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The sky was colored, smeared over with clouds that trailed off into wisps. The sea mirrored it, the same pattern but rough, torn up by the lapping waves. Ochako could see it all spread out ahead of her from the rock she was perched on.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Ochako looked down. There was a civilian standing below her, a middle aged woman with her hair pulled back in a bun.
“Could I—talk to you?” she said.
Quickly, Ochako wiped her hands over her face. Then she jumped down, using her quirk to catch herself. “What seems to be the trouble?”
The woman looked past her, down at the washed out countryside below them. Then she said, “Are you doing alright?”
Ochako blinked. Somehow, that wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. She wasn’t sure how to answer.
“It’s a lot of work, cleaning up this kind of mess,” the woman continued, “No one would blame you if you took a break. I think it would be wise, even.”
“I’m on break now,” Ochako said, following her gaze. The tsunami had cut a ribbon down the lower land by the shoreline, turning it brown with dirt and debris. It made a strange kind of contrast with the vibrant sky.
“Come eat dinner then. I was just about to make some,” the woman said. Then she added, “You don’t have to talk to anyone,”
“Okay,” Ochako said. It’s what Deku would have wanted her to do.
“My name is Okura,” Ochako’s new friend told her.
They were walking down a row of temporary shelters, Okura leading the way. Ochako felt like she was a child again, following her mother through the aisles of the grocery store.
“Uravity,” Ochako said, “And Uraraka—either is fine.”
“Nice to meet you,” Okura said, “And we all appreciate everything you’ve been doing. There’s no need for you to help with dinner—I already have plenty of people to order around.”
“I might want to,” Ochako insisted, “It can feel strange to sit and do nothing.”
Okura laughed, but it wasn’t belittling. “You were doing that already.”
“There’s five of us who’ll be eating together tonight—you, me, the Kozato family—that’s my sister Sei and her husband Akira—and also Haru.
“Is that their son?” Ochako asked, reaching for the bag of rice.
Okura pushed her hand away without breaking focus on the fire she was tending. “No—Haru isn’t related to us. He’s a bit of a funny story, actually. I’ll let him tell it when he gets back here.”
“I’ll wait in suspense!” Ochako said.
Okura sat back and turned to look at her. “You don’t have to pretend to be feeling alright.”
Ochako looked away, tightened her grip on the rock she was sitting on, and sighed. So she hadn’t sounded as chipper as she’d meant to.
“You should talk to somebody,” Okura said. Then she reached back to grab a pot with a thick handle, grabbed it and set it down on the grate over the fire. “Doesn’t have to be me—we only just met. But you should tell someone about whatever is eating you up.”
“My friend died,” Ochako said. It was strange how easily it came out. She’d been avoiding the words—like announcing it might make it real.
“Oh,” Okura said, face softening. She’d grabbed a gallon bottle of water and started pouring it into the pan, “What happened?”
“We aren’t really sure,” Ochako said. Deku had been down in the valley, when the water came three weeks ago. Nobody had heard from him since.
“I’m sorry,” Okura said, and it was a blessing. Ochako didn’t want to talk her through all the reasons it had to be so. She’d spent long enough parsing through them herself.
Okura picked up the bag of rice she’d swatted Ochako away from and began measuring it out into the pan.
“Here they are!” Okura said, standing up from the rock she’d been sitting on. Then she cupped her hands over her mouth and called down the row of tents, “Sei—walk faster! We have a guest tonight!”
Ochako stood up too, stepped to the side to see past Okura. A man and woman were walking toward them, not quite close enough to speak comfortably to.
“I saw!” Sei shouted, pointing to the left, farther up the hill. “We sent Haru to get another rock!”
Okura scoffed, but there was no malice in it. “They must have been looking down on us from higher up.”
When they made it back to the fire, Ochako bowed politely. “Thank you for having me.”
“This is Uraraka,” Okura said. Then she gestured to her family. “I’ve told you about Sei and Akira.”
“We’re pleased you could come,” Mrs. Kozato said, bowing back.
“Hey, Haru!” Mr. Kozato shouted, “What took you so long?”
“I couldn’t find the right kind of rock!” Deku shouted back.
Ochako whipped her head around. Deku was coming down the hill, carrying another rock-stool over one shoulder. When he got closer he stopped in his tracks—he’d seen Ochako staring at him.
“Is something wrong?” Deku asked.
Ochako ran at him. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do—hug him, probably—but Deku stepped back as she got close, held the rock up as a barrier between them. Ochako stopped then, confused. She might have been crying.
“Wait!” Deku exclaimed, setting down the rock, “Do you know me?”
“Yes?” Ochako shrieked.
“Oh!” Deku said. Then his expression changed, and he covered his face in his hands, “Oh—I’m so sorry! This is really embarrassing.”
Ochako laughed. She had no idea what was going on, but something about his reaction was so Deku that she couldn’t be upset. She hadn’t thought she would ever get to see that again.
Deku pulled his hands away—they hung in the air awkwardly. “Okay—so, Mrs. Kozato has a really cool quirk.”
“Uh-huh,” Ochako said, wiping snot off of her face.
“She can erase memories temporarily—which I think could be really useful if you were trying to disrupt someone’s plans without hurting them—you could make them forget what they were intending to do, or how much of it they had done so far. Sorry! I’m distracting myself—back in all of the commotion, she used her quirk on me by accident. And even though she hasn’t really trained it up at all, in stressful situations people’s quirks normally come out stronger than normal and—anyway all that to say, I don’t remember much of anything right now.”
“We’re nearing the record,” Mrs. Kozato said from behind them, “Usually it’s closer to a few hours—but I’ve never hidden a memory for longer than a month.”
Deku reached his hand back to fiddle with the hair above his neck—it was one of his nervous habits. “I couldn’t put my real name down on any of the records because I haven’t remembered it yet. I knew I would be worrying everybody I knew, but I didn’t know what I could do about it.”
“That’s fine,” Ochako croaked. Deku had survived, made some nice friends, and hadn’t even managed to hurt himself in the process. For all it’s defects, she was definitely counting this situation as a win.
“I’m really sorry,” Deku said, bowing to her, “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”
“It’s really fine!” Ochako said, and she meant it. He’d done everything she’d have wanted him to.”
Deku straightened. Then he said, “Um, were you trying to hug me? You can if you want—I just wasn’t ready for it.”
Ochako grinned—it felt like her face might split open—and she hugged him.