Chapter Text
Heroes, the good one at least, develop a sort of sixth sense, they say.
“What does it feel like, Deku?”
“It kinda starts like a vibration, something I feel in my feet and then through my whole body- almost like someone is playing their music too loud.”
…Perhaps not as strong as the quirk Deku possessed that alerted him to what may be lurking in the dark, but a sixth sense, nonetheless.
“All my hairs stand up, kinda like satellites, so I can know where the danger is coming from.”
She didn’t have Deku’s danger sense, but still, she knew something was very wrong.
She felt it as soon as she crossed the threshold into her apartment. There was nothing out of place, her shoes, her jacket, her pillows; they were all exactly where she had left them- untouched, unmoved, but still…
Something was wrong.
When she had been at UA, she had worried that sixth sense would never come. Back then, she couldn’t see danger coming until it was in front of her, and then she could react and respond to it strategically and effectively. She had always been good on her feet.
In the heat of the moment.
“Then it’s almost like a voice in my head, telling me that I need to prepare to fight or get out.”
She shouldn’t feel this. The mission was over. Finally. This mission that felt like five years instead of five months. They had won. But all the same…
She pulled her phone out of her pocket without dropping her eyes from their assessing scan of her dark, quiet apartment. She was ready to fight, but she also wasn’t prideful. She never had been. She didn’t spurn help, and nor did she think less of those who asked for help. And she had no idea what the threat was.
And right now- at this juncture in her life- the threat could be well beyond her capabilities to handle on her own. She looked down briefly at her last text message and hit the call button, keeping her phone lowered as she moved through her kitchen, her living room, and down the hall to her bedroom.
Every step she took twisted her gut just a little tighter. Maybe it was a sixth sense, maybe it was the paranoia that accompanied a five-month mission that had shown her just how dangerous the world could be and gotten her a front-row seat to the horrific, terrible things that people could do to one another.
Things that clung to her, gross and sticky, and played on repeat in front of her eyes over and over again until the images were burned into her brain. The people they had been pursuing- chasing all over the country were…terrifying, shaking even the veteran pros that she and Bakugo had been working alongside.
It had even shaken Bakugo.
She hadn’t been sure at first- he was always so sure. Not calm in that way Jirou was. Not necessarily collected like Momo. Not stoic like Shoto. But he was sure - undaunted. He looked at his challenges and faced every last one with fearless confidence; it never entered his head that he could possibly lose.
And there was something so comforting in that.
That was why she had secretly been so excited when she found out that their agencies were collaborating on this case. It had nothing to do with the odd fluttering in her chest that had only just begun to stir her third year at UA when they had been assigned to a group project together.
Sure, he had mellowed out quite a bit by third year- having been shaped into the hero he was now by all that they had been through their first year, but still working intimately with Katsuki Bakugo stirred something inside of her. She had thought, at the time, it was because she was so nervous; nervous to be working with someone who demanded perfection, someone who would turn her work inside out to iron out every flaw. It was nerve-wracking, terrifying, and…thrilling.
It was thrilling to try to rise to his ridiculously high standards…to come back to him over and over again, to fail and succeed over and over again in his eyes.
She had thought, at first, that was all it was when he leaned into her space to look over her summaries. When he pressed his palm into the table so close to her and leaned over her left shoulder so he could look at her screen. She had thought, when her breath hitched in her throat, when she stole a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, it was just the stirrings of intimidation. She had thought, when her pulse quickened at the warmth of his body so close to hers, when she couldn’t stop looking at the cut of his jaw, that it was just nerves.
“This actually doesn’t suck,” he had conceded, his voice a low rumbling, still so close to her- close enough to send a shiver down her back.
“Oh wow,” she said, trying to recover control- trying to mask her fluster and be cool. “I’ll dine out on that compliment for days.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “It sucks ass, then.”
She laughed at that- which wasn’t out of the ordinary; his vulgar language always made her laugh. But what was out of character-what was spur of the moment, born of something she didn’t even know was stirring until it was- she reached out and grabbed his forearm and looked over her own shoulder to peak up at him.
He went rigid under her touch, his eyes narrowing at the point of contact and then looking back to her face. She could see something twitch in his jaw, but he didn’t yank his arm away.
“Oh,” she squeaked, pulling away. “S-sorry!” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, looking back at her screen. “I think I really understand this stuff a lot better, thanks to you.”
It wasn’t a lie, and it wasn’t to flatter his ego.
It was true.
His instruction methods were a little intimidating, a little unorthodox, but it was effective for her.
“Yeah…” he grumbled, straightening up, so he wasn’t entirely leaned over her. She could breathe again, but she missed his suffocating closeness all the same. “Don’t mention it.”
He turned to walk away but not in time to hide the blush of pink on his ears.
Cute, she had thought, for the first time about Katsuki Bakugo.
The first time, but not the last.
But she was well-versed in putting aside unattainable crushes at this point, and this time it wasn’t as painful as it had been in her early years. She was far more focused now and could recognize a crush for what it was without freaking out, without compromising herself as a hero.
Ring…ring…ring…
She finished looking inside of her living room and the kitchen and then moved to the bathroom. She flicked the switch and watched the lights flicker on- well, at least one of them. Three of the four lights were busted in her bathroom, and the last one standing was struggling for life, but it was enough to illuminate the space and reveal that no one was in here.
Ring…ring…ring…
Where was he? She had just seen him an hour ago. He had laughed at her plight as she passed him in the lobby, tugging at her uncomfortable, poking bra. He shook his head at her, a knowing glint in his toothy grin.
“Forget to do laundry again, Cheeks?”
She groaned and tried to adjust it again- any sense of propriety between the two of them long gone. “Shut up!”
“Don’t take it out on me! It’s not my fault. I’ve told you a hundred times just to send out for dry cleaning.”
“That’s a waste of money, Bakugo,” she said. “There’s a perfectly good laundry mat just a few blocks away.”
“You’re so fuckin’ cheap,” he said, but it was almost affection for her consistency, it seemed. “You could also buy a new bra?” She grabbed the hook behind her and adjusted it slightly, trying to keep the wire from digging into her ribs.
“I don’t need a new bra!” she said. “This is my nicest bra!”
He scoffed. “Yeah, it looks really comfortable.”
“What would you know about bras?!” she said. “Just because your titties are bigger than mine doesn’t mean you can lecture me about female fashion.”
He grinned, backing away from her and toward the locker rooms. “Jealous?” he asked with a wicked smirk.
“Yes, actually,” she called over her shoulder before stepping out of the agency for the first time in 48 hours. After that, she had walked straight home. Feeling just a little bit better than she had a few moments ago.
Ring…Ring…Ring…
And now, she really wished he would answer the phone. For some reason, she was sure that if she heard his voice, it would be the sign that everything was okay; if he answered, it would chase away the darkness if she heard his voice.
Like he had been doing for her through this whole fucking miserable mission.
He would laugh in her ear, that deep, gravelly chuckle that made her knees just a little bit weak. “Come on, Uravity,” he would say. “Since when are you scared of the dark?”
He would laugh at her, but he would stay on the phone with her until she finished making sure that her apartment was clear. And then he would remind her…remind her of that truth that she was desperately grasping at now.
“We got ‘em, Uraraka…” and he would say that with a little bit of relief because she wasn’t the only one who lost sleep over this case. “They are in prison, and they aren’t getting out any time soon.” She would settle into bed, and he would stay on the line with her a few more minutes if she needed because they had learned how to lean on each other over these months. He would tell her to get some sleep, in the same way, he had said it so many times over the last few months when she dragged herself out of headquarters, half-dead on her feet, sorting paperwork until 2 am because she was so afraid that if she left too early, she would miss something.
She would miss the key; the smoking gun.
And they had wanted- needed - that smoking gun.
She was strong. She was. They both were. But neither of them had been prepared for the level of evil they would be up against. It wasn’t like the League of Villains- terrifying and cruel enough in their own right- but they made sense; there was a certain amount of predictability to their actions, reason behind it.
These villains were different.
A violent gang- fueled by a desire to gain more power, more money, more pleasure, more drugs, and more sex-used unimaginable cruelty to gain these things. Anyone who threatened their power, rival gangs, well-meaning politicians, even a neighborhood watch ended up on the receiving end of that cruelty.
Over the past few months, she and Bakugo had followed the trail of victims, littered with broken bodies and shattered minds and vacant eyes, some alive and some not. And, perhaps not so surprisingly, he had been her lifeline.
The one she didn’t have to be hard in front of; the one she knew, already, took her seriously as a hero.
She had something to prove to Miruko- Ochako was her sidekick; she had to show that she didn’t need to be babied through it all.
They had been a week and a half into this mission when Ochako had joined Miruko in following up on a call to the home of a criminal prosecutor. Ochako had been the first to cross into the kitchen.
It had taken her a few seconds to process what she was seeing.
To understand the gruesome scene laid out in front of her.
A family- a husband, a wife, and two young children, a boy and a girl, bent at the waist, heads resting on their plates, almost as though they had fallen asleep. Except they weren’t sleeping.
She knew that, of course.
They weren’t asleep.
All of them…their eyes were opened, unblinking, their plates sitting in a pool of blood.
Ochako had swallowed back the vomit then. She hadn’t even been out of UA a year then. But even so, she doubted a year or twenty years made little difference in her ability to process a scene like that. She had held it together then.
The whole day.
She helped Miruko describe the scene to the police- she spoke with neighbors, she checked with local shops about surveillance footage.
She had been fine. She had been fine until she found the fucking Christmas presents hidden in the closet. She had been fine until she found the carefully selected gifts that would never be wrapped would never see the bottom of the tree.
Gifts bought with expectation- with the hope of a future. Gifts those two babies had been looking forward to with so much glee.
Ochako felt the bite behind her eyes- the bite that, on its own, was no reason to hide- even Miruko and a few of the detectives had looked seconds away from crying. That wasn’t bad on its own. But now, it was in her head.
The tree that would never go up.
The ornaments that were still in the attic.
The Christmases that would never be.
Each thought spiraled into another and another and another as she stared at the closet.
“Uravity?”
Her eyes had clouded at that moment, her vision narrowing as air, unable to fill her lungs with air.
“Uravity?”
She wanted to respond, but she couldn’t make her brain work. She couldn’t make her mouth work. No words were forming in her tightened throat.
“Uravity, are you…?”
“She’s fine.”
She had felt a hand wrap around the top of her arm, not too tight, but tight enough to bring her back into her body and into her senses.
“…Just need some air….”
She let herself get led out the door and around the house as she slumped back against the bumpy red brick, doubled over and gasping for breath.
“Fuck…” she groaned, clutching herself tight. “Fuck…fuck…fuck…I’m okay.” She barely recognized her own voice; she didn’t have enough air in her lungs to get the words above a whisper. “I’m okay.” she tried to look up and smile at him, to offer assurance in that way that used to come so easy for her, but now it faltered, and she dropped her head forward, her chin hitting her chest. “I’m okay. I’m…” she reached out and tried to shove him away from her, but his hand wrapped around her wrist, squeezing it tight and firm, comforting in its warmth and press.
She had been trying to create space between them before she threw up. It was a familiar sensation- the churning and the burning and the bile-, and she didn’t want to do it now- not at this house, not in front of Katsuki Bakugo.
But she was doing just that, vomiting every last bit of breakfast from that day.
He hadn’t said anything, but he also hadn’t let go of her wrist, his thumb brushing lightly across her palm.
“They were babies, Bakugo…” it comes out in a strangled sob that made her whole body shake. She reached back and pressed the palm of the hand that he wasn’t holding against the brick, settling herself. “They were babies…t-they…they were gonna open those presents in a few weeks, and they were gonna be so happy and n-n-now…” she let out a pained whimper, unable to finish her thought, unable to speak what she was picturing in her mind, unable to give voice to it because it made her whole chest ache because it made her entire being spin with grief and exhaustion and confusion. “I’m okay…” she said, squeezing the lie through the tiny space between her teeth. “I’m okay…I’m okay…” she said it over and over again until her knees started to give.
“Breathe, Uraraka.” He squeezed her wrist again. “Take a deep breath.”
Above her, she could hear his slow measured inhale and exhale- coaching her out of the thinning air and hazy fog. She looked up at him and swayed slightly as she found the world still spinning a little faster than usual.
His other hand came down to her shoulder, stabilizing her until she found her footing again. He didn’t say anything else to her. But there was nothing she needed him to say. She was embarrassed and sad and scared…
She knew what being a hero meant.
But still, she was scared.
Scared she wasn’t strong enough to handle this.
And, with eerie precision, as if he could read her thoughts, Bakugo gave her wrist another squeeze. “Let’s take these fuckers down, Uravity.”
She would have laughed- if she had it in her- at how Bakugo that bit of comfort was. And how effective it was- though that shouldn’t be a surprise, he was effective and efficient in almost everything he did. She nodded, her own fingers grasping his forearm as she pulled herself into a more upright position but still leaning against the wall.
She met his gaze for the first time- head-on- and found that she wasn’t the only one affected. She wasn’t the only one who had felt that scene in her bones. She could see the tension in his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the bob of his throat as he swallowed back whatever it was that happening inside of him.
He had come a long way during his time at UA and even more since.
And she could see it now in the quiet control as he created space for her to feel all that she was feeling. She briefly considered if it was selfish of her to take up all the emotional bandwidth, but she brushed it aside. She knew Bakugo; he wouldn’t want to process anything right now- on the job.
Ochako’s emotions were steady- with the occasional spike, like now, that she was able to reign in. Bakugo’s emotions were explosive- and he needed to control when and how those made an appearance, especially given their current environment.
She nodded.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice still shaking but sounding a bit more like her. She slid her arm through his fingers until her hand found his. She gave him a brief squeeze of thanks and nodded again, her mouth setting in a stubborn. “Yeah.” She repeated it with more certainty that time and a firm nod. “We will.”
There was once a time he may have responded to that with a bit more bravado- tip his head back, so he was looking down at her, one side of his mouth curling back to reveal sharp, bared teeth. And, on another case, he may have done just that.
But he didn’t.
Because the weight of those bodies fell heavily on him too.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and dropping back against the wall once more- only just now realizing how this may look to a passer byer…her pressed against a wall, Bakugo towering over her just a few inches away. Just...all up in her space in a way that she didn't entirely hate. She blushed at the thought and dropped her head briefly.
“Tch…for what?”
She heard him take a few steps backward, creating more space between them.
“For…” she cleared her throat and peered up at him through her bangs and gestured at her face as though that would explain it.
He rolled his eyes. “Not the first time I’ve seen you yack, and it won’t be the last time.”
She wiped at her mouth with the back of her sleeve and smirked up at him. “Don’t be gross,” she croaked.
He scoffed. “I’m not the one barfing my guts out.” But there was a lightness to his voice, cutting through the darkness that both of them had just begun to step into- not knowing what the other side would look like.
But he walked with her through it.
And she walked with him through it.
At least that’s what she had thought.
But some part of her had known- even the whole of this week- that this wasn’t over yet. Despite the fact that so many of them were now behind bars.
Some part of her had yet to settle.
Maybe that sixth sense thing was true.
Bakugo was always telling her that she needed to trust her instincts.
She looked down at her phone as she stepped into her quiet and undisturbed room. He still hadn’t answered.
She sighed and ran her free hand through her hair, and shook her head. She was being stupid. Of course, she was paranoid. She had spent the past five months being paranoid. That was hard to turn off.
But everything was fine.
She was fine.
There was nothing to be afraid of.
She moved to hit the end call button, but before she could, before she could breathe, scream, or even attempt to fight. She heard…something…something that didn’t even finish hitting her ear, something that didn’t even register as a word.
Then the world went dark-, and Bakugo wasn’t there to walk her through this one.
###
Katsuki’s heart had not slowed down since he listened to that voicemail. He had almost deleted it, thinking it was a butt-dial after 20 seconds of shuffling, movement, and silence. But before he did. He heard one word and then a heavy thump.
After listening, it took him all of .05 seconds to call his agency and then Ochako’s. Fast enough that half of them were able to get to her apartment before him. Which was saying something. Katsuki had always been fast. When he arrived, he saw Miruko, a few other sidekicks from her agency, and several detectives already inside her apartment.
Which only twisted the feeling of dread in his chest into an even tighter, more suffocating knot. All it did was increase the mounting fear, the sweat pooling in his palms…desperately hoping to get in there and find out that he had been wrong. That it had, in fact, been a weird butt dial.
That it hadn’t been an attack of retribution for what went down a week ago. But they had gotten all of them, hadn’t they? All of the heavy hitters. That's why they had taken so long. That was why they had to let so many go so many times when it was all Katsuki could do not to murder them himself.
They waited and missed opportunities to save people because they wanted to make sure they had gotten everyone.
“No sign of forced entry.”
That didn’t surprise him at all.
“There’s no sign of a struggle.”
Now that, Katsuki couldn’t believe. That…that was impossible. He knew Uraraka, both as the girl from school who he had seen grow over those three years and as the sidekick that she was now- every bit as stubborn, tough, and scrappy as she had been their first year, and now with the skill to back it up. There was no fucking way she went anywhere without a fight.
He shouldered his way past the pros and the cops that were at her apartment and into her room. He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name.
He had been to her apartment a few times. The first time he came, it hadn’t been by choice. He had been a zombie when she somehow got him back to her apartment. He didn’t even remember what she had said to convince him to come with her and if it had been anyone else, he probably would have told them to go fuck themselves and walked away. But some part of him, for some reason, had always been just a little weak for her, so all he did was tell her to go fuck herself and then not walk away.
Instead, he let her lead him, maybe even float him, the couple of blocks to her apartment, up the stairs, and through her door. He passed the bathroom, where her one lone, flickering light was barely illuminating the space.
It had been a little brighter the first time he came here when she had led him to the sink, instructing him to sit on the edge of her bathtub while she gathered a few things from under the sink.
“I’m fuckin’ fine,” he had insisted as she knelt in front of him.
“I’m fuckin’ fine,” he had insisted, as she wiped the soot and sweat and blood and dirt from his face.
“I’m fuckin’ fine…”
Over and over and over again- and by the time he whispered it, haggard and worn over and over to her, as she cleaned him up and worked a salve into his overworked palms, it had quieted to a desperate whisper that fooled no one, least of all her.
He hadn’t been okay.
He had been the furthest thing from okay, and Uraraka had known that. She had seen it in his eyes the moment she saw him. Katsuki had been so close. Jeanist had trusted him- trusted him to be fast enough to catch that asshole. Katsuki had recognized him too from the files. This guy was a monster that needed to be put down- unimaginably cruel and gleeful in that cruelty. And Katsuki had just let him get away.
He had let him escape.
Like some kind of amateur.
The closest thing they had gotten to actually finding someone on the inside- someone with information they could use to take these fuckers down, and Katsuki had just…let him get away.
He hadn’t been okay. And she had known that. She had always been good at reading him for filth- even when they were kids, and that skill hadn’t dulled over the years. And she knew how sick he had been over the fact that he had let that guy slip through their fingers.
She understood what was at stake here.
She understood the weight of what had just been lost at his hands.
Which is why she didn’t tell him it wasn’t his fault. She didn’t tell him not to worry about it. She didn’t try and comfort him with words that meant nothing. She was good at that. She was good at knowing what he needed. It was a trait of hers that he had always found just a little unsettling, a trait that always made him feel just a little itchy in his skin, like she had tricked him into showing a little bit more than he had meant to.
He didn’t come to appreciate how valuable it was until recently.
Until she was working this case with him- walking with him through some of the nastiest shit he had ever seen in his life. He wasn’t used to feeling powerless, to feeling overwhelmed by what was in front of him. And this case had him feeling that at least once a week.
He had been prepared for villains.
He hadn’t been prepared for torture, for dismembered bodies and slit throats and boxes of sawed-off hands.
And fuck it if sometimes the best part of his day, the only thing that kept him sane was knowing that he was going to get to see her face.
Her smile.
Her eyes.
Those ridiculous cheeks that he had to constantly remind himself that he was not at liberty to reach out and grab because he had some weird compulsion that he couldn’t make heads or tails of. Though, he imagined, they would make respectable stress balls.
Not that he would ever ask her.
Not in a million years.
No matter how much he wanted to.
His eyes moved around the room.
No sign of a struggle. Which meant this villain was powerful- his quirk was powerful because, like hell, Uraraka was going down without a fight.
There was no sign of a fight, and that terrified him.
Because, if she had been able to, Uraraka would have fought.
His eyes fell on her bed. Her pillows- her excessive amount of pillows- were undisturbed.
“Why the fuck do you need this many pillows?” he had asked her- not on his first visit to her apartment, that night he had passed out on her couch under the glow of her T.V. The first time he saw her bedroom was about two months into their mission. Two months in, and he had already seen her cry more times than he had in the whole of their years at UA. Two months in and they knew each other’s schedules, triggers, the warning signs that they were exhausted, hungry, needed to spar, or needed to scream, needed to talk, or needed to just sit.
He didn’t know he liked having his hand held- literally held, supported, and cradled- until she had slid hers under his and supported the weight of it in her soft palm. He had sobbed himself sick with rage after following up on a tip that led to yet another trail of bodies that they had been too slow to prevent.
So, yeah, they had learned a lot about each other.
She was his partner on this, and he was hers. So yeah, you could say they were more than familiar with each other- and more than familiar with each other’s space. Her apartment was closer to their main headquarters than his. He even had a key so he could go there between shifts and on breaks, even if she was working.
And while he gave her hell about her pillows- he had to admit, sleeping surrounded by softness was not…it was not the worst. It wasn’t until his third year, when they had gotten, well, closer, that he had even discovered that softness was something he craved, something he liked. She brought that out of him in a way that he didn’t hate as much as he should.
Her pillows.
Her cheeks.
Her…everything…
And now-being in her room- that anxiety was giving way to something else entirely as he thought back on five months of ruthlessness, five months of hell, five months of ruthless disregard for human life, every nightmarish scene that unfolded in front of him came screeching into the forefront of his brain. That anxiety was thickening, turning into a thick, heavy sludge inside of him.
“Dynamight…”
He looked up from where he was staring…staring at her stupid pillows.
It was Miruko.
“Yeah?” he asked, surprising himself with the strain there.
“You sent the message that you got from Uravity to Kugimiya at the agency, right?”
Katsuki nodded. He didn’t know who he sent it to-, just the woman he knew did tech at the agency. Uraraka was the one who knew everyone’s name, not him.
“Would you mind letting me have a listen?”
Katsuki reached into his pocket numbly. Had she been in here? Was this where she was taken from? Was it a coincidence that she called him, or had she known…had she sensed that something was off?
She had good instincts- he was always telling her to listen to them, telling her to trust those instincts. He trusted them; after all…she should too. He opened his voicemail and put it on speaker. Not that he needed to listen to it again- he had listened to it over and over again. But still…he would listen to it again.
Maybe this time, he would hear something different. He hit play. At first, there was silence, then the sound of movement and shuffling and the rustling of her clothes.
He wasn’t sure what he felt about her for certain- she was his friend. He wanted to change the bulbs in her bathroom. That had to mean something.
It also had to mean something that he was suddenly able to identify the feeling that was pumping through his body, carried by pumping blood and adrenaline. He was terrified.
That had to mean something.
He was afraid.
That had to mean something.
Sometimes heroes had to bury friends. He knew that. And it was becoming harder and harder to breathe as that truth settled into him.
Miruko was still listening carefully to voicemail. There was a brief silence and another movement- the one that signaled to him that the voicemail was about to end.
…End with a single word- a chilling command that made his stomach drop because the thud of her body collapsing told him that it was one that she couldn’t say no to.
“Sleep.”
She wasn’t dead. He knew that. He believed that. But if this was connected to their mission- if this was punishment for taking down their infrastructure and their power- then…she very well may soon wish that she was.
###
Ochako jerked awake- pain shooting through her body and jerking her cruelly back into consciousness. She moved to sit up but immediately her arms gave way, sending her crashing back into the floor beneath her.
She groaned and turned onto her back, throwing her arm over her eyes to guard herself against the harsh, white of the fluorescent lights above her. The whole room was blinding and white, assaulting every one of her senses.
“Oh, good…you’re awake.”
Ochako dropped her arm and immediately went back to her knees, looking around the room wildly; every movement hurt as she whipped around, trying to find who was with her.
“Oh, you’ll find I’m quite hidden, Uravity.”
Her senses were clearing enough for her to hear the static in the voice. There was a microphone somewhere in here, somewhere in this room. She struggled to her feet and staggered against the wall. She let out a shaky breath as she tried, desperately, not to panic.
“Tch…bad host…” she muttered.
“Well, that’s not very polite…” the voice was teasing, but there was nothing light or innocent about it; there was something about it that made her whole body go cold. “You aren’t in a position to be mouthing off like that to me. Especially considering that this can be incredibly easy if you cooperate with me.”
“Well…” she circumvented the clean, clear room, pressing her palms into the surfaces of the wall, pressing her ear to where the walls met the floor. “Maybe I’d be a bit more amenable to helping you if you set me up in a nicer room. Maybe something at the Ritz. I’m assuming you can afford it if you are who I think you are.”
“And who do you think I am?”
“I’m assuming you’re connected with the Nakamura clan.”
“Well,” he said. “I was …” he said, somewhat teasing as if they were sharing a joke. “…But now the rest of the Nakamura clan, along with our colleagues, are dead or in prison.”
“Yeah,” she said, activating her quirk on herself and floating herself to the ceiling- guiding herself along the padded surface. “Sorry about that.”
“You know I can see you, right?”
“I assumed.”
His chuckle vibrated through the room. “You can waste your time if you’d like, Uravity. But I assure you there is no way out.”
Ochako scoffed. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve heard that before.” Her quirk was significantly stronger than it had been at UA. She could cause earthquakes, fault lines, and sinkholes. But she couldn’t even get the ceiling to budge, which meant they were deep underground, or it was reenforced with something insanely heavy.
Great.
“You know,” she said. “I spent the last five months learning every last thing I could about the Nakamura clan.”
“Oh, I know,” he interrupted.
“And we got all of the heavy-hitters, all of the big names, and all of the bosses.”
“You did,” he agreed.
“So…what are you?” she asked. “A janitor? The chef?”
“No,” he said. “Actually…I never quite got into the family business.” He made a dismissive sound over the microphone. “…too much administrative shit. Do you know how much work it takes to run a crime syndicate?” He scoffed. “I prefer the more human side of things.” Ochako hid the shudder that threatened to pull out of her body at that. “I like taking my time with a mark- getting the information out of them, driving them to the brink of madness.”
Ochako let out a bark of laughter. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Normal stuff.”
“But…that doesn’t have to be you. I actually have very little interest in a green sidekick who probably did more grunt work than anything else.”
“Fuck you,” she said, her voice sing-songy. “But also, accurate. So why me?”
“Simple…I assumed you would be the easiest to control.” Ochako snarled angrily at the air, given that her nemesis was not in front of her. “And I was right.”
“Fuck you!” she snarled again, this time meaning every syllable.
“Oh, don’t be offended, Uravity- I would have been able to take down anyone, but the pros have a bit more practice withstanding my particular persuasion tactics, and I’m not entirely sure of the effectiveness of this cage for holding your explosive partner whose name I can’t recall.”
She scoffed. “Don’t tell him that; you may find just how explosive he is.”
“I have no intention of having any interaction with any other hero.”
“Then what the hell are we doing?” she asked, dropping herself back to the floor after a thorough inspection of the ceiling. “Why am I here?”
“You’re here because I need a name.”
“Eh?”
“How eloquent…”
“Give me a break,” she shot back. “My head is pounding.” She felt along her scalp for signs of an injury.
“You’re fine,” he said. “Most people experience pretty nasty side effects after I use my quirk. Sleep is not something meant to be forced as quickly as I do it, and the body can have some physical and mental reactions to it.”
“Right.” it was coming back to her now.
His voice, right before she collapsed. Something in his words immediately dropping her into unconsciousness.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” he continued. “You’ll find I’m prepared to be merciful with you, Uravity.”
“Lucky me,” she muttered.
“I am not seeking power or fame or riches; all I need is a name. A name that no one needs to know that you gave me.” Ochako knew what he wanted, and she was shaking her head before he even finished. “A name that will remain between you and me.”
“I’m not giving you the name of our witness, so you can just kill me now if you….”
He chuckled- a cold, wicked thing- telling her all she needed to know about how he felt about this. It was a game for him. Something he would enjoy either way- even if she didn’t give up the name. “If you did even a little bit of homework concerning the Nakamura family, you can’t imagine that it will be as easy as that.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think so,” she said. “I thought maybe you were the merciful brother.”
“I am not.” His voice left no room for argument. “As you will soon find out. Unless…” he drew out the last word theatrically and expectant.
“Unless I give you a name,” she offered.
“…which you think you won’t give me?”
“I know I won’t give you,” she corrected. No way in hell. That poor girl had come to them desperate and crying and deeply afraid of the repercussions of turning on her masters. Ochako had actually been proud of the role she had played in getting the girl to talk- to turn, to tell them everything she knew.
“Shouldn’t Miruko talk to her? Or…or someone who has a little bit more practice in this,” she had said, expressing her uncertainty to Bakugo that she was the best person for the job.
Bakugo had turned her around so he could untuck her hair from the collar of the oversized jacket he had draped over her shoulders before they got into the nondescript car, taking them to the location where their witness was being held.
She had forgotten her own coat because…well, that’s just who she was.
And despite the fact that they were far more familiar with each other by then, and the fact that the seriousness and gravity of this case made everything else seem so insignificant in comparison, that small, annoyed gesture made her heart flutter.
She had felt stupid at the moment- even ashamed that she would indulge in something so trivial while this vicious criminal syndicate was terrorizing the streets of Tokyo.
“Nah…no one else is gonna do this as well you, Cheeks.”
She tried to hear his words and absorb them, but she was still feeling jittery and anxious. So much was resting on this, this could be the break they needed, and she was…just a sidekick. He had sighed, annoyed, and turned her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders.
“What?” she sighed frustratedly.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” he groused. “Listen…you’re the one who found her, the one who rescued her.”
“I know, but…”
“No buts,” he interrupted. “You’re fuckin’ Uravity…” she snorted at that. “…You are gonna be the world’s best rescue hero.” She did feel a swelling in her chest at that, a warm glow of certainty. “You already helped rescue this kid, and now you’re gonna go in there and finish the job, yeah?”
He held her gaze until she answered- his eyes insistent and firm.
He had always been good at hyping her up, getting her to reach into herself and draw out courage and strength even when she felt like there was nothing else inside of her.
And he had been right. She had been fucking badass. Megumi Shimizaki had been terrified to talk, and Ochako didn’t blame her. It took weeks of connecting, building rapport, listening to Megumi's horror stories, and assuring her over and over again that they would keep her safe.
That the heroes would do their job and make sure that no one would touch her.
And when they finally got all the information that they needed, enough to take these assholes down, Bakugo had looked at her with so much pride- like her victories were somehow his in a way, like it thrilled him to no end to see her do just what he always knew that she could. And that had made her feel so much she hardly knew what to do with it.
So many emotions, so much tenderness, and so much affection.
All of which she stuffed down- yet again- because there was no time.
Not a second of time.
No time.
No chance.
And they had to focus on keeping everyone safe.
On keeping their witness safe.
And that hadn’t changed. Ochako would die before she gave this asshole a name.
“I wouldn’t be so confident,” he returned. She pounded her fist against the walls- testing the give. “You’ll find my quirk is a nightmare of sorts….” He chuckled to himself while Ochako waited for an explanation. “I promise that will be funny to you later.”
Ochako cocked an eyebrow, her eyes scanning the room for…anything. Any sign, any clue to how she may escape or who the fuck this was- she racked her brain for any clue in the dossiers, rap sheets, and family trees.
Nothing about a sleep quirk.
“I doubt it,” she said, responding to his statement.
He clicked his tongue in some faux empathy that made her stomach turn. “Yeah,” he said. “You won’t be laughing about anything soon.”
She wasn’t gonna talk; she knew that. But also, some part of her knew, deep in her soul, that he was right.