The Fish Incident (as Ochako had taken to calling it) had lasted for - longer than she expected. Every morning for weeks, she woke up to fish in her window. The lock never got fixed, simply because she never told her parents.

What could she have said, really? Hey Mom! Hey Dad! A mysterious being practically ripped my shutters open one night and left a fish in my window and probably watched me while I slept. Can you pretty please fix my window? Love and Kisses!

Well, she probably could have said that and gotten her window fixed, but that's besides the point. The truth is, she had come to enjoy her Morning Fish, although 'enjoy' wasn't quite the correct word. It still unsettled her greatly if she thought about the situation too much, so Ochako just didn't think about it. She took her little fish from the window as easily as someone might pick up a newspaper, and she went about her day.

When Ochako had first brought a fish with her to meet Izuku and Tsuyu, they had been confused (to say the least). Izuku had done his muttering and theorizing about the situation, even going as far as suggesting that the fae had had a hand in it. But Ochako knew that there were no such things as faeries.

Those were just bedtime story characters, just like selkies. They only 'existed' to get children to behave and to teach them lessons about the world. Sure, it was fun to speculate, but eventually one would have to face the music and see them for what they are: make-believe story characters.

After Izuku had slowed his theorizing (it never truly ceased, just slowed), the three of them had started a small fire on the beach and cooked the fish. There was no point in wasting a perfectly good gift, after all.

It had seemed that on that day, both Tsuyu and Izuku had been thinking the same thing. Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about eating their own portions, but when Ochako reached for her own portion the other two had shared a rather trepidatious look. She had thought it odd, and had made a joke:

Oh come on guys, it wasn't really faeries that gave me the fish!

The two of them had fake laughed, and Ochako knew that her joke had fallen flat. Well, she figured that if they had wanted to say something, they would have.

One morning during The Fish Incident, her parents had been the ones to find the fish. Ochako had slept in later than normal that morning - as one did when one had stayed up the night before - and thus had not heard her mother opening her bedroom door. The first thing she had seen, of course, was that day's fish sitting fresh on her open window.

This of course brought up the questions of who and why. Why is there a dead fish in your window? And Who put it there?

Having to think quickly while still half asleep, she had said that Izuku had dropped it off earlier that morning.

"He had somewhere else to be today, mom, so he dropped it and left"

All Ochako got in response to that was a raised eyebrow and then the message that breakfast was ready. Later that day, when she was more awake and able to think properly, she had felt horrible for using her friend as an excuse for odd happenings to her own mom. She felt bad for lying to her mom. She wasn't even sure why she had done it, but it had slipped out, and it couldn't be undone.

Ochako had been sure that her mother would say something to Izuku the next day, but she hadn't (which was a relief, because she wasn't sure how she would have explained herself to either Izuku or her mom).

And so over the past several weeks, the immediate people in her life quickly became used to consuming copious amounts of fish. It wasn't all fish, mind you, but it quickly became a staple food. As weird as it was, this occurrence became as natural as the weather. This, of course, made it all the more weird when she did not receive her fish this morning.

Sitting on her window this morning (directly in the blood-stain that would forever grace her sill) was a mollusk of some kind, instead of her 'normal' fish. Ochako couldn't quite make out what kind of mollusk it was from her bed, just that it was the kind with a shell. She burrowed deeper into her quilt and glared at the thing while she thought.

What could have possibly changed? After all, it wasn't like there was a fish shortage in the ocean, of all places. If Ochako was being honest with herself, she would say that she was quite disappointed. Not only that, but she was not fond of the taste of mollusks. She never had been.

With a small huff, she threw back her quilt and walked over to pick up the shell. The first thing that she noticed was that it was certainly lighter than she had expected. The exterior was still wet, so it must have been placed mere minutes before she woke up.

Which means that the culprit might still be close by.

Ochako leaned over and looked outside, but was only greeted by a brisk morning breeze. The disappointments were never-ending this morning, it seemed.

She sat back down on her bed, and stroked her finger over the deep grooves in the shell.

"Where did you come from, huh? Who put you in my window?"

The mollusk, being a mollusk, did not answer her questions. She didn't really expect it to, but it would have been nice, she supposed.

"Who are you talking to in there?"

Ochako startled, cradling the shell to her chest on instinct. As she did this, she heard a rattle come from inside the shell.

"Uh - no one, Dad. Just myself."

Her dad said something else in response, but she wasn't paying attention. Slowly, she opened the shell, and saw three pearls nestled inside. Any muscle or flesh that had once resided inside the shell had been stripped away, leaving only the shell and the pearls.