Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Uraraka, I have a question.”

Ochako paused, waving off her friends as they left to go change back into their uniforms.

“What is it, sir?” she asked, trying to keep her voice cheerful.

“You received the scholarship and the low income bursary, correct?”

Ochako tried to not avoid eye contact as she nodded. So what if she did? It wasn’t like she was taking advantage of the system, she really needed it! She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. What if he thought she didn’t need it?

“Is it enough to live on?” he said, blunt as ever.

She blinked, unsure of how to answer. If she said yes, would he take one of them away? But what would he do if she said no? Call her ungrateful? Tell her to get another job? She decided a noncommittal answer would be better.

“Why do you ask, sir?”

“I’ve been asking a lot of students who received the low income bursary this question, but they all seem to avoid answering. I’m worried that UA isn’t giving enough.”

Ochako blinked. She hadn’t expected that.

“Oh, um,” she began, leaning on the wall. “Yeah, it’s livable.”

“Comfortably?” he pushed, eyebrows raised.

She almost groaned hearing that word. ‘We’re comfortable’ was a trademark phrase from all her rich friends, getting defensive when she brought up their wealth. But then again, middle class people were comfortable too.

“I have about a hundred leftover from each payment, which is pretty comfortable to me,” she said at last, watching his expression for any subtle changes. Slowly, he nodded.
“Then, why do you still work?” His lips twitched upwards. She gaped. This was a trap from the start, huh?

“That’s a sneaky way to gauge my financial situation,” she muttered, glaring up at him. Apparently the glare didn’t seem to have the intended effect, because his lips twitched again.

“Sure. But you haven’t answered my question, Uraraka.”

She sighed. She wanted to tell him that it was none of his business, but she knew he’d twist it into a ‘you’re not learning at your full potential’ thing. So what if she wasn’t? She had other things to worry about.

“Personal matters,” she said. “Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll work harder in class.”

She meant it. She’d just have to make more use of the eye drops he gave her, and maybe beg Aoyama for some of that fancy French coffee to keep her going in the morning.

He frowned.

“This is about your wellbeing, Uraraka. You do fine in class.”

Ochako squirmed. She didn’t know what he wanted, and frankly, it was getting frustrating.

“But I could do better, I know already,” she snapped. He laughed, a bit manically, his chapped lips going white with the stretch of his smile. God, he had a creepy laugh.

“It’s nice to see you break out of that customer service voice, Uraraka,” he said, with what almost looked like a gentle smile on his face. He crouched down to actually face her. “Listen. I mean this. This is about your wellbeing. Tell me the reason you can’t quit your job, right now.”

“I told you. Personal matters,” she said forcefully, trying to keep her face blank.

“Ochako, I’m trying to help,” he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. The hand was toasty, as if he’d freshly risen from his sleeping bag cocoon. The temptation to lean into the touch was too much. This was her problem. It would stay that way.

“Don’t need it, thanks,” she responded, removing the hand. As she turned to walk away, she mourned the touch, the possibility of help. Crushing down her hope, she reminded herself that help never came free anyway.

—

Ochako slowed her pace, glad to be out of the night's bitter cold. Her shift had been busy, and the rude customers hadn’t exactly helped her exhaustion levels. Her feet throbbed, and the blister on the side of her foot looked, frankly, a little bit gross. She dragged herself up the stairs to her room, staring longingly at the couch through the bannisters. Oh, sweet sleep.

But, still. She needed to get a couple of things done before bed. Make a list of ingredients for a quick meal on Wednesday, it was her turn to cook. Pull on her uniform to sleep in so she didn’t have to get up until the last minute tomorrow. Arrange her bag for the same purpose. Pack her gym clothes so she could work out with her floormates after class.

She tried to remember the other thing when Mina tapped her shoulder, making her jump.

“Why are you always looking like you’re contemplating life on the stairs?” she asked with a giggle. Ochako leaned into her touch, smiling a little.

“Tryna remember the thing I need for tomorrow,” she mumbled, conscious of how late it was.

Mina hummed.

“Your lunch again?” she suggested, like they’d had this conversation a million times. Which, to be fair, they probably had. Mina was always up late, for some reason.

“Oh. Yeah.” She’d forgotten to make it, and turned back to the stairs. God it looked like a long way down now. And her feet still throbbed. “Thanks, night Mina,” she whispered, and trudged up towards her bedroom. Lunch was a problem for future Ochako.

—

Future Ochako heaved, bringing up nothing. She hoped Aizawa didn’t notice. Breathing deep, she closed her eyes. When she opened them Kirishima was hovering nearby, as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

“You okay bro?” he asked, arms stiff and awkward. She nodded.

“Jus’ need a minute,” she said, still trying to breathe deep.

Bakugou grumbled behind them both. They’d been in the middle of a fight, and he wasn’t happy obtaining his victory through vomit. He bonked her head with his fist and shoved a granola bar in her pocket. Her head, already feeling heavy, began to pulse. Next time she’d throw up on him. See how he likes that.

“Next time fight me properly. When you’re actually in shape.”

Oh thanks for that, she thought bitterly. I’ll just do that next time then. Because it’s that simple. I’ll just simply look after myself, shall I? Go enjoy your fancy nutrition bowl now, explosion boy. She sighed, and wanted to shake her head to get these thoughts to go away. She wasn’t usually this bitter.

“Uraraka,” a monotone voice called. She turned her head, trying to keep herself from tearing up. The last thing she needed right now was a lecture. “Come with me.”

She trailed after him, waving off the concerned expressions on her friends' faces. Mina shoved Denki when he did the routine ‘someones in troubleeee!’ yell. She was almost awake enough to appreciate it.

He closed the classroom door behind her, and she leaned on a desk.

“Let's take a seat,” he said, collapsing into a chair that seemed far too small for him. Dammit, she wished she was awake enough to properly laugh at the image. Instead, she collapsed into her own chair.

“Quit your job.”

Ochako gritted her teeth. She knew this was coming. He was going to threaten to remove her from the course and she wouldn’t be able to support her family now or in the future and it was going to be her fault when they died and when they begged her for money she wouldn’t be able to say anything and-

The world blurred as she finally began to cry. She quickly turned away from her teacher, fists clenched. She wanted to curse him out, tell him to quit his own job if this was how he wanted to handle things. But that would put her future in jeopardy too.

“Go on.” She felt her fists tremble. “Curse me out.”

She stopped, still trembling, and met his eyes. Looking around the classroom, she found no one else he could be talking to.

“It’s okay to be angry, Ochako. This isn’t fair.”

She thought about it. How come Bakugou could get away with being angry and she couldn’t? How come she had to keep going all the time and still be happy no matter what? Why was it her feet always hurt and her eyes were always dry and yet no one gave a fuck?

“It’s not fair,” she began. “It’s fucking not. What you’re doing is unfair. You don’t know what’s going on. I’m doing this for my family, dammit. I don’t need you to look down on me just ‘cos I’m having a bad day. I don’t need Bakugou’s sass either - I mean if I could take care of myself, don’t you think I’d be doing that? Newsflash: that’s not a fucking option! Not if I want my family all safe and well!”

“Safe and well?” he repeated.

“Fuck off,” she said, tears streaming. “You don’t get to use this to get information outta me.” She gripped her arm, digging her nails in. “Fuck off,” she repeated, softer this time.

“Ochako,” he said, exasperated. “I really am trying to help.” She turned her gaze down to the floor

“Well, you’re shit at it.” She paled, eyes wide as she searched his face. Has she gone too far? Was he going to expel her?
“I need information if I want to be good at it.”

Ochako shook her head.

“I’ll quit. Just leave me alone,” she mumbled.

Aizawa sat there for another minute, too stiff to be normal. He sighed, and got up to leave.

“Stay here and rest for the remainder of the period.”

—

Ochako was glad to finally have the time to work out with her floormates. Shouji always chilled her out, doing warm ups with him was the best. Mina and Kirishima’s energy was always infectious, and Bakugou always got her in the mood to push herself. The only downside was her lack of physical strength at the moment.

Shouji seemed to notice, and prolonged his usual stretching time to stay with her. She sent a shaky smile his way, willing herself not to cry. Goddammit, these days all it took was really one kind gesture. She needed to get a grip. Or a full night's sleep. One of the two.

“Round Cheeks!” Bakugou yelled, the section she left the warmup zone. Oh, fun, today was a Bakugou training day. Okay, sarcasm aside, they were usually fun, just when she had enough energy to contribute without her whole body going into shutdown. “We’re going to eat after this!”

Ochako blinked.

“I mean, yeah?” she said, eyebrows raised.

Kirishima laughed and hung his arm over her shoulders.

“Bakubro means we’re going to eat out. You seem down today so we thought we’d go out, our treat.”

Ochako flushed. She had enough to pay. But then again, if she was going to quit her job, she needed to save as much as possible for her auntie…

“Oh,” she mumbled. She swallowed her pride, looking Bakugou in the eye. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

“What, do you think I make half assed promises?” he yelled. She relaxed.

“Okay, I’ll go.” She felt sick, like she was taking advantage of her friend's kindness.

She didn’t want to be like her uncle, always leaching off her parents, couchsurfing at his friends. Didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed when her auntie’s ribs started to become more and more prominent.

She tried to wash away those thoughts in the shower, but they kept returning. Without that extra money, her auntie would go ballistic. She’d bang on Ochako’s parents door, crying that she was going to kill herself because it was better than living like this. Her eyes would be red, her cheeks flushed, vodka on her breath.

Her dad should never have to see his sister like that. Not when he believed that she was getting better.

Ochako would just need a way to sell off a few things and maybe she could make up the rest of the money if she didn’t spend anything.

“You gonna put your shirt on or just stand there?” Mina teased, flicking Ochako’s forehead.

Sheepishly, she pulled the shirt over her head, and followed her out the changing room.

Chapter Text

Aizawa sighed, his sleeping bag crinkling as he shifted. He couldn’t sleep. He thought Uraraka, with her bubbly, easy going personality, would be the easiest to handle. But he’d sooner got through to Midoriya, for crying out loud.

Safe and well. He’d thought about it for a long time, lingering near her neighbourhood when he was on patrol. Debt maybe? Addiction? Both? Whatever it was, she kept her mouth shut about it.

Well, if he couldn’t reach her the way he wanted, the least he could do is support her. Stepping out of his sleeping bag, he stumbled over to her desk, putting more eye drops in it.

Staring at the pencil that hung over the edge of the desk, he wondered if he made the right choice. On one hand, he had no illusions that the problem would go away just because she quit. Financially, it probably made it worse. But he couldn’t stand by and watch her get thinner and weaker by the day. She was going to turn grey at twenty-three, at the rate she was going.

When the class filed in, he scanned their faces.

Ashido and Kaminari were both whispering when they came in, which was fine if not a little suspicious. What was weird was Bakugou didn’t just yell, but whisper yelled at them. Weirder still was when he raised his eyebrows at the boy, he flushed before he turned away.

His answer came quickly enough when he spotted Asui in Shouji’s arms, curled up like a little cat. God, he wanted to ruffle her hair so bad.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to push away his instincts that were getting a bit too parental.

“What happened to the heating?” he questioned, trying to keep his eyes away from his student that looked so much like a sleeping cat, like so much-

“It suddenly went off,” Satou said, trying his best to be quiet as he tiptoed around Shouji.

“And why didn’t anyone notify me?”

Kaminari paled and suddenly began to find his desk very interesting. Mina leaned on his head as she answered.

“No offence sir, but you’re terrifying when you’ve been woken up.”

Aizawa huffed. Everyone always said that, but he thought he acted pretty reasonable. If they had eyes as dry as him, they’d be pretty miffed if they got woken up too.

“Just get Uraraka to do it,” he said, watching Mina’s eyes widen. “She should have no problem with it,” seeing as she keeps me up anyway, he thought.

—

Ochako had to double check that she had, infact, changed out of her pyjamas when she entered the classroom. Mainly cos Mina was staring at her like she’d lost a leg.

Hobbling over to her seat, she waved at Deku who was chatting with Tsu. Well, it looked less like chatting and more like Tsu was falling asleep on his shoulder while he rambled on about her quirk. He paused in his monologue and waved back, eyes flicking down to her hands for a second.

Examining them, they did look pale. When the heating had turned off she had pulled on just about every piece of clothing she had, but she was still freezing. She hadn’t gotten much sleep cos of it.

On the bright side, being awake for that long meant that she mentally organised what she could and couldn’t sell. That was something.

“Shut up,” Aizawa said, gazing at the now full class. “The heating went off last night and no one thought to notify me. As a result many of you are tired and weak today. Next time, assign someone to wake me up. I recommend assigning Uraraka.”

Ochako blinked.

“Excuse me, but why me?”

He shrugged.

“You’re the least trouble,” he said, lips twitching up. She tried to nod and appear happy. This bitch was eating into her sleep time and he knew it.

–

“What's the end goal here?” she demanded when the rest of the class left to change.
Aizawa grinned, looking like a creepy Cheshire cat. Man had to learn how to perform social actions without looking like he was from a horror movie.

“The goal,” he said simply. “Is to force you to rest.” She was about to open her mouth, brow furrowed, when he began to count on his fingers. “No tricks. No extra shifts, or agency shifts.” She flushed, turning away from his stare. “And no selling off luxuries.”

She laughed bitterly.

“Yeah. Okay. And how’s that gonna work?”

“By relying on UA’s adaptable facilities.”

“The adaptable facilities that regularly get our class attacked?” She held up a hand to the side of her face, trying to keep the evening sun out of her eyes. “Yeah, no thanks.”

It would’ve been the perfect time to leave. The best sentence to end on - a firm dismissal of UA’s shittiness. But, no. Instead, she pulled herself up onto a desk, and sat.

Aizawa didn’t really know what to do with that, so he copied her. It was clear he was way too big to even sit on the desks now, his ass hanging over the edge. The corners bit into his thighs as he tried to get comfy. He huffed, so much for that.

He looked up to see Ochako’s gaze soften. She quickly averted it, focusing it on the blackboard.

They both sat, in silence. A fly buzzed and bumped into the window three times.

“I never understood everyone’s obsession with treating you like a dad,” she said abruptly.

Aizawa startled.

“People see me like a dad?”

Oh shit. He wasn’t even that old yet. And he was a workaholic. Or any kind of holic. Not dadaholic. Ochako laughed, leaning back on the desk, digging her fingers into the undersides.

“It’s kind of funny watching you go through stages of grief.” She quickly brought her fingers up in disgust and rubbed her thumb on them. Ah. Chewing gum strikes again. “But yeah,” she said, still rubbing them. “I mean, you call Deku,” she put on her best menacing voice, “problem child,” so, it kinda makes sense.”

He hummed, trying to figure out whether it was worth it to see the look on Midoriya’s face whenever he was addressed that way if it meant he was being ‘fatherly.’

“But to me you’re just a grumpy dude,” she continued. “A grumpy teachery dude, but still grumpy. I know dads are like, meant to be grumpy or whatever, but yours is different. I just, argh!” she said, clenching her fists in frustration. “Listen what I’m trying to say is that I appreciate that you care but I also hate you for it and thats not very fatherly but also is depending on who you talk to I guess, Todoroki says its normal an-”

Aizawa put his hands up.

“Kid don’t worry,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I am beyond, and I mean beyond fine with not being fatherly.”

Ochako relaxed, still flushed from rambling.

“Listen. I get the feeling you haven’t ever been watched so closely before.”

“My parents were busy, it’s not their fault, and really it helped me learn independence early on which is a great life skill and it just means that I’m really appreciative of their company when they are here so it’s not a big-”

“Hey, it's okay, I don’t mean to imply anything about your family, I promise. I’m aware of your financial situation, I fully expected that attention may be scarce for you. There is no one to blame for that.”

The cleaning staff down the hall knocked a mop bucket into a wall. It echoed into the classroom.

“But what that means is that you may feel crowded with a bit of concern. I understand that. It was the same for me too.”

Ochako leaned forward, concentrated, her pinky nervously tapping her skirt.

“This concern is a good thing, though. This attention to your routine, to make sure you don’t burn yourself out, is important. It’s a sign that we care about your wellbeing.”

“But I won’t,” she said quickly, cheeks flushing again. “Like I said, I learned independence quickly, I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s exactly your problem Ochako,” he said, as gently as possible. “What you need right now isn’t independence. What you need is to depend on other people.”

She stared at the floor.

“I’m not depending on UA.”

Aizawa scoffed.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” He sighed, and leaned forward. “But maybe, in time, you could depend on me. That would be enough.”

It was her turn to scoff.

“And how is cutting into my sleeping time supposed to do that?”

He gave her a lazy smile, and remembered Mic holding him down while Nemuri sent him to sleep with her quirk. He’d thrashed and cursed at them, but eventually, he understood why they’d done it.

“My methods may be unorthodox, but they work,” he said with a shrug.

“You could at least tell me how,” she grumbled.

He waved her off, and finally got off that god-awful desk.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. Consider it extra homework.”

She spluttered behind him, shoes hitting the floor with a clack as she bounced off the desk.

“You little-”

He activated his quirk.

“Ay, I’m not your father, but I am your teacher. Watch your language, kid.”

She giggled.

“And as if that’s not the most fatherly thing you’ve ever said,” she said with a laugh, racing the opposite direction down the hall.

Aizawa couldn’t stop smiling, glad she was back to her bubbly self.

The smile dropped when he remembered that her bubbly self had the loosest lips known to man.

God, tomorrow he’s gonna wake up to a fathers day card. It’s November for crying out loud!

Chapter Text

Aizawa hates being right. Why couldn’t they get a huge fathers day badge for Toshinori? Poor guy always looks devastated whenever the kids flock to Aizawa rather than him. He himself was devastated. For himself, obviously.

Ochako’s devious little smile didn’t help matters, especially not paired with the eyebags she was no longer making an effort to conceal. Usually it’d be fine. But the thing with Ochako was that the more he tried to ignore her and the light up fathers day badge on his desk, the more devious that stupid grin got.

He was just going over police protocol in rescue situations when he noticed Ochako with a smartphone underneath her desk, pointing at him. He recognised the phone case as Todoroki’s. Taking a breath, he slowly turned his gaze to the back of the classroom.

“FATHERS DAY FATHERS DAY FATHERS DAY”

He was proud to say he didn’t actually flinch. Bakugou jumped back in his seat, knocking Midoriya. While they squabbled he watched the culprits exchange a glance.

“TO THE BEST FATHER ON FATHERS DAY”

The cheap speakers on the back of the badge weren’t muffled by his attempt to break the damn thing. Plucking it up with just his fingertips, he dropped it out the window. Someone else’s problem now.

“Todoroki, Uraraka. Detention for a week.”

They both nodded solemnly, but he didn’t miss the way they basked in their classmates' admiration.

—------------------

Todoroki had found her after her chat with Aizawa. It’d be a nice thought that he’d come to check up on her, but honestly it was hard to imagine that he’d be that observant.

“Please help me make noodles,” he said, monotone and formal as ever. It was kind of calming, being around him.

Her friend group really did fit her personality. Deku with his anxious nervousness enabled her to be more bold, Iida provided discipline where she’d usually be too laid back, Tsu grounded her where she’d get overwhelmed.

And Todoroki’s monotone nature allowed her to relax. She didn’t have to pretend with him, because it wouldn’t matter either way how much effort she put in. The response would be the same.

“Sorry, I’m not really much of a cook,” she said sheepishly. Bakugou had no problem pointing that out on their school trip.

“Oh.”

They walked for a few minutes, in silence. Relaxed, she began to blab.

“Y’know Aizawa had no idea we think of him as fatherly.”

He blinked.

“We do?”
Staring at him for a second, she safely concluded he wasn’t joking. She burst into laughter.

“Yeah, most of the class does.”

“Not you?” he asked, expression surprisingly vulnerable.

“Oh definitely not,” she said, waving the idea away with her hands. “My dad has enough emotional intelligence to speak in more than vague riddles. Not exactly comparable.”

He made a weird noise that she had long ago chosen to interpret as laughter. She hoped it was anyway seeing as it had been months now. He either thought she was really funny or he had the worst cough known to man.

“I agree. Not about the last bit though.”

Ochako hummed. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Instantly her full attention was on him. Since when did Todoroki hesitate when talking?

“Do you think he knows we don’t think of him like that?”

The cogs in Ochako’s head began turning.

“No, but you know what would really convince him?”...

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luckily for Aizawa, the rest of the day passed without any major incidents. In fact, he was kind of unnerved by it.

He was only teaching them in the morning though. Must be a limited timeframe for mischief. So the rest of the day he hid in the staff room, free aside from when the other staff came in and laughed at him.

“Can’t believe you’re a father already Shouta!”

“I can’t believe I wasn’t made a Godmother!”

“Nemuri, who in their right mind would make you a Godmother?”

Easy enough to ignore. He fell into a kind of lull, marking papers without any kind of restlessness. It was nice to be so engaged in work. When All Might came in, the standard stories of the day were swapped around.

“So you’re telling me she was asleep and no one bothered her? What, were they tired from this morning with the whole dad thing?”

All Might shrugged.

When he asked, they confirmed it was Ochako. Asleep. Again.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

She had no idea how she’d slept for so long. At the end of the day Iida woke her, in his usual alarm clock way. It was kind of soothing. Maybe one day she should get an Iida alarm clock, when he’s made it far enough to have merchandise.

As she collected her things, she realised that she’d daydreamed an awful lot about her friends making it. But never her. Pausing in putting her bag on her shoulders, it hit her all of a sudden.

She had no clue if she was going to make it.

Her past, present and future didn’t shine like her classmates did. Her life was going from shift to shift, school, bed. That was it. There was an innate monotony in being poor that dissatisfied her to the core.

Deku tapped her shoulder, and the smile returned to her face. Turning to see the concern in his face, she reminded herself to be grateful for her lot. Even if she didn’t make it, she was having exceptional experiences now. That in itself must be treasured.

She kept this playing like a mantra in her head as she walked home. Home, home. With her parents and her aunties and uncles and cousins. She waved to the neighbour opposites her nana’s, and started up small talk.

Inevitably the topic ended up on her auntie.

‘Get a handle on her, will you?’

It was said politely with the best intentions - she knew that. The frustration she felt wasn’t at her neighbours who had to deal with her aunties' antics all day every day. She breathed out. It was best not to think about what the frustration she felt was at.

Her auntie’s was her next stop anyway, she thought, lightly touching the door. It moved, unlocked and opened as usual. The musty smell of the porch immediately stuffed itself up her nose. The door after that was always the closed one. The one that actually led into the house.

“Auntie?” she called as she tried to open the door. It didn’t budge. “Auntie?” she tried again.

There was no lock on the door. The only way was if there was a weight against the door. She sighed. She forgot sometimes her uncle got insanely paranoid. They must’ve put something against the door.

She hoped they weren’t doing anything too dodgy. Oh well, she thought. She could return on her way to school in the morning.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ochako was absent. The nearby church had a bell that rang every fifteen minutes. The sound wriggled in his brain in a way that set him off. It was hard to focus on what he was teaching, and he had no idea why. Logically, nothing was wrong. But he just had a feeling.

Luckily, he was only teaching in the morning again. He sat cross legged in his sleeping bag, impatiently tapping his calf. Where was All Might? He was two minutes late. The students whispered as he glared at the clock.

The minute and hour handles were black, recognisable. The seconds one was slim, red, barely noticeable. He scowled.

The door opened, and there he was, in all his tardy glory.

Immediately, he stalked out of the classroom. He didn’t have the time to reprimand the man, not with the pulsing in his limbs that kept propelling him forward.

Something was wrong, something was wrong, he just knew it. Pulling up her address in the school records, he sped to his car.

Her neighbourhood was confusing. The roads twisted every which way, and no public transport touched the residential area. He hummed as he parked, thankful to be off the uneven roads.

“Scuse me!” a woman sitting on a doorstep called. “You might not wanna park there!” she said, pointing to the tree above his car. Ah, a conker tree. Right.

About 20 numbers down was her house, just on the corner. A ‘no ball games’ sign on the side of it had clearly been ignored if the state of it was anything to judge by.

A woman was banging on the door, only for Ochako to run out on her tiptoes, shushing her.

In hushed voices they argued, though without much heat on Ochako’s side.

The woman began to cry.

“I was against that door!” she yelled.

Ochako recoiled, with an expression he’d never seen on her before. Though the remnants were always there, slithering up her eyebags and the contours of her jaw. Horrified guilt. Everywhere. The shoulders, her open mouth, teary eyes.

The woman began to sob into her hands.

“I’m nothing but a burden to you. I’m the worst, I’m the worst, but, please, I need this so bad Ochako. You know I’d never ask you otherwise. You know that.”

Ochako was frozen, limbs hanging stiffly.

The woman lifted her face, and looked through Ochako’s.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without it,” she said quietly. “I don’t know.”

The last three words snapped something in Ochako, as she began to move again.

“Oh, auntie, no, it's okay, it's okay,” she said, holding her auntie in a steely hug, cradling her head on her shoulder. “I know how it is, I know.”

The silence lasted for longer than he was comfortable with. All of a sudden without the adrenaline pushing him forward, he felt like he was invading something intensely personal. He began to retreat when Ochako said something to her auntie, and jogged inside.

She returned with a wad of cash, and placed it in her auntie’s hand.

Her auntie stared at the money. They were both silent, Ochako nervous and her auntie deep in thought. The strained silence came to a stop with a hushed question.

“This is all you can give?”

Automatically the tears sprung up into Ochako’s eyes.

“I’m sorry auntie,” she whispered, so quiet he had to read her lips to understand what she said.

“Ochako,” her auntie's voice sounded broken, hollow. “Ochako, this isn’t enough.”

Ochako’s mouth was open, tears rolling down her cheeks. He could see her doing mental calculations. The kind he recognised, weighing up how much she could go without.

“Excuse me,” he said politely, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. Ochako cringed, paler than she had been throughout the entire previous conversation. “I came to check on you Uraraka, seeing as you’re absent today.”

Ochako flashed a smile at the other woman.

“I’ll see you later, okay auntie?” The other woman nodded.

She watched her walk away instead of facing him. Slowly, she sank down to sit on the doorstep.

“I’m fine, as you can see,” she said, as he took a seat next to her.

“I saw enough to know that’s not true.”

She looked like he’d just punched her. Exhaling, she clenched her jaw and turned her face away from him. After another second, she turned back to examine his expression.

“You want to say something, say it. If you don’t, I have things to do.”

All the worry and adrenaline that had been pumping through him came out all at once.

“Ochako, you’re a child, she’s taking advantage of you.”

It was far more blunt than he wanted to be. He knew he fumbled it as he spoke, but even then he couldn’t stop.

"First of all, fuck you, that’s my auntie. I don’t care if she is taking advantage of me,” she shot back, voice wobbling.

“Ochako, that’s-”

“No!” she snapped, nails digging into her legs. She turned to look him in the eye, her gaze sharp, even as her eyes were still puffy. “You’ve got no clue what it's like!”

He tried to go for calm and reassuring in his response.

“You’re right, I-”

“You give each other everything you can,” she said forcefully, expression determined. “I can’t just act like I owe them nothing now that I’ve got out.”

He let the air settle around her words for a few moments before he spoke.

“You’re right, that wouldn’t be okay. But you aren’t out yet,” she bristled, and he held up his hand to indicate that he was still talking. “And even if you are, you won’t be out much longer if you keep giving like this. I don’t know what it’s like, I won’t pretend to. But I can spot a student that’s drowning when I see one. You won’t last like this.”

“I will,” she whispered, voice wavering.

Aizawa swallowed. He was very familiar with that tone of voice.

“Ochako, you don’t believe it. How can you expect me to?”

Ochako shot up, eyes wide. Quickly, he put up his hands.

“I’m not expelling you.”

Aha who hasn’t learned social skills now, therapist number seven?

“Listen, I know it’s not as simple as that, just saying no after all this time. But I am determined to help you work on that. To do that, I need you to want to work on it too.”
Ochako rolled her shoulders, expression troubled, but focused. She nodded, such a little movement he wasn’t sure he saw it until she did it again.

“I want to. I want to make it, just like everyone else.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a slow process. His scrutiny does do wonders though, he notices. A second too long staring at her eyebags or folding his arms when she throws up way too early into training to be normal communicated something between them that seemed to motivate her.

He subconsciously had added her to the list of students to check up on after he’d locked up in the doors. He didn’t even realise until she was out one night and he had to divert his usual route through the hallway.

One day he saw a flash out the corner of his eye and sent his scarf after it, only to reveal a struggling Mina.

He raised his eyebrows at her. What in the world made her think that was a good idea, provoking a seasoned underground hero?

“Worth it,” she said, grinning as she waved her phone in her hands. “Evidence that you’re a little softie.”

Shouji nodded to Aizawa as he passed, carrying blankets in two hands. He rolled his eyes at Mina, turning back to his routine after curtly telling her to delete it. He didn’t believe she would for a second, but it was the principle of the matter.

Reaching her room, he almost panicked for a second when he realised she wasn’t there.

“You looking for Uraraka or Asui?” Shouji asked, pointing inside his room.

The two girls were cuddling, in a deep sleep. Shouji placed the blankets over both of them, taking the care to tuck them in.

“They always deep sleep when it’s cold,” he said fondly. “Asui I get but I’ve no clue with Uraraka.”

Aizawa felt lighter. It had been a long time since he’d seen Ochako asleep anywhere that wasn’t a desk. It was a slow process, but it was now a process. That was one worry he could ease going to bed tonight.