9

"It'd be bad luck if you tripped, right?"

The boy looks up at her, beet red cheeks clashing with his freckles. "Oh—um—" he looks away immediately, his eyes as flighty as the rest of his body. Ochako releases her Quirk on him and he proceeds to nearly trip all over again from having his center of gravity restored.

Gathering himself together by sheer willpower, the boy somehow manages to find his voice. "You're welcome," he tells her. He pauses to blush even redder the moment he realizes what he just said. "I mean, I'm fine. I mean, thank you—because you're the one who—and I was—and I—"

So cute. Like it's his first time talking to a girl.

"Well, good luck, yeah?" she says cheerfully, cutting off his stupid blubbering. "See ya!"

The boy sputters, fighting for his life to vocalize any sort of response resembling human words and loses miserably. Ochako turns on her heels and walks away, generously preventing the boy from embarrassing himself even further, because she is such a nice girl and also the most understanding person in the world and she should be given the Nobel Prize Award for this single altruistic act alone.

The UA compound is huge—larger and fancier than any building she has stepped herself into. Marble-floored, high-ceiling, AC on full. There must be thousands of kids in this hall, and Ochako is one of the many wide-eyed youngins tripping over themselves in pursuit of justice, fame, hopefully the free government insurance that comes with being a Pro-Hero and, of course, the extra commissions as well. If you are very good at it, risking your life for the stability of society on the daily can pay quite well. A totally equivalent exchange.

She sits primly in her seat—signed with her exam ID 7154—as the Pro-Hero Present Mic on stage proceeds to explain how the entrance exam works. She had thought it would go something like putting all the candidates into one room and having them beat each other up, but nooo, they're supposed to fight some robots, apparently.

Ochako shrugs. Eh, sure.

The entrance exam will begin in a few minutes. Ochako has never felt nervous in her whole life, and today, that still will not change.

She remembers the first time she had performed on a stage. It was a ballet recital in third grade. Another girl whose name she can no longer remember was crying and throwing up just ten minutes before they got on. She was pretty bad at throwing up, too—it took her such a long time to get it all out. Being the good child she was, Ochako helped her out by sticking her finger down the girl's throat to help her finish puking.

Weirdly enough, the girl still wouldn't get on the stage after that. She wouldn't talk to Ochako after that either. In fact, she would always run when she saw Ochako in the hallways. Ochako learned a valuable lesson from that incident: people love to make things harder for themselves. They're funny like that.

Well. No one is really puking right now, as far as she can see, but Ochako has learned to read social cues a long time ago and she can recognize the tension building up in the air. Tension and excitement, like everyone simply can't wait to blow these robots up. Some of these kids are equipped pretty well—walking around with suits and the like. Dressed up like real Heroes. Some even come here bringing weapons—support items, or whatever it is they're called. Cool, shiny gadgets. Like real Heroes.

Must be nice to have money backing you up in this Quirk pissing contest. That's okay. She doesn't hold it against them. We were all born with our advantages—like having rich parents to help us get into our favorite Hero school so we can just be exactly like All Might, please, Mom? I promise I'll eat all my veggies.

Oh, look—there is that boy again, the one who tripped and looked at her like she was an angel descending from the sky. Now that is a guy who looks like he is going to puke, green as he is. Poor guy. He catches her gaze—surprise coloring his features, and then recognition, and then bashfulness. The boy gives her a cute hesitant little wave.

Ochako looks away, disinterested.

The exam begins.

The exam arena is a span of an artificial city—constructed of real buildings, Ochako checked, not styrofoam-made; if one of these fell on top of her she would die. The street is in severe chaos not a minute after the exam started, kids trampling each other to get to their grubby little hands on the killer robots whose death will bring them closer to their dream of becoming just like All Might. Everything and everyone is all over the place. Things are being blown up.

Ochako considers her situation.

The robots are both smaller and bigger than she had expected. She'll have to destroy them, somehow. Whatever. She'll deal with it, or maybe she'll fail. More importantly, she thinks that this is a pretty exciting situation. Ochako has never seen kids her age act this crazy before. She watches with burgeoning interest as people kick and punch and Quirk their way into killing the robots and/or preventing each other from killing said robots. It's sort of funny.

Well. Kicking and punching the robot is out of the question for Ochako because that seems a) stupid, and b) like it requires a lot of effort to do, on top of being stupid. She needs to get close to touch the robots and let gravity do the rest, so she needs to get into close-range … huh. Okay. That's a lot of effort as well. Ochako isn't sure if she feels like doing all of that.

But, wait. Idea. She just needs to use objects around her as ammunition. Boom boom, right? That's quite simple. And the nearest object around her is—

"Get your fucking hands off me."

She takes her hand off his shoulder, pinky finger still raised. "Sorry," Ochako says, a soft simper. "It's just, it's just so scary."

The boy is unsympathetic, glaring back at her in something that looks like disgust at her apparent fear of being shot to death by robots. "Fuck off," he spits at her, his hands still smoking from the power of his Quirk. No longer caring about her existence, he's off to destroy another bot coming from the end of the street. Ochako stares after him.

No, Ochako decides. People wouldn't make good ammunition. Their bodies are too low in mass—she would have to increase velocity if she wants them to dent the bots enough to do real damage, which would be a whole thing.

Well, whatever. A bot is rising from the alleyway—how convenient. Ochako runs towards it, her right hand caressing the wall of the nearest building. Concrete falls from the sky and dust clouds erupt in the alley in soft shrapnels. Boom boom.

Yep, she thinks, tilting her head at the remains of what once was an artisan, lovingly made ¥ 3,751,405 piece of perfectly functioning giant killer robot. That's one.

She looks back behind her shoulders. That blonde—the boy who told her to fuck off—had destroyed half a dozen robots in the past, what, two minutes? She has to get at least two, three times that. Aim for bigger robots—the three-pointers. Preferably the ones who are being engaged by other Examinees to give the bots something to shoot at while she dismantles them apart.

She puts her idea into practice, and what do you know—it actually isn't all that hard. Smooth-sailing, really, just like everything else in her life. The metal relents easy under her Quirk, helpless in zero gravity. Within no time she is getting bored again with this whole exam thing.

Is UA just going to be like this the whole time? That's a bit of a letdown.

"You saved me," the girl says. "Thanks! That was seriously too close."

Ochako just took her kill, used her as a shield, and got all of her points—and now she's thanking her? People are so strange sometimes. "Gosh," Ochako says with what she thinks sounds like concern. "Are you okay? Can you stand?"

The girl stands up, stumbling a little. Her knees are scraped; the blood a stark shade of red against her pink skin. The robot didn't manage to get her, but she had kept it busy enough for Ochako to sneak behind it—the two-pointer is now smoking behind them, having suffered a five meters fall from the sky.

She sounds cheerful enough despite her situation. "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me!"

Ochako doesn't understand the concept of worrying if her life is flashing before her eyes. "Are you sure?" she says. The exam is ending soon—real soon. Ochako counts her score in her head. Could she pass the test with just forty points, she wonders?

"Yeah! I'm Ashido Mina, but you can call me Mina," the girl beams at her, toothy and pretty. "What's your n—shit, watch out!"

Just like most people, Ochako doesn't enjoy pain. Mostly she thinks being in pain is pretty boring. But sometimes a new kind of pain can add spice and variety to the great monotonous routine of life. Like now.

It all takes her by surprise. One moment she's standing and the next she's buried in the rubble. Her legs are a flash of red, hot pain. Ochako blinks. Dust enters her lungs, and distantly, she hears the ear-ripping sound of something huge and heavy falling apart in a thunderous bang.

She looks up. Above her, comically humongous at fifteen-meter height, is a zero-pointer robot ready to stamp her flat.

There are screams all around her, the noisy sound of kids running for their lives. Ochako feels blood trickle down her forehead, sticky and warm. Her life, Ochako realizes distantly, is in danger.

Huh.

Isn't that something?

Ochako considers her situation.

She can get these rubbles off her and escape. Her legs are fucked, though, so she has to use her Quirk on herself afterward. She'd rather not—she hates using her Quirk on herself, the nausea is annoying. But if she wants to live, that's what she has to do, because that giant fucking robot is going to trample her soon enough, and that would be a pretty ugly way to die. Closed casket funeral definitely. She can imagine the headlines: Tragic Accident at UA Entrance Exam. A life lost too soon, they would perhaps say. She would be referred to as Child A.

That's a little interesting. Maybe UA will be fucked after.

Or not. Maybe kids have always been dying in UA entrance exams. Or maybe her parents will have UA sued—how about that? They could use the money to get a new house. Maybe even a car. Isn't that something? Maybe after Ochako's death they'll even have another child, and that child will perhaps live a richer life what with a bigger house and a car, but tragically, they will never live up to the memory of Ochako, who is totally a much better kid to have. The child will go, you always compare me to my idiot dead sister, who died stupidly in the UA entrance exam for no reason! I hate you! And then kill themself.

Or something. This train of thought is getting away from her. Wait—ah! Nevermind, her parents can't sue UA. There was that form that they signed for Ochako's admission to the entrance exam, and one of the clauses was something along the lines of, you can't sue UA if your child stupidly dies trying to get into UA. Crazy!

That sure blows, doesn't it? Now back to the robot situation.

The robot moves, its metal creaking heavily, and the ground shakes with it. Death looms on her, figuratively and literally, and Ochako thinks—she thinks that—

She thinks that she is glad she came to this entrance exam, because this is the most interesting thing that's ever happened to her yet.

Ochako considers her situation.

Should she die right now?

She puts her hands on the ground, pinkies raised—a well-practiced habit. The cement is rough and warm underneath her palm, trembling with the force of the bot's weight.

Or should she end the world?

She considers the pros and cons.

Ochako knows her parents well. They wouldn't have another child, really. If she dies here, they would die too, because they would immediately kill themselves. Her mom first—and then her dad following after, because while he could handle the loss of his only daughter, the loss of his wife would be too much for him to bear. Even if they do sue UA that insurance money would go to waste, what with the whole double suicide situation.

Ochako doesn't have a strong opinion about most things, but she is a staunch believer in not wasting perfectly good insurance money.

So, the end of the world it is.

She puts her pinkies down.

(Ten.)

It's immediate, the connection. Immediate and overwhelming in the worst sense of the word, to have the world in the palm of her hand. (Nine.) To cradle mass. To cradle fate, and life, and—should she be willing—death. (Eight.) Ochako breathes, a shudder, and the world follows, its balance just a shy touch away from being fucked over. (Seven.) Straddling a knifepoint. Everything has mass, did you know that? Everything, and mass makes matter. (Six.) To nullify gravity is to take that away.

(Five.)

To nullify gravity, Ochako has come to understand a long time ago, is to take away everything that matters.

(Four.)

And now we shall begin the countdown to the end of the world.

(Three.)

(Two.)

(On—)

"Stop!"

That's when she sees him.

A boy. That boy, the plain-looking one with the wild hair. He's looking at her, eyes fearful and panicked. And then in the next second, he's flying.

Tethered free from weight and gravity. Eyes green and Quirk blazing even greener as he soars, soars, fist aimed at the bot—

The sky explodes.

Ochako watches it all. It's beautiful. For a moment the air is red, and then burning metal rains down from the sky, like the ashes of a volcano. The boy is plummeting down, down, down, to his sure death. It's all very beautiful.

This is the most exciting thing that has happened to her yet.

Saving him is an immediate decision that she makes without a second thought. Her heart pumps in her chest, giddy, as she holds him in her arms. He groans, and then looks at her—big green eyes amidst the dirtied face, smeared by dust and oil and dirt. She can't hear herself beneath the ringing of her ears, but she says—

"Hey," Ochako says.

His mouth moves.

"Hey," he says.

She gently pulls him down back to earth, gravity curving time and space once again. She can't believe it. She smiles, and it's so real that she could laugh. She could laugh at how much it overwhelms her at the moment, this elation. The exhilaration of almost dying, almost ending the world, and of her world turning upside down. Of this stupid boy who almost blew himself to kingdom come just to save a girl he doesn't even fucking know.

It's all just so fucking funny. It's the funniest fucking thing that has ever happened to her.

The boy stares at her, more than a little out of it, seemingly surprised by what he has done. His arms and legs are a mess of red, she can see his bone jutting out from his skin, white beneath the gore. It's all so hilarious, Ochako could cry from it. For a moment she feels an enormous emotion towards this boy, an emotion that she will never know—something that could be love had Ochako have the capacity to feel anything even remotely like it. Only for this moment, and this moment alone.

Life is certainly full of surprises.

She lays him down on the rubble, her Quirk dying entirely. Nausea coils in her belly. She smiles warmly at him and tells him, "I'm going to throw up." And then she does exactly just that.

The boy isn't even mad that she's puking all over him—he lies there patiently, just generously letting himself be puked on. Ochako is a great puker, she does it all efficiently and without much fuss. When she finishes she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and beyond the dust and the rubbles, she sees the girl from before—Ashido Mina—panickingly dragging a medic and pointing in their direction.

She looks back at him. The ringing has subsided a little. "Sorry," she tells the boy, even though she really isn't, but she figures it's the normal thing to say if you've just projectiled all over somebody.

"It's okay," the boy says, which is incredibly funny at all angles.

Ochako smiles at him. "You saved me," she says.

"I—" he looks like he doesn't even know what's going on. "I. I did? I—well." He laughs a little, not directed at her but more at himself, or maybe the world. Ochako suspects he's hit his head at some point—his eyes are a little glazed. "At least I did something."

The paramedics have all arrived, separating the both of them apart. "See you in UA," Ochako says, and finds herself sort of meaning it.

"I don't know," the boy says honestly as he's strapped down the gurney. He's definitely hit his head—she can see the blood amidst the dark strands of his hair. "I didn't get to score any points."

They brought her to a medical tent to fix her up.

Ochako is crying by the time they finished with her medical examination. "Please," she sobs to the paramedics. "Please, let me talk to one of th-the exami-i-ners. Please. I need to talk to them."

It's a good and impressive cry if she could say so herself. Not too hysterical, not too dignified, just the right amount of sincere desperation as the tears roll down her face. It's a good enough performance that Present Mic himself actually does come to see her in the medic tent. He's all nervous and guiltily understanding, handing her tissues and asking someone to please can we get some tea here and maybe some cookies and everything? Gosh!

"He said h-he didn't get any p-points, so he's going to f-fail the ex—exam," Ochako cries. "All be-because he saved me. It's my fault that he's going to f-fail. How am I supposed to l-live with myself? When I'm only al-alive because of h-him!"

Present Mic seems to struggle to comfort a crying fifteen year old girl, which is a struggle well documented in the history of the human race since 14th century BC. "Rest assured, Uraraka-kun, we will judge all examiners fairly—"

"He was the o-only one who ran to my r-rescue. Nobody else did. Not even the e-examiners"—Present Mic flinches at this—"I felt so alone. I thought I was going to d-die," Ochako hiccups tearfully. "I thought All Might, All Might would save me, but All Might never c-came. I thought it was the end. I was going to d-die trying to get into UA, failing to achieve my d-dream to be a H-Hero.."

"Oh, dear," says Present Mic who looks like he really isn't getting paid enough for all this.

Ochako pauses for melancholic effect. "This morning I h-had a stupid fight with my parents.."

Present Mic sounds horrified. "No."

"I called them selfish b-because they wouldn't buy me a new phone. W-when that robot came at me I thought—oh, god, that's going to be my last word ever to my parents. Calling them selfish because they wouldn't let me have an iPhone XXI."

"Oh!" Present Mic lets out a wounded sound. "Goodness, not iPhone XXI."

"I thought—I'd like someone to at least tell my parents I love them," Ochako sobs. "I wanted someone to tell my parents I love them even if I only have iPhone XX and not iPhone XXI."

Present Mic looks devastated. "Oh, dear!"

"But that boy s-saved me. He's a Hero. He made me believe in Heroes again," she sniffles, seemingly calming down from her hysteria. "So would you p-please put in a good word for him?"

"Oh dear. Of course, absolutely," says Present Mic again, patting her shoulders in contrite sympathy. "Look, kid, I can't share with you the details of our grading system—but I can assure you that the boy's action, let's say, will be taken into consideration, and—"

Oh.

"Oh. Okay then." Ochako wipes her tears and gets down from her medical cot. "Which way is the exit, again?"

When she sees him in UA he's tripping all over himself again, blushing and stuttering like an idiot, and she feels that familiar well of something. Like she just wants to hold him in her hands so she can feel the fragility of the gravitational threads that hold him together and stretch them out to the brim.

She doesn't. "Oh my god, you're here!" Ochako says, warmly taking Midoriya Izuku's hands in hers. "You got in! Present Mic said you would, but I've been so worried. I'm so happy we wind up here together!"

The boy looks a second away from exploding again, cheeks hot. Any wounds that she saw on him from back then have healed entirely. "I—um—"

"If you're here to socialize, get the hell out," says the voice coming from a gloomy greasy sleeping-bag-cocooned homeless-looking man who turns out to be their homeroom teacher.

His name is Aizawa-sensei and he looks to be the no-nonsense kind. He has them line up and do a Quirk test to decide who's going to get kicked out on the first day, because if your Quirk sucks, what on earth are you even doing here in UA? So Ochako just watches as her new classmates show off their Quirks one by one.

Ochako remembers when everyone in her class first got their Quirks.

It was kindergarten. She remembers that there was a trending Hero anime at the time, Ice Princess, something like that—and Ochako used to beg her parents to buy her a lunchbox with the heroine's face on it, because everyone has got one too. She remembers how Quirks and Heroes were all everyone was talking about. The kids who haven't got their Quirks would stand on the sideline in deep jealousy watching the other Quirks-blessed kids play Heroes-Villains, acting out their heroic endeavors and villainous demises respectively. Ochako remembers being one of these poor Quirkless kids for quite some time.

One day, Ochako's seatmate Aisha started screaming in the middle of arts and crafts. Ochako remembers the desk toppling over, glitter spraying in the air when Aisha fell to the floor. She had crumpled on her sides, moaning and gasping, threads of silk growing out of her skin and covering her up in a cocoon within seconds. Ochako remembers the way Aisha tried to claw her way out of it, tears and blood coming out of her eyes, desperate hands reaching out of her chrysalis. She only stopped screaming when silk started coming out of her mouth too, encasing her face until all was still. Ochako remembers how Aisha came to class the next day with the most beautiful butterfly wings growing out of her back.

That very night Ochako threw a tantrum at her parents asking if she'll have a Quirk as pretty as Aisha's, or if she won't have a Quirk at all like Shiro-kun from class B who keeps having mud all over his shoe locker because he's a stupid Quirkless freak just like his mom and everybody hates his guts for it.

Ochako's Quirk came only a little after. Ochako has no recollection of how it first appeared—she only remembers snapshots of the week her Quirk first developed.

She remembers how everything felt too hot and too cold, and too little and too much. She remembers feeling a lot of things. She remembers her parents having to take her out of school for a week. She remembers lying down staring at the hospital ceiling with her arms strapped and suspended in the air. She remembers how stars inflate and deflate and how gravity felt like a marble, turning and turning in the topographical curve of time and space. She remembers how the fabric of the world stretched and folded and choked. She remembers screaming and not hearing her own voice. She remembers clawing bloody lines at her neck as she tried and failed to pull oxygen into her lungs because nothing would tether them to the atmosphere.

When the hospital released her and she could go to school again, everyone asked her what her Quirk was like. She told them it was heavy.

Ochako never threw a tantrum again after that. She never cried or complained about a single thing. Her parents always told everyone what a good girl Ochako became after she got her Quirk. As if she got an early puberty and became so much more mature for her age.

The Quirk test is basically a physical test, only that they can use their Quirk to cheat their way through it. Ochako dearly wants to play hooky because this is basically just PE class, but getting kicked out on the first day seems anticlimatic. So Ochako throws the baseball the teacher gave her and watches it fly through the stratosphere with little care and much faux humbleness.

That should be enough for her not to get kicked out. If she actually gets kicked out by the end of this, though, she'll make sure that Aizawa-sensei will be the first to go. She goes to sit down and continues to watch as other students desperately try to prove that they are deserving of UA education by throwing a baseball as far as possible.

Her UA classmates' Quirks don't interest her much. There is that boy—the blonde back at the entrance exam with the explosive, candy-scented Quirk. He had blown the baseball sky high and glared heatedly at Ochako when she beat his records by infinity. Ochako can't care less. She is starting to lose interest. If the entire school year is going to be a Quirk pissing contest, she'd rather everybody just dies now.

When Midoriya Izuku breaks his finger throwing his ball Ochako feels just a little less genocidal.

At period break the girls have decided to walk together to the cafeteria. "Heya," Mina says, coming to Ochako's desk with a toothy grin. "I didn't have the chance to talk to you before, but you're the girl who saved my life, right?"

Ashido Mina is the type of person who is popular without putting in a single effort due to her genuine extroversion and innate confidence—the latter part is especially important. Girls who have this kind of self-assured confidence lack the cruelty only insecure people have. It makes them kind, because they don't need to be mean.

"Hey," Ochako says, mirroring her smile. "Glad to see we're in one class!"

"This is awesome. Ochako-chan, right? We're basically besties for life now."

Oh, totally. "Oh, totally," Ochako says.

They all seem nice. Asui Tsuyu, Hagakure Tooru, Yaoyorozu Momo, Jirou Kyouka. With Mina and Ochako, there are six girls and fourteen boys. "There's not a lot of girls," Jirou drawls, with a passive derisiveness. "As expected."

"All the more reason for us to stick together, right? Let's show the boys up at their own game, huh?"

"They seem pretty tough," Tsuyu comments. "That Todoroki and Bakugou kid. Tokoyami and Kirishima too."

"I agree," Yaoyorozu says, a little nervously. She is the prettiest—tall like a model. "It's not going to be easy to be top of class." The way she says it makes it clear that that's exactly what she's aiming for.

Ochako has never cared about being the top of the class, but she does like getting along with people who do, especially ones who are generous in sharing their homeworks and test answers. "I'm sure you can breeze past those boys," Ochako says. "You did amazing just now, Yaoyorozu-san. Right, guys?"

"Oh, no.."

"Yeah, what are you even talking about, Yaoyorozu? Your Quirk is so OP, you can literally make anything," Jirou says, deadpan, but not unkind. "If there's anyone to watch out for, it should be you."

Yaoyorozu blushes. Despite her cool demeanor, she seems to be unexpectedly down to earth. Definitely a home-schooled kid. "Oh, I'm flattered, but Jirou-san's Quirk is.."

Ochako couldn't give less shit about this Quirk version of you're so pretty-no you're prettier-no you. This is all starting to bore her. Maybe she made a mistake coming here if all they talk about is Quirks, as if it's kindergarten all over again. Then again, it is a Hero school. What else will they be talking about if not Quirks?

Oh, no. The idea of being in UA is starting to look less and less appealing.

She should drop out. No, she should just fake a Villain attack and destroy the entire school ground and then enroll in another less annoying school. And repeat the entire process all over again, if that next school turns out to be annoying as well.

"—when Ochako's Quirk is so cool too! When the baseball throw count showed infinity? That was so crazy."

Ochako finds the other girls looking at her. "Aw, thanks," she says sheepishly, waving away the compliment. "That was all I could do! I scored really low in tracks just now.."

"How does your Quirk work exactly, Ochako-chan?" Tsuyu says, who is the kind of girl that goes by her first name on the first day. "Honestly curious."

Ochako smiles. "I negate gravity," Ochako says simply.

There is an oooh. "Damn, that's cool," Jirou says. "You can fly? Wait, can you make me fly?"

"Yep." To infinity and beyond. Travelling through the cold dark space forever in zero gravity, just like that poor baseball.

"Oh, fuck yeah."

"That is impressive," Yaoyorozu says, watching Ochako with a look of wonder. "Considering the force of gravity isn't even wholly understood yet scientifically … what would that entail, to 'negate gravity'? Such a fascinating prospect. How wide is the range of your Quirk I wonder—could you perhaps create a zero gravity field? Oh! How about time dilation, would that be possible as well for you to do?"

The other girls seem a little taken aback by Yaoyorozu's sudden talkativeness. Jirou raises a brow. "Whoa, there, Einstein."

"Sorry," Yaoyorozu says, blushing suddenly. "I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries. It just sounds like an exciting Quirk, if you don't mind me saying so."

Yaoyorozu's eyes are intelligent. Ochako smiles. "I don't really get all that physics stuff," she says. "Speaking of, how difficult do you guys think the lessons are gonna be? The written entrance exam almost killed me."

The conversation takes a turn to the curriculum. Like Ochako, Mina's grades are apparently not doing too hot either. They manage to make Yaoyorozu admit that her grades are pretty good, and she promises to tutor them if they need her too, although she's confident that they can handle themselves just fine, because with hard work and determination of course anything is possible.

So true.

Overall they all really do seem nice. Even Jirou, who'd looked unfriendly back in class, turns to be bubblier when it's just between them girls. Ochako might even be able to tolerate them for the rest of the school years.

Like the rest of the school, the cafeteria is well-furnished—clean and grand with the smell of food and air freshener wafting in the air. There is enough space here for hundreds of kids, and there are indeed hundreds of them—all engrossed in conversation with a tray of hot food sitting in front of them. Right when Ochako thinks the school can't get any fancier, she is proven wrong. What kind of cafeteria serves wagyu to its students?

Ochako is fantasizing about robbing this place when something—someone—catches her eye. "Hey guys, I need to talk to someone," Ochako says. "I'll come back to you guys in a bit."

When Ochako taps his back, Midoriya Izuku jumps in surprise and Ochako has to use her Quirk on him again so that he doesn't spill his food all over the floor. "Oh!" he looks at her, face heating up once again. "Uraraka-san! Um, sorry, I—uh—"

Ochako wants to stretch the edges of him out. Pull him this way and that and fold him like a t-shirt. "Wanna sit together?" Ochako offers, setting him gently back down. "You looked a little lost, Midoriya-kun. It's a big place, isn't it?"

Midoriya stammers some assent, mostly out of reflex, and when she brings him back to the girls' table he looks like he's going to piss himself out of fear. He goes quite literally shock-still. The girls seem fine with him though, because Midoriya looks like the kind of guy that is easy enough to push over if he tries anything funny.

He isn't. Mostly he just seems like he's trying to disappear into the floor.

"Hey, Midoriya-kun, right?" Hagakure says, beckoning him all friendly-like. "Come sit with us!"

Tsuyu waves, eating her pocky. "Hello. Call me Tsuyu."

"How's your finger?" Mina says, chewing on her wagyu. "Y'know, what you did was insane, dude. You're nuts for real."

"Yes, Midoriya-kun, how's your finger? It looked quite painful."

Midoriya seems lost again, but manages to seat himself down without further embarrassment. Now that Ochako has more time to observe him, she isn't sure if Midoriya's skittish demeanor is because he never talked to girls—judging from the way he acted the whole day, it's more like he never talked to anyone. Ochako recognizes the type. There is always one in every class. Chi-chan is an example.

"Um, it's okay," he says. His voice is so soft, like he's trying to make his presence as small as possible. "Recovery Girl fixed it."

"Whoa. It looks like it never broke at all."

"Oh, Recovery Girl," Mina sighs dreamily. "I remember seeing her on TV when I was like, five. She was so cool and so pretty."

"She was pretty hot, yeah," Jirou waves her chopsticks. "She was in that band-aid commercial, do you remember? When we were like five."

"Oh yeah, that band-aid commercial. I begged my mom to buy me a band-aid for weeks."

"Maybe I should break my finger too so I can see her. And get a band-aid."

"Breaking your finger is crazy," Tsuyu says, stating the obvious. But Tsuyu turns out to be the type of person who only knocks you down to bring you up. "You can go to the nurse's room and ask for a period pad or something."

"Naw, I don't do periods."

"Then just pretend to pass out. Easy peasy."

"Oh my god, you genius," Mina says. "Yes. I'll try that next class."

"I'll come with you," Jirou says. She seems dead serious.

Hagakure raises her hand. "Me too, me too!"

"Let's all pass out together in the next class. It's math too, so perfect timing."

"Um," Yaoyorozu says, looking a little concerned by her new friends' behavior. "What if you just meet her after school..? Normally..?"

"So, Midoriya-kun," Ochako says, turning to look at Midoriya who has been chewing his food silently. "What was she like? Was she nice?"

Midoriya seems taken aback that he is being addressed in the conversation again. "She was, uh," Midoriya pauses. "She was a bit scary … actually…"

The girls look at each other. "Awesome."

"..Yeah," Midoriya says, after another pause. "It was. Pretty awesome. She, um, fixed me twice.."

"Twice? " The girls sound jealous of Midoriya's broken bones escapades.

"Yeah. I, uh. Broke my arms. And legs," Midoriya is cringing to himself now, like he regrets bringing this up. "Back at the entrance exam."

"Wait a minute!" Mina gasps. She points at him, even though he is sitting right in front of her. Midoriya's eyes cross together looking at her chopsticks. "Oh my god. Was that you? The one who cannonballed into that giant one-pointer bot and broke their entire body? Dude!"

"Oh, I heard about this," Jirou says. She didn't seem to care much about Midoriya before, but now she is looking at him with a kind of newfound respect. "Bro."

"You were insane for that," Tsuyu says. Wisely, she adds, "I wish I could have seen it. You should do it again sometime."

Midoriya looks deeply ashamed. "Um."

"He saved my life, basically," Ochako says cheerfully. "It was so cool. Thanks again, Midoriya-kun."

"No, you—um.." He blushes hotly for the nth time. "You saved me too. Uraraka-san."

He looks like he's about to die from embarrassment. Ochako can't have that. Not so soon. "Hey," she says, a friendly jibe. "Saving people is what all this Heroing thing is supposed to be about, right?"

Midoriya's mouth twists into something that could perhaps be a smile in another parallel universe. He ducks to his food. "Yeah," he says, soft. "It is."

The conversation shifts to Heroes, and then the Hero teachers—"I can't wait to meet All Might!"—and then lessons, and then the current Hero trends. It's all very pointless and boring, which is to say it's exactly like every conversation Ochako has ever been involved in her entire life. Ochako makes a quip once in a while so she doesn't look like an anti-social freak, while Midoriya just nods and blushes and doesn't really say anything else because he seems to be very bad at not looking like an anti-social freak. That's okay. That's just how people like Midoriya are like. She doesn't hold it against him.

Ochako is in the middle of arranging her watermelon cuts into a house when she notices Midoriya staring at her. "Want some?" she says.

"Oh, no, um." He glances at her tray. There isn't a lot of food there, and most of it is untouched. "Um. Uraraka-san. You're—you're not hungry?"

Ochako stares at him blankly. Midoriya immediately looks like he regrets asking at all. "Uh, sorry, you don't have to answer, I—I didn't mean to—"

Ochako smiles. "It's okay," she says. She pops a slice of watermelon in her mouth. It goes down like a piece of razor. "I just don't have a big appetite is all."

"Oh. Um. Okay," he says. And then the alarm blares because there are Villains who apparently have intruded UA's compound, or something along that line, which is reason enough for the students to scream and trample each other trying to get out. It is all quite funny. To Ochako this is a clear sign that these people will totally be great Heroes one day and the future of society is totally in great hands.

After the whole affair is done, the teachers tell them that no, it's just a false alarm, and no Villains are coming over to kill them all. Ochako feels something close to disappointment. But most of all she doesn't really care.

Her first day in UA isn't all that exciting other than Midoriya breaking his finger. She hopes things are going to get interesting soon. But if they're not, that's fine too. She'll just end things early.