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“See? Big enough for two.”
Ochako believed she imagined those words. At least, she thought they were directed at someone else—never her. Not when she was the one to drop in and check on her classmates or message them with a few words of encouragement. She was strong, an unshakable pillar that many asked to lean on when things were turbulent in their lives.
That could have been why it was so hard for Ochako to realize that she needed support, too.
It had been overcast for days. News reports informed them of a large storm moving in from the Pacific, which wasn’t uncommon during typhoon season. There’d been whispers of a trip to the beach, something to cheer everyone up, but they died down as the sky grew dark with the whispers of rain and wind. They all finally decided on something safer—a sleepover of sorts, hosted by Shouto and Fumikage at their apartment. An unlikely pair, but the two worked well together.
They’d had dinner, talked, even drank a bit before many of them were covering their mouths with their hands to hide how sleep pulled at the corners of their minds. Various futons were laid out across the tatami mats, lined up as though they were at an inn. Ochako had been one of the first to lay her head down, hoping sleep would take her quickly, but she could only be so lucky on some nights.
The rain reminded her of the war. Memories surfaced and, though Ochako tried her best to compartmentalize her feelings at first, it never worked out the way she’d hoped. Sadness, regret, and the underlying dread that she’d done something horrible that she couldn’t undo lingered and swirled in her stomach. The vortex of unease was enough to drive her out of her futon, into her slippers, and towards the balcony—
Ochako didn’t expect to find anyone on the other side of the sliding glass door. Granted, she hadn’t paid attention to the three or four empty futons out of the group, and she knew all of their anxieties stemmed from different but similar sources.
Hanta, unassuming as he peered over his shoulder, was leaning against the railing in his loose shorts and tank top. One rounded elbow was perched atop the treated metal, and his weight had only shifted minutely, leaving him relatively in the position he’d been before she came out.
They stared at one another for a moment. Ochako found her words caught in her throat not because she found it hard to speak to Hanta of all people. It was because she didn’t know what explanation she’d use when he inevitably asked her why she was out here so late. She didn’t have the same excuse of needing a nighttime smoke, and when the only thing that came to her mind was how her heart was pounding and she needed air, she nearly missed her former classmate beckoning her with his free hand. His opposite one was close to stubbing out the flame on his smoke when she finally stepped out and closed the sliding door.
“You don’t—sorry. It’s okay if you smoke. Some of my colleagues do, so I’m used to it…”
The look of surprise on Hanta’s face was obvious. He listened though, and instead of putting it out, he brought the filter back to his lips and took a slow drag. Ochako came to stand next to him, just a few inches away, and the two enjoyed the relative silence that passed between them. Ochako was thankful that her pounding heart was already beginning to slow when she finally went to speak again.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
Granted, they weren’t the closest of the bunch. Sure, everyone in the class intermingled, but the most Ochako and Hanta saw of one another was at group gatherings. She found his presence grounding in a way, especially when he spoke.
“Nasty habit I picked up from Kyouka and Hitoshi, I guess,” he laughed. Gray wisps curled from his nostrils as the melodious sound floated to Ochako’s ears. “Hitoshi had to quit ‘cause Katsuki and Neito hate the smell. I got it pretty easy, nobody at home and all that.”
Ochako hadn’t really had a relationship stick, and she had heard a few of them were in similar situations. She hummed in response, and a hush fell over them again. The warm night air was a welcome caress, and the familiar smell of menthol calmed her even more. Her heart was heavy, but the tightness in her chest was kept at bay by Hanta’s presence.
“You ever think sometimes we got the short end of the stick? Not—like things suck, ‘cause they don’t. Things are getting better. Not meaning to be negative or anything.”
Ochako knew what he meant. Things were going good, so when the dips came, it was almost a shock. She nodded, just a little tilt of her head, before she was leaning her arms on the balcony, too.
“I get it. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that on anybody else—especially not the up-and-coming UA classes, but it’s hard to think that we really did our best after losing so many people. It just… sticks to you. And you forget about it, so things are fine for a while, and then suddenly you’re reminded of bits and pieces at a time, and it’s too much all over again.”
Hanta gave a low hum of agreement as he blew out a steady stream of smoke. Mesmerizing, that’s what she would call it. The angles of his face and little peeks of ink coming out from behind his tank top, along with the way he leaned his head as he stared out over the horizon. The high-rise was good for something, at least.
In that second, Ochako thought that maybe Hanta looked a little more lonely than she’d initially thought. She inched closer, and when he eyed her but didn’t shy away, she pressed her elbow to his and brushed his hips with hers.
“It’s not all gloom and doom, though. Crime’s way down, and all the kids seem to like learning about handling their own Quirks. I’d say things are looking up.”
Ochako turned her gaze towards the sky then, watching the stars wink so far away. It was hard to see them well in the city, but she appreciated their presence nonetheless.
“Yeah,” Hanta agreed. “Lotsa hard work you been putting in, you know. Getting crime down is great and all, but that doesn’t stop Quirks from mutating. And I think we need somebody helping these kids out now more than ever.”
The little huff of a laugh Ochako let out pulled at the corners of Hanta’s lips. As he stubbed out the minuscule bit of good cigarette left, Ochako leaned her head onto his shoulder. The warmth of his skin against her cheek was comforting, real.
“I’ll could sign you up for a few talks with them. They’d love you.”
He could reject the invitation if he wanted to, of course. But Ochako was very serious when she said that everyone had something to bring to the table. It never mattered what it was; it was simply her job to figure out how to utilize it.
“Think so?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested. Even if he was just humoring her, she appreciated that he’d even think about it that much.
“Yeah, do that. Just let me know when you’d need me, and I’ll make time for it.”