to remove the wet towel on Izuku’s burn, which had long since gone warm. She began rewrapping the burn with the cut plastic wrap. “Even if Bakugo has a lot of potential to be a hero, he can’t be one if he has morals like…that. You don’t have to think of telling your mum as tattling or defeat or whatever. Think of it as…getting guidance for Bakugo…?”
Izuku frowned. He didn’t answer her.
“Just…think about what I said, please?” Ochako said. She should…probably give him some space to think this over. Izuku had to tell his mum about this incident of his own accord, instead of her tattling to Auntie Inko about it. Otherwise, Izuku might never be willing to trust her again.
Ochako sighed again. “I’m going out to buy burn cream now. You…stay here and rest, okay? And don’t you dare move while I am gone.”
Izuku grimaced, but nodded his assent.
When Ochako returned to the apartment, it was empty.
Izuku was long-gone.
Ochako sighed, dropping the burn cream onto her bed. A burnt gakuran had been thrown hazardously into her garbage bin, and one look at her closet showed that a unisex hoodie and a pair of sweatpants were missing.
Izuku must’ve gone back home. He should be having dinner with his mum by now, happily pretending nothing was wrong.
She knew one conversation wouldn’t—couldn’t—change everything, but…one could hope.
She hoped Izuku would make the right choice.
For his sake.