Winter had come again to the city with all its strife.

The streets and roads were covered in a thick layer of snow. It piled up against the buildings, only a few entrances cleared by some sorry sap who thought they were making a difference. Old cars were trapped under mounds of snow, casting their shadows sporadically as the street lamps flickered above. It wouldn't be long before they gave out, plunging Main Street into the darkness that sank the rest of the city. Above the dying lights the buildings crumbled. Most windows had been boarded up, others remained smashed, but signs of life still seeped through the cracks, like someone had poked needles into the homes, releasing what little luminescence they had.

Below, the ransacked remains of the high street had become home to those who could not fight any longer, forced to live around dwindling fires dancing in trash cans. They sat as groups, never alone, and simply stared into the fire. There was nothing left for them to do except waste away.

Uraraka Ochako never wanted to fall that far. That's why she snuck out after her parents went to bed. She was going to make sure they would never become that hopeless.

It was the only place that was open twenty-four-seven, because even though the nights were to be feared, people could never stop trying to scrape a living. The risk far outweighed the reward, and the game they played was all about risks.

She arrived at The Last Resort just before midnight. It was an amazing building - an old bank people said - which had its entrance cleared of snow. Her legs were relieved at the lack of resistance the new footing provided, the packed snow beneath feeling like carpet. Unlike the rest of Main Street, The Last Resort was well lit. High powered bulbs were strung along the old stone, the wires feeding into a window that Uraraka assumed led to a generator. No way was it on the grid.

Some scorch marks were dashed across the bricks. She was making her way home when the attack happened. It was a small group who felt cheated by the owner, so they responded with molotov cocktails. Ochako, like the others, watched it anxiously, some primal fear taking hold and twisting her insides. When the inevitable happened and the Enforcers came, it was like they were waiting for the horrific show all along. The vandals were dealt with and strung up and the Enforcers left without a word.

It reminded Ochako that yes, she could die, and that fear she carried around in her stomach wasn't irrational.

Blinking away the memory, Ochako shook her feet to clear the snow off before entering the building. The heavy wooden door gave away easier than she thought, and when it opened she was hit with a wave of heat that dried her eyes and flushed her cold face.

"Close the door behind you."

She did and the howling winds were cut off, leaving her in silence save for the slight hum of the heating unit. Ochako took her hat off and pulled down her scarf below her chin.

The Last Resort was something dreamlike. Never before had Ochako seen such cleanliness. The floor was marble, browns and creams melting together. In the centre, halos of light were born from the reflection of the chandelier above. At the back, nestled between two red pillars, was a marble counter topped with safety glass which protected an old, spindly woman who sat behind it. Beside the pillars were a set of curved stairs on either side that led to another floor. She could only imagine what happened up there.

As she walked up to the counter, the same questions that had been repeating all night whispered louder. Why was she here? Was there another option? Why did it have to be this way? Why did she have to sell herself, hadn't they taken enough?

"Welcome to the last resort. How can I help you today?" The woman's words were slow and croaked, rising and falling in a rugged pitch.

Ochako grabbed the bottom of her coat tightly. This was it. "I'm… here to sell."

The woman picked up a pen. "Name and age."

"Uraraka Ochako, nineteen."

She scribbled on some paper. "Quirk."

"Zero gravity."

The woman hummed. "Interesting," she said before returning to the paperwork. Ochako tried to take a peek, but the counter was too tall. "What does that entail?"

"I can make anything I touch weightless. It doesn't matter if it's living or inanimate, and it doesn't have a limit on how many objects either." Ochako cringed as her voice cracked the silence.

The woman hummed again. She went back to writing for a few minutes in which Ochako looked everywhere but forward.

The paper was slammed on the counter and pushed through a small slit between the safety glass. Ochako picked it up. Most of it didn't make sense, she couldn't read that well, but numbers she could understand.

"Twenty-four-thousand? That's it?" She held the paper in trembling hands. "There has to be a mistake, surely my quirk is worth more than this!" It wasn't enough. Far too little. Not even a fifth.

"Listen, girl, I don't have the patience to deal with this tonight. Take it or leave it."

"Isn't there someone else who can take a look?" Ochako stuttered.

The woman tutted and pointed at Ochako with her pen. "I'm the only evaluator here, and I've been doing this job for years. I've had punks come in here with quirks that could level this entire building. I've also had useless bags of shit whose quirks were only good for cleaning the floor. Yours isn't that special, honey, and the sooner you realise that's what your gonna get, the sooner I take my hand away from the phone to the Enforcers. Take it or leave it."

Twenty-four-thousand wasn't enough, but it was more than they'd ever had. It was still something. A starting point at least. She wasn't making the wrong decision, not at all. She just had to keep that positive outlook, unless she wanted to end up like the hopeless outside.

"A-alright. I'll take it." The moment the words left her mouth it felt like her soul had been sucked out. She felt dizzy.

The woman slid a pen through, calmer than before. "Sign there, there, and there. Nobody checks these damn things, but I like to keep it official."

The pen was awkward in Ochako's hand. She couldn't write that well, and she didn't really know how to do a signature. Her name should be enough, she hoped. The lines were wobbly as her hands shook. The first felt like her arm was fighting her hand, trying to pull it away as her mind buzzed. The second one however, was easier, almost automatic.

Her pen touched the third line when there was a slam at the door. The woman perked up, a scowl on her wrinkly face. "What's going on out there now?" there didn't seem to be any trouble when Ochako was going in, and she had a pretty good sense for mounting danger. Was she distracted by the thoughts in her head? "You, girl, check it out."

"Me? Why?"

"Because it would save me the trouble of calling the Enforcers on a dud. And I'll give you a bit extra for your quirk. A favour for a favour."

Ochako thought of the money. She was sure there wouldn't be much added on, but a little was better than nothing. "Okay," she said before she went for the door.

She reached for the handle and jumped when it slammed again. When the door stopped shaking, she opened it a little and peeked through. There, lying on the floor, was an old man. He was wrapped head to toe in clothes, but he was still shivering, the small bit of grey hair whipping in the wind. "Please. Please," he said in a deep voice, "help me."

"Well," came the impatient call of the old woman, "what is it?"

Ochako took her eyes from the man. "It's an old person. He looks cold." As she spoke he was crawling his way to the faint heat that seeped through the doorway.

"Tell him to buzz off, then come over here and we can get this started."

Ochako looked back at he man. He was reaching for her leg, bony fingers clutching her ankle feebly. "Please," he whispered.

"Girl!"

"Please."

"Get back in here and shut that door. If he bangs again I'll call the Enforcers on him! Tell him!"

Ochako bent down and grasped his hand, hoping to warm it between her gloves. "I'm sorry, Ojii-san," she said. "You have to go away from here. The 'forcers will come if you don't."

His fingers twitched. "Sorry. Sorry. Please."

"You want your money or not?!"

Ochako looked back inside, torn. Her heart was thudding. "I-I'll be back later!"

"You leave now and I won't give you a single yen ever again!"

Everything was tense; her teeth felt like they would shatter with how hard she was clenching her jaw. She looked at the old man again, and her mind was set. Without looking back, she put her hat back on and pulled her scarf up, closing the door behind her. The cold hit her as soon as she did. Yet again she was cocooned in the whooshing winds.

The man was discomforted by the lack of heat. "Please."

Ochako grabbed the man's arm, looping it over her shoulders as she slowly rose. Even through the layers of clothing she could feel the thinness of his arm, the bones protruding from thin skin. He followed her up without much issue, but leaned into her side. She barely felt his weight. How had he survived this far into the winter without freezing to death?

Seeing a fire surrounded by hopeless, she carried the man to them, bringing him as close to the heat as possible. The survivalist in her told her that warmth would not be enough, the man was clearly malnourished as well, a step away from death's door. The human in her said that he still had a chance, and if he was to die she could still show him a measure of kindness he may have never felt.

Although there were seats nearby, he made no attempt to move away, standing still in his black clothing. "Thank. You," he chattered.

"It's fine." She was down twenty-four-thousand, but she was fine. At least she still had her quirk.

His eye caught hers, a blue glint under a shadowed gaze. "You. Good person. Hero."

She cocked her head. "Hero?" It sounded foreign.

"Yes. Hero, good person."

"Well, thank you… I guess."

He must have been getting warm, as heat bloomed at her side. "I was hero," he said. "Big hero. Big failure." He looked at the fire. "Now here. Now nothing. No hope."

She looked at the fire too. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she thought it good to listen to the words of a lonely man. "It's not all bad." His eye glinted again. "Well, it is that bad, I guess."

"My fault," he said. "Sorry." He stumbled and Ochako hurried to sit him down on a plastic chair. "Ah. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologising," she said, checking him over.

"No. Sorry." He pointed at her side. "Mess."

She looked at her side whilst she patted her coat. It was sticky and warm, and for a second she felt sick until she raised her fingers to the light. Blood. Her eyes snapped to his side where red it was dripping onto the floor below. She rushed over and put a hand to the wound.

"Help!" she shouted to the others around they fire. They just looked into nothingness. "Help!" she shouted to the street. Some lights went off. "He-"

"No," the man interrupted.

"You need help! A doctor, a stitcher, somebody!"

"No," he repeated, deep voice steeled. "Too far. Hurts bad. Only wanted help. To sit down."

She took in his laboured breathing, his slumping pose. "Come on, Ojii-san, you can't go yet."

"Ah. My time."

"How did this happen to you?" He didn't have anything to take. No reason for a mugging.

"Some men bad. I'm weak. Fun. For them." She was angry. Who would hurt such an innocent old man for fun? "No problem. My time." He reached for her sleeve. "Listen. Please?" He tucked his other hand into his coat, pulling out a phial. The glass was black and dirty, but something gold glinted from within. "Take." He shook it towards her. "Take," he repeated.

She cradled it in her left hand.

"Keep. Eat. My quirk. Final wish." His words were coming out rushed and breathy, the previous strength fading into pathetic pants. "You. Good. Hero. Spark in your heart. Take. Can't let. It die."

She struggled to keep up with his words. "O-Ojii-san, what are you saying?"

"Yagi."

"Eh?"

He pointed to himself. "Yagi."

"Yagi-san, just what do you want me to do with this?"

"Eat. Carry on. One for all."

He wanted her to eat whatever was in the phial? She wouldn't, she'd come too far to die from some weird food an old man had been carrying around for ages. She was interested in one thing though. "Yagi-san, what is a hero?"

He smiled a toothy smile. "You. Me. Everyone. They are hope. Light." Something they were short on in this world. Yagi gasped and shuddered. "P-please. Eat. When ready. Too soon. Bad. Must. Be strong. Die if not."

"Yagi-san. Yagi-san!" He was nodding off. Her shout caught his attention.

"Can you. Smile?"

She felt her heart chip. Tears welled up in her eyes. Why was she crying over a man she didn't know? Shakily, the corners of her mouth turned upwards and she pulled her scarf down.

Yagi relaxed in his seat. "Good. Nice. Always smile. Promise?"

She held his shoulder and nodded. "Promise," she said.

"Good."

His head dropped. His body was still. The last breath had left him.

Ochako cried into her scarf, holding the phial close as the snow fell and the wind howled.