Chapter Text
Ochako was many things, but she was not a sore loser. At least, that’s what she told herself as she nursed her dislocated shoulder in Recovery Girl’s extremely busy station.
Her hard work had earned her a spot in the semi-finals for her final Sports Festival, but was ultimately unable to best Shouto’s firepower. Fire apparently didn’t care if it was airborne; it just wanted to burn. She groaned, shifting uncomfortably in her singed training uniform. She had burns everywhere and just wanted to cry.
She had been so close! After the hell that was her match with Tokoyami and Dark Shadow, she had finally built up the momentum she needed to take on one of the class's Top 3. But, she got cocky and assumed she knew everything up his sleeve, making Shouto’s final attack (a vortex of ice and fire) a nasty surprise that had blasted her and her pride out of bounds.
Hence, her busted left shoulder.
Uraraka Ochako was not the same girl she was in her first year at UA. The world was not the same either. Some days she wished she could go back, other days she’s thankful she couldn’t. If she was honest with herself, the thing she truly missed was the innocent wonder she had perceived the world with, and the optimism that came with it.
But, it turned out that wasn’t in the cards for her. It wasn’t really for any of her classmates, or anyone in her generation wanting to be a hero.
Third year Uraraka Ochako was a self-made force to be reckoned with. Providing for her parents was still a top priority, but it wasn’t enough anymore. She wanted to provide for everyone now. Everyone deserved to be safe and it was in her power to make that happen. And if she wanted to keep up with the powerhouses that were her friends, no—their equal—then Ochako herself would have to become a powerhouse, too.
She mastered her nausea control by spending spent three months straight suspended in zero gravity. After discovering they had the same gym schedules, Eijirou became her favorite sparring partner. Her now-current internship partner, Katsuki, would join occasionally to practice airborne fighting and experiment different move combinations with her. Izuku helped her hone her reflexes and mornings were dedicated to pushing her quirk to its absolute limits.
Over the course of her second year, Ochako transformed, earning the respect of her classmates and teachers. No longer were people hesitant to go all out on the fragile floating girl. If her goal was to become the embodiment of her school’s motto, Plus Ultra, she achieved it and more.
At least, that was the image she broadcasted. If she wanted to stand on the podium with the best of them, she couldn't very well also be complaining over how stiff her muscles were, or how often she wept in her room eating mochi while watching sad dog compilations. She would always have to compensate for how open and trusting her resting face was. Her internship with Miruko taught her that to be a strong female hero meant to be an impenetrable force. Ending up sharing that internship with Katsuki taught her the necessity of speaking her mind, and an entire dictionary of new curse words.
She was proud of her work to earn a spot in the top five of her class, but sometimes a girl just wanted to take a nap.
Her shoulder twinged. “Fuck,” she hissed.
“Hey! Watch your damn language!”
She had to crack a smile. As if he had any room to talk. Eijirou was in the bed next to her wrapped head to toe in bandages. It was quite impressive that he got Izuku to fight that ferociously against him in the quarterfinals, but damn did it do a number on his body.
Eijirou grew into what everyone predicted he would. A wall of muscle with a wicked sense of humor, complete with a shit-eating grin. His friendship was a welcomed byproduct of her reinvigorated training regimen and she’s always been thankful for it.
Also, he’s not bad to look at.
She sent him her best pout. “Come on, giive me another minute to whine. Then I'll be a good sport, promise.”
It was his turn to laugh. “If having a potty mouth helps you fight like that, please never stop saying fuck again.” He groaned as he sat up in his hospital bed, the bandages straining against his muscles causing him to look like a buff mummy.
A dislocated shoulder apparently also canceled out any of her internal filters. Control yourself, Ochako.
“Seriously," he continued, "that move Todoroki did was one hundred percent his last resort. It would’ve taken any of us down. You should be proud.”
Ochako sighed and tried to lean against her own bed without grimacing. Her right arm was in a sling, bone waiting to be popped back into its socket. Just like last year, Recovery Girl’s wing was packed with students. Her classmates just didn’t know when to quit.
She let out a huff. She's always had issues accepting compliments, even if they were well earned. “I know you’re right, but I can’t help to think that every fight I lose in here would be one where a villain wins out there. I can't stop thinking about the fact that soon enough, after graduation, that's going to be the case for us." She sighed again. "It’s hard not to put so much pressure on yourself, you know?”
Eijirou's grin slightly fell, replaced with an empathetic nod. Every hero-in-training felt that pressure. A twinkle entered his eye that Ochako knew meant nothing but trouble. She loved it. “Uravity, bro, I just had the greatest idea.”
She made a show of straightening up to attention. “Oh? Please share with the class, Red Riot.”
“When we graduate, let’s try to get hired at the same agency so we can watch each other’s backs, okay?”
Her grin returned as a smirk. “What? Just the two of us? And leave Bakugou by himself? Kirishima, is this a love confession?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Ah shit, you've found me out. You're too good of a sparring partner to let go that easily. Shall I get down on one knee? Once I get feeling in them again?”
It wasn’t fair that laughing felt so painful. Ochako’s body couldn’t decide between giggling and wincing. Eijirou wasn’t much better, which just made her giggle harder.
“Serves you right, fucking dumbasses.”
Ochako was shocked to see the scene of Katsuki being wheeled into the office with an absolutely obliterated left arm. Even more shocking was the fact that it was Izuku pushing him, looking extremely guilty.
Well, they now know who won their semifinal match. She wondered how he had allowed Izuku to come with him. Three years later and Ochako still didn’t have a single clear insight into their relationship. “Don’t worry, Bakugou, we would never dream of leaving you behind!”
There was no way in hell she was going to be the one to ask about the match. “Any agency would be lucky to have us!" She grandly gestured around with her good arm. "Who wouldn't want UA's most busted?"
It earned a snort from Eijirou and a murderous glower from Katsuki. “Go fuck yourself, fat face.”
Ochako dropped her arm and frowned. "Everyone's a critic, I guess," she muttered, Eijirou now holding back a smile for another reason.
Training had leaned her out, but genetics were determined to keep her curvy. She didn’t quite mind it, though. Her body was a reminder to her that she was in fact feminine, something she felt like she had to constantly disregard in the masculine-driven world of heroes.
As Ochako opened her mouth to fully retort, she was interrupted by a cough from UA’s Number One, in combat and in anxiety. “Kacchan, again, I’m so sorry about your arm, I really didn’t—“
“For the last time, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
Even from his wheelchair, Katsuki’s unadulterated rage was horrifying. “We’ve been through this! Fuck my arm! If that's what it took to beat me, that's what it fucking took!” he spat angrily. “This is why I hate you, shitty nerd. I'm not gonna make you feel better for breaking my arm. Accept the fucking win and get the fuck out of my face!”
If Eijirou grew into what was expected, Izuku's growth quite frankly defied logic. No longer was he a mop-headed kid desperately doing wall sits in between classes to bulk up. To try to make himself to look older, he kept the sides of his hair cropped while letting the curls on top go wild. He wasn’t beefy by Eijirou standards, but he was still an absolute unit of height and muscle. Ochako couldn’t remember the last time she reached past his shoulders.
On the other hand, Ochako reasoned that Katsuki was naturally the most physically attractive out of the bunch while simultaneously the most emotionally repulsive. His shoulder-to-waist ratio was drowned out by the fact that it was like having to babysit the kid in dodgeball who constantly got tagged out but refused to leave the game. Despite mellowing out considerably since their first year, he had a long way to go before she (or any girl) would put up with that.
Maybe. It’s not like she was the relationship expert to begin with. Ochako always had issues distinguishing between platonic and romantic love. Growing up, she had always assumed there wasn't a difference when it came to someone she found attractive. But after her own saga with Izuku, she now knew that it wasn't always the case.
Katsuki growled again and turned away from the group, angrily nursing his broken arm. Ochako got it. She really did. Losing sucked. Interning with Katsuki didn’t make them best friends, but it gave her a better understanding of how he operated. She couldn’t imagine how hard losing his final Sports Festival must be for him, someone who placed his self-worth on every win he got. It’s even more insulting when the winner was a rival that tried to make excuses.
Ochako decided to throw her partner a bone. She gave Izuku her sunniest smile. “It’s okay Deku, if you won, that means you earned it. Congratulations!”
It did the trick. Izuku turned into a flustered mess and left Katsuki to his glowering. They all knew him well enough to give him a wide berth from here on out.
Izuku plopped down in the chair next to her bed. According to the schedule, they had at least an hour before the final match started. In her opinion, he really needed to be preparing for it, but she was grateful for the company. “Uraraka, your fight was insane! I can’t believe the acrobatics you pulled in the last half! I almost wish we were going up against each other.”
He turned to give an apologetic wave at Eijirou. “Hey, you doing okay?”
Eijirou tried to wave back, but got caught on his own bandage. “I feel like shit, but in the best way, bro. Please win so I can say I got my ass kicked by the festival champion. It would definitely soften the blow to my pride.”
It was hard to stay pouting when her friends were such good sports. She quelled the frustration swirling in her gut. She didn’t like how strong it felt and chalked it up to residual jealousy on being unable to progress to the finals. There was no reason to give herself a stomachache over it. Ochako playfully swatted Izuku with her good arm. “I wish I could’ve seen your match. Hopefully I’ll be out in time for the final.”
Izuku reached out to gently squeeze her arm. Two years ago, the action would’ve left them both blushing messes. Now, after everything they’ve been through, their relationship ran deeper than a mere romantic attraction. He was her best friend. He was her family. “This is the first time I’ve made it to the finals, I almost can’t believe it.” His eyes gleamed with the determination she so admired. “I’ve got to make it count.”
Ochako beamed. Her own loss aside, she couldn’t be more proud. “We love Todoroki, but kick his ass. She grabbed his hand and thrust it into the air via victory pose. “And afterwards, we can go get pizza! My treat!”
A dreamy look overtook his face. “Pizza,” they sighed together. The forbidden, greasy delicacy they only allowed themselves once a semester. He dropped her hand and shook himself. “I’ll make it a victory pizza.”
“You guys are stupid.” A quiet insult came from Katsuki's angry corner. He huffed to no one in particular. “Where the fuck is that old lady?”
Eijirou gave him a look. “If someone hadn’t decided to blow up the stadium in the first round and give the majority of UA second degree burns, then maybe Recovery Girl could get to us faster.”
“I DON’T NEED YOUR ADVICE ON HOW TO WIN!”
Ochako snorted. “Well, obviously.”
Tense silence fell. She offhandedly wondered who would be dumb enough to prod Katsuki after such a public loss, and then realized too late the words came from her.
Shit. Maybe Shouto blasted her a little too hard.
He gave her a look that could melt glaciers. Wonderful. “When we’re all put back together, I’m going to tear your ass into a new one.”
She flinched. There was nothing more intimidating than being zeroed in on by an angry Katsuki. She didn’t know how Izuku had done it all these years. Another pull in her stomach had her visibly flinching. It was much stronger this time and a lot more painful. She grimaced. This wasn’t anxiety. “What on Earth?”
Izuku noticed too. “Uraraka, are you okay?”
She nodded hesitantly, hands on her abdomen. “I’m fine. Maybe I have some internal bruising, I’m not sure—“
A wave of pain caused her to yelp and convulse. Something was wrong. She seized again.
“Uraraka? Uraraka?”
Izuku was suddenly hunched over her, arms holding her down to try to keep her body from flailing. God, it felt like she was being torn apart. Tears pooled in her eyes. “What’s...happening?”
It hurt. It hurt everywhere. Her bad arm slapped against the bed while she sobbed.
A bright light. Something blinded her vision that wasn't the fluorescent lighting of the office. It was warm.
“Someone get Recovery Girl! She might have internal bleeding!”
She couldn’t tell who was shouting anymore, she couldn’t tell much of anything. What the hell was going on? “Deku, something’s…not right. This isn’t…”
The room started to spin, people began to fall out of focus. She must’ve been losing her mind, because she thought she heard birds chirping.
“Uraraka, hang in there! SOMEONE GET HELP!” Izuku’s desperate grip on her face did everything it could to keep her conscious.
The rip in her stomach spread through her whole body and she flung herself against the hospital bed screaming. It felt wrong, like something was tearing her towards a place she wasn't meant to go, and her body was fighting it. “Make it stop! Please!”
In the future, when she was no longer experiencing the worst pain of her life, Ochako wished she could’ve taken a picture of their faces for what happened next. Nothing could prepare you for your classmate to start glowing. It was a collective scream from all parties. “What the fuuuuuck?” Eijirou whispered in horror.
“Stole the words from my fucking mouth.” Katsuki was sheet white. They were both frozen in place as the scene unfolded.
Ochako’s mind desperately grasped for some sort of reason as to why even though Izuku's grip on her was iron tight, she was slipping through her best friend’s fingers. Why Recovery Girl’s station was slowly fading away and being replaced by a lush forest. Why whatever this was was ripping her and her sanity into tiny pieces. And most importantly, why the steady glow emanating from her body kept growing in intensity.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought that if this wasn’t so absolutely horrifying, it might’ve looked beautiful. Like something out of one of her bedtime fantasy novels of damsels whisked away to other worlds in ornate portals and magic summons.
But this was not beautiful. This was hell.
She needed to convey this to her friends, to help them understand what was going on. But through the tears, all she could choke out was, “…Trees?”
She was losing it. “Stay with us! Ura-Ochako, Recovery Girl’s coming! Stay—“
Unfortunately, Izuku couldn’t finish what he had to say next. One second he was clutching his best friend in what he had perceived to be in the middle of a seizure. In the next, she was dissolving through his fingers in a flood of light. Now it was his turn to lose it.
“What the fuc—”
Her friends had faded, their screams muted by the curiously now-present wind. It seemed her forest hallucination had solidified into reality as she left behind her own. The bed Ochako was laying on disappeared from under her and she hit the ground. Hard.
The pain wasn’t finished with her, but her body’d had enough. Her last fleeting thought before passing out was how she wished she could’ve stuck around a second longer, just to hear Izuku drop his first f-bomb.
~
Agony and confusion. That’s what finally roused her. That and the stray leaf that tickled across her nose. Ochako sneezed and yelped as the state of her body forced her back into consciousness. It was a soreness she couldn’t comprehend. Without opening her eyes, she ran a shaky diagnostics check.
Despite feeling like it, she hadn't actually been torn to shreds. Her organs and limbs were intact, albeit filled with a stiffness and aching she wouldn’t wish on her greatest enemy. The slight burns from her match were already fading away to a dull ache. Her biggest injury remained to be her dislocated shoulder.
Huh? She groaned and shifted.
How did her fight with Todoroki leave her in such a state? Why hadn’t Recovery Girl fixed her shoulder already? Wasn’t Izuku with her?
Another leaf blew across her face and her eyes snapped open.
Ah.
Recovery Girl hadn’t healed her because she wasn't in her station. She wasn’t even in a building. Ochako glanced around, still unable to lift her head. She was definitely outside, on the ground, surrounded by a thick forest of pine and cedar.
Did she end up in a park? Her hand shakily reached for her phone, only to stop mid-way in frustration. It was still in the waiting room with her bag. She didn’t even have time to grab it between her match ending and being sent to the infirmary.
She allowed herself a frustrated huff. Of course. Of course she wouldn’t have her phone. That would just make things convenient, and we couldn’t have that!
Ochako forced herself to maintain steady breathing as she tried to recount what had happened. Her body hurt because something happened in the recovery wing that caused her to glow, experience an unbelievable amount of pain, and dissolve.
She had to double back on that last part. Yes, that actually happened.
Thinking back, it was a miracle she hadn’t activated her quirk in the delirium. And now Ochako was on the forest floor, defenseless, and in her tattered training uniform. It didn't make any sense...It must’ve been a quirk that did this, but she didn’t know anyone with the power to teleport people. Did she do it to herself?
No. She grimaced as she braced herself to sit up.
This wasn't her doing. That was far too painful and methodical for her to somehow have done it herself. But, Ochako was coming up at a loss for who could be responsible. Her head pounded, eyes sensitive to the bright sun overhead. The most important thing right now was for her to find either a familiar face or a store with a phone. Her muscles screamed as she wrestled herself upright to gauge her surroundings.
It was early afternoon. Her match had ended a little after ten, so she must’ve been unconscious for at least a few hours. She scratched her forehead, trying to motivate herself to stand up. “This is nothing, Ochako,” she muttered. “You are Uravity, master of zero-g. And, if you don’t get up now, you won’t be able to get pizza with Deku and Iida.”
She was in no shape to activate her quirk on herself. Ochako had to rely on good old-fashioned willpower to get off this ground. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself up with her good arm, only for it to buckle immediately under her weight. She slammed back down in a painful heap. “FUCK!”
The spirit of Katsuki had apparently transferred with her. And this was supposed to be her good arm!
Was she supposed to just wait until someone passed by? She had no idea where she was! The day’s events were starting to wear on her. Ochako was hurt, she was starving, and she was stuck. Tears welled up and she let out another scream of frustration.
“Oi!”
Her head shot up. Was that a voice in the distance? Ochako bit her lip. This person could either be her knight in shining armor, or someone very dangerous.
She knew her body. She was in no position to defend herself. Regardless, she grit her teeth and made the decision. “I’m over here!”
Ochako was a hero for crying out loud, she’d find a way to handle herself if needed. Whoever was yelling was far enough away that Ochako had time to drag herself to rest against a tree. She groaned, head falling back. All I want right now is to get back to the dorms and take a long hot bath. “Still over here!” she called after a few more minutes.
Ochako heard crashing footsteps to her left. Her mystery rescuer either had a vendetta against the foliage they were tearing apart, or was the size of an elephant. They broke through the brush and she caught a glimpse of ash blonde hair.
Ah, that explained it.
She sank against the tree. Thank god, someone she knew. She couldn’t be that far from campus then.
“Wow, Bakugou, am I glad to see you...“ But as he barreled into view, her words caught in her throat.
This, uh, wasn’t the Katsuki from this morning. It was him…but it wasn’t. His build was slightly off. His chest was broader—well—everything was slightly broader. And taller. Obviously Katsuki was cut, but she didn’t remember to this extent. There was a hungry nature about this Katsuki that felt primal as well.
Not only that, he carried himself in a way that made him seem like he was seven feet tall. And his hair…still the explosive spikes, but the sides were shaved down in a way that Izuku wished he could pull off.
But nothing prepared her for his choice of clothes…or lack thereof. Adorned in pants, leather boots, and an assortment of jewelry, Ochako could only gawk at the only thing covering his top half, a lavish burgundy cape with fur trim. And were those tattoos? All over his upper arms?
“Uhh…”
But it was Katsuki! No one on this planet could replicate that perpetual scowl. Other than his mother, she had also never met anyone else with eyes quite like that. Eyes that were now piercing her with an intensity that made her feel like a cornered animal.
Alarm and anger fought for dominance in his features. He was breathing heavily, like he’d been running. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“I—I, uh...” This was not what she was expecting. She sounded so lame. “Is your arm okay?”
His eyes widened, brows furrowed even deeper than she thought was possible. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Right. Recovery Girl.
Ochako shook her head. “Sorry, dumb question I guess. Uh...Bakugou..can you please explain to me why you’re dressed like…” She motioned her chin in his direction, “...that?”
She knew her welfare should be top priority right now, but she really couldn’t get over this Dungeons and Dragons ensemble. Not that she was complaining, it suited him surprisingly well. Katsuki didn’t speak for a minute, face unreadable. After a few moments, he shook his head and barked out a laugh that was anything but funny. “I can’t believe this shit."
His change of body language was unnerving. “Bakugou, what—”
"You run off into these damn woods to find some supposed voices calling your name, only to disappear for an entire afternoon and turn up with this batshit crazy act. If you were looking to prove you could be useful, you failed. Now we’re behind.” He thrust out his index finger to point at her, tone defensive. “And what the fuck am I wearing? I’m wearing my goddamn clothes. What are you wearing?”
Was this LARPing? How did Izuku convince him to do this with him? Her shoulder twinged painfully, bringing her back to the situation at hand. Ochako didn’t have time for this. “Listen,” she winced, adjusting herself, “you and I both know I don’t know what you’re talking about. You can yell at me all you want when we get back to the stadium, but I need you to help me get to Recovery Girl so I can fix my shoulder. So, can we go? This really hurts.”
Katsuki's eyes shifted to her injured shoulder in the sling and tensed. “Who dressed that?” he whispered.
Suspicion overtook his features. “And what are you wearing? Why the fuck are you talking to me like that?” To her mortification, he sniffed at her. “You smell different too. Were you on fire?”
Ochako wasn't sure how to respond. She swallowed. "Did...did you hit your head?"
Silence settled between them, Katsuki’s face unreadable. He crouched into a battle stance and Ochako squeaked. “I knew it.” Venom laced through every word. “There weren’t any voices. You’re a spy. This was a fucking set up.”
If she wasn’t so afraid of the murderous intent rolling off him in waves, Ochako would’ve laughed. But she didn’t even have time to blink. He was on her in a flash, roughly grabbing her jaw while pinning her against the tree. “If you thought you could lure us in and pick us off one by one, you really are one stupid bitch.”
Ochako was in absolute shock. She tried to squirm out of his grasp but he held tighter. “Were you just pretending to be useless? So we wouldn’t suspect you? Nice try.” He lowered his face to meet her eyes, pulling his teeth back into a ferocious snarl. “When I’m finished with you, you’ll have wished I would’ve ended you right here.”
His other hand went to her neck and squeezed, cutting off her air. This was all too much. She was losing oxygen too quickly. What was happening? "Ba—stop!" she tried to gasp out.
He only tightened his grip, falling short of crushing her windpipe. His voice was deadly quiet as he looked her straight in the eye. “I'm going to kill you, that fucking necromancer, and that bastard traitor of a king.” Bloodshot, hateful eyes consumed her vision. "Did you think we wouldn't fight back? We will destroy you."
What?
If she was honest with herself, at this point, Ochako welcomed the darkness that took her. Maybe when she woke up, this would have all been a bad dream. A horrifying, visceral nightmare, but not real.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Because if not, then that meant this...Bakugou wanted her dead, and she couldn't do anything to stop him. Where the hell were her friends? Where the hell was she?