The funeral was numb.
Static.
Tense and unwelcoming.
The opposite of Izuku.
It was stifling.
She was asked beforehand to say something, some kind of eulogy, but it felt too much like a goodbye. She wasn't ready for that.
Not yet.
For her, the funeral was absolutely awful.
For Inko, it was so much worse.
She had to bury her only child.
As if to mock them and their sadness, the day was positively sunny.
Not a cloud in sight.
She didn't look when they lowered him into the ground. She watched instead two small children walking together, ice cream in hand.
Oh, she just wanted it to be over.
Wanted to be able to go home.
To crawl under the covers of her bed.
To stay in and stare at nothing until Bakugou forced some food on her or dragged her out to get drunk.
To just allow herself to grieve in a place she didn't feel she was obligated to.
Funerals be damned.
She gripped Inko's sleeve, pulling her adoptive mother towards her in a tight hug. Inko returned it, and the two women watched in silence as others threw in handfuls of dirt.
Finally, it was her turn, and Bakugo gently- he's never gentle- gently guided her over, a hand at the small of her back and the other on her arm.
It was supposed to be comforting, but she just felt trapped.
When didn't she, anymore?
Trapped by Bakugou, trapped by her head, trapped by voices she hears echoing over and over again in her head.
She shakily grabs a handful of dirt, watching it fall down, down, down into the hole that was her best friend's- her brother's- final resting place. The moment it was gone from her hands, she turned back to Bakugou, burying her face in his stuffy, expensive suit that he shouldn't be wearing!
No tears fell, she didn't think she had any left to cry.
Bakugou rubbed her back anyway.
He guided her back to Inko, and the three of them sat in silence.
Bakugou's mother came, eventually, to bring Inko back to their apartment complex.
Uraraka still couldn't move.
She was frozen, floating, her only anchor Bakugou's firm strokes up and down her back, as if telling her, 'Its okay to cry.'
And she did.
She cried, and cried, and cried.
She cried into Bakugou's arms, finally, truly grieving for her brother.
She didn't register the other presence at her back, or that Bakugou had taken her away from Izuku's grave- his grave, what an odd thought- and into a comfortable car.
She didn't register his hand being replaced by another's, smoother and softer but the same comforting up-down-up-down.
She came back to reality abruptly as the car stopped, and she saw the shock of red hair with black roots that could only mean Kirishima. She realized they were almost cuddling in the backseat while Bakugou had drove, and that he was stroking her back.
Kirishima pulled away gently, getting out, and she saw they were back at her place- their place- The place she had shared with her best friend after Todoroki's death not two years earlier.
That thought brought on a fresh wave of grief, and she grabbed Kirishima's sweatshirt sleeve before he could leave fully.
"Please," she whispered, and he sat back down to hear her better, "please let me stay with you guys for the night. Please, please, I don't think I can bear going in there. Please!"
Kirishima and Bakugou exchanged a look over her head, and then the door closed and the three of them silently drove away.