The scene with the lock is based off of my porch door, which behaves identically. Some doors are just made like shit.
Same with the washcloth. I dunno about you guys, but that always worked for me when I was a kid – at least, it helped.
Apologies for misspelling "Yokosuka" as "Yokosuba".
Three beeps, rising in pitch.
"We're sorry, but the number you have reached is – "
Slam.
She buried her face in her hands and screamed.
"Whoa, when did Midoriya-kun get so fast?"
Sero Hanta couldn't see fast enough to figure out where Izuku was until the other smashed into the backs of his knees, knocking him clean off his feet; with one sweeping throw, Izuku spun and hurled Sero out of the ring, straightening as the emerald sparks crackling up his arms dissipated into nothing.
"…And the winner is Midoriya." Aizawa Shouta sounded nothing short of impossibly bored as he announced Izuku's (admittedly unexpected) victory. Sero, dazed, let Ashido help him to his feet as Satou stepped up to face off against…Izuku.
"Wait, why am I going again?" Izuku asked, concerned; Satou Rikido was a far stronger opponent than Sero, and though his intelligence was considerably handicapped while using his Quirk, Izuku wasn't exactly sure how well his newfound power would match up to Satou's strength – that, and nobody had gone twice in a row as of yet. They'd spent their hero training period sparring in preparation for the upcoming summer sports festival, and so far, they'd displayed proficiency on a level Aizawa had denounced as "barely passable for first years" (something which All Might would later tell Izuku was the closest thing Aizawa had ever given to a compliment).
"This was scheduled to be Uraraka's turn, but as she didn't show up today, you are already in the ring and will be taking her place. Be grateful for the extra experience."
Ochako…she's never absent. What's gotten into her? He'd tried calling her before class, and again at lunch, but both times his phone had gone straight to voicemail, and the recording of her bubbly voice had sent a stab of nausea through his gut.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to focus on the task at hand, bowing to Satou; his sparring partner returned the gesture as he reached into one of the pockets on his utility belt for a pouch of sugar.
Okay. Up against Satou...he's strong, but he's not particularly smart right now, and he's running on instincts that haven't been trained yet…so what I need to rely on right now is speed and brainpower!
Ducking under a punch, Izuku lunged to the right, feinting left before rolling sideways and kicking off the ground to toss himself forward. Landing on his feet behind his opponent, he forwent a punch for the force of a two-handed shove, but even with OFA backing the push, Satou didn't move more than a couple of inches, instead whipping around with a sling of one heavy arm to toss Izuku away and to the edge of the ring.
Ah…that was too close. He's fast, too. Maybe I'll just play it safe…he's bound to come for me again.
As expected, his opponent charged him like a bull not five seconds later, rushing headlong to grab the smaller boy; Izuku braced himself as if he were going to take the hit, but at the last possible moment, he leapt straight up and out of sight, timing his jump so that he landed squarely on Satou's shoulders, knocking him off balance and causing him to stumble with his own momentum.
"…And the winner is Midoriya. Again," Aizawa drawled, as Satou flopped on his stomach to tumble out of the ring. After a brief bow, Izuku followed his classmate out of the ring, only for their teacher to catch him by the shoulder and pull him to stand squarely before Aizawa's signature lazy glare. "Don't let this victory get to your head. Someone with a strength Quirk that does not erase their mental function would have bested you there. Understand?"
"Ah, um, yes, Aizawa-sensei."
"…Hmph. Next up is Bakugou and Todoroki," his teacher called out, and the two teenagers trudged to the front of the class, the former looking daggers at the latter. Todoroki, on the other hand, didn't so much as glance at Bakugou until the two stepped into the ring to face off.
"You okay?" Izuku asked Satou, as he rejoined the others. "I, um, didn't really mean to hit you that hard in the back."
"You kidding? I'm surprised I didn't break any of your ribs," Satou chuckled, his Quirk having worn off. "Don't worry about it."
There was a croak, and Tsuyu's voice piped up somewhere around the level of his shoulder. "Midoriya-chan, have you talked to Ochako-chan at all?" she asked, from his left, and Izuku shook his head, biting his lip.
Worry for his friend numbed the tension that he'd have otherwise felt watching 1-A's elite face off; even when Bakugou blasted a spectacular path through Todoroki's ice wall, spraying shards like glass across the ground, the only thing on Izuku's mind was her; even when Todoroki retaliated by quite literally entombing Bakugou in ice, he couldn't stop thinking of where she might be; even when Bakugou exploded out of his frozen prison in a colossal detonation that shook the very earth beneath their feet and cast a haze of smoke across the entire field, all Izuku could see was the sad little smile she'd given him before they'd been escorted home by the police.
He hadn't even been taking notes during the sparring, and Iida picked up on this, confronting him as they headed for the classroom to pick up their bags before dismissal.
"Midoriya-kun. You haven't been muttering like usual today."
"…I know."
"Is this about Uraraka-kun?"
"It's that obvious, huh?" he returned, giving his friend a grimace; he received an awkward pat on the back in return, in Iida's usual robotic fashion, and the grimace melted into a smile not unlike the one he'd just been thinking of. "…Thanks, Iida-kun. Uraraka-san was really shaken up after the attack, so I think she's just taking some time off to rest at home. She got hurt, too," he added, even though he was pretty sure he'd healed her injury (unintentionally, but he'd done it nonetheless).
"I am sure she will be fine!" the vice-rep thundered, giving Izuku one curt, mechanical nod even as guilt for lying to Iida flooded the pit of his stomach. "Uraraka-san is a fellow heroics student, after all. She has the fortitude it takes to get through this!"
"I sure hope so," the other murmured, slipping his phone from his pocket – still nothing. "Still, I'm gonna go check on her when I get home. We were supposed to go to my house today after school, but…."
That wasn't a sentence he knew how to finish.
The walk home was agonizingly slow, the wait for the train even worse; his fellow passengers, comfortably familiar now, noticed his fidgeting, the distinctive lack of Uraraka, but even Biscuit Ears's signature biscuits didn't do much for his mood – still, he'd given Izuku a few for the road in a plastic baggie, an unexpectedly kind gesture that made him feel just a little better. I guess I should think these are gross ran through his head as he half-jogged along the sidewalk, but he munched halfheartedly on one anyway, failing to taste it. It's funny how being worried can take the color out of life.
Midoriya Inko was understandably confused by the way he simply dropped his bag off and ran right back out of the door with barely a greeting or explanation other than "Sorry Mom, I'll text you!", but the churning in his stomach had gotten worse with each passing step, and even though he knew it was technically illegal, he couldn't help using One For All to get himself to her apartment as fast as he could move, bounding across lawns and pavement in spectacular leaps that sent him a dozen feet in the air (hopefully nobody had been looking through their windows just then; even if he was still in his distinct Yuuei uniform, there was no telling who'd mistake him for a villain).
Letting the power leave his body, he pushed through the glass front door to the building, practically running up the steps, footsteps echoing up and down the apartment lobby; when he reached the third floor, her floor, he nearly threw himself into the door, barely controlling himself enough to knock politely before calling her name. "Uraraka-san?"
Silence. He realized he'd been dancing a jig in the hallway for a solid ten seconds and had to force himself to stand still as he knocked once more, trying again: "Ochako?"
Nothing.
Steeling himself, Izuku tried the handle and, to his mixed surprise and revulsion, found the door to be unlocked; against the voice in his head telling him no, no, you can't go in there, she's a girl, he pushed it open, slipping inside and closing himself into a wreck of an apartment.
Sparse furniture sprawled across the living room; the sofa they'd napped on was overturned and against the opposite wall, the television cords splayed across the rug like the remains of a particularly grisly murder; the coffee table floated on the ceiling (which told him she'd likely used her Quirk on the other furniture as well, explaining the mysterious lack of damage), while one of the mugs they'd had their tea in lay shattered on the tile of the tiny kitchen.
A shard of the mug, with a little smiling face drawn on it, sat by the kitchen threshold, staring up at him. He kicked it away.
Out of habit, he slipped his shoes off, then headed for the little hallway where her room and the bathroom were. The bathroom was open and empty, but the door to her room was closed, and to his dismay, it was locked.
"…Ochako?" he tried again.
Something shuffled inside, but the door didn't open, and there was no verbal response.
"Ochako."
Nothing.
"Please don't make me break down the door, Uraraka-san."
When he received no reply for the third time in a row, he opted for a less violent approach, channeling One For All through his hand to twist the cheap doorknob hard enough to crack the lock from the other side. Ordinarily, he'd have marveled at the way he'd just controlled his power on such a fine scale – but now, in his fear, his worry, he didn't even think twice about it, stepping into the bedroom.
He found her on the ceiling.
To his relief, she was unharmed, but there was a dent in the wall under which her phone lay, and he had an inkling he knew what had happened; Uraraka herself curled into a ball in the corner, still in her sleep shorts and tank top, knees to her chest, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"What're you doin' here, Deku-kun?" Her voice was hoarse, raw – but not the quiet rasp of disuse. No, this was a voice he'd only heard from Bakugou after a particularly rough day.
"You've been screaming."
It wasn't a question. Izuku stood on the carpet, arms at his sides, looking up at his broken-down best friend.
"No."
That hadn't been a question either, but he'd be damned if he let her go like this.
"Ochako…" he started, but before he could even put together a coherent thought, she vomited into a bucket on the floor under her and dropped like a stone. It was then that he realized – how long has she been floating herself!?
He didn't look into the bucket, even if it would have answered his question. He did, however, manage to catch her, stopping her from falling into it, and he carefully laid her down on the bed, leaving the room and putting aside etiquette for a few minutes to comb through her cabinets for two washcloths, a glass of water, some mouthwash, and an empty glass.
Returning, he turned her head to face him, gently cleaning off her mouth, her lips, with one washcloth; afterward, he handed her the mouthwash, which she reluctantly swished for a minute before spitting it into the empty glass, followed by a perfunctory rinse from the other glass and a few gulps of water.
"Ochako," he said again, almost a whisper, and she looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time – and her eyes filled with tears.
"Izukkun, I - "
"It's okay," he interrupted, before she had a chance to speak. "I bet you're about to say you're sorry that I had to see you like this."
Mutely, she nodded.
"Don't be sorry. The only thing you should be sorry for is not telling me sooner. This is about your parents, isn't it?" Izuku asked, keeping his expression carefully neutral, and she nodded, swallowing hard.
"Yeah."
Without a word, Izuku lowered himself onto the bed next to her, holding the other washcloth in one hand; with his free hand, its fingers trembling, he lifted the hem of her shirt, drawing a fiery blush out of her even in her grief, and laid the washcloth across the bare skin of her stomach.
"My mom used to do this for me when I had a stomachache. It worked pretty well," he explained, but it didn't make him feel any less awkward about the light pressure he held on it, even when she bit her lip and looked the other way.
After a minute of silence, he let go of the washcloth, reaching into his pocket for the biscuits from earlier and holding one out for her. She took it, nibbling on the edge, then spoke, looking up at him from the pillow.
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why? Why did you come here?"
"What kind of question is that?"
Nibble, nibble. A crumb lay forgotten on her cheek.
"…I dunno. I moved around a lot when I was a kid, so I guess I'm just not used t' anyone carin' enough to check on me like this."
"You couldn't reach them again, huh?"
"No. I jus' got a dial tone."
He leaned down to pick her phone up, holding the button to turn it back on. When he sat up to place it on her nightstand, she'd taken a large chunk out of the biscuit. "You scared me when all I got was voice mail."
"…Sorry." She swallowed hard, took another bite.
He handed her another biscuit.
"Want me to make you anything?"
"No, I'm okay for now. Thanks, Deku-kun."
For a few minutes, they sat together in silence, Uraraka munching her biscuit and massaging her stomach. At length, Izuku got up from the bed, picking up what he recognized as a notebook computer, razor-thin and bright pink; it was an older model, probably secondhand knowing Uraraka, but it started just fine, and he returned to her side, laying down next to her with the notebook across his lap.
"Whazzat?" she mumbled, through a mouthful of biscuit, and when the operating system loaded, he chose to log in as a guest, opening the web browser and pulling up a map of the damage the fissure had caused to Yokosuka.
"I thought it might help if we went over this together. We were supposed to do this at my house, where I could have overlaid the street map with the disaster photos…but it's okay, we can do it here, too. Even if it takes a little longer…as long as it helps you, Ochako." He spoke openly, honestly, hoping he wasn't overstepping his boundaries, and when he finished, she stared at him for a few seconds, then dipped her head.
Izuku handed her the glass of water, and she took a long drink before offering what was left to him; accepting, he gulped down the rest before replacing the empty glass on the nightstand, turning his attention back to the map.
The fissure, fifteen miles long and two wide at the middle, had cracked through the earth from the outskirts of Futtsu to the outskirts of Yokosuka, slicing straight down the middle of each city hall and obliterating everything in its path. It had tapered down to each end, narrowly missing the Yokosuka Kyōsai Hospital; Uraraka said that her parents had been working at the coastal Nojima mall, an older structure undergoing renovation and expansion, and from the looks of things, the damage to the mall hadn't been particularly severe; it, like the mall, had barely escaped the fissure's jaws, but the sheer force of the fissure had caused several parts of the building to collapse, and while it still wasn't great news, the fact that her parents likely hadn't fallen into a fissure and drowned cheered Uraraka considerably.
That didn't mean Izuku wasn't surprised when she flipped over and, clinging to his neck, snuggled into his chest, letting out a muffled mmph as she did.
"Uraraka-san!?" he yelped, arms sticking out to either side, but she didn't budge, keeping her face buried in his shirt. Eventually, she raised her head, cheeks burning, but for once, Izuku found himself unable to look away.
"I'm sorry, Izukkun." Words, slipping out on her breath.
"Don't apologize, Ura – Ochako," he told her, correcting himself again; as much as he enjoyed the way using her first name made him feel warm inside, it was still difficult adjusting to doing so when they were alone. "Just…talk to me, okay? You said you trusted me yesterday, and – "
"I do! I just…I didn't know what to do, y'know? My whole life, my parents have been the only people I've had…moving around as much as we did wasn't too helpful with makin' friends. So I never really had anyone I could count on besides them…thinkin' I lost 'em when I haven't even seen 'em for almost two months felt like too much."
Shaking, Izuku let himself wrap his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in closer.
"Then just don't do it again, okay?" he whispered. "You're my best friend. That's what people do for their best friends, right?"
"…Yeah."
He'd pulled her close enough to taste her breath on his lips – the foul reek of vomit had gone, replaced by the faint aroma of the biscuits she'd just eaten, tinged with mint.
"That's…what we do."
Her lips, soft, warm, electric, pressed to the corner of his mouth and sent their shock down his spine, fear and exhilaration and terror and everything flooding through his whole body; he felt the blood drain from his face, and she pulled away, tears streaming down her own.
"Sorry," she whispered, and rolled off him, staring at the ceiling instead.
Izuku couldn't even blink, let alone speak.
Ochako…what was that?
"Alright, young Midoriya. If you can complete this course, you will be more than ready for the sports festival tomorrow!"
Izuku bit back a groan.
All of Yuuei had been rehearsing for quite literally the entire day – processions, formations, ceremonies, all drilled into their heads for nearly ten straight hours, bar lunch. He thought he'd have been relieved to finally get some action in – but, facing the parkour course that had been set up for him, he started having second thoughts.
The very first obstacle that awaited him was, to his shock, two parallel walls, situated some ten feet apart, with a ledge thirty feet up that he could tell he'd have to reach by leaping back and forth between the two walls.
"Um, All Might, do you really think I can do this?" So far, Izuku had primarily tested his Quirk in combat and simply running, but he hadn't attempted any sort of acrobatics or parkour; he'd always been a little on the clumsy side, and he knew if he lost confidence, he'd most likely lose momentum as well – and falling from these heights wasn't exactly a joke.
"Of course! I wouldn't have set you this task if I didn't think you had what it takes!" All Might boomed, standing proudly with his fists at his waist, and Izuku bit back a groan – he hadn't been expecting hero training to be easy, but sometimes he felt like he was taking baby steps while the other students had already hit their stride.
Right. Clenching his jaw, Izuku nodded, trying to push certain thoughts out of his head and focus entirely on the task at hand.
Drawing on One For All became easier each time he did it, to the point where it was almost becoming second nature to call upon the power he'd been given (the power you earned! he had to remind himself, or else he'd feel guilty), but sometimes he'd pull too much, or not enough, and he'd hurt himself either through overexertion or by misjudging his own power output. Still, it was better than where he'd been, relying on a single explosion of power for thirty seconds each day, and he'd finally stopped feeling like he was squandering One For All.
Even as he leapt for the left wall, however, his mind wandered back to the Phoenix Quirk – his actual Quirk, a Quirk unique to Midoriya Izuku, the thing he'd wanted his whole life…and yet, when he'd discovered it, he'd more or less left it on the backburner.
There was, he was certain, a way to draw out its power short of dying; he'd managed to pull something when he'd carried Uraraka (his heart skipped a beat at the thought of her) out of the mall, and during his fight with Bakugou, he'd left burned-in handprints on the explosive blonde's arms…
What was I feeling back then? What was I thinking?
He hit the right wall at a forty-five degree angle and scrambled awkwardly before sliding down, landing in a heap at the bottom; after taking a moment to reevaluate, he leapt for the left wall again, kicking off and aiming the apex of his jump a short distance away from the opposite surface so that when he started to fall, his foot would come down and hit the wall before the rest of him, enabling him to kick off again.
What did that fire do? It felt warm, but what was the point of it? What does my Quirk even do…?
Questions piled on, and he tossed himself over the ledge as if he could escape his racing mind, landing hard on his feet and dropping to one knee. The thoughts caught up in no time, and when All Might landed effortlessly next to him, he leaned down to catch a glimpse of Izuku's face.
"Young Midoriya, is something wrong?"
"Ah. I was just thinking about my own Quirk." Better off being honest. All Might could know a thing or two about it, anyway.
"Hm? Oh, your rebirth Quirk, right?"
"Um…kind of. It's not really rebirth…I just burn up whenever I take too much damage. But there've been a few times lately where I've been able to use some kind of fire without getting hurt, and I don't really understand how it happened. It's always been when I was…trying to protect someone…"
His speech slowed, his eyes widened.
Is that it?
Could that be what I've been missing this entire time? That determination I felt…is that what it takes?
"All Might," Izuku murmured. "Can a Quirk…work with how you feel?"
"Who said they can't? I had a fight back in my prime where I truly had to go beyond, and that feeling is what let me use my real one hundred percent!"
Unexpectedly, All Might let out a burst of steam, and when it cleared, there stood his true, gaunt form, expression serious. "But, ah…really. Quirks are a physical part of you. Humans have been known to display incredible strength in the past simply by force of their own will or feeling. Have you ever seen that old picture of a woman in a comic book lifting a car off of a baby?"
Izuku nodded.
"I bet you thought that was just a strength Quirk…but that picture dates back to well before Quirks ever surfaced. That mother's drive to save her child is what let her use the full strength of the human body and spirit. So who's to say your own emotional drive can't let you use the full strength of your body – which, today, includes your Quirk?"
"…When I pulled Och – Uraraka-san – "
"Midoriya, I know you two are on a first-name basis. You don't have to pretend you're not," All Might pointed out.
"It's…not that. But, um," he added, hastily, desperate to steer the conversation away from Uraraka, "when I pulled her out of the hole in the floor, there was fire coming out of my arms, and I don't even know how I did it, or what that even did."
"Hmph. I see." All Might set his jaw, clearly deep in thought, and after around ten seconds of silence, Izuku reached up to prod him in the shoulder, only for his mentor to suddenly whip around to face him, eyes blazing. "So! You believe it was your determination to save young Uraraka that brought that out of you?"
"That's what I was thinking, yeah," Izuku replied, withdrawing his hand.
"Well…I wouldn't be surprised. One of the things that impressed me about you was your determination, after all. A Quirk like that…it suits you."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone like you, who clung to the hope that they could be a hero for ten years…who, Quirkless, rushed in to save someone who'd been cruel to them for ten years, even knowing they could be killed – it makes sense that you'd have a Quirk that could defy death through your sheer determination to keep living and moving forward."
The training center was quiet for a few seconds. Then -
"…What are you crying for!?"
That wasn't a question Izuku knew how to answer.
All in all, the training exercise had gone very well; he hadn't been able to use Phoenix at all, but with some help from All Might, he'd managed to work more on his state-of-mind and conditioning to improve the consistency of One For All – and in the space of a month, he'd finally been able to gain some semblance of control over at least one of his Quirks, to the point where, for the first time he could remember, he felt almost confident.
He walked home by himself – like him, Uraraka had been hanging around after school for the entirety of that week, but they never crossed paths, and Iida had sat between them at lunch. Ever since the previous Tuesday – exactly a week ago, and the day after he'd rushed to her apartment – the air between them had been distinctly chilly, and he wasn't exactly sure why.
She hadn't even told him if she'd received any further news on her parents, but the expression of grief she wore had shifted into one of determination masking hurt – one Izuku himself had worn all too often – and, to his mixed worry and relief, she'd started working harder than anyone else during their heroics training, to the point where even Aizawa had had nothing to criticize by their lesson that afternoon.
By the time Izuku got home, something heavy had settled in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn't figure out what it was, and frankly, he didn't have the time to – the sports festival would be starting early tomorrow, and all of Japan would be watching.
Just like All Might said…it's time for me to tell the world:
I am here.