a/n: Shout out to roraewrites for being the best rock and boiledsweet who consistently reads and reviews and aufhbsidfb I'm love you both okay? This ones for you 3


Ochako fingers the steel, memorizing the curves of the barrel and the divots of the trigger.

It's cold against her warm skin, but it's everything she remembers it to be and the memory burns. Her touch is tender as she traces it, her smile small but there. It feels the same, though she knew it would because nothing about it had changed.

She closes her eyes, replaying moments in a time long past of how she handled the weapon beneath her hand; Ochako chuckles silently, remembering it once to be the size of her, if not bigger. She was smaller back then; more fragile she'd admit and favored in the early days a blade that rested comfortably at her side. This weapon? It was strong, sturdy, and deadly, bringing to her a determination to get stronger, sturdier, and deadlier. She winces, remembering the first time she shot it —the recoil was deadly and her shoulder hurt for two weeks.

She eventually grew into her own; she grew into the force of the gun and the impossibly loud sound ringing that came with every shot. Still with her, now holstered on her lower back was her blade that saved her so many times before and would save her so many times again, though nowadays, like everyone else) she hoped to start (and end) every fight with that gun because it was quicker —safer that way.

Ochako peeks around; making sure no one is looking and removes her comm from atop her head. She grabs hold of the gun, aiming down the sight with practiced ease; she ignores how her eyes sharpen on an unknown target, how her breathing steadies and how right it all feels. Her finger ghosts the trigger— god I miss this.

"Heh, with how you hold that, I think you'd be a great runner." Eijirou's voice is close and the steps of her cell sound closer; as she lays down the weapon with a fondness in her eyes, she hopes with everything she has that what lays out in front of her will do for them what it once did for her. "She'd get too damn attached to the undead and get us all killed."

"But you're attached to your squad."

It came out of her mouth before she could stop it. Ochako doesn't miss how deathly quiet it gets, how his eyes drill holes deep into her back or how she can feel his anger rising, rivaling what he'd managed earlier that day. Her statement lingers and she refuses to take it back because it's true; she knows he knows it's true because it's working him up, everything about him tense and on edge as he pieces together his rebuttal.

She turns to him, holding onto a barely intact defiance admiring with awe and unease just how red his eyes can get when tested. He's ready for a fight, his body language screaming it louder than his words ever could —everyone can see it. "Nah, I bet Ochako here could take down just as many as we could." Eijirou is calm, sauntering casually between the pair, admiring the weaponry. Ochako suspects he did it on purpose, silently thanking him for it. "I wouldn't say that," she places the gun down, chuckling nervously, "but I think I'm better suited as overwatch; I'm not a runner, anyway." She forces herself to believe this, despite her inner voice screaming at her in opposition. Denki slings his arm across her shoulders, bright and cheerful. "I don't know, I think you'd give a zombie a run for its money," his eyes sparkle with mischief, "after all, you managed to put Katsuki in his place."

His trigger is pulled too tight; Katsuki slams his hand onto the table, gun and all with a sound so loud it brought every eye to him. He doesn't meet their glances, amused or curious, eyes firm on the spread of weapons as his hand finds the next one. He doesn't say anything and words aren't needed. They understand his anger and decide not to play with a loaded gun. "So, do you have any idea what we're supposed to be doing? They didn't tell us much when we were called."

Ochako maneuvers her way from underneath his arm, turning back towards the table. She grabs five sets of earpieces, handing them off to everyone one by one. When she comes to Katsuki he ignores her, somehow like she knew he would and instead places it in front of him with enough force that she idly wonders if she broke the damned thing. "We were only told it was a perimeter check, but those aren't too, too bad."

She can see the familiarity of their assignment dawn in their eyes but also sees the hesitation and confusion. It makes sense, Ochako decides, because they weren't part of something bigger than themselves before; she imagines they were forced together by a common goal, doing what they knew to survive, no rhyme or reason to their actions other than do. Live.

Her smile is sad when she looks them over but it doesn't last long. They made it against all odds; they'd only continue to do so, she's sure.

"You'll leave through the gates there," Ochako points towards the rough estimate of where it stands, "and do a basic walk through of the sector that Aizawa will give us. Sectors are usually small when in comparison to the wall, but can extend to about .8 klicks. There's five of you so you'll likely fall into something of a herringbone—one of you taking the head, three in the middle facing outward with Mina likely to fall center and the last of you guarding the rear. Salvage what you can if there's anything left, make it back in one piece. Any questions?"

Every eyes, Katsuki's included, were on her.

Ochako felt uncomfortable with the way they were staring, silently dissecting her and everything that came out of her mouth. She fidgeted in place after a while, boots kicking up loosened rubble, fingers nails digging beneath the surface of another. "Are… are you sure you haven't ran before?" Eijirou sputters, not at all having doubted the idea (he's sure everyone at one point ran, fought with their lives or died trying) but at the same time not waiting to believe it because Ochako was cheerful, warm and whole; everything you shouldn't be when you're one bite, one scratch, one maul away from being turned—or worse.

He assumed before that she wasn't quite numb to it all when she opens herself to them with smiles and laughter and naivety, false or otherwise; there was a spark of rebellion, a seriousness she hid well sure, but nothing that would ever have suggested that maybe, just maybe, it was all for show—a mask of sorts.

Her eyes fall downward, feigning interest in their shoes and the surface beneath them. I could tell them, she thinks; a part of her feels like she should but the words don't come, instead lodging itself in her throat making it harder to stay calm. There's too much question in their eyes, too much pressure and it hurts to breathe. "Well—"

"I see you're all prepped and ready to go; good." Ochako smiles at the lazed drawl of his voice, how its presence calls their attention on him and away from her, letting her quickly regain the calm she hung onto by the thread of her skin. She glances upward, mouthing a silent thank you in his direction; Aizawl offers a nod.

"This will be your sector; I'm sure by now you know what to do." He holds out the rolled piece of paper, loosening his grip with someone snatches it from his hand; he's not all surprised that it's Katsuki, watching as he shoves it in his pocket without so much as a glimpse. "But you didn't tell us anything?" He hears the question in Mina's tone, can see it on her face when he looks at her. Aizawl Ochako pointedly, something none of them miss, before he turns on his heel and departs. "Don't think I need to."

It takes them a few seconds to recover. "Well that was cryptic."

Ochako watches in silence as they check and recheck their gear. They're lined from head to toe in sleeves, despite the climbing temperatures and she's not surprised; it's feeble, but its added protection should they find themselves on the receiving end of an unexpected mauling.

They're intense as they load their bags, calculating—fearful and somehow at the same fearless. Mina's hands shake as she fills her clip but it doesn't stop her from loading her primary and moving onto her secondary. Hanta looks tired; he's frightened as he eyeballs his weapons but it doesn't stop him from cracking a smile and chuckling when Denki's actions call for it. Eijirou lets his mask slip when he can't find his extra magazine, eyes feral and panic setting in and when Katsuki throws him an extra and he's calm all over again.

She watches them and imagines it as any other day; they aren't fondling deadly weapons in a fight against the undead but instead prepping for one wicked round of paintball against another team. They aren't afraid of what will happen at the end of their game, if they'll live to see the end because they'll come back to their base, dotted with different hues of paint and smiles as bright as the sun, unabashed laughter ringing around them. They aren't kids forced into adulthood, off into a war they didn't ask for but somehow were thrust into.

No, they were kids—just kids, living for the sake of living.

"Ochako, hey."

Her eyes focus on a hand waving sporadically in front of her, wondering how long Mina had been calling her and how long she was lost to her thoughts. The ache in her jaw, no doubt from gritting her teeth, tells her it was a good amount of time. "Yeah, sorry. What's up?" Mina eyes her carefully, concern evident but Ochako plays it off, head tilted to the side in question. "We're about to head out," the grip around her weapon tightens, trembling a bit and Ochako sees this. "You'll be watching over us, yeah?"

Ochako doesn't answer immediately; she can't find the proper words that will placate the obvious concern that plagues Mina because what could she say? Yeah, I'll be watching from inside the walls—because that would really ease her mind. Ochako instead reaches behind her, unbuckling the holster that sheathes her blade and secures it onto Mina's person. When she steps back to her front she smiles, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezes lightly. "In more ways than one."

It was all Mina needs to hear.

"Come on, Pinkie; let's move!" Katsuki's voice is gruff and demanding per the norm and Ochako can't help but roll her eyes. "Go kick some ass." She says, passing with it enough support and reassurance that Mina believes it, her hands trembling that much less and her eyes shining that much more. She's determined now; Ochako can see it in the way her solemn look once dark and saddened melts into one of courage, of a thirst for adventure and when she smiles, trailing after her cell seconds later, Ochako knows she'll be just fine—with or without her added protection.

She reaches for her own comm, it hanging loosely on her shoulders and pauses just before she rests it on her head; when not lit with anger and hostility they remind her so much of the ruby she once imagined them to be, even as he stares at her with a look she can't quite understand, only looking away when Mina passes him. He's still as guarded, still fuming, still as unreadable but in a moment of lapsed judgement (on his part no doubt) she sees in him something she didn't think he was capable of—fleeting, gone just as quick as it came. His eyes.

They're softer, though not by much.

xXx

It would take getting used to, of that she was sure.

It wasn't nearly as open as the land beyond the wall, lit only by the static fluorescence above instead of the warmth and vibrancy of the sun. It reminds her of a call center, each occupant sectioned off with three walls, filled to the brim with monitors and various items littering the desk; Ochako supposes it may have been what the building was used as or could have been used as, in another life anyway. She takes a seat in one of the unclaimed spaces, vacant on either side and calls it her own. She plugs in an unmarked flash drive, the end glows a bright green; a soft static buzzes in her ears. Mei's a genius, Ochako's sure because who else could take a headset and pair it wirelessly with a drive, the drive to a computer, the computer to a signal and back into a headset.

"Can you hear me?" She places her hand to her earphone as she waits for a response. "Yeah, read you loud and clear." Mina, Hanta, Denki, Eijirou… of course. She's not surprised when he doesn't answer but she's more impressed with the way everyone else sounds; clear, undistorted no matter the distance between them and the surrounding residual noise on both ends. Yeah, definitely a genius.

"Good," Ochako situates herself in a more comfortable position, "I'll be tracking your movements from here, but I need you to be my eyes since I'm not there." Though I should be, her mind screams at her.

Behind the safety of the high riding walls guiding those who had the courage to step beyond their threshold was not something she ever intended to do but found her doing anyway. Ochako wonders briefly how Shouto is doing, who his overwatch is; she doesn't doubt their skill, their instincts or eyes but she's always had his back she's not there. For Shouto. For her cell. For Izuku.

So she'd make up for it a thousand fold in only a way she could.

"So, let me see what you see."