Lying in a bare white room, the Great Sorceress Uraraka Ochako struggled against her fatigue to move. Lesions covered in stitches tightened at the seams as she groaned through her chapped lips.
A firm kiss met her forehead, before the same mouth pressed against hers.
Her eyes shot open. The green and black monitor to her right beeped to the rhythm of her heart. To her left—a man loomed over her like a sturdy weeping willow, eyes red with tears.
"Ochako! You better not be fooling me this time."
Only her most familiar of kin called her by that name, but only one person ever enunciated it in that rough, volcanic growl, intense with emotion. Her heart rate steadily climbed as she turned rigid, unable to tear her gaze away from the voice's owner.
"Bakugou," she said, eyes opening fully. Nurses pushed past him to rush to her side.
Did they not understand that this man could kill them all in a single fire spell?
"Get back," Ochako declared, danger lacing her every word, "that man slaughtered our guild!"
Even through her messy brown bangs obscuring her vision, she shot deliberate glares of contempt at Bakugou, who in turn refused to back off. Of all times to misplace her staff, why now?
"What's going on? I thought you said she only sustained head trauma and fatigue," he barked at a nearby nurse, acting as though he hadn't a clue.
"I'll go get the doctor," another nurse announced before hurriedly departing from the room.
Bakugou's widened, bloodshot eyes captured her attention. She observed his black, round pupils expand, before he flared his nostrils and he averted his eyes to the wall, his lips tightening into a line.
No attack? Had he calmed? Why was he behaving like this? Where had his piercings gone? Furthermore, he was wearing a shirt? What kind of trick was this? She couldn't tell why he looked or behaved as he did, but she needed to take the appropriate precautions to defend herself if he lost control again. She patted her surroundings for her staff.
Then, Bakugou muttered with a dangerous nonchalance, "I'm gonna kill somebody if she has brain damage."
Cold sweat coated every inch of Ochako's skin as her breathing hitched. Everyone here was in danger for as long as his presence remained, but she didn't have the strength to protect them. She couldn't fathom why he hadn't attacked yet: he had to know what utter, helpless prey she and the others were.
"Sir," urged an elder nurse as she grabbed the young man's arm. "Stay calm. We're doing everything we can. She just woke up, so she needs some time to regain her memories. The doctor will be here soon to help her. "
Bursting with rage, Bakugou snatched his arm away from her and snarled, "Calm? How the fuck do you expect me to stay calm when she acts like I'm some kind of monster? You idiots told me there was no brain damage. Maybe you've got some goddamn brain damage!"
"Sir—!"
The deep rooted rage in the eyes of Lord Bakugou Katsuki of Nitronia, even with tears pooling at the corners, were no different from the day he went berserk.
Ochako sprawled her fingers wide to cast her spell. However, even with all her willpower, nothing happened. Jutting her arm out an inch further, and nothing happened again. She found nothing resulted of her gesticulation, other than a raw silence between her and Bakugou.
What was this? Were they in a room designed to negate the effects of magic? Was there, perhaps, an amulet stashed somewhere that inhibited her own abilities? She began to watch everything she couldn't recognize from the corners of her vision, seeking out anything that could explain it.
Bakugou peered down at her as his eyebrows drooped along with the corners of his mouth.
Slumping into a chair at the bedside, he sighed as if her gestures had drained him of all his vigor and energy. Perhaps her magic was working … differently, here?
"Just go get that damn doctor," he muttered as he wiped at his eyes.
After a few hurried footsteps, they were alone. Ochako could hardly sit up straight—let alone return the staredown Bakugou had initiated with her. She gulped and clenched the bed sheets with her cold, moist hands. Bakugou's hand remained clasped to his face to conceal his expression, to prevent her from reading him. His chest rose and fell by the second with sharp, quick breaths.
Ochako nearly forgot the nurses had abandoned her to suffer in Bakugou's company as she studied his reactions. How could they trust him with her after his virulent outburst? Something … something wasn't right.
When the doctor paced into the room, he kept an unusual distance from the bed. He flipped through his clipboard, nodding and humming, before he said, "Miss Bakugou."
Ochako looked around the room for a female Bakugou. She never knew her former comrade to have a sister, or any sibling for that matter.
Instead the doctor peered at her. "Five days ago, some young people found you and your husband in an alleyway. You were unconscious, wearing … I think some sort of wizard Halloween costume. While you sustained no critical wounds, you remained unconscious until today. Your husband, however—"
What husband?
"Why the hell do you think it's a good idea to bombard her and with all of this bullshit?" Despite the foul language, Bakugou's voice somehow remained calm and even. Almost menacingly so. "You better watch your mouth, because I swear to God if you send her into another coma, I'll burn this entire hospital to the ground."
Ochako knew he wielded immense power in the palm of his hands. She knew he could lunge across the room at the drop of a pen, and he could murder an entire guild of trusted warriors as though they were meant for nothing but fodder. When she stared into his endlessly crimson eyes, she saw the lives he took.
But something struck her about this situation, one that sent a shiver through to her core, one that caused the monitor to blip with an erratic gap: the doctor believed she, Uraraka Ochako, the Great Sorcerer, was wed to this monster. Even in an incapacitated state, she would never in her life agree to being the bride of Bakugou Katsuki.
"No!" She screamed, feeling the ghosted agony of her allies weigh upon her all at once. "We made no such arrangements for marriage."
Ochako crawled to the edge of the bed and got to her feet to flee. She needed to get back to the U.A. hideout. She needed to show them what Bakugou did.
"Code Grey!" shouted the doctor, dashing towards Ochako. He reached into the pocket of his long white coat for some sort of needle … perhaps that was the amulet negating her abilities?
To her immediate shock, Bakugou stepped between them. "Let her go. She's gonna do what she needs to do. You've done enough."
Ochako already found herself out of breath, with few spare thoughts to give. The white room, the strange fashion, the equipment she didn't recognize and the appalling assumption that she was Bakugou's wife … She took only a short few paces towards the door before it opened, before she found herself blocked by a tall figure with fuzzy green hair and dark freckles bespeckling pale skin.
Midoriya Izuku the Tactician.
Midoriya Izuku, the very dead Tactician, somehow now very much alive.
"You're awake!" Midoriya smiled with heartfelt sincerity.
How? How could he be standing here? He had been lifeless in her most recent memory, yet there he was—in the flesh—carrying a bouquet of pink and white scorpion grass. None of this could be real. None of this could be right.
"Mommy!" cheered a girl with shoulder length hair and cherry pink cheeks who came dashing from around Midoriya's legs ... she had Ochako's round, doe-brown eyes. She stretched up chubby little arms like she wanted a hug, and when Ochako failed to fulfill her wish, her enthusiasm faded into annoyance. She wrinkled her nose and groaned, "When you get home, you promise not to make anymore rice balls? I like Daddy's more."
Bakugou sneered at Midoriya from directly behind her, ignoring how she jumped at his sudden presence, "Didn't you get my message? I said to hold off on the flowers and the kids."
Ochako shook her head, stunned at the appearance of the child. She looked to Midoriya, to the doctor, and then to Bakugou, hoping they shared her confusion. However, Midoriya stood there like nothing even happened, and Bakugou just grimaced and tucked his hands into his pockets, leaving Ochako as the only one with sweaty palms and dizzy eyes.
An even smaller child with a wild mop of coffee-colored hair and ferociously red eyes suddenly weaseled from between Midoriya's legs and clung to the fringes of her hospital gown.
"Mamamamama," he chanted in a low, pleased tone with a drop of drool escaping his mouth. Although his brow stayed furrowed, he smiled up at her like the sun rose and set in Ochako's eyes.
Her knees buckled. Tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes. Her breath grew heavy, and the room brightened as it spun. While she could not recall their first steps, their first words, or even their birth, she knew by their unmistakable features they were her children.
But it called everything about her—no, this reality into question.
Midoriya looked to Bakugou and then to Ochako. He took a step back like she had the mark of a demon on her head, his grip on the flowers loosening. "Uraraka—? You don't mean—"
"Oi!" Bakugou boomed. Inches from behind her, he hesitantly hovered his hands at the sides of her shoulders. "Hanabi, Hiroto, go with Deku-baka to get those spicy chips from the vending machine. He'll give you the money."
Already unnerved, out of breath, and overwhelmed, Ochako flinched at every outburst Bakugou made.
"Uh," Midoriya stammered as a solemn frown sunk onto his face. "Okay." He scooped the little boy up into his arms and took the hand of the girl, adding much to the delight of the children: "Come on, I'll let you poke the buttons on the machine!"
She didn't understand. She understood too little. The children least of all. But already, Ochako wanted them to return.
Her head spun back sharply to speak to the doctor, but that was mistake. The sudden movement made her sick. As the door closed and the white room faded to starry black, she stumbled back against the familiar ridges of Bakugou Katsuki. Yet again falling unconsciousness, the last thing she saw were his bloodshot eyes.
Eyes holding the lives of all those she held dear.
Deemed the most suitable heroes of their Kingdom, The Ultra Allies worked together from adolescence to retirement, "cradle to grave," to protect their country and all that it stood for. They came to conquer dragons, assist in building projects, and feed entire villages, but the one threat they seemingly could never defeat were the amassing dark-magic forces of the Demon Lord Shigaraki.
The eternal menace had plagued their Kingdom for many years. His resistance to any and all peaceful measures stewed in the underbelly of society, turning him into a symbol for those who lost hope in one aspect or another of their great country. Entire nations fell to his wrath overnight, and The Ultra Allies knew he had to be stopped before their dearest nation met the same fate.
"So you're saying we use the same tactics that failed on him in the past?! Are you kidding me, Deku? Confront him head on and hope we win?" shouted Bakugou in unbridled fury, though such manners were not unexpected. Ferocious in everything he did, Lord Bakugou of the Volcano Barbarians always took his wins to the extreme. Midoriya would swear that his heart was pure gold, despite his vicious manner of explosive combat. With a flowing crimson cape of wool passed down by the forefathers of his clan, he's protected the guild and their villages for many years.
Ochako, overhearing his rant, sighed and murmured a levitation spell. She hovered outside the door so that her feet wouldn't make a sound. Peering inside, she could see Midoriya arguing from his desk as he rubbed his temples. "Stealth is not our strength. We are stronger with cohesive methods."
They must have been arguing since the guild's meeting ended. Tables had turned, glass was shattered, and the tension filled the cloistered office of their leaders.
"It doesn't matter what kind of chess shit you pull. We need enhancements. You and I are the only ones that stand a fighting chance against that bastard, and you know it. Bringing anyone else would require them to have a death wish. If you give a shit about anything other than your cheesy-ass teamwork, then you'd agree with me."
On that rare occasion, Ochako agreed with Bakugou's sentiments. While she wasn't a leader, she was respected in the guild, and knew she could sway the argument if she were present. Her potions and her enhancement sorcery had led to many victories in the past, so they would always welcome any kind of magical perspective she could lend to strategy in battle. This time was no exception. She decided she needed to make herself known, gently lowering herself with her spell enough to hover in the door frame as she pushed open the door, catching both of their attentions.
"I can help," Ochako announced after clearing her throat. "There's a potion I've discovered that unlocks magical potential. I'm not sure how it would affect you, Sir Deku, but Bakugou, it may help you."
Midoriya quirked an eyebrow and sheepishly smiled. "A potion that unlocks potential? That sounds a lot like my One for All ability."
"Yes, exactly. But while your ability unlocks physical strength, this potion has been shown to enhance magic. It's a more potent version of the courage potion," Ochako explained, levitating herself further into the room.
Tilting his head with a smirk, Bakugou took a step towards her before crossing his arms across a rock-hard chest, flexing his shoulders enough for the tattoos to bulge in some display of confidence. "The Elixir of Courage, huh? Didn't I try a swig of that one night?"
Ochako quickly averted his gaze, turning to Midoriya. "What do you think?"
"Why, that's a grand idea." And with that, Midoriya scribbled down notes on his maps at lightning speed. "With Bakugou and I both at one hundred percent, we can save a lot of people while putting up an effective barrier. We'll have to be quick, but this might be the blow we need for a proper execution. Has it been tested?"
Pushing her knees together and squirming in place, Ochako mumbled, "Not exactly."
Midoriya dropped his pen and frowned. "Then you know we can't use it. I'm sorry."
Of course, Ochako's mood plummeted, too. Her shoulders drooped and her hair flattened around her face as she landed, taking gentle steps toward Midoriya. "But what other choice do we have, Deku? Rumors are there'll be another ambush tomorrow."
"Please, Uraraka, Kacchan, you will just need to have faith in our guild. Rest up tonight," he flashed his signature grin, patting her shoulder as he rose from his desk and moved past her to exit the room.
However, instead of becoming complacent with the optimism of their leader, her eyes wandered to Bakugou's scowl. She mirrored his expression, scratching the back of her neck and pulling at a lock of her hair.
In return, Bakugou flashed a grimace of understanding.
They had developed a silent code among the others.
Nausea stirred in Ochako's gut. She knew the doom that awaited her friends. However, she could have never guessed that her hasty nature would bring about the fated tragedy of the following night.
At the time, she only found relief in her explosive leader's support.
"Her vitals are fine," explained the doctor before he flipping through the pages of his steel clipboard. "The results of the MRI came back normal with no signs of significant brain damage. So, one can assume this is either the work of a quirk or the result of psychological shock. Either way, the best treatment would be immersive therapy and routine. Her daily rituals, if you will. She should be home with you and your children, and then we'll see her back here in a week."
Slouching in his chair and gripping the armrests with a vice grip, Bakugou growled more out of frustration than at anyone in particular. "You fucking quack, this better be a good idea. If she's not better within the week, we'll see my fist upside your head. Now get us out of here."
The doctor rolled his eyes and scoffed, handing Bakugou a print-out. "One more thing: she'll need to take barbiturates on a regular basis until she begins to recall some of her memories."
"I'm not going to drug my wife!" When he noticed her eyes flutter open, her stare locking onto his form, he sat up straight in his chair before tensely leaning forward.
The doctor sighed. "She could go into shock if she doesn't, Mister Bakugou."
"I'll take them." Ochako complied in a hoarse whisper, only hazily understanding the situation. The nurses had had a long talk with her the night before, about what the world was, about who she allegedly is. The nurses reminded her of the healers back home … she would put enough faith in what they asked her to take. "If this is where I'm supposed to be, and not the result of some spell, then I want to get better."
Gazing over at the vase of scorpion grass, recalling that this reality had a living, breathing Midoriya in it, she smiled. "And I'd like to see my home."
She recalled the faces of her children, as well as Midoriya's before he had escorted them out. If Bakugou didn't actually kill their guild leader, then she could learn to recover.
"There she is," Bakugou commended.
If Ochako was being honest with herself, she would admit that the giant grin on his face caused her heart to beat a little faster than before. He reminded her so much of the Barbarian Lord Bakugou Katsuki. He was explosive over the most menial things, but he could speak calmly when the situation truly called for it.
However, she had to admit that her statement was just that, and she may not have the strength to back up such resolve. The anguish of floating in the limbo between realities caused her heart to sink. The truth was she felt as if she had no home. Certainly, she had no place to return. In order to return somewhere, the person would have to have some memory being there before.
On the other hand, though she had no memories of them, she had a curiously strong compulsion to see those children. Of all her years working for the guild, she had never seen herself becoming a mother. The situation perplexed her. She still had doubts about which reality was in fact real: which reality commanded her trust?
After they signed the necessary documents, and staring unnecessarily long at her signature—Uraraka Ochako, to which Bakugou's frown sent a wince in her heart—Bakugou carefully packed his wife up in her designated wheelchair, escorting her out of the "hellhole of a hospital" and into the night. He tucked her into a crimson red blanket with a beige wool trim as she stared in mild awe at the huge massing buildings, the abundance of powered light, and the horseless vehicle he insisted on "strapping her into."
The blanket had a heavy, musky scent, like it had not been washed for days.
A cold breeze swayed the pink petals in a tree above her, just outside "the car door," chilling her cheeks and ears. Her blanketed body, however, remained in a ethereal realm of comfort. The cozy sensation melted her until she was hit with a sense of deja vu.
A memory—not from this world—appeared in her thoughts. A memory of Bakugou.
"We sat beneath a maple tree," Ochako began, "and you threw your cape on top of me. It looked like this—red and fluffy. Then you saw my eyes—pink and puffy. I thought you'd say something mean, but instead you just sighed and we sat together. I knew then that you would stay at my side."
"Out first date was on a colder day than you expected, so I bought it for you." He paused as if he expected her to say something. "Well, you would usually say that it wasn't a date, and that we were just running errands."
Ochako gazed up at Bakugou as he fastened the seatbelt. The moon was full, just like the last night she could remember. Was that the same moon that she grew up beneath? "You've always watched out for me, haven't you?"
Of course he heard her. He heard everything she said. "I'm a hero. I watch out for everyone," he tersely stated. Then, when she frowned, "but I don't just watch out for you. I love you."
She sunk in her seat and hid her face under the blanket. Even in her world of magic, she and Bakugou had pleasant times. When he went berserk, she was the last person to predict that he'd lose control and attack everyone. Maybe it's true what they say — it's important not to trust people too much.
As he took great care in ensuring she was inside, and that they had everything they needed — as Bakugou ran to return the wheelchair to the main gate — Ochako took a moment to ponder her settings. She recognized contraptions like cars and street lights. As all these assets appeared in the world she knew, she deduced the technology levels were the same, although the fashion was a different matter entirely. Bakugou wore a black muscle shirt with tan cargo shorts, even though winter must have been around the corner. While that was in character for him, she had never seen such garments before.
Magic failed to conjure in her palms at will. Instead, her fingertips held soft pink pads. She was also curious as to where his tattoos and piercings had gone.
When he climbed into the driver's seat, she couldn't help but ask: "Bakugou, do we know magic?"
"We've got quirks. I guess that's like magic." He shrugged, concluding his explanation.
If she was going to get a lengthy explanation, Bakugou wouldn't be the one the give it to her. When he had no bellicose rage in his face, he had few words upon his tongue.
Ochako sighed. "At first, I could just make things float, and you could make things explode."
"Yeah. Same thing here."
That parcel of information took a heavy load off of her shoulders. She relished in every connection they had to her other reality. Starting over wouldn't be too difficult. Her caution faded as she took a deep breath.
"But," she continued to explain with a twinkle of nostalgia in her eyes, "as we got older, we learned other spells, and new ways to use our magic. I studied how to craft potions, and you forged the best swords for miles."
Bakugou took a slow, easy route to their home so that Ochako could sleep. Perhaps, she thought as her eyes lidded, she could dream up some memories.
After an hour, she awoke in a dark room beneath satin sheets. She sank further into the plush, memory foam bed when she stirred. Soft snores lightly tousled her hair like the breeze had done earlier that night. Within inches of her face lay her sleeping captor.
His heavy, bulky arm rested below her ribs, and he continued to snore despite her squirming. These drugs must have weakened her.
But why did this position feel natural? She was restrained to the bed and unable to move freely, until she finally managed to push his arm from her body. Hesitantly, she turned her head and met his ruby red eyes. She jumped, absolutely stricken by terror. "You're awake?!"
"Yeah," he yawned. "Why do you think that is?" As he sat up, he revealed that he wore nothing above the waist. The tattoos were definitely, absolutely gone.
The defined muscles of his torso were less intimidating than his gaze, so in a way, Ochako found comfort looking at his body. She cursed herself, wondering if that was perverse, but remembered that he had more or less been the same amount of naked in the world she knew. She chose to distract herself with a new thought, "Why did you choose me as your wife?"
Yawning yet again, Bakugou huffed, "What? That's a stupid question."
While her memories of the other world faded by the minute, Ochako could not recall ever cementing any kind of courtship. They did not have that sort of leisure as guild heroes. The only relationships they maintained were those of camaraderie.
Unless she's forgotten something.
In their younger years, she held more of a predilection for Midoriya than Bakugou. However, Midoriya could not have been more clear that the peace of the world superseded everything in his life. Sure, he had hobbies like building his encyclopedia of powers and magic, but aside from his friendships and the occasional pretty girl crush, he had no interest in pursuing women.
Bakugou, on the other hand, took more time to indulge in pleasures like solo adventures and climbing mountains. Rumors circulated that he had his eye on one girl in particular. Ashido Mina had once said that the girl he favored was Ochako.
"Do you remember our world? The name of our guild? The volcanoes you ruled over?"
After a long pause, Bakugou shuffled to the edge of the bed to give her some space. "No," he answered plainly.
How could she resent him if he had no recollection of the world he nearly destroyed? However, she remembered the bloodstains too clearly to drop the matter. "Do you remember the lives you took? You caused more devastating than the Demon King himself. You took the lives of our friends, Bakugou! They're dead because of your selfish need for power!"
Bakugou pinned Ochako to the bed, pushing her shoulder back and covering her mouth. Dull eyes full of dread, he neared his forehead to hers and stared her down until she stopped struggling. "Stop it," he commanded in a low, even tone. "Listen, you can hate me, you can fight me, you can kill me if that makes you feel better, but don't fucking yell. You're going to wake the kids."
Scanning his face from the tips of his explosive hair to the bottom of his chin, Ochako found no expression. His breathing remained calm. In most of their years on the battlefield, she could rely on him to make the most logical decisions in the heat of the moment.
She could always rely on him until that fateful night.
"Why," Ochako said through broken breath, "Why did you spare me?"
Finally, Bakugou bared his teeth. He released the pressure from her shoulder and rolled over to his back. "We started dating ten years ago in high school. I fell in love with you during a sports festival in our first year. I don't know what you remember about us, just … know that it's hard for me to treat you like some stranger when I've spent nearly half of my life with you."
Ochako realized that in the moments when he straddled her, she felt no fear.
She pressed her palms against her cheeks and took a heavy breath. "Our children — what are their names?"
"Hanabi is five. Hiroto is almost two." Bakugou said. And he stopped, hearing small footsteps retreating from the door. "Damn, I told those brats to stop eavesdropping ..."
Ochako's ears perked up.
Was this world peaceful enough to start a family? For the first time that day, she smiled. However, that pleasant buzz came to a screeching halt when she caught sight of Bakugou's unsettled frown, and the arms he tightly held across his chest. Just as she lightened up, every muscle in his body tensed. She needed no magic or quirk to sense the trouble in her lover's soul.
To offer comfort did not make sense — or, at least, something prevented her from doing so. She hardly knew this Bakugou, the husband Bakugou that settled down and won her heart.
She could understand his turmoil to a certain extent, so she finally hummed, "Lord Katsuki."
Upon recalling the familiar scent of his musk, Ochako had to wonder if certain fragments had vanished from the world she thought she knew. Despite the backdrop of her memories, one facet of her life remained the same: Bakugou had always protected and respected her.
She drew herself towards his chest, curious. Just how much did he have in common with the Bakugou of her world? She was tempted to indulge in his warm embrace and inhale his thick, wild scent first-hand. Maybe then that would evoke some kind of memories that would ground her in the reality that she needed.
Back against the bed with her arm touching his, she gradually neared the crevice of his neck until she noticed Bakugou's muscle tighten in his arms. He sat up suddenly, leaving Ochako wide-eyed and wondering if she did something wrong.
"I'm taking a shower," announced Bakugou before he stood and abandoned his tepid place in the bed. He traversed the hardwood floors towards the master bathroom in the back corner of the room. "You," he began. "Don't strain yourself to please me."
Ochako got to her knees, her oversized black and pink shirt hanging loosely from her body. She wanted him to revive part of her with his touch. Surely, that could be a way. However, before she muttered a single word, she pondered over the spike in familiarity and desire. "Lord Katsuki," she called again.
He stopped in the doorway to shed his pants and dropped them to the floor.
"What is it, cherub cheek—" replied Bakugou before stopping to clear his throat.
Meanwhile, Ochako didn't miss a beat. "When you lost control, I felt a tension in my chest like my heart had broken. But now, when you speak to me and look at me with that kind of softness, I melt for you."
Bakugou refused to face her. He lowered his head. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." He said. "You seem eager to get back to normal, but I'll tell you when my wife has returned. Until then, don't try to be some cheap imitation of what she was to me."
"I'm not trying to be anything! I'm simply trying to express that perhaps I've loved you in my memories as well — or at least, I loved that Bakugou."
"You're not making any damn sense. Why the hell would you love m … " Bakugou paused to grit his teeth and scoff, "that monster. Go back to bed."
Through darkness, Ochako's eyes finally drifted back up to his torso. There was a neatly wrapped and bandaged wound on Bakugou's back, and it bled through the gauze like scarlet watercolors on white canvas. Her heart wrung. Audible groans escaped him, and she almost apologized aloud.
Every meteor she had drawn from the sky combusted within meters of Lord Katsuki, rendered useless. Ultimately, she drew the fallen Lord Midoriya's dagger and drove it straight through him.
She remembered how her eyes stung, even with the intent to kill.
Ochako got to her feet and said in a low, controlled tone, "If I'm delusional, where did those wounds come from?" Her weakened knees trembled. "Where are we, Lord Katsuki?"
"I don't know!" He snapped before he stopped to collect himself with a deep breath. His fist tightened and he gritted his teeth. "I don't know the answers to your questions. Things aren't adding up, but my clearest memories are of our children. They're here now. Instead of languishing over my scrapes, or whether or not you should touch me, shouldn't you be worrying about them?"
The distance between them killed her the most. When she watched him shut the bathroom door without another word, she wondered what gaps in their memories held the key to driving them apart.
Some quiet nights at the campfire, once everyone had gone to sleep, Lord Katsuki would ask her to stay awake with him. Then he'd laugh and tell stories to her that he'd never share with the others.
Now, out of the dark depth of her fears, a chasm had developed between them. By the second, the possibility of closure became narrower and narrower.
The grief was evident in her frown, and the typically cheerful Ochako dragged her feet against the floor in the dark air of the master bedroom.
She had lost a companion in Bakugou. The absence of light, heat, and others in her cozy quarters reflected the truth: she was alone.
How could a childless sorceress become a loving mother within a course of a day?
Ochako hardly knew the answer, but taking Bakugou's suggestion, she was willing to try. She already had a drive to protect the children — even from herself.
Ochako shuffled to a new door with the intent of seeing them.
Hesitating, her hand approached the knob of the door like it could scorch her. She knew seeing her children would be a point of no return. While she didn't know much about them, she knew they were as impressionable as unmolded clay. Any wrong move could sink into their minds for the rest of their lives.
She felt like a lion teetering at the edge of the wrong den. Maybe Bakugou wanted her to come to this realization. She was the threat in this situation — not him.
Ochako took a sharp breath. She couldn't see anything looking down the endlessly dark hallway. At that hour, most children should have been asleep. Right? All her senses jumped to high alert as she recalled the children's names. "Hanabi and Hiroto, Hanabi and Hiroto." With the each repetition, she sounded more and more robotic. That wasn't promising.
She bit her tongue and opened the first door, finding decorations of galaxies, and a space-themed mobile of stars and planets that hung above a crib. Her son, Hiroto, looked far too old to sleep in a crib.
Could there be another child?
The possibility was overwhelming for Ochako, and she felt her sanity tearing at the fragile seams. She panted, struggling to catch her breath as her heart pounded faster than it had all day.
A scuttling sound behind her snapped her back into the moment, but she found herself falling as she turned.
She heard a baby's screeching cry from behind her, and in front of her, her two children cowered, shaking. Their wide eyes were filled with tears as they gawked at the helplessness of their mother. Even at their age, they knew something was wrong.
As her consciousness faded, she reached out to comfort them. "I love you," she wanted to say, but her weak voice betrayed her. If she had any last words, she wanted them to know that even though she stared at them like they were strangers, she loved them.
The world faded to black before she had the chance.
Ochako woke up in bed. Flannel pajamas, in familiar colors of pink and black, kept her warm throughout the night. Bakugou must have carried her to safety, but the only company she had was the vacant chill of other half of the bed.
He wasn't far. As she searched for the clock on the opposite wall, her eyes immediately honed in on Bakugou. Still weakened from the day's endeavors, she got to her feet and yielded to the magnetic pull that he had on her. The moonlight caught the evenly wan surfaces, illuminating them brighter than any rays of sunshine ever could. The brightness brought her clarity on that cool spring night. Her loose fitted clothing allowed for the draft to chill her, but nothing sent shivers down her spine like the sight of Bakugou slumped against a writing desk, sound asleep.
She always did observe his sleeping face in awe. When he slumbered, he was as calm as a dormant volcano. She knew the peaks of his roar and the valleys of his tranquility. While he may had never been the primary leader, he brought masterful tactics and heat-of-the-moment decisions that set their trail to victory ablaze.
Even now, she felt like she could rely on him like she always had. The others in the guild knew Ochako had the royal diplomacy of a goddess, and her insightful commentary on others heightened tenfold when she looked at Bakugou. She was the barbarian whisperer, as others joked, and the only one in all of the lands who earned his respect.
If there was a word to sum up their times together, along with the force that drove her beating heart, she would say it. However, through the muddled, traumatized memories, she could hardly remember their last moments together in the other world.
The barrier between reality and her sanity had become as rigid and frail as an eggshell. A breeze of light entered the room and chilled her to the bone — "I'm not fragile," she said to herself.
She checked her feet, for she could swear they floated inches above the ground. Blood rushed like fire up her neck and to her ever pink cheeks. Sharply, she took in a breath of fresh air.
Perhaps she could watch him forever. In the silence of the night, her heavy breath and pounding heart flooded the room. Of all their encounters that day, why did she fear a moment where he was furthest from an offensive state? Bullets of lists, doodles of diagrams, glossy photographs formed a paper quilt across the desk. Curiosity got the best of her as she glanced over his shoulder. Pictures of their memories, doodles of her traits, lists of her daily life routine — illustrations of her life before, in this world. Ochako jumped back once realization dawned on her.
The spring breeze flew through the cracked window, whisking Bakugou's hair around like a field of golden wheat. His broad, strong shoulders were tense, hunched up to his ears. Something had been troubling him. The tips of his hair caught the moonlight like always, and his face seemed almost peaceful without the usual scowl. He appeared to her as Bakugou Katsuki, in the purest essence of the name.
Ochako did what came naturally and grabbed a nearby blanket, wrapping it around the man whose fate inexplicably intertwined with hers. She had often found him like this on nights before battles, passed out over maps and diagrams for the next day's adventures. Bakugou had always been a strategist. Only she knew that he worked as hard as Midoriya, if not harder.
Drool seeped from Bakugou's mouth as it twitched into a smirk—but only for a moment. Ochako stifled a giggle. Words approached the precipice of her tongue. She grew frustrated and anguished that her mind would betray her in such a way.
Vivid photographs of a familiar couple caught her eye, gaining their color and glossy sheen from the pale moonlight. Ochako read the hand-written phrases under Bakugou's hand, written among balled up trials of paper. Water of some sort had stained the list in small, puffy patches.
"Ochako's ritual:
Wakes up at 8am
Wakes me up with kisses at 8:15am*
Makes breakfast by 8:30am (fuck if I know how she does it so fast)
Meets me in the shower
Brushes teeth with strawberry kids' toothpaste"
The list continued with daily routines, including their children's, until the bottom edge of the paper where it read, "*Don't force your love. Let her go."
Ochako sharply turned away from him, fearing the revelations that awaited. Did he wish to accept the tragedies of the past, even if it meant letting go of the crucial memories laying on the table? Pressing her palms against her teeth, her mind had noticeably let go of the tension that had plagued her.
Already, she knew she was getting far too comfortable in such a situation. With each stumbling step she took away from him, she repeated to herself in a whisper, "This isn't him."
The reality that she sought had no ground in this world. Neither the sky nor the earth tethered her home. How could she ever find solace when a rift split her being down the middle, between two universes? After much deliberation, she willed herself to turn from his yoke, and that's exactly what she did. Pivoting at the heel, she turned from him in an about face manner and looked for the door. Her bare foot caught the cool, sleek surface of a stray photograph. The shape of the standalone building snatched her attention. She bent down to pluck it from the ground, and when she stood upright, her shoulder blades backed into a warm, firm chest.
Ochako gasped faintly. Her limbs and body melted into the person that stood behind her, for she knew the arms that slid around her waist. She knew the warrior that pulled her close, like he would protect her with his life. She knew the father that pressed his nose against her neck and took a long, deep whiff. She called him by his true name, free of honorifics, "Katsuki."
This had happened before — many, many times like a reoccurring dream. Tears fell from her eyes, yet she steadied her voice to say, "Whole Latte Love."
The kitsch pun drew waves of pain through Ochako's heart. In her hands, she held a comprehensive link between the two worlds, yet the ultimate connection happened to be the constant pull between her and her husband. That quaint cafe also existed in the land of magic and dragons. Two young teens stood where novice sorcerers stood. Such a mundane location ultimately plucked the string of fate to remind Ochako of who she was, and who she had always been. She remembered this place. They went there in the mornings, before guild meetings.
"With energy like yours, you don't need coffee," Bakugou had said, and she echoed the sentiment in the reprieve of reminiscing. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer.
Touching him felt like the union of the crisp jigsaw edges within a grand and striking puzzle. His firm skin clung to her like memory foam. The scent of his sweat and odor engulfed her like bright, orange flames, and heat sparked between them like flint had spawned a fire.
The tip of his nose stroked against the crevice of her neck. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized how she had longed for this sensation. That intense smell — his musk — fed her soul like kindling to a flame.
She loved how these moments always consumed her into a mythical journey of rapture.
Were her tears joyous or forlorn? The words had finally arrived past her lips.
"Bakugou, through time and space, I have always loved you, haven't I? Not just in this world but in every world."
She could feel Bakugou's arms loosen, and a chill took his place within the sudden gap between them. Leaning back into his chest, she gripped his arms. This epiphany was the only way she could connect them to all realities — it had to be. Bakugou's arms trembled. His breathing slowed, and she could feel him anticipating her next words.
"Escape the fate from whence we came,
Sow our souls where light will rain,
Lead us from red skies to blue,
Feed us paths and lead us through,
Sins of this world surpass all numbers,
Harvest our bodies where our evil slumbers."
Bound to Ochako, Bakugou stuttered, "What — ? That's the spell that brought us here!"
His wife nodded in the wake of newfound clarity. "The ritual that brought us here. You do remember." The night of the slaughter became more clear. She bit her lip and fought the tears that threatened to surface. Pit in her stomach and lump in her throat, Ochako recalled aloud, "So then, my darling, do you remember that I was the one who gave you the Elixir of Courage that unleashed the potential you couldn't control? Do you remember how you spared me amongst the corpses of the ones we loved? My knife driving through the place where your wounds--"
"Yes," answered Bakugou before tightening his arms around her. His voice trembled as much as he did. "I remembered everything."
Perhaps it was an answer, perhaps it was another question. But they stood together in silence, hands clasping at each other's, and despite it all, welcomed acceptance.
Within a week, Ochako had perfected the footwork of her maternal morning routine like it had been second nature all along. Rays of fresh morning sunlight entered into the house along with a cool draft from the window. By each repetition, her smile grew brighter. Although she had the occasional blunder such as adding too much salt to the eggs or kissing her husband on the eye, he assured her that all these imperfections were well within her routine.
By the day, more memories surfaced of this modern world of celebrity super heroes that she had once considered a new world. Call it the work of magic, but she had seen the ecstatic faces of every person in her guild. All was well. With luck and love, this would be the only world she knew.
She called her husband, Katsuki, by his name. Their kisses held torrid passion in every contact. The maintenance of their love endlessly rewarded their sinful transgressions from the previous world.
Katsuki had prepared the kids for breakfast in record time, ALBEIT in bold and vibrant oranges and reds (to match the spirit of his lineage.)
"Mama, song!" Hiroto, the young two-year-old, stared at his mother as Ochako hummed in the kitchen, guzzling down the contents of a juice box.
"That's right, Hiroto," she commended with a giant giant smile as she continued to cut thin slices off carrots. "It's a song that reminds Mama of her happiness."
He frowned intensely at the words, but their five-year-old, Hanabi, looked up from her crayon drawings as she swung her feet and snacked away at her own foods. Their daughter was especially fond of their friend and Pro-Hero Deku; and as such, her green crayons always ran dangerously low. "Want a juice box too, Mama?"
"Happy juice!" Hiroto chimed in.
"Mom's got her own kind of juice, kid." Katsuki, opposite Hanabi, mumbled while flipping through tax papers. "Plus that doesn't give her happiness."
"Why not?"
Ochako chuckled. "The song's for happiness; the elixir's for courage."
Both children scrunched their faces at the unrecognized word, though Hanabi noticed her mother's gaze towards the coffee machine.
"That's coffee. Deku calls that coffee." She flatlined, still scribbling away on her drawings.
Ochako and Bakugou exchanged looks, then laughter. The worlds discarded, this was a life worth of their new beginnings.