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"Himiko Toga," Ochaco began, fingers trembling on the small paper she held in her hand, "I'm 24 years old now."
The summer breeze passed the trees, and she stood alone at Toga's grave, Tsuyu waiting patiently for her a few paces back. The grave was well-kempt, as they all were, since her and Tsuyu personally sought out to keep the graves clean and tidy, to honour those who had fallen.
"You would be 25. Maybe 26, had I known your birthday," Ochaco was already crying now, the fate of someone she had barely known still weighing on her shoulders all these years later, "Which is 8 years later."
Tsuyu was admiring the flowers placed on each persons grave, wondering about their stories and who they were, and who they could've been. It was warm that day, and even in the garden, which one might think would have an odd chill, was warm too. Ochaco slipped the paper she was holding into her pocket, and continued speaking.
"I still think about our conversation every day, how you wanted so desperately to talk about romance with someone and I gave you that chance too late," She sniffled, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve, "But I know it's not as simple as that."
The sun was high, and the day was still young, but Tsuyu and Ochaco had dedicated this day to Toga. She deserved it, after all.
"I came today, instead of my usual day, because it's officially been 8 years since your passing." Ochaco smiled grimly, balling her fists together tightly to try and hold back more tears, "And I want you to know that, Tsu came on her own accord. She's a good friend to me, and I know she would've been a good friend to you, too, had you..."
She stopped talking, looking away from Toga's grave and scrunching her face, tears falling down her face. Tsuyu came up to her, now, and put a hand on her shoulder. Ochaco turned to her, and she smiled at her, encouraging her to continue. Ochaco nodded, and turned back towards Toga's grave.
"There's... no point dwelling on what-ifs. You're gone, and that's final," She whispered, somberly, "But I want you to know that I took our conversation to heart."
Ochaco sat down, Tsuyu following her, and twiddled her thumbs, as if hoping for some sort of reply, but she continued, knowing that one wasn't coming.
"I've expanded our Quirk counselling program. I dedicate my time to helping children around Japan supporting them with their Quirks. I'd like to thank you for that idea."
"I truly understand now what it means to be left alone with a Quirk of your scale, and I wish this support had been there for you before, but it's there now for people after you."
Ochaco was silent for a moment, Asui having grabbed her hand while she was talking and was rubbing it comfortingly.
"Himiko Toga," She finally said, "I dedicate this poem to you. I know that everything I've said isn't in a traditional poem format, but I don't think you would mind that much. You can haunt me if I'm wrong."
She and Tsuyu chuckled slightly.
"But either way," She rummaged in her pocket for the paper she had tucked away in it earlier, and rested it on her grave, "I want you to have it."
Ochaco turned to Tsuyu, who was smiling warmly at her.
"Toga-chan," Tsuyu spoke now, "I'm happy that you let Ochaco speak to you, ribbit."
"Hadn't you, I would have probably slapped you round the head 'till you did, ribbit. But, you can call me Tsu. I consider you a friend."
She had nothing more the felt like she could say, so her and Ochaco stood up, bowed to Toga, and walked off. The poem and Tsuyu's flowers blew gently in the wind, and for a moment, there seemed to be a ray on sun beaming down on her grave. But, who can be sure?