Chapter 1: Guilty Conscience

"Papa, would you like some of my rice?"

"No, thank you, dear."

Uraraka Ochako met her father's smile with a tentative gaze. "But your bowl was so small. Aren't you still hungry?"

The young girl was not blind to the trials her mother and father faced; their struggling construction company meant that there wasn't as much food in the cupboard and her parents sacrificed their own portions for her. Soft brown eyes glistened, but the child refused to unleash the tears behind them as she felt her father's hand grip her own.

"Ochako." His voice was gentle as he assuredly squeezed her fingers, his warmth radiating through his voice, "I promise I am content. Besides, you need to keep your energy up if you're going to work your way into U.A's hero program one day."

A half-hearted smile came to Uraraka's lips; she hummed a soft, "Okay, papa," before hesitantly picking up chopsticks once more.

She wouldn't ask about their portions after that night, but her fears would continue to grow. The monsters under her bed became fleshed out; financial instability and personal insecurities still existed in her life, but they were soon replaced by faces, names, and scarier concepts.

The League of Villains. Tomura Shigarki. USJ. Kamino. Chisaki Kai. Overhaul. Death. Pain. Suffering.

And she somehow survived it all where others didn't.


01:25 am.

The rhythm of the clock kept Uraraka company as she waited for the electric kettle to boil. Another long night, she sighed, running a hand against her exhausted features. Nightmares were becoming more frequent and despite her best efforts, they were unravelling her at her seams. Stress pulled at her heart more these days, causing her cheerful demeanor to falter behind closed doors.

Steam whistled from the kettle, snapping her thoughts to the task at hand. She carefully poured hot water over her chamomile tea leaves, then took the concoction into her hands. In spite of the warmth radiating from her cup, Uraraka found herself shivering. There was so much on her heart, memories new and old clawing away at her and causing her steps to come to a halt.

Uraraka often wondered how her mother and father were since she moved into U.A's dorms. Her parents were always in her corner, and she was forever indebted for their unconditional support. She knew now they were able to eat fuller portions since she lived on campus, which brought some peace to her heart. However, she could not allow herself to be a financial burden to them anymore, no matter how much they disputed her argument. She was going to succeed in her dream to become a pro hero to give her parents the peace of mind they rightfully deserved…

… But she would be lying if she said the road traveled to reach her dream was easy. Uraraka, as well as her classmates, had gone through more "unfortunate events" than any previous first year class at U.A (at one point, there had been a rumor of her class being hexed by an unknown villain; Uraraka is not convinced the rumor doesn't have some truth to it). They had dealt with the surprise attack of USJ. They had witnessed (and some partaken) in the events of Kamino, where the Symbol of Peace was forced into retirement. However, it was the recent take down of Shei Hassaikai that wore heaviest against her shoulders. She had seen up close all the went right during the raid, but suffered along with her friends through all that went much, much worse.

Uraraka recalled the fear in young Eri's eyes as her friends and colleagues battled Overhaul for her sake. There was terror from the years of trauma the silver-haired child endured, fear that etched itself into the hero's heart when she met those crimson eyes…

The phantom smell of dust, smoke and metal hit her nose sometimes, reminding her of the carnage throughout the Yakuza's hideout. The faint tinge of explosive residue waived around injured friends and enemies, tinged with copper and exhaustion. Buildings crumbled to the touch around them.

Her heart sunk like lead when she remembered Mirio Togata, the number one student at U.A, had his quirk stolen by an unknown drug the Yakuza had been marketing to take down heroes across Japan.

Sir Nighteye was fatally wounded and Uraraka had been charged with getting him to awaiting help. She distinctly knew the feeling of his life draining onto her costume, ruby red coating her fingers. Sometimes, she finds herself scrubbing to rid herself of the phantom blood tattooed into her palms. She now and then scratches at her flesh until the crimson of Nighteye's blood is replaced with her own…

Mr. Aizawa… His broken body slumped in Froppy's arms as he fought to save their strongest classmate from the sidelines. How she thought he was dead, onyx eyes glazed over until his quirk had activated to save Deku from Eri.

Oh, Deku.

Uraraka had not been able to assist him through his battle, but the event played on loop in her weary mind. She saw how he held Eri and how the strange girl's quirk ran rampant alongside his own. The shockwaves from each hit Deku and Overhaul exchanged burst over everyone like a harsh wind, and she had never truly understood the raw power her friend held until then. Overhaul was defeated, but the uncontrolled quirk of the child clinging to his form brought him to his knees. Had Aizawa's stony gaze not been directed by Froppy towards the two, she doubts Eri would have been able to avoid killing Deku. Uraraka screamed, though it felt like nothing passed her lips when she saw him stagger forward and collapse. Rivers of tears flooded her eyes and she cried for him, for all her friends.

She was flooding with unfiltered emotion, drowning in fear, confusion, frustration. Pink lips trembled, her heart hammering violently against her bones. How had she come out of things unscathed while others' hopes, dreams, lives ended around her? Others that had far more potential than her were truncated prematurely. A legend who had trusted her to get him to help succumbed to his injuries because she wasn't fast enough. A blooming hero set to take the world by storm was cut down when his quirk was stolen. Her friends had kept hospital beds warm while she was cleared within an hour of her arrival. Far too many nights she felt she was allowed to carry on while the others suffered; her sleep was plagued by dreams of death. Uraraka tried building dams in her heart to keep the emotions at bay because she didn't want anyone else suffering anymore at her expense. She couldn't let them endure the hell built for her; they had far more to offer than she-

"Young Uraraka?"

There was a yelp, followed by the sound of shattering ceramic. Uraraka blinked, kneeling quickly to reach the broken cup before pulling back violently. She felt how prominent the tremor of her hands where and her breath hitched when she noticed the red line along her palm. Why can't I get the blood to go away?! Rapid pulse filled her ears as she fought to regain her focus. Breathe, Ochako. Breathe! You have to-

"… Breathe, my dear." Through her haze, Uraraka acknowledged someone was holding her bleeding hand. A strangled gasp escaped her throat, warm tears falling along her face (when had she started crying?) Her downcast eyes were dried by a gentle knuckle against her cheek, followed by the deep tenor softly murmuring, "I-I'm going to walk you over to the commons area, okay?"

A soothing force pulled at Uraraka's elbows until she was once again standing. She could not lift her eyes in shame of who had seen her at her weakest. She took a step forward only to collapse as her trembling knees gave way; thin, but deceptively strong arms wrapped around her before she crumbled into the linoleum floor. Oh God, she attempted to reel against him, mind clicking to realize who was with her.

Mr. Yagi, All Might, the former Symbol of Peace, had been the one to interrupt her internal dilemma. The greatest hero to grace society and her sensei had her wrapped against his skeletal form. Her mind was spiraling, realizing she couldn't hold it together in front of the man that once held the world on his shoulders. Mr. Yagi, regardless of his declining health, was still an amazingly strong presence. Intimidation intermingled with panic at how vulnerable she was- how weak she must look to him. How pathetic.

A waste of time and resources.

What a useless quirk.

She'll never be a hero with a weak quirk like hers.

It's not fair. It's not fair!

"Uraraka?!" Her rattling fists curled into his shirt as she let out a pitiful wail. Tears pour over her round cheeks as she placed her forehead against his chest. Walls she tried so hard to build crumbled without much effort. How pathetic. "I'm going to carry you somewhere we can sit and talk. I hope that's okay."

Words would not escape her, so she settled with a curt nod. Mr. Yagi looped one arm around her legs and the other against her shoulders, gently lifting to cradle her against him. Uraraka couldn't stomach the look of disappointment she knew he must be wearing, so she kept her head burrowed against his neck as he strode through the room. She felt the vibration of his chest, only to realize he had been speaking to her, "… My girl, please breathe."

Yagi sat her onto the sofa once they made it to the commons lounge. The cushions shifted under his weight as sat beside her, gently running a hand through her chestnut hair when she curled to hide her face in her knees. Bright tears gleamed along her lashes and she bit her lip in vain to stifle sobs that wracked her entire body. "Young Uraraka, I am not going anywhere until I know you are okay. We will also need to clean the blood from-"

"Is it mine?" The words are whispered as she finally allowed amber eyes to meet cerulean. She feared what she would see when she finally looked at Mr. Yagi. Would he be angry? Disappointed? Bitter?

Such a liability to the team.

However, the gentleness of his gaze startled her along with his somber smile, "It's yours, my dear. Who's else would it be?"

There was a thick silence that fell over them as he patiently waited for Uraraka to respond. Uraraka kept her eyes locked with her teacher's as if searching for the guidance one what to say. After realizing she had not responded, she closed her eyes and forced a sigh past her lips, "… Why are you up so late, sir?"

Yagi's eyes were piercing; even though Uraraka was no long looking at them, she could feel them boring over her. "I have trouble sleeping sometimes and thought tea would help." A slight pause before he continued, "Since I answered your question, will you answer mine?"

Her tongue was heavy with fear, so she shook her head. Stop being so worthless, Ochako. You're wasting his time. Her heart ached and the nagging voice in the back of her brain refused to give her rest. He should have left you to your own devices.

Her eyes opened to hands against each side of her face, large and calloused, but ever so gentle as his thumb grazed away a stray tear. "Ochako, please."

Uraraka held her breath at the sound of her given name. She studied the man in her view with fear-stricken eyes. His true form had taken time to get used to after so many years of seeing him as his All Might persona, but she had grown to love Mr. Yagi for his authenticity; he towered over her even when he sat, but his lithe form was gentle, timid and contrary to his size. Wild shoots of blonde hair rose from his head in erratic waves, barring two long strands falling on each side of his head. His face was gaunter, angular features that seem shadowed in the right light. Thin lips pressed together in a faint grin and electric blue eyes met her with patience that she didn't understand. His demeanor was so selfless, contrary to the bitter voice howling in her head. Emotions shook violently in her heart, but she forced a small, "Okay".

The smile from the former Symbol of Peace widened. Yagi gave her face the slightest squeeze before he drew his hands away, folding them in his lap, "Thank you. Now, will you tell me why you are awake at this hour?"

"It's silly, sir…" She chewed her bottom lip for a moment to anchor her thoughts, then clicked her tongue against her teeth, "I just had a nightmare. That's all. I'll be okay."

Yagi quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head towards her and deadpanning, "A nightmare alone usually doesn't elicit a response like yours, young Uraraka. There's more to it than that."

Of course you'd see through that.

Despite how aloof Mr. Yagi could be at times, he was surprisingly intelligent. Uraraka had witnessed him bumble at times when interacting with others but display vast academic knowledge in order to assist his students (he had been immensely helpful in raising her English grade after divulging his fluency in writing and speaking the language). He had years of practice honing not only his strength, but his personable skills; still, it caught her off guard how fast he saw through her admittedly poor façade.

Uraraka shook her head to clear her thoughts, "I'm sorry. It's kind of hard to focus."

"It's fine. Let's work through this together." Yagi's aura was warm as he offered her his hand. "I know this may be hard to discuss with someone like me, but I cannot and will not leave you until I know you are going to be okay."

Uraraka eyed his large hand as his words buzzed angrily in her skull. She opened her mouth to counter, but immediately retracted what was on her tongue. Instead, an exasperated huff filled her chest I don't know if I can be okay. I shouldn't be bothering him like this.

"Please trust me, Uraraka." She startled as he gestured with his extended palm towards her. Blue eyes shone like stars against the contour of his face, striking her heart with their sincerity, "I'm an old man and I've dealt with a lot in my time. I may not know the perfect answer, but I will do my all to help you figure out these feelings."

She did not take his hand, instead throwing herself into the former hero's arms; she wrapped herself around Yagi's torso and pressed her tear-stained cheek against his chest. Her startled, hands hovering for a moment before allowing them to rest on her shoulders. She paused to listen to the steady beat of his heart before she started, "What if I can't make sense of these thoughts, sensei?"

Humming softly to himself, Yagi lowered his chin to relax on the crown of her head, "You reach out to someone you trust and let them help you proofread the thoughts, no matter how jumbled they are." He chuckled softly to himself, "I had a friend while in America named Dave- He'd sit up with me for hours to help me make sense of everything going on in my life. I'd do the same for him too, but I was the more emotional one in our friendship. It's a miracle we graduated college after so many mornings spent talking through our messes all night." She bristled in his arms, earning a concerned glance from the older man, "Have you reached out to your friends? Of course, I'm always available, but I also know Young Midoriya, Asui, or Iida would not mind to help in my absence."

Uraraka sniffled, roughly wiping her face against her palm before murmuring, "I can't talk to my friends about this." She felt him tilt his head again, shifting to look to where she was still huddled against him. Quietly, she admitted, "They're suffering too."

Yagi turned his cheek to rest on her head. He opened his mouth to question further before realization struck him. Oh.

Oh.

Yagi mentally cursed himself as the pieces of the proverbial puzzle fell into place. Uraraka had been one of the students involved in Eri's rescue. From his understanding (and his personal sessions with young Midoriya), the work study heroes witnessed more than many pros have in their careers. Red Riot had been working through his trauma with Fat Gum. Midoriya had come to Yagi and both struggled together to come to terms with Nighteye's departure. Froppy, while emotionally adept for her age, had worked alongside a fatalist Aizawa to process everything in her own way.

Then there was Uraraka Ochako. She had refused any wellness session invitations from Ryukyu, Aizawa, Hound Dog or Present Mic, offering an artificial smile Yagi was all too familiar with in tandem with, "No, I'm fine. Thank you, though." He had not pushed in fear of being counterproductive to her healing process, but now he realized the process had not truly started.

It had been three weeks since Nighteye's death. Three weeks since Eri was rescued. Three weeks since Lemillion was suddenly quirkless in a quirk-dominant society. Three weeks since Uraraka's close friends were hospitalized for at least a night to cope with their physical wounds.

Three weeks Uraraka had been suffering in silence in fear of burdening others. Three weeks of survivor's guilt left undiagnosed, untreated, and festering in a young woman's heart like an infected wound.

Yagi tasted metal rising in his throat, coating his tongue. He forced it down thickly.

As if she would slip away, he suddenly drew her into a tight embrace, pressing his face deeper into the plush of her hair. His sunflower bangs splayed around her head like an erratic halo as he kept his grip firm around her. "My dear, where are you?"

"Sensei?" She squeaked; her hands found his shirt again as they twisted wrinkles into the fiber.

"Where are you?" His tone was firmer than he'd intended, and she shrank against his chest. He quickly countered softly, "Mentally, where are you?"

Her shoulders stayed tensed under his hold and both held their breaths. Seconds passed like hours before a shaky sob met his ear, "Not in a good place, sensei. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry!"

Yagi pulled Uraraka from his chest and curled his fingers gently along the base of her skull, cupping her face against his palms. He searched tearful eyes with his own, brows furrowed as he thought through his response. "No, I am the one that needs to apologize, along with the entirety of U.A. As your teacher, I failed to see the stones you piled upon yourself." He sighed, refusing to advert his gaze even with Uraraka's wounded stare prodding his heart. "Please, let me make it up to you by being here now, no matter how long it takes."

Uraraka moved to bring her hands against his, but paused, wide eyed when a smear of dried gore crossed her sight. Her breath grew shallow as she took in the blood. It has to come off. Suddenly, she began tearing her nails against her skin. Fresh crimson seeped from her reopened wound along with a sharp cry before Yagi moved to secure both hands in his own. Her chest was heavy, and she crinkled her face at the fresh smell of metal, "Why can't I get Sir's blood off my hands?! It won't go away!"

There was a pang of guilt thrumming in Yagi's veins at the mention of his former sidekick and friend, but he pushed the thoughts from his mind to focus on his student. He had not been there to witness the events of Shie Hiassaikai but braved the aftermath of hospital beds, stale disinfectant dulling his senses and frantic pro heroes and staff. Observing Nighteye's death brought along a flurry of emotions he was forced to swallow until he could unpack them in the confines of his apartment later. He had held his hand to comfort him in his final moments…

… Not realizing until later that Uraraka had been the one to hold his battered body until paramedics arrived. Yagi had seen her for only a moment, but he had wrongfully assumed the splash of grime on her skin had only been the side effects of battle.

The grime on her skin was the blood of his close friend.

The former pro hero felt a lump in his throat rise, "I'm sorry you were forced to confront the death of a colleague so early in your career, but I can assure you Mirai- Sir Nighteye- considered every outcome of the raid when it was planned. He was an excellent hero. So punctual in both planning and implication. He is irreplaceable, but he was also very aware of how dangerous this line of work is."

Uraraka's voice wavered between broken sobs, "But that's why he needed to survive. He was invaluable, doing so much to help others. He's dead because I was not fast enough to help him. My friends were hurt because I wasn't strong enough to assist!"

Yagi opened his mouth to counter, but she whispered, "It would have been best for everyone if I had been the one who-"

"Stop."

Uraraka flinched hard against the tone of her teacher. She abruptly stood, wanting to run from the dorms into the crisp Autumn night and somewhere, but the strong grip on her hands kept her tethered. She began to cry harder, "It's true! Why couldn't it have been me? I shouldn't be here, Yagi-sensei!" She thrashed harder against his grip and her voice strained into a weak sob, "Sir Nighteye should be alive, not me!"

"I said stop." Yagi was a man of much patience, but he couldn't allow Uraraka to continue with her current train of though. He quickly stood, willing away the ache of the scar on his side as wrapped their combined hands around bend of her back. "Sir Nighteye's death is not your fault, Uraraka. It will never be your fault. Everyone else knows that, but you have to let yourself acknowledge that truth as well." She squirmed against his hold, fear evident in the eyes that locked onto his, "I don't like having to restrain you like this, but I can't let you hurt yourself anymore. Please breathe. I am here. I will not leave you."

"I'm not worth it, sensei," Her throat was on fire and her body shook violently, but her attempts to flee tapered. Yagi still towered over her, his strength surpassing her regardless of his retirement status. Pathetic. Every nerve ending screamed against the rational argument left in her. She was scared, overwhelmed, panicked and simply wanted to fold into nothingness instead of unpacking the emotions she felt she deserved to suffer through. "Please!"

Uraraka felt as if her head was underwater, a heavy force holding her under against her will. Her lungs ached for air she could not draw despite her rapid breathing, and her pulse surged in her ears. She was tired. So tired.

She could not hear Mr. Yagi's cry over her heartbeat when she slumped into the calling darkness.