Losing Control
Chapter 9
[300] And All Of Them Wrong
Life is a bitch and as a rule it likes to completely and utterly overwhelm you at any given moment. These moments include when you're having a mid-life crisis- trying to pull your heartfelt mementos off a shattered phone, track down a serial Hero Killer turned Hero-Commission-cleaner, and nail the hacker that freed him.
Ochako's last meal had been a lukewarm bagel smeared with cream cheese that she thinks she toasted the same day she ate it. It was actually a really tasty cinnamon raisin cream cheese that somehow had protein in it. She isn't sure who bought the cream cheese. Or the bagels for that matter.
That was eight hours ago and she's on the phone with a local Chinese place she thinks is still open while she's attempting to track down Stain's next targets- while attempting to look like she's actually working on the Dead Hand's Gang case.
[.ku] is being a piece of shit and not helping her with the former, but offering advice on the latter.
I'm cross-referencing land titles and related cash payments. Bank accounts have been drained, so I'm looking for deposits in rental accounts, or opening of others.
And would you be so kind as to tell me what Stain is doing?
She replies, even as her computer automatically shuffles out of the file Momo created and pulls up the police report on the Dead Hands Gang's latest connected incident. Damn it. Could he stop playing with her desktop?!
She tries to click back, but the system glitches and refuses, scrolling down the report slowly- as if [.ku] was rereading it.
It wasn't anything interesting, and she's already read through the report once. There was a minor tidbit of interesting information about location, and specification on which way the crooks ran, but there wasn't anything substantial other than Quirk confirmations and identity affirmations.
That allowed for better facial recognition, but according to [.ku] the perps were aware of at least some evasion techniques, and only showed up infrequently on random cameras throughout the city.
Stain is where he needs to be, doing what must be done.
Wait.
Wasn't one of their Quirks related to water manipulation?
"Yes?"
She doesn't get a response for a few minutes, so she checks in on Tsuyu- since Ryukyu didn't put her on desk duty. (Not that she's really mad at Ryukyu because she totally understands that she was in the wrong and she shouldn't have charged ahead, but desk duty is a drag.) She also walks off to check on Momo, who's been simultaneously replenishing their staple supply and combing back through her spreadsheet to keep up to date with Stain's killing spree.
So far he's had four in two days, all of which had resulted in fatalities of the target, and casualties of the security teams. Stain had somehow avoided capture in all cases, despite several Pro Heroes being on call or on scene when the assault began, and while Ochako can't prove it, she's fairly sure that [.ku] had his fingers in the mix manipulating equipment.
Check the city water table and the pressure sensors.
That's all the direction he gives her, but his information and hunches have proven correct prior in whatever cases he's weighed in on. She pulls up the water table, running through the mess of pipes that covers Mustafu. Some of it is indecipherable, but [.ku] helps.
As much as she doesn't want to admit it, the hacker does.
Several of the pipes on her screen gray out, and one blinks red. She follows it, frowning as she follows it out, out, out into the countryside before the pipe sensor runs out.
She pulls the city map next, struggling for a few minutes to relate the vague water lines with actual street maps and buildings. When she does, she learns two things.
The pipe that [.ku] has highlighted runs out and dead ends, and the pressure shouldn't fluctuate because the line is capped. It should still fill with water- if the control valve is open- but there shouldn't be shifts and changes like in a regularly used valve.
The second is that the pipeline ends in an abandoned residence that was condemned by the city four months ago due to water damage.
"Are you sure?" She asks the room.
It's becoming increasingly common for both her and Yaomomo to talk to [.ku] out loud, as they've been unable to find any bugs he's placed, nor keep him out of the system.
Confidential meetings just changed to being in the broom closet, instead of the conference room. Ochako is sure that's a fire hazard, but that's an issue for another time.
Eighty percent. It's worth investigating.
I'll notify police.
Momo's laptop pings suddenly, a different chime than Ochako's messenger app ping. The Creation Hero startles slightly, then stands and immediately dials on her office phone, a neat box of staples tumbling out of her wrist.
"Creati speaking, we have a possible location for the Dead Hands Gang. Asking for police assistance." A pause. "Rerouting Froppy and Nejire-chan to the location to assist."
"I can be there in," Ochako hesitates, thumbing back to the address before running it through a GPS. "...fifteen minutes."
"Go. I'll deal with Ryukyu, establish a perimeter, but do NOT engage," Creati said.
"Understood." Ochako is already grabbing her utility belt, snapping it back on and slamming her feet into her boots. They clunk as she snaps them tight. She really should get them redesigned, something sleek and streamlined, still spacy but… utilitarian would be better.
Then she's out the door and running.
Running today is easy.
The ragged rhythm of her lungs three days ago has been replaced by her usual three count breathing, inhaling on the right foot, exhaling three beats later on the left foot. She doesn't need to run long, only down the block and around the corner before she's clear of the crowds and can launch herself to the roof of the next building and start the repetitive process of launching her grapples and slinging herself forward.
She has to remind herself that she's not going to take action. She is not going to break into the building and confront the gang members, she is there to set up a tentative perimeter and wait for reinforcements.
She was not supposed to engage.
She was supposed to sit on a roof corner and maintain visual with the entry and egress points of the building. Not charge in, get tangled up, possibly let them get away and ruin their chance of wrapping all of this up in one fell swoop.
Her last grapple takes her to the ledge of a mechanic's shop. The tin roof underneath her boots clicked and rattled as she moved over the lip of the roof to a good vantage point that overlooked the house.
It was small, perhaps the size of her apartment, no more than nine hundred square feet and probably not much else to it. She clicked her tongue, counseling that thought. There was no telling if the villains expanded underground. Floor plans were useless when it came to people determined enough to change them.
And when it came to the Dead Hands Gang, they were definitely determined. It was only a matter of how much they'd modified the floor plan, and how much time they'd had to do so.
Ochako settled against the roof. She could feel the burn of the sun heating up the tin, but her suit fended off the majority of it and discipline let her ignore the rest.
Uravity keys her comm. "Visual established."
"Staying out of trouble I hope," Creati intones back, and Ochako can't help but smile.
"Just for you."
Momo hums back through the comms, and she can hear the soft exhale as she reclines in her chair.
"Check the back entrance as well, Ms. Uravity."
The voice is familiar in the most tragic of ways to Ochako. It's smooth and electronically altered, but it tugs at something familiar to her heart. Ochako absently runs her hand up her thigh, feeling the empty holster that used to hold her phone.
She dropped it off with Midoriya going into the office this morning. He had given her a curious look as he examined the plastic baggie that held her cellphone, but hadn't given her any sass.
"Who is this?" Creati demands, her voice surprisingly calm despite the intrusion. "This is a closed comm link, restricted for Hero personnel only." Maybe people accidentally popped into Hero comms enough for Momo to just not be as perturbed by interruptions. But the voice rattled Ochako.
Mostly because she knew exactly who it belonged to.
"Peace, Creati. It's just a friendly hacker. Hope you didn't mind lending me your comm link to peek in. I have eight cell phone signals from inside the house. None of them registered, so I can't give you identity." There's a pause, and then, "Creati, please check your email, I've drafted a tentative roster for the Dead Hands Gang. Similar to the police draft, but I have more information."
"How'd you hack into the comms?" Creati demands. There's another pause from her and then a curse. "I'll forward the draft to police personnel on the way. Your draft has two other potential members, where are they?"
"Tracing them down now, but it's harder to do with cash and burner phones than I would like to admit." There's a melancholy hum from [.ku]'s side of the line.
"And the comm line?" Ochako presses, not allowing him to ignore Momo's question.
"Little birdie told me."
"Fuck you." Creati growls through the comm, and it startles Ochako the crudeness of her language. She doesn't think she's ever heard Momo use anything stronger than a few quiet 'Oh damn' when she's dropped her teacup or spilled it on papers.
"Just check your inbox," [.ku] growls back, and Momo doesn't respond.
In the distance Ochako can hear the sirens, a muted rumble and whine over the hum of traffic around her and the infrequent thunder of tools or work in the shop below her. There is no activity at the front of the house, and Ochako wonders if that's a good thing or not.
"Who else is enroute?" Ochako asks.
"Nejire-chan will arrive first based on her usual speed of travel. Ryukyu won't be far behind, but I can patch in Cellophane. He'll get there before Froppy will and may be useful in containment."
"Can you get Red Riot?" Creati asks, her voice still strained, but it sounds like she's occupied. Likely combing through the new data [.ku] had given her.
"Possibly. His partner Dynamight isn't exactly clear of not being a piece of shit, but Red Riot would be an acceptable addition in this mission."
What did [.ku] have against Dynamight? She'd seen the hot-headed-foul-mouthed-bit-of-a-walking-dick-bag on TV a few times and his smug mouth graced the news fairly frequently, but while he was arrogant and a bit obnoxious, she didn't think he was a bad Hero. In fact he was probably one of the better ones if his manners could be excused. There was a natural addition of some collateral with his work, but considering his Quirk, it was a wonder building didn't come crashing down all the time. Most of the time it was windows with him by her understanding.
"I want Red Riot here," Creati demands, and [.ku] clicks his tongue- a loud and agitating noise through the comm before he hums in response.
Ochako assumes that's a reluctant agreement.
"Red Riot will be enroute and on site in twenty-three minutes." [.ku]'s response is grumbled softly into the comm.
"Who's on this line-kero?"
".ku, I doubt we can make him leave," Ochako responds. "What's your ETA?"
"Seven minutes out- kero. And .ku? The hacker?" Froppy's voice is punctuated by a couple deep huffs, like she's resting for a moment on a building wall or after a few long jumps.
"At your service."
"That's not his real voice, is it?"
"It's synthesized from a few dozen vocal samples. Actually No, just my failure at mixing up first and last namesa few of them are from your classmates. Mr. Iida has a good vocal range. I enjoy his charity talks and persuasive arguments about Hero benefits."
That gives Ochako pause. [.ku] keeps up with things like that?
"I have cellphone movement."
"Where?" Ochako demands, sliding down to the edge of the roof. The front door hasn't moved, and the first patrol car isn't even in position yet, though the noise and experience tell her it's just around the corner.
"Underground. You might get a runner if they hear the sirens."
"I can-"
"No, you just got here Froppy," Ochako cuts the frog girl off, "you'll be winded. I can chase after them, and it will put me in less danger- which I'm sure will make Ryukyu and you quite happy."
"And me." Creati chimes in, making Ochako roll her eyes.
The police cruiser rounds the corner, screeching to a halt in front of the house. Two officers jump from the seats, setting up on the opposite side of the car. Another three cars roll into place in front of the house just as the door bursts open.
She can hear the police officer's command from the rooftop.
"THIS IS MUSTAFU POLICE, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD AND KNEEL ON THE GROUND!"
Ochako balances herself on the edge of the roof, rocking slightly on her heels as she watches.
The first occupant out is a dark haired woman, her skin a deep purple color as she marches out, hands up. Her fingertips shift slightly, a flicker of movement from the distance Ochako is. Then they lengthen into claws and she jumps for the officers.
A ribbon of tape intercepts the villain, coiling around it and plucking her neatly off the ground just as Cellophane enters the fray. He wraps her completely, binding her hands to her chest, her legs together and effectively sealing all of her potential movement as he swings to the ground. Two officers run out, grabbing the woman and heaving her into the backseat of one of the cruisers.
Ochako jumps down from the roof now, joining the perimeter as Cellophane approaches the front.
"Let's do this peacefully!" He calls towards the house. "I like wrapping things up nice and smooth." Ochako frowns, wondering if that's a pun or not.
Dwell on it later.
Nejire-chan lands next to her, a quick pat of her shoulder and a nod of her head as she jumps past. It reminds Ochako that she's technically not supposed to be here, but on desk duty after the Stain stunt.
But that is an issue that she will dwell on later.
Later being the optimal word.
She isn't quite sure what triggers it- if it's the sudden appearance of another Hero, or if it was just anger boiling over- but the occupants of the house break through the front door and rush the street. There's five of them in total. A tidal wave follows the fifth one out, and Ochako can't help but wonder what waste turns water green.
It's not something she's willing to find out.
"I'm overwatch," Ochako states, canceling out her gravity and jumping into the air. It's belated, given the fight is starting in full, with Heroes and officers matching up against villains of appropriate type.
Tsuyu dives straight into the tidal wave, her proficiencies in the water coming to life as she spirals around in the tide before breaking out, catching the water manipulator by surprise.
Ochako hangs back, floating a few dozen feet off the ground as she surveys the area.
All five are engaged. None of them are looking to break away. It all seems to be going well. Too well, in fact, for a group that was smart enough to put a bomb in an abandoned hideout.
There's a momentary break.
A scuffle of some sort out of the corner of her eye that makes her look down the street instead of at the fight. A pedestrian scuffling with some man. Ochako hesitates.
And then the man pulls a hand back, skin morphing into fur and claws before he swings. Bestial claws rip through clothing, spraying blood on the ground. The pedestrian hits the ground, and the man takes off running, clutching a backpack before glancing back.
Ochako flicks her grappling hook out, catching a ledge and flinging herself after the man. "I need an EMT on site for a possible civilian casualty." She calls into her comm.
"Location?"
"Ping me, I'm in pursuit of the villain."
"Road 18, Block F. Casualty is in front of building J. Bleeding is non-fatal, but open to infection given villain Quirk usage." [.ku] adds into the comm.
The operator must not recognize the difference or possibly care before she responds with, "Enroute. We will have someone there in three minutes."
Three minutes is a long time to lay on the ground, bleeding into the concrete and measuring the worth and value of your own life.
"Uravity." [.ku] broaches her thoughts, and when the operator doesn't respond and none of the other Heroes snarl something back to the hacker, she assumes it's a new channel he's somehow put into her headset.
"Busy," she growls.
The perp is gaining ground, and her stomach is gurgling softly as she whips another grappling hook out, jerking herself forward. She's built almost maximum momentum, and without her weight or a booster there's only so fast she can accelerate by arm strength alone.
"You're chasing Faolan Jima. His Quirk allows him to transform into a Dire Wolf, and his top speed will definitely outmatch yours if he shifts."
"Helpful," Ochako puffs back at him. "What would you have me do? Let him get away?" Faolan takes a corner, and she's close enough to see him glance back, wild black hair trailing as he peeks behind him.
Shit.
He saw her.
Goddamn it. Why can't things go her way?
"No," [.ku] grumbles, and she can hear the smashing of keys on the other side of the line.
She hooks the corner, swinging around it, canceling her gravity to allow her weight to add to the momentum of the swing.
Teeth.
Sharp canine teeth snap inches away from her face as she swings just a little lower than she would have been without gravity. They snap closed on her grappling hook, severing the metal wire in one vicious bite.
Gravity is not usually an issue for Ochako, but surprise is a powerful opponent, and fear invokes an equally powerful freeze response. Gray fur brushes her nose, and then she's tumbling across the hard concrete, feeling asphalt biting into the pads of her fingers and the corner of her cheeks.
A massive gray and white wolf skids to a halt across from her, it's shoulders so wide that the tufts of fur there brush the corners of the alley. It's Faolan, fully shifted and ready to fight.
Ochako rolls to her feet, puffing out one breath as she sizes up her opponent.
"You want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?" Ochako growls.
"Uravity…" [.ku] warns.
"Shut. Up." Ochako snarls into the comm.
There's a pause. One where the wolf measures her up, dark greenish blue eyes examining her for a moment. The hacker is silent. Ochako waits with bated breath.
The wolf growls, pawing the concrete. Its claws click and score the concrete, caving faint furrows into it. A long tongue- probably the size of her head, droops out as the wolf pants slightly.
"What's the game plan, wolfie boy? We going to go, or you going to wait until the moon rises?" Ochako snaps.
"You're actually antagonizing a man who can turn into a wolf that's three meters tall." [.ku] grumbles, "why the fuck did I pick you…?"
The wolf snorts, his lips curling back into something that might have been a smile. "Another time, when things are not on the line." His voice is guttural, but understandable, and Ochako is so shocked the man can speak in that form- fully shifted and wolf-like- that she misses the flex of his hindlegs and the bunch and flex of muscle.
Faolan leaps. The shift must have lent him muscle and strength, because Ochako can't fathom a man being able to jump to the closest rooftop- it being at least eight stories- in a single bounce. She follows after him, half floating, half clawing her way up the brick wall, only to find the wolf is disappearing over the rooftops, a dozen feet away.
"You're still alive. Right?"
"Alive and pissed," Ochako grumbles back, dropping back into the alley.
"I tend to prefer my Heroes to be alive, and not digesting in stomach acid. Faolan's primary method of attack is biting, but from what I can pull, those claws are lethal."
Ochako hums back, picking her pace up from a fast walk to a brisk jog. There was the civilian, there was the rest of the fight, there were so many other things going on, and she didn't have time to worry about how she couldn't keep up with one villain.
"Attention all units, we have one suspect on the run. Faolan Jiima, Quirk is Wolf. Suspect needs to be treated as fast moving and highly dangerous. I- Uravity- can't keep up, I need a more mobile Hero. Last seen moving across the rooftops headed towards the shopping district."
"Consider it FUCKING handled you goddamn extra." The response startles her, and she can only assume it's Dynamight considering. "Red Riot and Dynamight enroute to detain. Thanks for the information Uravity!" follows shortly after.
So it's passed off to a better, more competent Hero. The comm chatter about the fight at the hideout has died down as well, and she listens into the paramedics working on the injured civilian. Three surface level cuts, and somehow, despite the capabilities of Faolan's claws, the civilian would survive with only minor scarring.
It was a good turn of events for a bad situation. Ochako thanked the man, Carter- an American tourist that talked in broken Japanese- personally before continuing on to the main scene.
Tsuyu, Nejire-chan and Ryukyu were wrapping it up. Cellophane was doing so literally, binding the Quirk-suppressant handcuffs onto the captured villains with a quick ring of his tape as they were loaded into different carts. Ochako fell into the processing of the crime scene without question, mindlessly transitioning into a support role as she helped bag evidence, label, transport and coordinate transport for all of it back to the precinct or Ryukyu's office.
It gave her time to think.
About how she needed to improve.
Stain might have been one thing, being that he was a Hero-Killer, and even with him stewing in Tartarus for years, she was sure that he hadn't let his skills get rusty. That was a loss she was willing to accept.
But Faolan was a different matter. He wasn't a famous killer, or a trained professional, he was a villain, and if Ochako was supposed to be a true Hero, then she had no right losing to people like him, or anyone in his class.
She needed to improve. She needed to get better. She needed to-
"Go the fuck home already."
Ochako jerks, sitting bolt up in her chair as the voice startles her awake. She blinks, fear lending awareness to her addled mind.
"I wasn't sleeping."
"You've filled out the last two reports with your eyes closed." Momo informs her primly, spinning the chair around so Ochako is forced to look her in the eye.
The Creation Hero is looking worse for wear herself, small bags under her eyes as she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest. She huffs at Ochako, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"Please. One of us needs to go to sleep today, before it turns into tomorrow. And out of the three of us, it's going to be you."
Ochako's [.ku] messenger pings, and Momo glances over her shoulder to read it. She snorts and rolls her eyes.
"He says 'I resent that,' but we all know that I'm right," Momo says.
Ochako moves to spin herself back around, yawning as she glances at the clock. It reads sometime between eleven and midnight, and Ochako can't remember where the hours in the day went. One moment she was processing the scene, pulling electronic scrap out of drawers and sorting them into mylar bags, and then the next she was authorizing shipping items to tech labs for proper analysis and uploading a detailed report. And then she just sat down and started combing through the evidence list and adding reports in for what was on what and then…
Momo puts a hand on Ochako's knee, squeezing it before giving her a meaningful look.
"Which one of us is capable of creating a caffeine IV?"
Ochako frowns. "Is that healthy?"
"No. But it's the principle of the point. Go home, Ochako. Get some rest, come back in the morning with a fresh mind and a hot meal, and leave this to me to parse through. At least for a little while longer."
"Ryukyu doesn't pay us overtime."
Momo groans, physically grabbing Ochako's wrist and heaving her to her feet. Ochako is too groggy to stop the woman from spinning her around then marching her out of the cubicle and to the front door.
"Out!" Momo demands, setting her hands on her hips. "Out, and I better not see you for six hours! If anything happens I'll call you, and if there's any major issue, then I'll wake Tsuyu up and call her in."
Ochako huffs at her, staring her down for a moment. Momo is unflinching, her onyx eyes bright despite the late hour and the untold hours they have both been working. She knows between the two of them, Momo is the better data analyst, and it's not like she has an edge considering she's sure [.ku] also freely provides input on Momo's own computer.
Still, something in Ochako resists the idea. Perhaps it's some foreign instinct, or a forlorn thread of thought tugging at the depths of her mind. She doesn't want to go home yet, not when she feels like she hasn't accomplished anything. Not when she feels like she hasn't done anything particularly 'heroic' today. While everyone else was fighting, bleeding, breaking trying to pull people from fires or disaster, when her friends were fighting for their lives, and even a civilian was injured, she got off without a scratch.
Momo convinces her to go anyway. Ochako can't fault her for it. She knows she's right. She knows that there is little she can do now that she won't be able to do better in the morning with a clear head, a fresh cup of coffee and something other than a bagel on her stomach.
"I'll see you in the morning then," Ochako mutters, waving at the black-haired beauty as she heads out the door.
"Stay safe!" Momo chimes back, all smiles as she waves back.
It makes Ochako smile. Just a little bit to know that she has a friend like Momo.
He's running.
[.ku] is running, but it's not for his life. It's probably worse considering. Yaoyorozu Momo- Creati- he tried to keep that relation straight in his head; she was a Hero, not his friend, hadn't even noticed the serial number jump in the report. But he had.
He had noticed that the burn phones weren't all in order, that for some reason there were three phones missing in between each of the numbers. He had noticed. One of them belonged to Faolan, and it was off. It didn't surprise him that the man was smart enough to turn the phone off and remove the battery.
The other two, however, were not.
[.ku] is running for the life of a Hero.
Air wheezes in and out of his lungs, and vaguely some part of him wishes that he had spent more time at the gym he'd hacked himself a membership to down the road, and less time attempting to develop carpal tunnel syndrome before he hit thirty. And yet, he has still taken off running, dressed in a pair of black joggers and a blue tank top. His mom had only enough time to crack open her door before he had thrown himself down the stairs and out the front door.
He couldn't even be sure he had the right shoes on. He'd just slammed his bare feet into the first pair of shoes that looked right and took off running out the door.
[.ku] couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.
He couldn't believe that he'd missed it. He should have seen it coming, given that Faolan had contact with Ochako, had seen her face, probably knew her name even. But it had slipped his mind. The gang was on the run, surely they couldn't act?
But the two phone pings in Uravity's apartment disprove that.
And he couldn't trust Stain.
He couldn't call anyone.
Yao-Creati wouldn't be able to help; if she started running, she would collapse before she hit the front door. He tried calling Ochako's cell, only for the carefully repaired parts on his desk to vibrate softly. She hadn't picked up her phone yet. Tsuyu was asleep. Nejire was across town, and even if she was awake, her top speed was too slow to intercept Ochako on the fifteen-minute walk from her agency to her apartment.
The cool night air burned in his lungs as he ran.
He is glad that there was some small part of him that had committed to the idea of working out, and had committed to muscle memory how to breathe when doing so. [.ku] wasn't quite sure if that same idea translated to stairs, but he was willing to try.
He flings himself up the stairs. At two or three steps at a time [.ku] launches himself up the apartment steps leading up to Uravity's apartment. It's a breach of the careful barriers that he's set up, a breach of the difficult distancing he has imposed on himself in order to keep his lives separate from each other.
But he has no other idea, no other available interaction or tool to manipulate, to keep the life of a Hero from being extinguished.
One flight of stairs turns into two. He stumbles briefly, banging his shin and catching himself with his hands. He climbs the last of the stairs like a dog, four limbs working in frantic union before he can get his legs back under him again.
He can hear her humming as he goes for the third set of steps. He can hear her boots clicking softly against the metal lip of the stairs. He can hear her bracer grinding softly as she holds the hand rail.
"Uravity!" He shouts, but his voice is quiet- plagued by shortness of breath as he rounds the stairs, clawing his way up twelve more steps.
She glances at him.
He registers her haggard appearance. Her costume is rumpled and even from his spot on the stairs and in the dim yellow light of the apartment lights he can see the bags under her eyes. One hand is on the door knob, a questioning look in her eyes as a gentle frown teases at the corners of her lips.
[.ku] has to give her credit; she might not have the elegant beauty that some Heroine's have. She probably wouldn't look as comfortable in a fabulous red dress like Creati may, or as comfortable is a crop top and jean shorts as Pinky does on her days off, but there is something attractive about Uravity nonetheless. It's a homely sort of beauty.
It reminds him of the trips his mother would take him on out to the country. It reminds him of looking out the bus or tram window and seeing fields of crops or little pastures with cows and horses. It reminds him of the girls that would ride horses, a lasso whirling above their head as they coaxed cows towards the barn or a corral.
"Midoriya?" She asks, and even as he dives, he knows he's too late.
Her front door squeaks open. He slams into her, pushing her clear. He doesn't know what mechanism triggers the blast. He doesn't know what shrapnel rips through the doorway and the adjacent walls. There's a blast of heat and a wave of light that accompanies the explosion.
He can comfortably describe his experience as floating. His ears are ringing, and spots of heat and rivers of coldness prickle to life about his body. He can't remember closing his eyes, but it takes effort to open them again.
A flickering yellow light paints the ceiling an off shade of gray, and he coughs a few times as the smoke tickles his nose.
Someone is shouting.
Moving his eyes takes an interesting amount of effort. He doesn't think the energy requirement has changed, nor the process, but rather it's like his body struggles to respond. Like a computer running too many programs at once. His vision stutters back and forth, dark spots circling the edges, flickering back and forth across his vision like he's stared at his computer screen too long.
It's her.
Uravity.
Ochako.
She's crouched over him, her hands occupied by something at the edge of his vision, a shard of wood. He frowns. Is that… In his?
Strange.
It doesn't hurt.
"Stay … Mido…. Don't… Mi…riy…" Her voice echoes in his head, blips of words teasing his ringing ears as his eyelids slide closed.
He thought explosions were supposed to hurt.
Strange.
Maybe it was one of those things you could build up a tolerance to.