Ochaco Uraraka sat at the kitchen table. Well, her parents' table. The battle was over. The heroes had won. But U.A. had been destroyed and Izuku, Katsuki and All-Might, along with bunch of other high ranking heroes were all hospitalized.
Cementos and the support class would have it back up and running in a few days, and her other classmates were all out performing rescue and rebuilding operations.
As She glumly slid her spoon into her mouth, a small dancing frog with an envelope appeared on her phone, she ignored it, crunching slowly on the puffy cereal.
"Good morning, honey."
It was her mother.
"Mmm," Ochaco mumbled, staring blankly ahead.
Her mother frowned for a moment before turning away to start a pot of coffee. Ochaco watched her as she worked, her gaze trailing over the kitchen—the old appliances, the worn countertops, the ~unfamiliar~ scent of home. They didn't have anything fancy like those pod coffee makers; a simple glass pot on a small heater looked as if it had served them well enough for years. It was all they had and needed to scrape by.
But now, they wouldn't have to.
Now, the entire country was in shambles. There was plenty of work to go around. Her father—Mr. Uraraka—had already been approached with contracts in hand. They were set. The family was going to be okay.
Her mother poured two cups just as the fast-paced shuffle of footsteps came from the stairs. Her father, already on his phone, coordinating with his foreman. He kissed his wife, grabbed his coffee to go, but stopped when she called out.
"Honbun, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Of course, sweetheart," he replied, setting his phone aside.
His eyes landed on Ochaco. "How's our little space cadet doing today?"
Silence.
Mrs. Uraraka took his hand and led him into the living room. Ochaco heard their murmured voices but paid them no mind.
"It's going to be okay," her father said, his voice low and firm, but barely in range. "She just needs time to process everything."
Then the front door opened. Closed.
Ochaco flinched at her mother's raised fingerpads as she placed a soft hand on her back.
"I'm heading to the store. Can I get you anything?"
The question wasn't just about groceries. It was permission—permission to open up, to talk, to share "just between us girls."
But there was no opening up. Not about this.
Silence radiated through the air, but just as she was about to pull away…
"Pomegranate," Ochaco said, voice hoarse. "Please. I'd like some pomegranate."
Her mother moved faster than either of the Ingenium brothers, grabbing her purse in a flash. It was the first full sentence she'd heard from her daughter in three days. She hadn't even known Ochaco liked pomegranates. But if that was what it took to help her, then she'd buy a whole farm if she had to.
She backtracked just long enough to kiss Ochaco on the head.
"I love you star." She said before heading out the door.
Then, silence.
Ochaco sat there, staring at nothing as the tears began to fall.
Not here, she thought, blinking them back.
Slowly, lethargically, she brought her empty bowl to the sink. She rinsed it. Placed it down. Stared at it for far too long.
Then she ran.
Her feet pounded against the floor as she sprinted to her room. She kicked the door open, then slammed it shut behind her.
And then—she broke.
Sobs wracked her body as she collapsed onto the bed. She screamed into her pillow, wailed until her throat burned, even bit down into the fabric to muffle herself.
When she finally lifted her head, she caught her true reflection in the mirror.
It was the complete antithesis of who she was.
The reflection that stared back at her wasn't a killer.
It was a scared little girl.
Himiko Toga swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Dammit, Kurogiri… where did you take her? Why did you take the body? What am I supposed to do!?"
The empty room, offered no response to the blonde.