Chapter Text
Ochako knew it was a stupid idea when she laced up her boots and stepped into the night. She became convinced that it was a terrible plan as she walked to the jewelry store, the snow crunching beneath her worn boots and seeping into her socks. She understood that she was risking jail time when she slipped down an alley, away from anyone that could stop her. She recognized that she was making a grave mistake as she stood outside the large brick building, clouded in the shadows of the night. She almost worried about her safety, before she realized that she was the biggest danger to herself. Still, she didn’t turn back. Instead, she sucked in a cold breath and pulled down her mask, mad at her younger self for picking out the one mask that didn't hide her whole face.
Really, Ochako knew she never stood a chance. It was a stupid idea fueled by desperation, and there was no way she could manage to pull it off. She’d considered calling it off, just saying fuck it and going home, but the only things at her home were piles of bills and a strongly worded letter that promised she’d be homeless if she didn’t send her landlord last month’s rent on top of this month’s—and don’t be late paying next month’s. She hadn't meant to fall behind, but she couldn’t pay any of her bills with good intentions.
Really, she was fucking over it.
She swallowed thickly as she raised her grappling hook, firing it and watching as it gripped the edge of the building. She hadn’t used it since high school, and she pretended not to feel the rush of electricity that flowed through her veins. Back in high school, she had dreams of becoming a hero and she was told that a grappling hook would be something that would make villains fear her—but then reality hit and she realized that villains and heroes weren’t all that different. Cold air rushed through her body as the hook pulled her to the roof of the building.
She’d picked this specific store because its ceiling was made of glass, and that seemed easy enough to break through. Standing on top of it, Ochako realized that the glass was much thicker than she’d anticipated. She winced, looking towards her grappling hook. Maybe villains wouldn’t fear her, she thought, picking it up and aiming at a spot, but the glass would quake in its boots. Closing her eyes, she pulled the trigger on her weapon, cracking the glass.
Her heartbeat quickened when opened her eyes, and she didn’t fight the smile that formed when she saw the glass splintering. She rushed over to the spot and slammed her foot down, splitting the glass wide open. Almost instantly, she fell inside, landing on the carpeted floor with a sickening crunch. Pain blossomed in her right foot, traveling up her leg in a way that both burned and numbed her. She should have expected that—there was nowhere for her to go but down—but fuck she didn’t think it’d happen so quickly.
She tried to stand, but the pain in her leg sent her to her knees. Shattered glass littered the carpet, sparking in the moonlight, and she’d knocked over a couple displays on her way down. She knew that her body would be littered in cuts and bruises underneath her old suit.
She’d created a mess—and something told her she wouldn’t have all night to clean it up.
Ochako reached out and grabbed the closest piece of jewelry—a long, shiny necklace—and tucked it in her pocket. Her thigh throbbed when she dared to place anything in her pocket, but grit her teeth and beared it, knowing that every piece she collected brought her one step closer to keeping her home. She grabbed everything she could, crawling from one end of the store to the other, stuffing her pockets with anything that shined.
She wanted to feel bad—she wanted to feel guilty—but she couldn’t bring herself to. She had bills to pay, and the jewelry that was left abandoned here was more than enough to cover it. Hell, her home and everything in it was worth a fraction of what was lying on the floor in front of her. She told herself that she was stealing, that she was committing a crime and that this was wrong—but she couldn’t find a victim. Really, she was the one with a twisted ankle—most likely; a new bill, definitely—if anyone was a victim here, it was her.
After gathering everything she could, she stood slowly, her right ankle and leg protesting the entire time. Before she could make another move, a heavy body slammed into her, bending her over the counter. It knocked the wind out of her, and she could feel some of her loot slipping from her pockets. She could feel another bruise forming over her stomach. A heavy hand pressed down on the small of her back, and she felt large legs pressing into the back of hers. A large, hot hand grasped her wrists, securing them together.
“You move at an fucking inch, I blow your fucking hands off,” a gruff, masculine voice said in her ear.
She’d been caught red-handed by none other than Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight.
“I’m sorry!” she blurted out, her voice coming out pained and panicked.
“Don’t be fucking sorry,” the hero replied replied, squeezing her wrists together painfully. She bit back a sharp cry—her weight on her ankle wasn’t doing her any favors, and his large hands tightening around her wrists were sure to leave bruises. “Be better.”
“Better?”
“Be a fucking better criminal or a be a better person,” he clarified, his body still hovering over hers, his voice still hot in her ear. She was trapped between him and the jewelry counter, and it seemed that neither was content to move and set her free. “Don’t you have a fucking back bone?” he all but whispered in her ear, pushing her harder into the counter, “I wish you’d fight back—don’t make it easy on me.”
“If I fight back, then you’ll—what was it?—‘Blow my fucking hands off?’” Ochako scoffed, fighting shivers he sent down her spine, “Thanks but I’d like to keep my hands on my wrists.” She needed a plan. Preferably one that wasn’t as stupid as the one she walked in with. Dynamight was a hero. Despite his foul mouth, if she didn’t get away from him, he’d arrest her.
And she didn’t twist her fucking ankle just to hobble off to jail.
“I’d like to keep your hands off these fucking diamonds. Didn’t your folks teach you that stealing is wrong?”
“…No,” she answered carefully. She had an idea—a dumb one that wouldn’t work, but an idea nonetheless. “I had no idea that this was wrong. Think you can let me off with a warnin’?” Well, she thought, it never hurt to ask.
“I’m not that fucking stupid,” Dynamight laughed. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, hard enough to make her grimace and she clenched her teeth together, determined not to make a sound. He turned her head to the side, the cool glass pressing against her cheeks. Her heart raced and she could feel her chest heaving heavily, but she remained still, heeding his earlier warning. Slowly, Dynamight lowered his face to the counter, letting it rest against the glass.
Ochako had no idea his eyes were truly red. Wild blonde hair partially obscured them, but there was no mistaking it: his eyes were brilliant, beautiful, and blood-red. Against the dark mask that covered half of his face, they seemed as bright as the stars. She cursed her own mask for not hiding more of her face. It was bad enough to be caught by a hero; did he really have to know how easy it was to make her blush?!
“Remember, one wrong move and you lose your fucking hands,” he echoed, those crimson eyes telling her that he would not be repeating himself.
“I understand,” she whispered, taking a deep breath and bracing herself. He gave her hair one, final tug before removing his hand, undoubtedly reaching for his handcuffs.
Without hesitating, Ochako shifted all her weight to her injured leg, falling to the floor and snatching her hands away from Dynamight’s grip. Before he could react, she rolled on the floor, glass ripping through her old, cheap costume and wrapped her hand around Dynamight's leg. She gave him one hard squeeze before letting him go, watching as he was released from gravity’s hold, floating up until he collided with the ceiling.
“I know you wanna kill me right now,” she yelled from her spot on the floor, “but one wrong move and that ceiling’s as good as gone and the higher up you go…y’know the rest.”
“You sneaky little bitch,” he sneered, glaring daggers at her from his airy prison.
“I thought you wanted me to fight back,” she said, laughing to herself. Crawling, Ochako picked up every piece of jewelry that fell from her pockets, occasionally glancing up at Dynamight. The glass he was trapped against was strong, but she could see cracks forming. Maybe it had something to do with the hole she created—but she wouldn’t question it.
“You fight dirty.”
“Don’t give me that shit—you snuck up on me! That’s the dirtiest trick in the book!” she yelled back, pointing a very angry finger at him. Gradually, she rose to her feet, careful not to put any extra weight on her leg. Every step sent a lightning bolt of pain through her leg, but she trudged on.
Her stupid plan worked, and she was taking her jewels and going to her home that she would not be getting put out of.
“This ain’t over, bitch!” she heard Dynamight yell, thrashing against the glass hard enough to make a noise but not hard enough to break it.
“Yes it is!” Ochako yelled back, smiling to herself.
x
Somehow, the pawn shop intimidated Ochako more than Dynamight ever did. The building itself was unimpressive, an old brick building two towns away from the jewelry shop she burgled, but it scared Ochako. Again, she had a plan—a simple plan that wasn’t stupid—but her body protested every inch of it. She swallowed thickly and gripped her bag of stolen items tightly.
Still, she opened the door and pretended that she was doing nothing wrong. She approached the counter with a smile—it was nervous at best, but it was all she had. An old woman stood behind the counter and offered her a smile, a genuine one, and Ochako felt the guilt start to eat at her. When she said, “How may I help you, dear?” Ochako almost broke.
But she held her composure, answering meekly, “I want to sell some of my stuff.”
“Well, let’s have a look,” the woman said happily, gesturing to the counter. Hesitantly, Ochako emptied her bag on the counter and watched as everything she collected piled up. “Dear,” the woman asked, the tiniest bit of nervousness leaking through her otherwise friendly voice, “where did you get all this stuff?”
“My mom,” Ochako lied quickly, breathing in a short, shallow breath. She looked at the old woman, and felt paralyzed by her aged, skeptical gaze. “I-I…I lost her a while back,” she continued, looking down at the jewelry, “an’ n-now all of the bills are piling up. I’m gonna lose everythin’ if I can’t find some money quickly.” That part wasn’t a lie; her mom died a few years ago, and she was in danger of losing everything she had. She was sure if her mom had priceless jewels to leave her, she would've left them with her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” the old woman said, her voice soft. “Is this…is this all you have left of her?”
“I have pictures of her, but that’s all,” she responded, breaking eye contact, “I miss her.”
“Then you should keep it,” the old woman replied, offering a small smile. “Having something you can touch is so important in times like this. I couldn’t possibly take that from you.”
“But I need money,” Ochako protested, “I’m gonna lose everything I worked for! I can’t leave here without anythin’.” The old woman said nothing, shaking her head at the younger woman. Gently, she gathered the jewelry and placed it in Ochako’s bag, sliding it over to her. “Please,” Ochako begged, grabbing the woman’s hand. Her hand was much smaller and much gentler than Dynamight’s, and but she hoped it carried the same intensity his grip did.
“How much money do you need, dear?” the old woman asked, her brown eyes filled with pity.
“Three million yen,” she answered.
“You have much more than three million yen sitting in that bag, dear. There’s no way I could take all of it and keep a good conscience,” the old woman responded. Gently, she plucked a shiny necklace from the bag, studying it for a moment before setting it on the table. “This alone is worth more than a million.”
“Take it,” Ochako said, pushing the necklace to her. “An’ take anythin’ else you want. I just wanna save my home.” The old woman nodded, and grabbed a small golden ring with a small red stone jutting out from it.
“This is a ruby,” the old woman started, slipping the ring in Ochako’s finger. It slid down her finger easily, and stayed in place at its base. “It's thought to bring wealth, power and passion to its owner. I’m sure your mother would want you to have it. Promise me you’ll take care of it.” Ochako looked down at the ring, her breath momentarily stolen by its shine.
It reminded her of Dynamight’s eyes.
“I’ll keep it,” she promised, closing her eyes.
The older woman smiled at her, and plucked a watch from out of the bag. “I’ll write you a check.”
x
Ochako breathed a sigh of relief as she left the store. If she knew that getting her bills paid was as simple as pawning stolen jewelry, she would’ve done it ages ago. She looked down at her new ruby ring, admiring its sparkle in the sunshine.
“That’s a nice ring you’ve got there, Miss,” a stranger said, his golden eyes staring into hers. He sounded kind, but an uneasy feeling settled over her. She was sure that she had been the only one walking down the street just a moment ago—but maybe he had a speed or teleportation quirk.
She gripped her bag tightly.
“Thank you,” she replied, pausing for a brief moment to get a good look at his face. His golden hair matched those golden eyes, and she could see stubble resting on his chin. She could tell that he was a little older than her, maybe in his thirties, and his lean build told her that he was quick.
She walked faster down the street, pushing past him.
“My mom had one or two really nice, really expensive pieces of jewelry that she left me…I’ve never heard of anyone’s mom leaving them a whole department store’s worth of jewelry,” he said, jogging after her.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” she responded, clutching her bag.
A blast of air brushed past her, and suddenly, the man was standing in front of her. She turned to run the other way, but in another blast of air, he was there, blocking her path.
“I know that the Sparkle Shop got robbed last week. I know that you’re limping around here playing the pitiful poor orphan. I know that your mom didn’t leave you millions of yen’s worth of jewels,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I also know that Bakugo is waiting for a rematch with the girl who got away.”
“Dynamight wants to fight me again?” Her heart thundered in her chest—her leg still wasn’t properly healed and now that asshole wanted another round?! “I didn’t have any other options,” she explained, running a hand through her hair. “I’m late on my rent, my heat’s about to get shut off, my water bill—”
“You’re going to lose everything you worked for, right?”
“I was. I'm not losin' shit now.”
“And I know your secret.”
“What do you want from me?”
“From you? Nothing,” the man scoffed, bending his knees to look Ochako in the eye. “I want something from Enji Todoroki’s Ikebukuro office. I need you to steal it for me.”