Chapter Text
Ochako laid gazing up at the stars.
Outside in the courtyard of Heights Alliance, on the bluff up from the city with most of the campus lights off, she could almost make out the way the starlight twinkled as it made its way down to earth.
The courtyard wasn’t small, but Ochako wouldn’t call it large either. Centered in the middle of the dorms, a couple short bushes and plants lined the quaint grassy area. During the day, the high walls of the dorms bordering the space helped block harsh sunlight and cold breezes, making it an ideal place for extracurricular quirk training. At night, the tall walls made the perfect frame to view the night sky. Or at least, Ochako thought so.
It had been over an hour since curfew. Everybody else in the dorms had retired to their rooms for the night, and the windows lining the space were dark, the hallway lights off.
This wasn’t the first time Ochako had evaded curfew to visit the courtyard. She had come out here many times on her own— just to stargaze, breath, and relax after another demanding day at U.A. “It’s important to find ways to decompress.” That’s what Ryukyu had advised Ochako and Tsuyu during their work study at the Dragon Hero’s agency. Burnout was a real problem with young Pros. Better for them to learn how to unwind and manage their energy now—when their biggest concerns were exams and mastering their quirks— instead of later when lives were on the line.
Ryukyu— one of the Top 10 heroes in Japan— relaxed by binging crime dramas. Nejire Hado—another work study at the Ryuku agency and one of U.A.’s Big Three—unwound by visiting flower gardens and tea shops. Tsu would video chat with her siblings to decompress. For Ochako, all she needed was the night sky.
Since she was young, Ochako had dreamed of using her quirk to fly through the stars. Every night she’d ask her parents to take her out stargazing. The show was always free. No additional costs, no breaking the bank. No matter how bad things got, no matter how many bills she saw piling up on the kitchen table, the stars always hung in the night sky, a bright future just out of reach.
Then Ochako saw heroes in action, and she thought just maybe that bright future wasn’t out of reach after all.
When she saw the way everyone lit up around heroes, all the abundant smiling faces, Ochako began to dream. Heroes shined like stars. Being a hero was something she could strive for, something obtainable. That dazzling, brilliant radiance was something she could give to others. Ochako could save people.
The world was full of dangerous things—disasters, villains, and who knew what else. There were plenty of reasons for people to be scared. Heroes were the stars that gave people hope. They kept people smiling. So, Ochako thought, she could become a hero! She’d shine like a star, save the day, bring smiles to people’s faces. That was the dream.
Ochako’s dream was for her parents, too. Her mom and dad had fully endorsed their daughter. Growing up, they provided everything Ochako needed, from a quality education to hot meals and a loving home. They’d sacrificed and toiled and provided an unyielding pillar of support. But despite her parents’ best efforts to hide it, Ochako knew finances were tough. Little Ochako saw the weariness on their faces. She saw the long hours and skipped meals. As she got older, she’d thumb through the bills and peek through the family finances. Ochako would run the numbers back and front and sideways, but no matter how she tried to sum it up she just couldn’t see how her parents managed to keep their construction business going while still providing for their daughter. She could only imagine the sacrifices they were making.
Her parents told her countless times not to fret over it. Follow your dreams, they’d say. “Don’t worry for our sakes. We just want you to be happy.” Ochako knew they truly meant it. She had heard the old adage, “Money doesn’t buy happiness.” Maybe that was true; maybe money didn’t buy happiness. But happiness was certainly easier to find when the bills were paid and there was a pantry full of food. So she’d made up her mind. Ochako would become a hero, for her and her parent’s sakes. She’d help people feel safe and make them smile. She’d help support her parents and give them the comfortable life they deserved.
Ochako studied her butt off, fought to better her quirk, dared to reach as far as she could reach. And she’d done it! She’d gotten into U.A.! Ochako made it into the greatest hero school in the world! Suddenly the abstract dream Ochako had chased since she was a little girl transformed into a very real, very tangible goal. She could do it! She could actually do it! She would keep studying hard, work harder than ever, and learn all there was to being a Pro. Ochako would become a hero her parents could be proud of. The same dazzling, brilliant radiance Pro Heroes had, she could gift that to others too. She’d already come so far.
“Twenty-five minutes!”
The joyful declaration brought a smile to Ochako’s face. She glanced over at Izuku laying down next to her. He was looking at the stopwatch on his phone with excitement dancing in his eyes.
Both Ochako and Izuku were laying suspended a meter off the ground, held up by nothing more than the girl’s own gravity-defying quirk. Both students were dressed in their blue, white, and red athletic uniforms.
It had been nearly two weeks now since Ochako had asked Izuku for help training her quirk. It wasn’t like she had been slacking. Quite the opposite! Her efforts during their summer training camp and work study at the Ryuku agency had gone a long way towards improving her quirk. Ochako felt far more capable than she had at the beginning of their first year. But she still felt set back by persistent nausea whenever she neared her limit. Limits were good, Aizawa-sensei had instructed. They kept you from going overboard. There were too many heroes who disregarded their own limits and ended up permanently injured, or worse. In many ways, Ochako was lucky to have such a clear indicator to keep from pushing too far. The problem was she needed her quirk to grow. And for her quirk to grow, she’d need to train herself to get over the nausea it produced.
If there was anybody in class 1-A who could help Ochako push past her limits, it was the boy floating next to her. Deku’s first year at U.A. was marked by rapid improvement. His passion was infectious, inspiring his classmates to greater and greater heights. He’d burst through his personal ceilings time and time again, and still just kept on climbing. Granted, sometimes he burst through those ceilings a little too hard. Ochako lost count of how many times he’d needed healing by Recovery Girl, and he had ended up in the hospital more than once.
Moreover, Izuku had shown a knack for creativity when it came to using quirks. He had notebook upon notebook of meticulous notes on each hero— their quirks, their strengths and weaknesses, everything. Deku adapted and innovated until the future he envisioned became a reality. Nothing stopped him. There wasn’t a student in class 1-A who didn’t want to be the greatest hero they could be, but so far as Ochako was concerned Izuku was leading the pack. Surely together they could come up with countless new ways to use her quirk.
Izuku had come through spectacularly. Almost as soon as Ochako had asked for his help, he’d begun brainstorming and came up with tons of ways to help advance her abilities. He’d even started a new notebook dedicated to the task. She could hardly believe he was so dedicated to helping her. Then again, was it really so surprising? The pair were no strangers to supporting each other. Izuku and Ochako had gotten along right from the start. Throughout their first year, Ochako and Izuku had fought, won, and cheered for each other. As their friendship grew, it didn’t take Ochako long to see there was more to the boy. Izuku was kind. Deku was a dedicated fanboy with a gentle heart, which he wore fearlessly on his sleeve. He was nurturing. He was warm and compassionate. Izuku and Ochako had been there for each other since day one. He had her back, and she had his. They really were a great team.
Ochako glanced over at the boy floating beside her. For a brief moment, she became lost in the starlight dancing in his eyes and the charming bounce of his hair in zero gravity. Izuku noticed her staring, and she shot her gaze back skyward.
“Need a break?” asked Izuku.
Ochako’s heart thumped a little as she replied, “No, I’m good. Just something on my mind.” She felt embarrassment rising in her cheeks. Get it together Ochako, she chided herself.
Getting into U.A., Ochako had expected the school would be difficult. From crushing academics to exhaustive hero training, the school lived up to its reputation. The one thing Ochako hadn’t anticipated was a crush.
She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when her feelings for Izuku had shifted from friendship to something more. If Aoyama hadn’t brought it up during their midterm exam, she’d probably still be in denial. At first, it had been nothing but admiration. Deku was the kind of hero she’d always wanted to be. No matter the trouble, no matter the obstacles, he always jumped in without a moment to spare. And he always found a way to win. He endured every hardship for others’ sakes. A protector. It was no wonder Ochako had gravitated towards him.
Ochako had rejected her feelings at first. She couldn’t let herself get distracted. But her crush grew. So she focused on her classes. And her crush grew more. This wasn’t good, she’d told herself. She hadn’t gained acceptance into U.A. to be preoccupied with a boy’s smile. She was here to become a hero. But no matter how she tried to reject it, eventually she had to admit what she felt. There was no denying it. She had caught feelings for Izuku. But what could she do? She was here for her dream. She was here for her parents. They had sacrificed so much to help her achieve her goal. The rest of it could wait. She pushed her feelings down, swept them under the rug. Tuck them away. Keep moving forward.
Ochako was going to be a hero her parents could be proud of.
Izuku was going to be a top hero.
They’d both keep running towards their goals.
And yet every time Ochako dared pull back and check, her feelings were still there, undiminished as ever. Set them aside, she told herself. It’ll get easier. It just has to get easier. How many times could she keep telling herself that? More and more, Ochako worried that she wouldn’t be able to repress her feelings entirely.
Even now, Ochako had to convince herself this was training. She was just practicing endurance. Izuku was helping her increase the time she could maintain her quirk. That was all! Really! That Izuku and her were spending so much time together stargazing was just an unintended perk. At least that’s what Ochako told herself, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. No matter. She had to use her better judgment and put her fancies away for another time.
Ochako continued to float on her back, and breathe, and look up. Such a deep, dark blue. Beautiful.
A brief, brilliant line of light flashed across the sky.
“There’s one!” Ochako said, pointing upward.
“That’s the second one tonight!” Izuku replied.
There was a rolling feeling in Ochako’s stomach. As she’d practiced many times over the last few weeks, she took a breath, focused on the stars shining brightly overhead, and the nausea softly dissipated.
The stargazing had been Izuku’s idea.
The first night, Ochako had explained to him how she wanted to increase her endurance. She didn’t want to rely on her hero costume. Her gear greatly helped negate the negative effects of her quirk—from stimulating pressure points, to reducing headaches and nausea. But disaster could strike at any time. Ochako wanted to be ready, costume or not. Likewise, she couldn’t rely on continuous breaks. A minute’s rest for her could mean life-or-death for people trapped and scared.
She’d used her quirk on Izuku, then on herself, and tried to keep both of them floating for as long as she could. Without her hero equipment to help, it was a mediocre display. Trying to use her quirk on herself was the kicker. First she’d feel the pressure in her ears, which would progress into a mild headache. Then dizziness would set in. After that, Ochako was lucky to avoid throwing up on her shoes. She’d tried to push past the nausea that first night only to lose focus and send Izuku and her crashing to the grass. They’d sat through the next day’s classes suffering from bruised bottoms.
After that, they’d been more careful. They tried a number of ways to take her mind off the nausea. Conversation had been impossible at first; Ochako had needed to focus entirely on concentrating. They’d tried reviewing homework, but math equations made Ochako’s head spin even without her quirk. Finally, with the kind of eureka-moment that preceded all of his best ideas, Izuku had suggested she just focus on the stars. It was simple enough. Ochako suspended them with her quirk, then they’d laid back stargazing. No talking. No homework. She’d focused solely on the tiny pinpoints of light in the night sky. When she finally released her quirk, she’d been amazed. Ochako had held her quirk five minutes longer than she had the previous night. It worked!
The next day, Izuku checked out a book on constellations and brought it to their nighttime training session. Together they’d pick out constellations from the book. Then, Ochako would make them float and the pair would search the sky for the right stars. Suddenly it became easier. Ochako was improving. Before long they had no trouble finding two, then three, then five constellations, all before she would feel too dizzy to continue. Soon, on a night when the stars shinned particularly bright, Ochako started telling Izuku about why she liked stargazing so much. She told him about stargazing as a child and about seeing heroes for the first time. She had been midsentence when the shock hit them both. She'd looked at him. He'd looked at her. They'd been chatting back and forth and Ochako hadn’t even felt nauseous!
From then on, night after starry night, Ochako would test the limits of her quirk’s endurance and the pair would talk. They discussed school, of course. Classmates, teachers, the subjects they were struggling with. This inevitably slipped into talks about heroes. Izuku would dominate these conversations with stats, rankings, abilities, weaknesses, and ultimate moves, until Ochako wondered how his brain could possibly have room left for anything else. But Ochako didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything, she found his enthusiasm charming. In return, Ochako told him everything she knew about stars and galaxies and space. She didn’t know much, but Izuku would listen with wide-eyed fascination all the same. Ochako told him about growing up in the Mie Prefecture—blankets of flowers, winter lights in the park, ancient temples, country trails leading to waterfalls. Growing up in Mustafa must have been a very different experience; Izuku’s eyes would shine as she shared her stories. After a few nights of this, Ochako told him even more about her family’s hardships. It was hard for her growing up and it was still hard now. She reaffirmed her convictions. She’d help her parents live comfortably. It was the least they deserved.
“See those stars?” Izuku said delightedly.
Ochako glanced over. Izuku had his hand pointed skyward, lazily tracing a path with his fingers. “If you connect them, they kind of look like Edgeshot. And that bunch over there…”
Ochako smiled. Her stomach rolled and she ignored it. Looking up at the universe expanding above them, she followed the path Deku drew in the sky.
Izuku seemed hesitant to discuss his childhood. Then on a night when the clouds covered most of the stars, in a voice so tiny Ochako had strained to hear, he told her about seeing the doctor after his fourth birthday. Izuku had spent his whole life wanting to be a hero. But his quirk hadn’t appeared. Around eighty percent of the world’s population had quirks, but it appeared Izuku wasn’t one of them. He was labeled quirkless and bullied, picked on, and shunned. “But then,” Ochako had said, “your quirk finally did appear! And it’s super powerful!” Izuku had given a nervous chuckle. It had appeared, and then he knew he had a chance. But it was more difficult than Ochako imagined. With his quirk, she’d expected Izuku would feel invincible. But that wasn’t the case at all. Sometimes, Izuku said, he felt more like porcelain. If he overdid it, his body would shatter, potentially beyond repair. There were some things even Recovery Girl couldn’t mend.
In contrast, Ochako’s quirk had manifested when she was a child. Her powers felt like a natural extension of herself. She could barely imagine how Izuku felt having such a powerful quirk but with so little familiarity. And still he threw himself into danger to protect others. Whether that was recklessness or courage, Ochako couldn’t decide.
Eventually the conversations about school and heroes and their childhoods would trail off, leaving Ochako and Izuku to comfortably lay back and watch the stars. As they were doing now. It was a comfortable silence and a refreshing contrast to the demands put upon them as U.A. students.
Ochako’s stomach did a sudden backflip and rocked her out of reminiscing. No doubt about it, she was at her limit. She looked over at Izuku, frantically pointing at her wrist. Time?
Izuku held up his phone. Thirty minutes, sixteen seconds.
She pressed her fingers together and released her quirk. The pull of gravity returned. They rocked forward to land on their feet, but Izuku was the only one who maintained his balance. Ochako had hardly touched down before her knees gave way and she fell back awkwardly on the grass.
A chorus of dull, muffled thunks! echoed through the courtyard as ten ultra-compressed, high-density weights fell to the grass. The weights had been another Izuku idea. Ochako had swallowed her pride and accompanied him to the school’s Development Studio. Together they’d managed to convince Hatsume Mei to loan them a couple sets of training weights, but not before she’d forced them to try out some of her newest “babies”. Still, it had been worth it. The compressed weights had been a blessing for her training; Ochako had improved twice as fast with them than she would have without.
Feeling ill and using her arms to brace herself, Ochako tried to drag herself up on wobbly legs. It was no good. She was too dizzy to stand, so she stayed seated on the grass. The world around her seemed to be spinning. The stars overhead were now streaks of light crisscrossing across her vision. Gradually, things slowed down. Ochako closed her eyes and when she opened them the world was back to normal. The stars, the courtyard, the bushes, the weights, and Izuku kneeling next to her with a look of concern and an outstretched hand.
“Uraraka?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“I might have pushed a little too hard this time,” came her woozy response. Despite her grin, Ochako knew she was exhausted.
“Then we should probably stop for the night,” Izuku said while helping her to her feet.
Now that she was standing, Ochako felt spry again. She recovered faster now too, but she’d strained herself hard. There wouldn’t be much benefit to continuing longer tonight. Besides, she thought, we still have class tomorrow.
The pair were cheerful as they busied themselves putting away the compressed weights. One by one, Ochako touched her fingers to each weight and Izuku bundled them up in a weatherproof cloth. They stashed the equipment out of sight under a bush before Ochako released her quirk. The weights settled with a dull thunk.
“That’s the longest you’ve been able to keep us both floating!” Izuku mentioned excitedly. His sincere amazement was a constant encouragement. “And you were lifting all the compressed weights too! How much is that total? The strain of using your quirk on yourself, plus me, and ten weights…” He was already scribbling away in his notebook. He looked up suddenly with eyes shining like the stars overhead. “Remember when we first started? Look how much you’ve improved!”
Did he know how much his eyes sparkled when he smiled like that? Her heart fluttered. It was just unfair. Despite her red cheeks, she composed her voice and managed a hurried, “Thanks, Deku!”
Ochako started her career at U.A. feeling like she was at the foot of a mountain. The climb to the top was daunting. She thought it would be lonely, but Class 1-A had pulled through together. They’d grown closer, become friends, encouraged and supported each other.
In particular, Ochako and Izuku had been there supporting each other since day one. Since before day one, she softly reminded herself, recalling their entrance exam. Back on that chill morning outside the exam building, Ochako hadn’t given much thought to stopping the plain-looking, freckled boy from falling on his face. Back then, she hadn’t known him and he hadn’t known her. Ochako couldn’t have predicted how much of an impact Midoriya Izuku would come to make in her life. His example had shown her how much was really possible. The boy’s drive to become the greatest hero was infectious. In turn, Ochako worked hard to put one foot in front of the other, lift her chin a little higher, and trust herself.
Ochako would burst past her own ceilings and keep climbing until she reached the stars.