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The light trill of laughter fills Ochako’s ears, and she freezes.
She was only getting started for the day, and she was already late. Today was a Quirk Counseling day, so she was dressed for her desk job rather than in her hero’s costume, newly short cropped hair just barely browsing her ears. She had just rushed into the agency she runs with Tsu and Momo when she heard the laugh.
It shook her out of her morning daze entirely. The sound was so light, so beautiful, that she couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the better of her, and she rounded the corner of the hallway and straight towards the sound of the noise.
It was coming from a pretty girl. She was standing at the help desk stationed right near the entrance of the agency’s headquarters and talking to one of their secretaries. The girl was Ochako’s height, maybe a little bit taller, but definitely her same age. She was wearing a purple cardigan over a white shirt and ripped jeans. She had sleek black hair at length with her shoulders, and bangs that swept across her forehead. Long, rounded ears poked through that curtain of hair, holding up oval glasses with red rims, circling dark eyes.
But what struck Ochako was her smile. It was that unbridled happy smile that Ochako fought for, the kind that could only show itself when someone felt totally at ease and safe. The girl, noticing Ochako entering the space, turned and spotted her. And that smile only grew, lighting up her whole face.
“Oh my gosh, no way, Uravity?!” She squealed in a voice that floored Ochako with how much pure joy it contained. The girl skipped over to her. “No way! I’m such a fan! You're my favorite pro hero, I have so much of your merch! I wish I knew I was going to run into you today, I would’ve brought something for you to sign!”
The energy of it shocked her, and for a moment, Ochako couldn’t think of anything to say. The secretary giggled from where she sat behind the help desk. Ochako thinks her name is Tsuki-something. “She is one of the Pros who runs this agency.”
The girl giggles. “Yeah, but still!” She turns to Ochako. “I’m so glad to run into you!”
Ochako fights the heat quickly rising to her face. “I— um— thank you. I mean, me too! It’s good to meet you.”
The girl giggles again, like there’s some inside joke Ochako isn’t part of. “Miss Tsukishima was just telling me all about your adult quirk counseling program.”
Right. That’s her name. I knew that. Ochako clears her throat. “Oh. Do you have an interest in attending counseling?”
“I might!” The girl replied. “I came to learn more about it, first.” Then, as if a miraculous idea came to her, she smiled. “Could you tell me a bit more about it?”
Tsukishima blanched, then stood from her desk in an attempt to grab the girl’s attention back. “Oh, no, miss- Miss Uravity is really busy today, could I show you—?”
“No!” Ochako was quick to cut in. “No, it’s okay.” She insists, turning to the girl. “I’d love to talk with you. Do you wanna sit down somewhere?”
The girl beamed. “Really? Oh, that’s so nice! I knew it!”
Ochako blinked. “Knew what?”
“That you’d be nice.” The girl replied. She skipped a step backwards, toward the wide open main entrance area of the building where there were couches placed by wide open windows. “Let’s sit here!”
The girl sat down all at once, patting a spot next to her for Ochako. Ochako couldn’t help but smile, this girl’s energy was infectious. She was one of those girls that radiated joy whenever she was happy, it reminded her of— well, you know. But doesn't everything? Ochako sees Himiko in everything that makes her smile, in everything that makes her cry, everything alive, everything, everywhere, always. Himiko was in her blood, has been for years now. And these days, she’s been on her mind more often than not, too.
Ochako tried to shake it off, but she can’t shake the sense that something about that smile is tugging at her brain, saying that she knows it.
“I don’t think I caught your name.” Ochako slates.
The girl’s eyes widen as she covers her mouth with the cuffs of her sleeves that rest right over the closed palms of her hands. “Oh god, I totally forgot to introduce myself. I’m so sorry, you can call me Momoko.”
First name. Ochako thinks. It brings a rush of warmness to her. As a teenager, Ochako used to think that calling people by their first names was impolite, especially when you’d only just met, which is one of the things that used to unsettle her so much about Himiko when they first met. She had jumped straight to calling her Ochako-Chan, and the familiarity of it had alarmed her.
Mostly, because it didn’t feel as wrong as it should’ve, and that’s what scared her most of all.
“Then why don’t you call me Ochako?”
To this day, most people refuse her outright. It’s too impolite, they’d say. It’s too improper. It’s too forward. Too much.
It’s not enough. She’d say. Ochako had only had a few months of knowing Himiko, and it would never be enough. Himiko always said exactly what she thought. She never held anything back, never pulled her punches, never left space behind. She always got in close— too close, like she wanted to burrow underneath your skin and live there. There were no formalities, no small talk. Himiko was deep, she was personal. And now she was gone. And in the place she had carved for herself deep beneath Ochako’s skin, there was an empty space. Sometimes Ochako felt the craving to fill it. Like a hunger.
Ochako likes to think that this is how Himiko felt, all those years, craving blood, not understanding why it felt like she was starving from lack of affection.
Momoko beams. “Ochako-Chan! Even your name is cute.” She says. “So, this adult quirk counseling program, it’s just like therapy, right?”
“It’s similar!” Ochako confirms. “Our professionals specialize in quirk related childhood traumas.”
Momoko’s eyes widen, and she nods. Ochako gets the feeling that she’s not quite understanding. “So, like, therapy?”
Ochako sighs, and her businesswoman persona slips right off her face. “Yeah, it’s therapy.”
Momoko giggles, her voice pitching up.
Ochako finds herself going on and on and on about the program, about their quirk counselors and the process of hiring them and checking them for qualifications. She describes the complexities of starting the program and what it’s going to look like long-term, and Momoko just sits there with this smile on her face, listening, like there’s no place else she’d rather be. She almost forgets that Momoko is a stranger. With the way she’s leaned forward, paying close attention, making snarky remarks and jokey comments, it feels like Ochako has known her forever. She can’t ever remember a conversation feeling this natural.
“You’re so passionate about this, Ochako-Chan.” Momoko comments. “I’ll be honest, I never really expected anyone to do… you know, get it. Especially someone like you. Someone who has a quirk people adore, I mean. You know?”
Ochako giggles at the brashness and honesty of it. “Yeah, I get that. To be honest— I didn’t really ‘get it’ until a few years ago. Now, all I want to do is spread that understanding. I think the world would be a much safer and better place if we all took the time to understand one another a little better.”
Momoko’s smile turns soft. “More people should be like you, Ochako. You’re so kind.” She says. “I watched one of your interviews last week. Actually, that’s what made me curious enough to come here today. You were talking about a girl, a villain, the person who made you understand this stuff better. You said she was the inspiration for this whole agency. Is that true?”
It tugs at her lungs, and Ochako has to look away in order to breathe again. She hasn’t gotten a break from talking about that interview the entire week, not a day since it happened. Ochako gets that, it was a pretty big reveal for the press to latch onto, but she felt that everyone was attaching themselves to the wrong details. “Yeah, it is.” She says. “I’ve talked about Himiko Toga in a lot of my seminars before, I’m sure if you watched that interview, you’ve seen at least some of the others.”
Momoko laughs. “Just a few! I am a fan.” She admits. “I thought what you said was very brave. You must’ve been so nervous.”
“What, admitting that I loved her, or becoming the first gay female Pro Hero in Japan?” Ochako jokes.
She hadn’t meant to come out, not like that. It had been a sudden, completely irrational decision. She was giving a speech she had prepared for at the Trevor Project heroes luncheon, where she was talking about her agency, then about the quirk counseling program and how she thinks it’s important to make sure young people know they’re loved for their differences, which eventually translates to talking about Himiko.
When she stepped off the stage and was swarmed with people, one of the reporters pointed something out.
“You mentioned in your speech that you loved Himiko Toga. Seeing as this is an LGBTQ youth fundraiser event, did you mean that romantically?”
And Ochako froze for a moment, looking at the cameras in her face, and she thought about Himiko. Really thought about her. How she lived her life authentically, no matter what anyone else thought or said.
And she thought about Deku, and how they’ve been hanging out a lot more recently. How he’s told her that Himiko wouldn’t want her to be ashamed of herself, or to live a lie.
And no one has ever told Ochako that she had to be out, and she’s never really considered doing it, but it just comes right out of her.
“Yes. I did. I loved her.”
Momoko giggled again. “Well, both, I suppose.” She says. “I’ve been seeing you on every headliner the past few days.”
Ochako sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Don’t remind me.”
“I’ll admit, I was a little surprised, too.” Momoko says. “Especially after all those dating rumors you and Deku were getting last year.”
Ah yes, last year, when Ochako began having fitful, vivid, reoccurring dreams of Himiko visiting her on a wide open field and encouraging her to start really living her life. Come out of her shell. Be her true, authentic self, live her life as only Ochako Uraraka could.
“Deku and I were never dating.” Ochako tells her. “I’ll keep telling the paparazzi until they believe me. Actually, he’s the first person I ever came out to.”
Momoko brightened. “Woah, really? You must be close.”
“Yeah, we are.” Ochako admits. “When I was a kid, I used to think I had a crush on him. At the time, it made sense— I thought he was incredible. Strong, always saving people with a smile. He was everything I wanted to become as a hero. I mistook that for a crush, and tucked it away where I didn’t have to think about it too hard. I think, even back then, I knew that if I examined that feeling closer, my excuses would all unravel, and I’d figure out that I didn’t like him like that. The way I sh— the way I thought I should. I was scared, I guess, to really look inward and understand the things I was feeling. Meeting Himiko and seeing how she lived her life gave me the courage to really start thinking about that, even if it was scary at first.”
“I get it.” Momoko relates. “No one likes being different. It’s hard to accept parts of yourself that you’re convinced no one else will like.” Ochako’s heart sunk at the depth of those words. All at once, she felt as though there was a deep sadness in this girl, and Ochako got the sudden urge to reach out for it. Momoko grinned, covering it up. “Deku must be such a good friend if you went to him first with this.”
“He is!” Ochako chirped, clutching at her pantsuit, feeling awkward for talking about herself for so long. She never does that. “I’m sorry, I got so wrapped up in talking about myself. This doesn’t have anything to do with the agency, let’s go back to talking about the program. Do you have any questions—?”
“No no!” Momoko was quick to intercept. “Hey, I’m the one that asked. And anyway— I think it’s admirable, what you’re doing. You’re changing the world. Literally! I haven’t even stepped foot in this building, and even I’ve benefited from your program.”
“Really?” Ochako asks. “What do you do for work?”
“Oh, I’m HVCM.” She says.
Right, the Hero Villain Combat Medics. H-victim, as it’s usually pronounced. It was a branch of EMS local to Japan that Hawks launched after taking over the Heroes Commission; units of highly trained medics that could operate in combat zones. Unlike the paramedics usually called to crime scenes to help the civilians hurt in the battle (or even a hero who got injured and needs attention after the fighting is over), the medics in HVCM will enter active battle zones and fight their way to heroes, villains, and civilians who need medical attention. They’re trained to administer the medical attention when needed, but usually their priorities are retrieving those in danger in battle zones and bringing them to any on sight paramedics, or rushing them to a hospital. HVCM medics have pro hero level combat training, it takes a long time to train to be one. There’s a bar exam one would need to pass in order to even be considered for it.
“Oh, that’s incredible!” Ochako comments. “How long have you been working with them?”
“Only a couple years,” says Momoko, “but it feels like longer. I really love it.”
“You should,” says Ochako, “That’s an admirable profession.”
“An admirable profession.” Momoko repeats with a laugh. Somehow, it doesn’t feel mean-spirited. “You’re so serious.”
Ochako snorts. “Sorry. Business mode is hard to turn off.”
“I’ll bet.” She agrees. She looks down, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. “As a kid, I never would’ve been able to imagine myself working alongside heroes,” Momoko admits. “Even if I had wanted to be a hero, people had started to treat me like a villain since I was six and my quirk first developed. But now?” Her smile returns in full force. “I have so many friends, and a job I can be proud of. I can feel how things are different in the world now by how people treat me. So much of that is because of you. Ochako,” Momoko reaches out, placing a gentle hand on Ochako’s wrist, making goosebumps raise all across her arm, “you should be really proud.”
Something dark and heavy pricks behind Ochako’s eyes, and she’s suddenly blinking back tears. This isn’t the first time someone’s congratulated her on her achievements as a pro, but for some reason, this time, it hits differently. Maybe it’s because it’s coming from the mouth of someone who’s part of the group of people she had set out to help in the first place.
Ochako is constantly wondering; is this enough? Has enough of the world been changed? Is this world finally a place that would accept Himiko? Is this place somewhere she could live in without fear of rejection or persecution, without being surrounded by people who refuse to understand how she experiences the world?
And the answer has always been no. Not yet. And Ochako pushes herself harder to make that world. Even if Himiko can’t live in it.
Ochako swallows those tears and smiles back. “I am.” She says. “I want to create a world where no one feels like they have to change themselves in order to belong in it. And if what I’m doing helps to create that, then I’ll happily do it for the rest of my life.”
“And you are happy?” Momoko asks. And, for a second, this question feels more important than anything else Momoko has asked her so far.
Ochako thinks about the kids she works with. The adults who send her fan mail, thanking her for her hard work. Her friends, who— over the past year since their last high school reunion dinner— have been encouraging Ochako to go out more and work herself to death less. Her parents, swimming in comfort, who couldn’t be more proud of her. All of the change in the world that’s occurred since she got her license.
“Yes.” Ochako answers honestly. “I am, actually.”
A softer smile graces Momoko’s face. “…Good.” She says, then stands up.
Ochako reaches out a hand, as if to ask what she’s doing, where she’s going—
“I don’t think counseling is for me. At least, not right now.” Momoko says. “But thank you for talking to me. Really. I’m so glad we got to talk.” Then, this smile happens. This perfect, beautiful smile. Completely unrestrained. Perfect. “Thank you, Ochako.”
Suddenly, it hits her—
This is Himiko.
That’s why Ochako felt that smile was familiar— it’s Himiko. It has to be. Suddenly, Ochako is certain of it.
She hasn’t told anyone because they’ll think she’s crazy, but Ochako knows something the rest of the world doesn’t. She knows that Himiko Toga is alive.
Of course, after the war, she was announced dead. She has an unmarked grave (so no one would tarnish it), and her name is on the monument honoring all those lost in the war.
But they never found her body.
When they found Ochako passed out from blood loss after her and Himiko’s battle, she still had all of Himiko’s blood transferring equipment attached to her, pumping blood into her veins, but Himiko herself was missing. She was announced dead soon after when no trace of her was found anywhere in the world, but Ochako didn’t believe it. Not even for a second.
She felt it— she knew Himiko was still out there somewhere. She wasn’t dead.
She cried this once to Tsu, tired and grief stricken after the war, once finding out from Hawks that her body was never found, and Tsu had talked her down from it, told her that she had to let go. And Ochako has let people think that she has. A lot of them have even believed her. But her closest friends— Tsu, Deku, Momo, they know otherwise. She denies it when asked, just like how she assures everyone that she’s not even that tired after pulling an all-nighter on patrol. No one will insist upon it, but they way they look at her with pity… she can tell they’re all thinking it. They know Ochako hasn’t really moved on. Especially not since the dreams started.
She doesn’t get them every night, but when she does have them, they feel so vivid she could swear she felt the warmth of Himiko’s skin when she held her close. Hallucinations from lack of sleep and too much stress, the doctors say. Ochako wants to believe it’s something else, even if it doesn’t make any sense.
She doesn’t know what compels her to do it, but after listening to Himiko’s voice and opening up to Deku about her sexuality, she returns to the site of the battle she and Himiko had. Of course, she isn’t there. Why would she be? But Ochako leaves a small glass vial of her blood there in the bushes of the newly planted flowers and shrubs, and leaves it.
She continues on that tradition for the whole rest of the year, leaving a vial of her blood in that shrub once a week. Saturdays. For a while, nothing happened. She would return and all the previous vials would still be there. But then, one day, as she returned to place another, she realized they were gone. Someone was taking them.
Ever since that day, when she would return to place another vial, the one from the previous week would be missing, and Ochako knew it had to be Himiko. She had no evidence— it could be some random homeless person, or a kid playing a prank. It’s not like Ochako ever saw anyone take them. She’d left notes with them, begging Himiko to reach out to her. To meet her someplace. To do something, anything, to prove that she was still alive. But nothing ever came of it, so she stopped, scared of pushing her too far.
But she knew it was Himiko. It had to be Himiko. She needed it to be Himiko. Because if it wasn’t, if it wasn’t—
Ochako passes people— strangers— on the street every day, and thinks she could be any one of these people. She works with boards of education and members of congress to implement new quirk profiling policies and she thinks this could make life easier for her. She dreams that same vivid dream at night, and she thinks maybe she’s dreaming of me too. And it’s so hard not to be bitter. Seeing Bakugo stand up and walk around, seeing Deku get to have this, to have a whole childhood with the person who completes him, while Ochako only had a few stolen moments over a handful of months at most. That Deku gets to have Bakugo stand back up after that brutal hit, but Ochako doesn’t. That Deku was just fast enough, just brave enough, said all the right things and the right time— that he had enough time— and Ochako—
It hurts too much to think she missed her chance at this. Because Ochako has tried to move on. She’s done every possible thing— tried to mourn her. Spoke to her grave. Went on blind dates. Went to years and years of therapy. But Ochako knows, deep down, to her absolute core, she knows the truth. Himiko was it for her. The other half of her soul, if she believes in that sort of thing. She will never feel this way about anyone else ever again. No one will ever be able to fill that open space inside of her that Himiko created for herself, and then left empty.
But that smile.
Ochako would recognize it anywhere, in any face that wore it. That was the cutest smile in the world. That was Himiko.
And she’s leaving. She standing up to leave, she’s going to leave.
And in a panic, Ochako stands up and catches her wrist.
She wants to pull Himiko back in. She craves it, like a hunger, like a itch, like an addiction. She wants to pull Himiko into herself, closer closer closer, so close that she presses through Ochako’s skin and into her bones, into her ribcage, where the two of them can become one and Ochako can keep her forever and ever.
Every night Ochako spent dreaming of her, every drop of blood she lost on the job that she panicked about losing, every moment she spent in horrible, loathful envy, knowing she was too late. That she’d missed her chance. That she would be without, she would be missing, she would be halfway empty for the rest of her life. The nights she spent aching, staring up at her ceiling, trying to force herself to be at peace with it, when the dull, persistent ache continued to throb in her chest, as she would force back tears, thinking this pain will last forever. I’ll never see her again. I’ll always be missing her. Forever and ever. Missing the chance to get to know her, missing her chance to learn how it felt to be whole and true and complete. Missing—
Himiko would have wanted you to be honest with yourself, her therapist had said. She would’ve wanted you to be open and happy. But how can Ochako be truthful with herself when her truth is out of reach? How can Ochako be happy when she spends every second of every day wondering what if what if what if? With the empty space, the lack of something she had never fully known, with the secret understanding that Ochako had come so close— so close— to something she will be craving for the rest of her life.
Her missed chance, her empty space, the hope she has to cling onto because if it's not Himiko, then it’s only the ache, the missing, the empty space—
Himiko— Momoko— stops in her tracks, staring back at Ochako, holding her still by the wrist. Ochako panics, she chokes.
“Wha— um, don’t—“ she sputters. And when Momoko’s black eyes meet hers, sobriety falls over her. What is she doing? This is a girl she doesn’t even know—
It’s Himiko, her traitorous mind corrects—
And she’s just grabbed her by the arm to hold her in place like a crazy person.
It’s Himiko. Her heart insists. It’s Himiko.
“Uh, I know you said you weren’t— you’re not doing the program, but, uh—“ Ochako drops her wrist, then pats down her suit jacket until she finds the stupid little business cards she carries everywhere. She grabs one, and the pen in her pocket, and quickly scribbles a number down on the back and holds it out to Himiko. “This is our number, if you change your mind. You can reach out any time! Um,” her voice is pitchy, she’s frazzled. She’s right there. She’s right here. She’s here. “My personal number is on the back of you, um…” Christ, she sounds like she’s two seconds away from a panic attack. Why does she sound insane? Don’t go yet, I need this, I need you. “If you needed or wanted anything else, um, yeah.”
Slowly, Momoko looked down from the card to Ochako’s flustered, overwhelmed face. Ochako doesn’t know what to think, what to do. All she knows is that she can’t let Himiko get away again.
Slowly, she smiles that Himiko smile, and takes the card. “You’re so cute, Ochako.” She says. Then, she drops Ochako a wink, and— um. What? She what? “I’ll call you, okay?”
“Um.” Is all Ochako can say. And then Himiko is slipping out of her grasp again, and Ochako feels the world slip from her fingers. She’d chase after her if she wasn’t so dizzy, suddenly, even if she knew that was irrational. She just stands there, and stands there, and stands there, long after Momoko leaves. That smile branded in her retinas, there every time she blinks.
Was that real? Ochako wonders. It wouldn’t be the first time she thought she’d finally snapped and lost it. Her brain won’t wrap itself around the interaction. Was that really Himiko?
Suddenly, Ochako can’t be sure. As if she had the object permanence of a goldfish, Ochako couldn’t be sure Momoko had existed at all now that she can’t see her. Maybe Ochako really is going insane, like Tsu always said she would if she didn’t start taking it easy.
“Uravity? Miss Uravity, ma’am?”
Ochako blinks, recognizing that she’s been standing in the middle of the agency building foyer for god knows how long. She turns around— one of her sidekicks, Chompy, is in full hero get-up and is tugging on her sleeve to get her attention. Her wide, toothy grin is lopsided and concerned. “Uravity, the meeting started twenty minutes ago. Have you just been standing here?”
Ochako shakes her head, trying to focus, but she can’t. Everything is hazy around the edges. “I’m sorry, I just…” she looks behind her, out the clear doors that led outside, where Himiko had left. Himiko left. She left again.
“I’m sorry.”
Chompy gives her another concerned onceover. “You know, if you’re not feeling well, we can go over the minutes without you.” She offers. “We’ll send an email.”
“No,” Ochako declines. “I’m fine. I’m just— yeah, I’m fine.” She walks clear around Chompy, towards the elevator. She needs to bury herself in her job again, go back to real life. She can unpack this later, at home. Her mind pauses, all Himiko related thoughts coming to a standstill.
Chompy follows close behind as Ochako reaches her destination. She pushes the call elevator button one, three, five times, trying to decide if any of what just happened was real.