Dawn's first fingers of sunlight warmed his skin, and Midoriya shifted. He scrunched his face in a frown, a sleepy half whine bubbling in his throat as he tugged his woolen blankets up over his head. Sleep still lingered in his bones. He burrowed his face into the old, plush pillow, breathing a sigh.
It felt nice to relax.
Midoriya wondered idly when the last time he was able to just lie in bed for a few short moments and enjoy the quiet of the morning was. Had it only been a few short weeks since his exile? It felt like a lifetime ago. A lifetime of sleeping in caves or on flying brooms or in strange inns on the road. Now, he had a bed to himself. It was small, of course. The guest bed, as Hadou had called it. It was tucked away in a room barely larger than a closet, in the corner of the upstairs of the shop. There was only one tiny window, opposite the door. Sunlight streamed through it and spilled onto his bed, warm and comforting. He blinked his eyes open slowly, squinting up at the slanted ceiling overhead.
This place was cozy. Hadou and Uraraka had run amuk yesterday ensuring that he felt comfortable in the new space, even going so far as to 'air it out', as Hadou put it. According to Uraraka's quiet musings, it wasn't often they had guests stay the night. "I'm from the south," she had said, "and mom and dad hardly visit. Hadou doesn't tend to have people over much either. She always says she's too busy with the shop. But it's yours now!" And she had beamed at him with that bright grin that made his knees tremble.
A low rumble from his stomach had Midoriya sighing and rolling out of bed. He tugged on his dust battered trousers and boots, shivering a bit under the morning chill. The only downside of the room was that it was a bit drafty, and Midoriya unfortunately had no cloak to keep him warm. He rubbed at his arms in an attempt to warm them as he pushed open his door and crept down the hall.
The way the little house was arranged went something like this; in the center of the upstairs, was the living space. Wide and open, there were plush, soft chairs seated around a thick rug, and a tiny wood furnace sat against the wall opposite them. A large, wood framed window let golden light bleed into the space from across the way, and gave a nice view of the dusty streets down below. Behind the chairs stood the kitchen, which was little more than a wood stove and some counter space. Shelves lined the walls, and a person-sized hole in the wall served as a pantry, where some of the storable foods were kept. This was also the space that had the trapdoor leading from the shop downstairs up into the living quarters.
To the right were the bedrooms. Three in total; Hadou's room, the largest, Uraraka and Yaoyorozu's, and his own, tucked at the end of the hall. On the left of the living space sat the washroom, with a nice porcelain tub, a sink, and a chamberpot. Altogether, the place wasn't very large, but it was well kept and felt like a home.
As Midoriya crept down the hall, a savory aroma tickled his nose, and his mouth watered. Gods, that smelled good. He peeked into the living space only to see Yaoyorozu crouched in front of the wood stove, stoking the flame with more wood. Her hair was down this time, in a long, black curtain on her back, and she appeared to be dressed in a simple shift; a contrast to her more intimidating appearance yesterday. A pan of something sat on the iron coils, and whatever it was had Midoriya practically drooling from the smell alone. His stomach growled again, louder this time, and his face burned when Yaoyorozu looked over her shoulder.
"Oh, you're awake," she said. He nodded, his gaze skirting to the floor. There was a rustle, and the sound of metal clanking against metal. "You're welcome to sit," she said, "breakfast will be ready soon."
Midoriya shuffled to one of the plush chairs, carefully lowering himself onto the cushion. It bounced as he sat. The chair was soft, the fabric velvet. He idly ran his hands on the armrest, admiring the sensation under his fingers. It was older, the velvet worn off on the edges here and there. Midoriya snuck a glance over his shoulder at Yaoyorozu, who had busied herself at the stove, stirring up whatever it was that she was cooking. Silence stretched between them, and Midoriya didn't know how to fill it. So he stared at the colorful rug underfoot, admiring the swirling patterns as he waited for food to be served.
It wasn't long for the aromas of good food to rouse the rest of the house's inhabitants. Soon after Midoriya had sat down, Hadou shuffled into the room and plopped down on the chair beside him, offering a mumbled, "Good mornin'," before seeming to snooze in her perch against the pink cushions. Uraraka was the last to rise, smiling with bleary, sleepy eyes and waving halfheartedly at him while stifling a yawn. She chose to sit on the floor, arms splayed out behind her and her shift pooling around her thighs and onto the hardwood. Midoriya averted his gaze, face hot. Nope, he was not about to stare at Uraraka's thighs. No indeed.
Breakfast was served with little fanfare, Yaoyorozu handing out little ceramic plates piled high with all sorts of mouth-watering goods. Thick slabs of fried meat, chunks of warm, steaming bread topped with a slice of melting cheese. Eggs with golden, runny yolk filled the rest of the space, and Midoriya tucked in with gusto. As the food hit his taste buds, Midoriya couldn't help the small moan that spilled unbidden from his lips. Three pairs of eyes looked at him, and he felt his face burn hot. "S-so-sorry," he mumbled. Uraraka smiled up at him from her place on the floor.
"It's okay," she said. "Momo's a pretty good cook."
Hadou hummed, swallowing down a mouthful of bread. "Yeah, there's a reason Ochako and I don't cook much." She snorted, taking a swig of the cream Yaoyorozu had poured them all. "The last time I let Ochako near the stove, she almost burnt the building down."
Uraraka squeaked, her face flushed darker than usual. "I did not!" she cried. Yaoyorozu snickered, trying valiantly to hide her laugh behind her hand.
"You nearly did."
"Momo!" The pout on Uraraka's face was adorable. Terribly so. Midoriya couldn't stop the fluttering in his stomach if he tried. She leaned forward, pointing an indignant finger at a bemused Yaoyorozu. "You're supposed to be on my side!"
She shrugged, giggles wracking her body. "Sorry, Ochako, but it's the truth." Yaoyorozu sombered almost immediately, before rising with a grace that had Midoriya blinking in mild awe. "Today we really need to tackle all those deliveries. We are very behind now, since you two have been gone for over a week on that excursion of yours."
Hadou huffed, stuffing more food into her mouth. "Ish too earwy fuh you tah be biffin' about ordersh," she said, crumbs and grease spilling from her mouth. She swallowed and swiped a hand across her chin. "Besides, we really needed to restock; you know that."
Yaoyorozu sighed, rolling her eyes before turning to whisk her plate back to the counter. "Yes, I am aware. Still, as I was left alone at the shop, it was impossible to keep up, since business has been rising. Hence, we are behind."
The silence that settled was sudden, and Midoriya didn't know what to do with it. He took in the nonchalance in Hadou's slouched shoulders, the contemplative look in the furrow of Uraraka's brow. And the imposing stare of Yaoyorozu, as she leaned against the counter by the stove, plush lips turned down in a frown. He returned his gaze to his nearly empty plate, picking at the soft bread still left there.
"Well," Uraraka said, "I was hoping to show Deku around the city a bit. But…" She tapped a finger against her chin. "I suppose we could knock out both at the same time. Then we can carry more, too."
Midoriya's breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't help it when his gaze jerked back to Yaoyorozu. Her frown was deeper, and she peered between the two of them with a thoughtful look. There was a dark glimmer there in those steel colored eyes, something that had Midoriya looking away and sinking lower in his seat.
"Hmm. I suppose, so long as he isn't going to be a distraction."
He sunk lower, thorns squeezing his chest.
"Don't be so harsh, Momo," Hadou snapped. The sudden outburst exploded forth like a burst of heat. The room fell silent, everyone staring. Hadou glared at Yaoyorozu, expression cloudy. The strangest thing, though, was the sudden wind roughly combing Midoriya's hair. It rattled through the room, clawing at hair, clothes, and the dishes hanging on the drying rack. Hadou pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The wind died immediately, gone as quickly as it appeared. "Sorry, I shouldn't be snappish. But, you should also mind your manners. Deku is a guest with us, right, Ochako?"
Uraraka blinked, eyes wide, before nodding.
"Right." Hadou rose, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "So, I will help you with filling orders, Ochako and our new guest will deliver the orders that are filled." She crossed over to the counter and set her dishes down, humming to herself before whisking back down the hall to her room. Uraraka rose next, smiling her gentle smile.
"Well, we need to get ready if we're gonna deliver all those orders." She offered a hand. Midoriya found himself smiling back and taking her hand gratefully.
"Thanks," he murmured. Uraraka beamed.
As they put up their dishes and departed down the hall, Midoriya could feel Yaoyorozu's cutting gaze lingering on his shoulders, watching, questioning. He shivered, stepping quicker to the sanctity of his room.
~#~#~#~
Midoriya shifted in place. He stood in the living space, staring at the high ceiling as he waited. It hadn't taken long to prepare for the day; a quick scrub down and rinse off and he was ready to go. It felt nice to be clean, for the most part. He frowned down at his ratted, dusty trousers and borrowed cloak. Well, mostly clean. He wondered if it were possible to trade for some materials to make new clothes. Midoriya wasn't particularly great with sewing, but he knew roughly how to fashion a pair of trousers. It was one of the few domestic things his mother insisted on showing him.
"You can't always rely on others," his mother always said. "This is something that can be useful for you to know."
Of course, without the means to make trousers, he was left with what he had.
"You ready?" Uraraka's voice drew Midoriya from his thoughts, and he blinked at her bouncing form, only to freeze. A soft, pastel dress that fell below her knees matched the rosiness of her cheeks. The sleeves were wide, flaring out at the elbow and fluttering as Uraraka swung her arms back and forth. He found himself blushing. It was a simple dress, but she looked stunning and put together, and he...well. Midoriya shuffled his feet.
"Y-yeah."
"Come on, then!" she chirped, clasping his arm and dragging him over to the trapdoor. With a powerful tug, Uraraka threw the heavy door open, revealing the ladder down below. She dropped and descended before Midoriya could even draw a breath, leaving him staring wide-eyed. He shook himself. Getting distracted like that was definitely not going to help him out at all. Midoriya sucked in a breath and descended the ladder after her, hopping down into the store room of the little shop.
When his gaze found her, she was scanning over a stack of parchment with furrowed brows. He watched as she hummed and sat the stack onto a rickety little table, her gaze finding his. She beamed, then. "Here." Uraraka snatched something hanging off a hook next to the doorway and thrust it at him- a satchel, by the look of it. It was similar to the packs they had on the return trip to the city, just bigger, with a wider central pocket. Midoriya took it and watched as Uraraka scurried about. "So, as you can see we're about overflowing here." She paused, yanking out a crate. His brows furrowed as she pulled the strangely shaped bottles and vials from the crate. Some were long and spindly, others fat and round- all filled with strange substances that ranged in viscosity. Where one bottle had something loose and liquidy, like water, others had something thick and almost solid, like tar. The vials' contents all ranged in color too- bright oranges, yellows, reds, to cooler colors like blues and greens. Midoriya leaned in close, eyes wide with awe. Uraraka then produced a roll of burlap and a knife, slicing squares large enough to bundle tightly around the glass wares to protect them. "We make anything from charms to potions, and right now is our busy season."
Midoriya blinked. "Really?"
Uraraka laughed, arms full. "I know, right? Who knew there was a season for potions." It was a strange concept. What made people more prone to ordering magical potions now, as opposed to next month? Midoriya chewed his lip, scrutinizing the air as Uraraka placed the vials into the satchel one at a time. Perhaps it had to do with the impending onset of winter? Winter as a season was harsh, unforgiving. It ushered in an era of desolateness, the cold and ice as relentless as it was deadly. It wasn't unreasonable for people to be more afraid, and therefore more likely to buy into the potion business, then. Right?
Minutes later, and the two were stepping out of the musty storage space and into the main body of the shop. Between them, they carried two satchels, both stuffed to the brim with various magical orders. Midoriya sniffled, suppressing the urge to sneeze. Ugh. Dust was the worst. He rubbed a bit at his nose, trailing behind Uraraka.
Inside the shop, things were quiet. A few customers crowded the desk where Yaoyorozu sat, dark hair tied in a high pony and white blouse crisp and bright against the cool shadows. Their voices were a low murmur in the background, and the two of them didn't stop to chat with anyone inside, instead stepping out into the warm, sunlit street. Out here, the din from the city clashed together in a chaotic harmony. Shouts from neighbors greeting each other in the street, the click-clack of hooves against the cobblestones underfoot, shrieks from kids running about, playing their games, among other noises all melding together and ringing in Midoriya's ears. He looked to Uraraka, who rocked onto the balls of her feet. "Let's go."
A sharp right turn, and past the many stone buildings they went. Uraraka marched like a woman on a mission, striding with an almost graceful bound that was surprisingly difficult to keep up with. Midoriya found himself scurrying after her, breath falling from his lips in hurried puffs of air. He clasped the leather strap of the satchel so tight that his fingers started to tingle a bit.
"So, the city is sort of situated like a giant rectangle," Uraraka said over her shoulder. "If you ever get lost, just try to look for the wall's battlements and work your way inward. That should help you figure out what street you're on." They ducked down another street, the ever imposing wall looming overhead. Midoriya could see why it made a good point of reference; it was high enough to be visible above the rooftops of the houses and shops. Providing protection and a sense of security, its shadow was like a comfortable blanket. Midoriya wondered what it was like, though, to stand atop the wall. Would everything look as small as it did while flying?
Uraraka drew to a stop. She rifled through her satchel, pulling out one of the carefully wrapped bundles. "Okay, first stop. The Kobayashi residence." She jerked her head at the doorway in front of them. The building looked the same as all the other buildings here in the city; worn grey stone, with soft vines creeping up the walls. There were three steps leading up to a wooden door with a shiny and polished copper knocker. Uraraka closed her satchel, balancing the burlap wrapped vial in her free hand. "See, each of these is labelled by who ordered it." She leaned close and Midoriya sucked in a breath, butterflies beating around his stomach like mad. He watched as she pulled free a little piece of parchment from within the burlap. Smudges of something was written on it. Presumably the address or customer information. "See?" Uraraka said. Midoriya nodded, sheepish.
"Uh, I guess so." He was too embarrassed to admit he couldn't read it, and Uraraka didn't seem to notice. Instead, she darted up the steps and grabbed the knocker, banging it rapidly against the door. There was a pause, then the sound of footsteps. Midoriya could hear the scrape of metal- a latch, maybe- and the door creaked open, revealing a young boy, no older than ten. He peered out the door with curious eyes, glancing between himself and Uraraka and back again.
Uraraka leaned a bit, her smile as bright as ever. "Hi!" she chirped. "Is any of your parents home?"
The boy hesitated. Uraraka showed the package balanced delicately in her hands. "Your parents ordered a charm, see?" She beamed, impossibly brighter, and the boy's eyes grew wide. He disappeared back inside, and moments later an adult woman with mousy hair appeared.
"Yes?"
Uraraka curtseyed. "I have a delivery for the Kabayashi residence. A fortune charm."
There was an exchange; the woman produced coins from the folds of her skirts, and Uraraka carefully counted the silver before pocketting it and handing off the vial. She curtseyed again and bounced down the steps, the door shutting behind her. Uraraka beamed at Midoriya then, and he had to duck lest he be blinded. "Ready for the next one?" she asked.
"Sure."
Thus they continued, hopping from street to street, delivering charms and potions alike. Despite Ochako's many gentle reassurances, Midoriya still felt as though the many crisscrossing alleyways and cobblestone streets created a labyrinth, and it wasn't long before his head was spinning and every street looked the same as the last. He stuck to Uraraka like glue, gaze focused on the flashes of her soles as they marched. More and more people seemed to appear, milling about. He brushed past the locals, hardly looking at them for fear of their piercing and questioning gazes. Midoriya had no desire to draw attention to himself. He kept his chin tucked, gaze locked on the soles of Uraraka's boots, trying desperately to keep up without knocking into anyone. The density of people seemed to increase by the passing moment, and at one point, Midoriya's shoulder thumped against that of a passerby, making him stumble and his gaze fly up from the ground. He opened his mouth to stutter an apology, but the feel of a warm hand enclosing his wrist wrenched his attention, and Midoriya found himself staring into the earthy gaze of Uraraka. "You okay?" she asked, voice soft. He gulped, dipping his head in a nod.
They were now in what seemed to be the thick of the market. Shops lined the streets, some with awnings and wares on the doorsteps of the buildings. People milled about, peeking in windows or at displays. Voices rose and fell as merchants haggled with potential buyers. It was busy here, and Midoriya found himself gravitating closer to Uraraka. She turned, a grin wide and bright. "Come on," she said, clasping at his wrist and tugging. Midoriya let himself be led through the crowd to a shop at the end of the street. A sign hung over the doorway, the script on it loopy and clean. There was a small window with no display; an oddity, in this part of town. Uraraka pushed through the heavy wooden door, leading them inside.
Midoriya squinted against the change in light. There was a splash of sunlight flowing in from the small window, mixing with some soft lamplight from the gas laps fixed to the walls. It was quite jarring compared to the bright sunlight outside, and Midoriya nearly stumbled into Uraraka when she stopped in the threshold. "Hakamata?" she said.
"I'd tell you to come in, but it appears you've already welcomed yourselves," a voice answered. Uraraka chuckled lightly, though her shoulders were stiff and posture hunched. Midoriya peered over her shoulder. There, in the middle of the shop, stood two men. One was tall, slender, with golden hair falling in wisps over his forehead. He hovered near the other, sticking something into the droopy fabric of the larger man's sleeves.
"Sorry," Uraraka said, "we're just here to drop off your delivery."
Midoriya's gaze wandered. The shop was small; little more than a tiny boxed room. To the side of the men sat a polished mirror, the rotund man gazing into it with such disinterest Midoriya wondered if he was drifting off into a snooze. Behind them was a countertop made of polished oak, which had what appeared to be a kit of some sort. Various tools Midoriya had never seen before practically spilled right out of it. He could see something that resembled sheep shears, and was that yarn of some sort? If it was yarn, it was the thinnest he'd ever laid eyes on.
Beside the countertop were strange torsos, with fabric draped over them. There was a shelf across the way stacked high with rolls and rolls of different fabrics, of all sorts of colors. Beneath the shelf was a strange table, with iron legs that molded together at the bottom with- what was that, a pedal? The table had a box-lid-thing, that was open, and inside was a machine unlike any Midoriya had ever seen. Polished metal, with some sort of needle poking out of it. There was an oil lamp hanging on the wall beside it, lit and flickering, and a little plush stool set right in front.
"There," Hakamata said. He pulled back, arms disappearing to fold behind him. "How does it look?"
The round man scrutinized his reflection in the mirror, nodding slowly. "Good, good. This fit works, I think. Thank you, Hakamata-kun."
Hakamata inclined his head in a bow. "Of course. And I hope your trade isn't affected by the, ah, monsters, in the future."
Midoriya's breath hitched. Monsters? Here? A tremor ran down his spine, and he shrunk back behind Uraraka. The round man merely grumbled, reaching into his coat and producing a small, jingling sack. He handed it off to Hakamata and trundled away, shoving past Uraraka and Midoriya with hardly a glance. Hakamata pocketed the bag, before finally turning his attention to the two of them.
"Hello, Uraraka-san. How is business, these days?"
Uraraka stood a bit straighter. "Good! Very good. Hadou-san and I just got back from a foraging mission yesterday and we're already overflowing with new orders."
Hakamata dipped his head. "Well, you two are getting to be well known around these parts. I do recommend your shop to my customers, as well."
"Th-thank you, sir!"
"It is of no consequence, I assure you." Hakamata pulled the jingling bag from within his coat, brow raised. "You said you had my order, yes?"
Uraraka flinched, tearing her knapsack open and rifling through it. "Um, yes. Here it is!" She pulled out a burlap wrapped glass vial, holding it out towards Hakamata with a rigid posture. He plucked it delicately from her grasp, brows pulled together as he scrutinized the small package.
"Excellent. And how much do I owe you?"
In front of him, Uraraka shifted in place. Her shoulders were taught, and Midoriya could see the way she fiddled with her knapsack's strap. "Erm," she said, "I was sort of wondering if we could do a, um, different form of payment."
At this, Hakamata raised a brow. "Oh? And what would that be?"
Uraraka hesitated. She turned, her gaze meeting Midoriya's for a brief moment before she lurched forward. Midoriya was frozen in place. He watched with wide eyes as Uraraka stepped into the shop owner's space and rocked up onto her toes, whispering in his ear. Hakamata's stare turned to him, then, and Midoriya felt his face burn under the scrutiny. He shuffled his feet, tugging lightly on Uraraka's too short cloak. Were they speaking about him? But...why? Midoriya chewed on his lip, his thoughts swirling. Surely, it wasn't something bad, right? Uraraka had said something about different payment...He frowned, confusion muddling his thoughts. Midoriya didn't have long to dwell, however.
"Hmm...I see," Hakamata said, voice low. "You are aware that my services are highly regarded and sought after, yes? I could charge you more than just a mere charm."
Those ochre eyes of hers were lit with a determination Midoriya was beginning to associate with the young witch girl. "I could argue that my services are just as sought after; we do serve the king himself, after all."
There was a pause, a stalemate. Uraraka and Hakamata stared each other down, and the tension in the room sparked hot. The air was so still, it was suffocating. Midoriya hardly dared to breathe. His gaze flickered between them, fingers numb from how tightly he gripped the strap of his knapsack. A bead of sweat tracked down the back of his neck, sending a shiver down Midoriya's spine. For a moment, Midoriya feared Hakamata would kick them out. His eyes were like steel, his lips pulled into a taut frown. He stared down at Uraraka with such distaste; surely, they'd never be allowed inside this shop again. But then with a burdened sigh, the tension was blown from the room. Suddenly, it wasn't so stuffy anymore. Hakamata inclined his head in a shallow bow. "Very well." He turned to Midoriya. "Come here."
Midoriya blinked. He looked nervously at Uraraka, who beamed at him. She nodded, eyes gentle and warm. Oh. Okay. Midoriya squared his shoulders and stepped closer to Hakamata. He grasped Midoriya's shoulders with his slender hands, a sensation that made Midoriya start, and half dragged him, half guided him to stand in front of the mirror in the center of the shop. "Stay still," Hakamata said, voice curt. Midoriya gulped and nodded. He stood stock still, gaze locked with his reflection. In the mirror, Uraraka appeared beside him. She reached for his knapsack, pulling it off his shoulder with a gentle tug.
"I'll be back in a bit," she murmured. "I'm just gonna deliver around the block." And then she was gone, leaving Midoriya alone with Hakamata. He leveled Midoriya with another cold stare, the edges of his lips tilted up in an intimidating smile.
"Let's get started, shall we?"
Midoriya gulped.
~#~#~#~
A few hours later, and Midoriya was stepping out of the shop in a daze. Uraraka's cloak was folded up in his arms and he hugged it to his chest, looking about at the busy goings on of the street. When he hugged the cloak tighter, the strange sensation of cloth tightening around his arms and shoulders sent a pang of panic through his chest, and Midoriya loosened his grasp on the cloak to fiddle with the hem of his new shirt.
A new shirt. Just made by Hakamata, one of the best tailors in the kingdom, apparently. And Uraraka had convinced him to make it for Midoriya. To wear. He felt...different, somehow. The cotton material was foreign to Midoriya, as they never really had clothes made out of such fabrics back at home. And yet, for the first time since entering the city, he actually felt as though he fit in. People's stares didn't stick to him. Sure, his pants and boots were still stained and dirty, but now he was more or less dressed the same as the rest of the villagers.
"Deku!"
Uraraka's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and she bound up to him from the sea of people, a wide grin stretched on her lips. She skidded to a halt right in front of him, bags bouncing at her sides. Her lips pursed as she looked him up and down. Uraraka's eyes gleamed, and a satisfied grin warmed her features. She nodded, almost to herself. "Lookin' good," she said. Her gaze flickered to his, and Midoriya felt his heart stutter in his chest. "How do you like it?" Uraraka asked.
"Guh-good. It uh, it's different than I'm used to." He tugged again at the hem. The shirt was 'collared', as Hakamata had called it, with a deep v that could be laced up if he desired. The sleeves were long and cuffed, though currently Hakamata had rolled them up to his elbows, for a 'more refined look'. Midoriya wasn't sure exactly what that had meant. He just knew that it was a new shirt and yet another gift that Uraraka had provided for him, and he was now even more indebted to her and Hadou.
"Well, I think it looks good on you," Uraraka said, chin tucked and hair falling in her face. Midoriya's face heated and he dropped his gaze to the ground, fearful that if he didn't visualize the stone beneath his feet he'd start floating.
There was an awkward beat where Midoriya didn't know what to say. He chewed his lip, raising his chin just enough to see Uraraka through his lashes, his heart stuttering once more in his chest. Gods, she was pretty. The sun gleamed in her hair and warmed her rosy cheeks, and the soft look in her eyes made Midoriya fearful he was melting. Was it possible for limbs to melt by merely a glance? He wasn't sure. But given how many more possibilities magic wielded, it was certainly possible. Uraraka cleared her throat. "Um, I uh, managed to deliver most of the charms and potions while you were with Hakamata-sensei. We just have one last quadrant." She inclined her head. "Come on, I'll show you." Like that, she flounced off, leaving Midoriya blinking after her. Wait. She was gone. Walking away into the crowd…
"Wait! Uraraka-san!" he yelped, stumbling after her. But it seemed she didn't hear his cry, for she kept going. It was loud, too; the shops were busy and people were everywhere. Midoriya tried to catch up, he really did, but he couldn't even breathe without someone stepping into his path. His eyes strained as he tried in vain to keep Uraraka in his line of sight. Only, his shoulder kept thumping into someone, or he tread on a nice lady's foot, or a gaggle of shrieking kids nearly tripped him, and oh. Oh no. Midoriya felt the blood drain from his face as he whipped his head around. "Uraraka?" he yelped. She didn't answer. The crowd around him had swallowed her whole. Panic rolled in Midoriya's stomach, and the crowd around him started to spin a bit. Oh gods, he was alone. Where was he again? He frantically turned about, trying to locate some distinguishing feature. Uraraka had said the wall should be his guide, right? But how was he supposed to use a wall? He trembled, eyes burning with unshed tears. He was going to be mugged and killed and left to rot in the gutter and no one would ever know what happened to him, and how was he supposed to repay his debts if he was dead? Was he going to be trapped here as a ghost, forever cursed to haunt the streets as reparation for his unpaid debts?
Someone bowled into him, sending Midoriya fumbling to remain on his feet. "S-sorry!" he said, but no one seemed to hear him. He sucked in a breath. And another. He was fine. This was fine. He just...had to find his way to a street he remembered. How hard could that be? Midoriya squared his shoulders. He could do this.
To his right, were more shops. That was the way he and Uraraka had come from. She was leading him to the left, which meant if he went that way, there was a chance he could run into her. Midoriya chewed on his lip. Perhaps he could just walk that way for a bit, and see if he found her. Surely, she'd realize he wasn't beside her. Right?
Anxiety crawled under his skin, and Midoriya shoved that thought away with a shake. No, focus. He steeled himself and started in the direction he'd last seen his friend, senses wired on overdrive. Every flash of brown hair or pink cloth had Midoriya whipping around. Yet none yielded the missing witch-girl he was looking almost desperately for. He turned down the next street, gaze bouncing about. This one was wider; a main street, perhaps? Midoriya chewed on his lip as he looked around the crowd. Where could she have gone? And where was he, exactly? Should he ask for help? He stood in the middle of the street, mind racing a mile a minute as he weighed his options. If he asked around for help, someone could possibly point him back to the shop. That, or he could wander aimlessly around the city and get more and more lost. He tapped his chin, brow furrowed. It was in this state that a young boy bowled right into Midoriya, sending him into a sprawling heap on the ground.
Midoriya groaned. Ow. He pulled himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his head.
"Oh, no, oh, no!" The voice, airy and strained, pulled Midoriya from his daze, and he watched with wide eyes as the boy scrambled on his hands and knees, reaching for a scroll that had rolled a stone's throw away. He was young, with tousled hair and ruddy features, yet dressed in clothes well made and unstained. Midoriya caught the flash of a golden insignia woven onto his vest, before he lurched forward and snatched up the scroll. The boy clutched it to his chest, shoulders slumping, before he whipped around and tossed Midoriya a glare. "Watch it, dummy!" Before Midoriya could even process what had happened, the boy was on his feet and running again, disappearing into the crowd.
Huh. That was odd. He hauled himself to his feet and grimaced down at himself. Smudges of dust were smeared onto his new tunic. Great. Just, great. He dusted it off, grumbling all the while. It figured he'd get lost and mess up his first gift, all in the first day at his new home.
"Deku!"
That voice had his heart leaping to his chest, and Midoriya whirled around to see Uraraka dashing up to him. "Uraraka!" he cried, tears of relief burning in his eyes. Oh, thank the gods, he wouldn't have to sleep in an alleyway tonight-
His thoughts were pulled to a screeching halt when Uraraka threw herself onto him, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as she squeezed him in the warmest, tightest embrace he'd ever had in his life. Midoriya wheezed, face aflame. She was hugging him. Uraraka was hugging him. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and Uraraka pulled away all too soon. Her hands clasped his arms, gaze brimming with warmth and tears. "Deku, oh, gods! I'm so sorry, are you okay? I can't believe I lost you, I should have known better than to hurry off like that. Gods, I just turned around and you weren't there, and I freaked out; I think I scared everyone down the whole block when I started screaming. I'm so, so sorry! Oh, I'm the worst ever, please forgive me, Deku, I-"
He cut off her rambling by bringing hesitant hands to clasp her arms and give them a squeeze. "I'm okay," he said, voice wobbling. "Really."
Uraraka blinked. Her cheeks seemed to grow a bit pinker, but Midoriya was certain he was just imagining it. She nodded, smiling. "Okay. Okay, that's enough excitement for one day, yeah?"
Midoriya stifled a laugh. "Yeah."
They dropped their hands, and Uraraka inclined her head. "Come on. Let's finish up these last few deliveries and go home." Her hand slipped in his this time, and she tugged him along.
...surprise? XD Lol, I have no explanation aside from life being insane and writing being hard sometimes. And also, a few certain friends of mine harassing me with love to get my butt back in gear so. Here we are, at last! Thanks for reading!
-Kat