"Oh gosh, are you alright?" Ochako asked, running up to Kirishima's free elbow. He looked awful. Blood flowed from every hole on his face, and what wasn't crimson was still ruby red. His skin was more scabs and blisters than fair, and his every step seemed aware. A burden kept his head held low, as if a tree trunk balanced across his shoulders.

She tried slipping her arm through his, but he shook her off. Stunned, she watched as he and his medic inched away, each trudging step as loud as anything in her ear. He didn't even acknowledge her, beyond pulling his head back and slightly straightening his shoulders. Even now, shuffling along like a 90-year-old man, he was putting on some bravado.

They lingered for some time. Their pace was agonizing, and it forced her to keep an eye on them for well over a minute. Ochako could almost hear his bones creaking with each step. She felt a need to follow, to help—but she knew where she belonged, and it seemed he did, too.

Glancing behind her, she noted the girl leaning against the tunnel's walls. Her eyes held a cat-like quality, slightly aglow. She watched Kirishima as he went, but she didn't offer to help, nor make any mention of concern. Uraraka tried to put her out of her mind, but with Kirishima's slow disappearance, the tunnel felt increasingly cramped. Despite all the options, Ochako couldn't bring herself to sit any further than directly across the girl. It'd feel rude, otherwise.

By the time the tunnel's curve took Kirishima out of sight, Cementoss was almost finished. In Bakugo and Kirishima's testosterone-measuring contest, the arena became functionally unusable. In a way, Kirishima's strange behavior was a blessing—by the time she shook off her worry, the Stage was back in pristine condition.

Then again, she thought, as Present Mic began calling for the spectator's attention, it might be a curse. In her mind's eye, she imagined a face; black, feather-like hair crowning a golden beak. She'd touched it by accident once, in training. It'd been softer that it looked—like a hatchling's, rather than a bird of prey's.

A shiver jumped through her shoulders. Her ear rang a dull song, and she tried to remind herself that he wasn't any normal hatchling. Tokoyami, though pleasant, was dangerous.

Midnight took the stage, and announced the next match. Ochako frowned as the other girl's shoes scuffed the ground, the grain sounding odd in her bad ear. On reflex, she glanced up, and met the girl's eyes—or, almost met them. Her's weren't seeing Ochako's—each glowing orb settled slightly past them, only seeing the device cradling her ear..

Ochako began studying the floor, tucking her bad ear against her palm. She said nothing as the other girl lingered. If she was still staring, Ochako pretended she didn't care. After a few seconds, the squeak of her sneakers faded down the hall.

A heavy sigh escaped her. She didn't root for the girl's defeat—she wasn't that petty. But… neither did she wish her luck. As the loser's bracket match grew close, Ochako tucked her forehead into her knees and slipped deeper into herself.

Meditation wasn't something she really enjoyed, anymore. At one point, it was a habit, alongside basic yoga—but now, whenever things got too quiet, her ear rang. Nothing was ever silent, anymore. It'd taken her weeks to re-learn how to sleep after the USJ, and she was still paying her sleep debt. Music never went off in her apartment, not at dawn, not at dusk—not even when she left the house. When she got home, she didn't meet a silent welcome—opening her door was the same as putting on headphones. She hoped her neighbors didn't mind.

Curling into herself, she tried to master her racing heart. She figured the girl's match would last a while, and that Ochako could utilize that.

With careful consideration, she began prodding at the massive knot of feelings that the USJ, Izuku, and Tokoyami shared. There were a few loose threads—with an easy pinch, she pulled free her feelings on Izuku. They were simple. He'd been wonderful to her, and she'd given herself up to keep him safe. Even if she hadn't gotten his affection in the end, she wouldn't change any of her choices—they hadn't been fueled by a crush, but by human decency.

Ochako cradled that thread for a tad longer than she intended, appreciating its exact dimensions. It was quite long. When she turned back to the knot, however, her heart sank. It was no less daunting a challenge than before. With a squeeze, she held Izuku's thread tight before setting herself straight. Building up some pride, she went to tackle that ball of anxious yarn—

Only for Midnight to announce the match's end.

"With a devastatingly quick finish, Urumi Sogakuu goes down! The victor is—!"

Ochako stood before she knew it, her head swimming. She felt like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, yet she also felt a slight hint of satisfaction. The girl with glowing eyes was a heap of limbs in the grass, unconscious. She'd lost—and much, much faster than she should've.

A team of medics rushed past her, almost knocking her over from behind. They scooped her into a stretcher and rushed back, almost knocking her over from the front. Her eyes were wide open but glazed, staring up at nothing. A little intimidated, Uraraka tried getting a glance of her opponent, but didn't recognize them. It was another girl, but she didn't have a scratch on her.

Midnight hadn't even had time to leave the Stage—yet, she didn't look off-kilter in the slightest. Before Ochako knew it, the victor vacated the area and Midnight was alone again, addressing an excited crowd about the next round.

The world spun under her as Midnight turned toward Uraraka's entrance and waved her on.

"Well, after that match, I say we strike while the iron is hot! Let me reintroduce 1A's lovely Ochako Uraraka, toppler of titans!"

Numb, she stepped into the light, almost tripping over her own feet. She followed the sound of Midnight's voice more so than the path, but as she drew closer, the more distorted the world became. The low roars of the world blended together, and soon the tens of thousands of spectators just became one harmonious note, high-pitched and painful. Even her good ear short-circuited, and everything dumbed down to a sad whine.

Was that her heart flatlining? She hadn't had a chance to relax, to assess, to calm herself. She was about to—about to fight—fight…

It all came back to her with a titanic boom as her feet met the Stage. An explosion of applause erupted in her ears like a volcano, threatening to crush her under its weight.

Air vacated her lungs, blood dried in her veins, and strength abandoned her frame. In the cacophony of her ordeal, her body went into autopilot. Her shoulders straightened, her smile widened, and her every step brimmed with confidence she didn't have but desperately wanted. Every organ squeezed, but she beamed; every organ twisted, but she waved.

Ochako bowed, and her throat burned. The formality did nothing to ease her, and when she stood back up, she felt that heat slide back down, infecting her guts, spreading like a virus.

Tokoyami looked awful. Scrunched shoulders, small posture, down-turned beak—but he was meeting her eyes. It might've been commendable, if not for the daggers it drove in her gut. They remained locked onto one another, and it took everything Ochako had to not vomit on live television.

"Tokoyami, are you ready to begin?" Midnight asked, turning to her bird-headed classmate. His eyes didn't leave Ochako's; instead, he bobbed his head, and Midnight accepted it.

He said so much with just his eyes alone. Regret, fear, resolution were abundant and obvious—but more than that, his grooming told her much. The tiny feathers surrounding his eyes were shinier than the others—less kempt, greasier. There was even a itty-bitty bald patch, though the dark skin of his cheek made it almost impossible to tell without clinical scrutiny. Second by second, his every secret fell to her. His silhouette sharpened, his textures grew prominent, and soon it was like she was peeling back his skin, inspecting what lay within. More than all of that, however…

The nausea was fading.

Midnight turned to Ochako, and Ochako, in turn, met her eyes. She felt nothing, breaking the gravitas of her contact with Tokoyami. Nothing at all.

"I'm ready."

The words came from her stomach, and they washed upon Midnight and Tokoyami's ears with the cold shock of winter oceans. Midnight's eyes widened a fraction as she stepped back, glanced between them both, before shaking her head.

Her hand shot into the air, and Ochako came off autopilot. The knot in her chest suddenly turned rock-hard as every string connected to it pulled taut—and they didn't stop there. Tokoyami, the USJ, her ear—they kept tightening against one another, pulling and tugging and tearing and burning. Before her, a huge silhouette grew to life, looming over and swallowing her world in its dark shade.

Ochako's heart was a shotgun in her chest as Midnight chopped her hand.

Something in her snapped—a thread, two threads, maybe all of them, maybe something else—

"Let this match… begin!"

She screamed, and before Tokoyami could move, she lunged for his throat.

[x]

"Holy hell!" Darkshadow cried, tearing open Tokoyami's shirt to stop the girl. Tokoyami hadn't even understood what was happening until Uraraka's boot planted in his guts, and his spittle covered her face. It was mere inches away, a distance only maintained by Darkshadow holding both her wrists at bay. Each sun-withered limb quivered with the effort as she fought his grip.

That person, however, was not Ochako Uraraka. It wasn't the sweet brunette who put everyone else first and paid for other's mistakes. The girl before him was ravenous—slack jawed and unseeing, like an old tiger finding rare game. She thrashed in Darkshadow's grip like it burned, and when that didn't work, she leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath, and tried biting. Her jaws snapped shut a hair's breadth from his beak.

He lifted his thigh over his crotch as she tried kneeing him, then brought his knee up as she tried a kick. Instincts born into him told Tokoyami everything he needed: get as far from this thing as possible. With her arms pinned, he managed to evade one more wild kick and shoved her with his whole body, sending her sprawling back.

As he finally put space between them, the arms springing from his collar faded. The sun eroded Darkshadow's shade-accumulated strength, its silhouette evaporating like wet cotton candy.

"Yikes… I don't feel so good, Fumi," Darkshadow said, his speech slurred. His thinning, weak arms slipped back under Tokoyami's collar, and the quirk's general mass relocated to Tokoyami's shoulder blades. Tokoyami cursed—in Darkshadow's urgency, he'd ruined their only advantage: the shade under his shirt. Darkshadow tightened into a smaller ball, hiding in the darkest pockets he could find—but Tokoyami could feel its inadequacy. He wasn't recharging quick enough, and he wasn't strong enough to hold the girl back as he was.

But, he thought, as Uraraka's knuckles missed his cheek by mere inches, that might not be his biggest concern. Her fists flew through the air with ease, parting the wind like blades. He hardly noticed that oddity, in his fear. Tokoyami never knew Uraraka to be such a fighter—in theory, she was a supreme grappler, with the scariest win condition there could be: the grapple itself. A single touch could take down a fighter ten times her size, let alone a twig like himself.

That wasn't what scared him, however.

It wasn't her capability. Nor was it her fury, or her uncompromising intensity. To Tokoyami's great shame, it wasn't even from his own regrets under the false USJ sky. What scared him in this moment, what churned his guts, what made him forget all his other fears, was her punches.

She broke through his guard like wet paper, folding him over with a fist in his gut. As his beak came down, her elbow came from the side, and he saw stars.

"Fumi…!" Darkshadow said, through their silent link. The words themselves fell on deaf ears, each too busy ringing from the abuse. He felt the sole of Uraraka's shoe evict the air in his lungs, and before he could reclaim any oxygen, his shoulders hit the floor.

He didn't know where the strength came from, but he didn't let himself settle. Scrambling to his feet, Tokoyami got up and far from Uraraka as possible, fearing the worst. If she got on top of him, if she pinned him, he would be a goner.

As he put distance between them, however, he realized the chase he expected hadn't come. Double-checking Uraraka, he saw she'd only just now put her foot down, having held it out after her spartan kick. Each fist, balled hard as concrete, stayed dead by her hips. When their eyes met, a shiver went down Tokoyami's spine.

She began walking towards him. In her way, she was huge—a massive presence that blocked out the midday sun. Her shadow loomed out beneath her, elongating and painting Tokoyami in a cold shade. It froze him.

Ochako had punched him. Kicked him. She'd clawed at him with her nails and nearly bit the tip of his beak off. The closest her finger-pads got to him were when they almost wrapped around his throat.

She wasn't trying to steal his weight and win, she was trying to hurt him.

Darkshadow groaned a feeble warning. It slipped from his spine and curled around his upper arm. Inching towards the light, Tokoyami felt his partner gathering the strength to do something—

"Fumi… I'll help…"

"Stop it!" Tokoyami said, silencing the quirk. With a mental shove, he forced Darkshadow back, away from the light, banished to his spine once more.

Uraraka was still walking towards him. He took a wary step back, but the space between them only continued to shorten. Tokoyami tried to take another back, but as his heel met a groove, he knew he was in trouble. Glancing over his shoulder, he found himself in the Stage's furthest corner, with nowhere to run.

Taking a deep breath, he raised both hands, shaking as they were, to his beak. He closed his eyes, banishing every fear, every anxiety, and every image but one. A fighting stance, as his friend might use one. It was a little awkward with their different builds, but he bent his knees and slid his right foot forward. Reaching his right palm outwards, he splayed his fingers, and willed away the fear chilling his bones. The shaking slowed. Tokoyami didn't know what to do with his left arm, so he tucked his elbow against his ribs and prayed that it was proper.

He opened his eyes. Uraraka's march hadn't stopped in his focus. Without a word, her fist soared from her hip straight to his beak. For a brief moment, despite all the preparation, Tokoyami hesitated.

Another punch. Even having backed him into a corner, she wasn't going for the win—just damage. Something in her heart burned hot, and Tokoyami didn't know what to do. Should he just… let her savage him? He deserved it. Darkshadow deserved it. They deserved it. She earned it. She deserved it.

But it didn't feel right. Tokoyami imagined how he might do it, how it seemed so natural for him, and how simple his movements became. He couldn't fling smoke, generate tentacles, or do a triple-backwards-one-armed hand-spring, but if he had to…

He ducked deep, feeling her fingers brush his top-feathers. Shoulder-checking her ribs, he stepped past her and pivoted, gambling on a guess. It paid off. Her follow-up punch landed loudly in his open-palm, sending a jolt of pain through his delicate fingers.

"Uraraka!" Tokoyami said, wincing as he stepped back. Despite her frame, her raw strength seemed overwhelming. Another lucky guess sacrificed his left palm to another of her powerful punches, and seeing his willingness for punishment, Uraraka took advantage. She pounded on his hands relentlessly, uncaring about anything but inflicting pain. It became a rigid, uncomfortable dance as Uraraka stepped forward, he stepped back, and his palms took another blow. "Uraraka, please, stop!"

His pleading only annoyed her. She threw in a high kick, taking him by surprise. He ducked, at the expense of her second heel nearly taking off his beak. Her face was expressionless, now, red only with exertion. Uraraka mixed him, throwing too-strong punches and too-quick kicks at odd intervals.

Uraraka put his pitiful defense through its paces, and it showed. Tokoyami was no great talent; as many times as he blocked a punch, a kick or such broke through. A hook caught his beak, a shoe met his shoulder, and her knee bruised at his thigh. Before long, he ached all over, and his partner hated it.

"Alright, that's enough!" Darkshadow said, breaking out of Tokoyami's control as Uraraka kicked his wrist. As Tokoyami cursed and recoiled, Darkshadow leapt down his arm and enveloped it, shielding him from a second blow. He tried to stop it, to recall his partner, but it was too late. Uraraka grazed his upper arm, right as Darkshadow covered it—and her stoicism broke.

"Damn you!" She screeched, throwing away all pretenses. "Why?"

The hurt in her voice stunned him, and he was powerless to stop her. Leaping forward, she grabbed him by both wrists, and he felt his stomach turn inside out. Before he knew it, he was spinning through the air, weightless, and Uraraka let go. Unable to muster even a yelp, Tokoyami flew through the air, poised to land in the stands. More than the nausea, more than the loss of balance, something else ugly crept through him—regret.

He wasn't that high up. Tokoyami'd been higher when possessed by Darkshadow, and even higher when he'd climbed All Might's likeness, but he was still a good story up. It reminded him of his failings; how he'd lost control, how he'd burdened his friends, how even with the feathers coating him, he was flightless. Now, he was going to lose, still a failure, still a burden—

"Release!" Uraraka said, and all at once, gravity took him back. He flailed in the air, unable to orient himself as he plummeted. When he crashed, it wasn't a soft, padded landing on brown grass—it was the painful crack of his shoulder on concrete.

For a second, he just lay there, stunned he wasn't out. Slowly, he tuned back into the real world, and realized Uraraka wasn't finished.

"Come on—get up," She said, her voice lower than usual. "Get up!"

Darkshadow spasmed, and Tokoyami with it—the effort of keeping his quirk under control was nearly as intense as the pain enveloping his shoulder. His arm sat crooked in place, even as he cradled it.

"Fumi, there's still a chance to win this. Let me just—" Darkshadow said, creeping out from a tear in his shirt. Enough time had passed that he'd regained some strength—and for Tokoyami to lose most of his.

"Darkshadow," Tokoyami said, and nearly cried with the effort. "Just…"

Darkshadow slowed its approach, though it didn't quite stop. It was teetering on the edge of exploding, of breaking free. He could feel its wrath—its need to fight. Its need to…

A mental image of Uraraka bloody and purple almost made him vomit. That very same nausea jumped over their link, and it gave Darkshadow enough pause to stop entirely.

"Why aren't you getting up, Tokoyami? You still can. Why?" Uraraka continued, her voice growing louder. He wasn't looking at her, but he—just barely, over the crowd—heard her begin drawing closer.

Tokoyami groaned and struggled up. It took a titanic effort to muster any willpower at all, his earlier beating no help. Once he managed to his knees, he realized his drought of strength, and his unquenchable thirst. He rose no higher.

He felt lightheaded. Each breath came deep and useless—as if he was breathing pure carbon. Pins and needles pricked the roof of his beak. His eyes settled on the ground, and even if he had the energy to raise them, he couldn't have. Her sneakers were already too much—if he looked into her eyes now, he didn't know what would happen.

Uraraka's shoes stopped two paces before his knees. Her left shoe toed at the ground, twisting and grinding with such transparent impatience that Tokoyami wished she'd just get it over with and kick him. Leaning forward, he placed his un-broken arm on the ground and dipped his head as far as he could.

"I-I can't. I'm… I'm so, so sorry. But I can't," Tokoyami said, just barely speaking through his burning throat. "I'm not strong enough. I…"

There was no response. Uraraka's shoe stopped twisting.

He lessened his bow by a fraction, craning his neck to look at her ankles.

"I didn't… know what to do. Should I have fought you harder? Should I have tried countering? Should I… I-I couldn't muster it. I don't deserve to. Just kick me again. Kick me for everything I let happen to you. I was supposed to protect you, and for failing there is no greater shame."

Her shoe shifted. Though she said nothing, he could see how her foot slid back, how it poised to strike him. He closed his eyes and twisted his face, showing as much of his cheek to her as possible. Darkshadow fidgeted where it hid, but it didn't interfere.

"Fumi…" It whispered, discomfort crossing their link.

He couldn't feel it. Tokoyami was on live television, on his knees and presenting himself for his punishment. This transcended discomfort—yet he made no move for his dignity. He, of all people, didn't deserve that.

The kick came slowly—at an agonizing pace, her leg inched back more and more. It clawed at Tokoyami's insides, but he held himself still. Maybe she'd kick him in the ear hard enough that they'd match. He could only imagine what the crowd thought—but somehow, it didn't bother him. She was his entire world, in this moment; the only audience that mattered.

An exhale; a heavy, shaking breath that was more a dozen little huffs than a single thing.

The leg she drew back fell to its knee, and her hand came to his shoulder. Kneeling before him, she leaned so close that she nearly pressed her lips to his ear. She was a silent waterfall; such emotions poured from her at such a quiet trickle that he hardly realized she spoke at all.

"A real part of me… truly… h-hates you…" She whispered, trailing off as her voice grew shaky.

Something shriveled inside him—ice cold and dormant. Hope. But something… more… also warmed him. In an awful, crippling way, he felt…

Acceptance.

The hand on his shoulder suddenly seized, gripping him with talons. She surged upwards, dragging him with, before pulling him into a rough embrace. Lagging behind, he hardly understood the feeling of her fingernails digging into his back, her soft chest against him, her warm cheek against his. Something unraveled in his mind—just as he felt something unravel in her. The intensity faded. Her shoulders eased, if for just a moment.

"But," she continued, pressing her face against his ear, "you're more than just my contempt for you… just as I'm more than my hate for myself. Let's be that."

Then she drew back, met his eyes, and kicked him square in the chest. Weightless, he flew back, careening out of control, exhausted, confused, elated—and resigned.

Yet, all at once, he stopped. She didn't release him. He wasn't falling. But neither more was he hurtling out of control. Looking down, he found himself slightly over the Stage's ledge, hovering about three meters in the air.

His shoulder didn't hurt so much.

With two powerful flaps, he launched himself back into the arena, born aloft on two disintegrating wings of pure shadow. Darkshadow receded back under his shirt on his own as Tokoyami landed. He skid on the concrete, bouncing a little. He was unable to totally control himself without gravity, yet with the silent, unusual aid from Darkshadow, he was able to maintain a semblance of balance. Uraraka narrowed her eyes at him, but the rage had faded.

He half-jumped, half-sprinted across the stage, gunning for Uraraka's position. It felt like running on the moon; while he couldn't get any serious traction, he could move with a far greater burden than he normally could've on Earth. With a broken shoulder, battered body, and dried-up strength, he'd take everything he could get.

When he reached her, he did something he hadn't yet done the whole fight: attack.

As Tokoyami swung on her, Darkshadow rapidly crept over his arm, extending his punch's range and speed before quickly retreating under his shirt. Crawling down his back and through his belt, Darkshadow enhanced his following kick as well. It was sluggish and late, so Uraraka's solid guard took it easily—but the blueprint was set. Between each blow, Darkshadow got a moment to recharge, and the more they practiced it, the faster they got.

Tokoyami side-stepped an attempted grapple, and swung a kick twice as long as his leg. It caught her arm and ribs alike and sent her tumbling. Darkshadow sucked back up his pant leg like a vacuum, and a second later Tokoyami made his chase. Uraraka got back to her feet quicker than he got his balance, however, and their exchange began anew.

"Goodness, folks, the dynamics of this fight are ridiculous! It seems some personal feud was resolved, and now the brutal slaughter's dynamics have totally shifted! I'd give my left ear for some context!" Present Mic said, his voice rising as the playing field leveled out. "Our Uraraka's win condition doesn't seem to affect Tokoyami? Is she tired after beating the snot out of him, or has he gotten his second wind? Who knows!"

"Come on, Fumi! Faster! Quicker!" Darkshadow said, leaping down his arm as he sent a jab Uraraka's way. Before Tokoyami could agree, he drew back in and jumped down his other arm, forcing him to make a second jab.

Likewise, before he could even react, Darkshadow changed gears and enveloped his leg. This time, however, when he went for an aggressive kick, Tokoyami wasn't prepared at all. Weightless and out of sync, the kick did nothing but send them floating sideways. Tokoyami clawed at the air and managed to find some footing, but Uraraka was quick. She took advantage of the blunder, and tackled them as soon as they touched down.

Pinning them, she tried slipping her elbow under Tokoyami's chin. Only Darkshadow's quick reaction saved him from the chokehold, and then his slippery texture let them squeeze free before she managed to leg-lock them.

"What are you doing, Fumi?" Darkshadow hissed, "Press the advantage! Beat her! She said you're more—we're more! She's more!" We should fight, win, and prove we're the most!"

Tokoyami slightly drifted off the ground, distracted. For a moment, he considered willing away Darkshadow, to banish him again. Much of his excitement faded—even if he'd come to an understanding with Uraraka, the thing that split them apart reminded him of his imperfections. He still wasn't in perfect harmony with Darkshadow.

Uraraka… even blinded by her grudge, she could see through them better than he could. Tokoyami wasn't just responsible for Darkshadow's behavior, Darkshadow was responsible for Tokoyami's safety. They were more in that they had eachother—Tokoyami wasn't just stuck with Darkshadow, it was a two-way street.

He'd never given his partner that much credit before.

Now that he thought about it, deep down, Tokoyami could feel it more clearly. Beneath their link—beyond the bloodlust and adrenaline, Darkshadow only wanted one thing: to protect him. It was just so intense that it looped around to aggression.

"Release!" Uraraka said, and the weight of the world returned—yet he still found the strength to land on both feet, standing. She was postured to continue their spar—hands open, eyes sharp, jaw hard—but no longer angry. It'd faded to simple focus.

He didn't have the strength anymore, but at least he knew what he needed. As much as it'd still be nice, he didn't need a high-profile hero to coach him on control. He just needed to sit down and have an honest talk with his partner.

So, with a polite, curt bow, he turned and made his way off the Stage.

He didn't look back, even as Present Mic began shouting and the crowd nearly exploded.

She wouldn't want his congratulations, and he would respect that, as she respected him.

[x]

AN: OOOMMMMG christ a-fucking-live. I use a free service to mark my prepositions and passive voice but I have to paste it between docs, and sometimes it saves my last chapter and i have to repaste it. i FORGOT to repaste it, so i just edited the SAME chapter from last week.

So, this is RAW, no editing, but im literally so happy because i ALSO WIPED IT OFF DOCS and i had to retrieve it in the file history and gods above i was like a pioneer explorer wading through ankle deep muck and plants that waft poison off their sickly leaves. I am a hero to my people.

thanks for reminding me. im so college pilled and a sleepymaxxed i didn't notice lol

review!~ (but don't be harsh because its raw lol)