12Thanks to Tmalasia from AO3 for betaing for me!
It was strange to think of how things had changed so much in less than twelve hours. Her love, now infected with flowers. Her future, now so uncertain. Her life, now in peril from forces she couldn't have ever predicted.
But the one thing that didn't change was the fact that her daddy never let her calls hit the second ring when he could help it. Not before, and definitely not now.
"Ochako! Happy birthday, honey! You feeling okay?"
As soon as she heard her daddy's voice through the speaker, Ochako felt a part of her settle. The part of her that had been practically begging for her parents' comforting presence was finally obliged. After all, her daddy's voice still carried with it that assurance that reminded her of how she'd felt when she was a child. She'd been so small, so safe, and so eager to move forward in life to help him and momma. His voice alone consoled her, assured her, and somehow brought to the surface some of the emotions within her. The swirling, painful emotions that she never wanted to face alone.
When she was little, her daddy had always been the one to help her settle such emotions. When big, fat tears had fallen down her cheeks, her daddy had come in with a great big smile to help chase the bad things away. Over time, she guessed, she'd come to associate his presence as a sign of healing to come.
So it made sense that the instant she heard his voice, she wanted to cry.
Still, she knew it was too early in the conversation. She had to say something first. Explain why she was calling. There was too much to do to just… start crying again. So, with a deep breath, she bore the multitude of emotions with as much cheer as she could muster.
For now, it was the best she could do.
"Thanks, daddy." Ochako leaned closer to the phone. While there weren't many people in the café, she couldn't help but lower her voice in this public space, yet she still wanted her parents to be able to hear her. "And… no. Not really. But before I get into it, I want to let you know that I've got a couple of my friends here with me, and you're on speaker phone."
"Hello, Uraraka-san's father!"
"Kero!"
As expected from her daddy, he took this new information in stride. "Hello, girls! Thank you for being with my daughter right now." After a few returns of 'no problem' and 'it's no trouble at all', Ochako could feel his attention return to her before he said anything.
"Now, tell me what's wrong, honey."
The concern in his voice, even when he didn't know the full extent of the problem yet, always made her feel safe. His presence, his very voice, made her feel calm. It made her feel like all of the world's problems could be solved if she just tried hard enough. She could banish everything bad if she just punched it hard enough.
She loosed a watery chuckle. The tears hadn't begun to flow yet, but she knew they were near. Oh, were they were near. Of course she'd gotten that belief from her daddy. Who else worked as hard as he did and did as much as him?
A certain someone with green hair and scarred arms came to mind, and Ochako shook her head to rid herself of the connection. Parallels could come later. Thinking of him at all could come later. Coming to terms with what she'd said could come later. For now, she'd started a conversation. She needed information. Now, she had to follow through and actually get it.
So she took a deep breath and answered.
"I… I started throwing up flowers last night." Ochako heard her daddy draw a sharp breath, but she knew she had to explain as best as she could first. She hurriedly continued. "So I went with my friends to Recovery Girl first thing this morning. They went in with me and they've stayed with me all day so far." Here, Ochako looked to her friends and offered a weak smile. She really did appreciate them being there for her, but this next part was something she had to do herself. She took a breath, looked down at her phone, imagined her daddy sitting before her, and addressed him properly.
"She said I have something called the hanahaki disease. Do you know anything about it?"
Over her lifetime, Ochako had grown to expect certain things out of her daddy. Nothing excessive or out of his nature. Just little things. A caring voice. A patient soul. A strong sense of right and wrong. A simple man. An honest sense of expression. Her daddy never claimed to know more than he knew and always did what he thought was right. He was her daddy and she'd never asked him to change or wanted him to be any different than he was.
So while she knew that her father had written hanahaki disease on the chart, she still wasn't sure if he actually knew what it meant for her. She was almost expecting to have to explain how dire the situation was for her and how fatal the disease could be. She almost expected questions.
Instead, what she got was silence.
But not quite silence. She could hear it. On the other side of the phone, muffled by technology's own shortcomings and probably by his own hand, she could hear it.
An honest sense of expression. Nothing was more honest than crying. And nothing broke Ochako's heart more than to be the cause of it.
Her voice cracked. "Daddy?"
"We're here, Ochako," said her momma. For a moment, her steady voice, quiet and firm as it was, drowned out the muffled sobs of her daddy. She could practically see her arm draped across her daddy's shoulders, her thumb rubbing circles into her husband's arm as he cried. He'd never been shy about crying before, but… "He just… he needs a moment. But what about you? I can't imagine that was easy for you to hear. Did Recovery Girl explain it to you?"
The pained nervousness and empathetic sorrow Ochako had felt in the face of her daddy's tears were steadied by her momma. Not gone, but definitely steadied.
While her daddy was the more expressive of the two, her momma was definitely the more level-headed. When her daddy had said to do what she wanted to do instead of what she thought would be best for them, it was her momma who had helped her narrow her choices down. It was her momma who had helped her to work through the little details in order to make her big goals happen. If her daddy had been the one to teach her to dream big, then it was her momma who had taught her how to walk confidently in the direction of that dream.
She took a steadying breath. Just like her momma had taught her all those years ago. Emotions were good and important, but there was a time and a place to react. She'd had her time to do that. She'd done that. She'd been supported through that.
Ochako looked at Momo and Tsu, both of whom lent her their courage with their very presence. They'd supported her. She looked at the phone. Now she could support her parents. Her daddy was crying because he loved her, and her momma was already doing her best to pull the family together and move forward. It was a different expression of hurt, but hurt nonetheless. They were hurting—her parents were hurting—and it was her turn to support them now.
She wasn't calling to cry or feel hopeless. She was calling because her parents had always helped her move forward before. She'd called needing their comfort and presence. She still needed it, but now she knew that she also needed to give back. They were her inspiration and her reason for going into heroics.
She would support them now. And, along the way, she knew they would support her, too. Eventually, she knew, they would all support one another.
It would take time, and Ochako's heart wavered slightly in the face of that concept. How much of it did she have to give them?
"Yes, momma; she explained it." Ochako's words came out with a wobble as she heard her daddy try to pick himself back up and put himself back together for her sake. She waited a moment to let her daddy's cries settle, consoling him like he'd done for her over the years. It was a few minutes of "I love you"s and "I'm here"s before she heard him take a breath and breathe it out. When that happened, she knew that her daddy would be okay.
Her momma was a different matter, but she knew her daddy would be there for her when they got off the phone. He would probably hold her close while she cried silently. For now, what Ochako could do was show her momma how strong she was. That was how her momma would rely on her.
Doing all of this, she knew, would get them all on the same page of healing. For now, however, it looked as though they were on the same page in terms of needing action. They were all ready to get back to the business of actually moving forward. Together. As a family.
The Urarakas were strong that way. Always had been; always would be.
With her daddy okay enough to listen and her momma ready to hear her answer, Ochako continued. "Recovery Girl explained it to me. What it was, how much… time… I should have, and some of my options."
"Oh, baby…" soothed her mother's voice. No one commented on the concept of time that Ochako had felt herself stumble over. No one acknowledged her daddy's hiccup or her momma's sorrowful tone. No one acknowledged the different stages of healing they were all in.
And yet… despite the fact that this situation was so messed up and that she never wanted to make her parents cry over her, Ochako smiled. A sad, little thing. But she did. She couldn't help it. And it was genuine.
She was so lucky to have parents who loved and cared for her like this. It was in their nature to do so. She loved them for it and more, and it was one of the reasons she tried so hard to achieve her goals. She reached to her phone, pretending that her momma could feel her arm upon her shoulder, giving the comfort that she so desperately wanted to give. Words, she knew, could only do so much.
But…
"Momma, daddy…" She paused. What could she say? 'I'm going to be okay'? She'd already lied once, and she felt terrible about it. She wouldn't do that to her parents. But still… she had to comfort them.
She took another breath, reminding herself that she wasn't alone. She had Momo.
"Your future is still yours to decide."
And she had Tsu.
"It's not like you to give up."
And she had her parents.
"We love you, honey."
Even though she felt awful now, she had their support. She wasn't okay now, and she didn't know if she would ever be okay, but there was one thing for certain. She looked away from her phone and directly at her friends, offering them a smile. "You didn't raise a quitter."
The looks Momo and Tsu silently gave her told her of their approval. Of their relief. Of their gratitude. Her daddy barked a laugh through his tears. Her momma chuckled, some of the tension easing off her shoulders. With five words, Ochako felt her smile become more and more genuine. Felt her network of support strengthen.
Success.
"You're right," said her daddy, water still in his voice. Still, she could detect the pride in his tone. Before he spoke again, he cleared his throat. "You really are special, you know that?"
His words warmed her. He would probably say so all day, every day if he had his way. And she'd never tire of hearing it. Though she'd stumbled many times this morning, she knew that she'd made her parents proud with that declaration. She knew she'd reassured her frightened friends with the strength she was borrowing and slowly making her own. She knew that this time… this time… she'd keep her word. It was almost everything she could ask for.
Almost.
She still had to ask what she'd called to ask.
"Daddy, momma, I want…" No. That wasn't right. She tried again, reminding herself that this was her life. Her very life. She needed to take the initiative and do something. "I need to know if there's anything else you can tell me about this hanahaki disease. Who had it? What did they do about it? Whatever they did, did it help? Recovery Girl gave me a pretty large time frame to work with, so I feel like I don't have anything specific to work with here…"
There was rustling, a soft sound that told her exactly nothing of what was happening on the other side of the phone, before her daddy's voice answered her.
"My daddy and his brother had it," he said. She knew he'd wiped his eyes and had cried what he could for now. It hurt to think that he would cry again later and that she would be the cause of that. She wanted to hug him. For now, though, a flat chuckle came through the phone. "I even wrote the number two on that piece of paper from your first year so we'd all know to keep an eye out for it."
Oh. That was what the x2 was for. Two people in their family had had it. But wait… her daddy said that they were keeping an eye out for it. Wait a minute…
"You asked me how I was feeling yesterday," said Ochako, realizing what he'd meant by the question. "And today, too. You asked when I answered the phone."
Another piece of the puzzle had clicked for her. "You were looking out for the hanahaki."
The realization was met with a moment's pause. Her daddy would never lie about this, and another moment proved it.
"Yes, Ochako. I was." She could hear her daddy's sigh. It was a long, sad thing that he did whenever something hit the family hard. Like that time that they had depleted their savings just to try and make ends meet without a contract in sight. Or that time momma had gotten sick and she'd made him go to work instead of staying home to take care of her. It was the sigh of her daddy suffering and nothing he could do about it in sight. "But I'd hoped I wouldn't find it. I never wanted you to face this on your own, baby girl."
Ochako swallowed a lump in her throat. She wanted to reach through the phone and wrap her daddy and momma in a big hug. 'It's not your fault,' she wanted to whisper to them, then hug them tighter so they knew she meant it. 'It's not your fault. Please don't blame yourselves.'
A hand rested atop hers. Another hand atop that.
She looked away from her phone and towards Momo and Tsu, both of whom were looking at the device resting between them all. Their hands laid on hers. They each wore an expression of determination.
"We won't let her face this alone, kero," said Tsu. Her voice was a level and steady rock in this conversation. Her face matched.
"We'd never abandon a friend in need," agreed Momo. Her dedication truly shone through her voice, and it was something both of her parents heard loud and clear.
"Thank you, girls," said her daddy. "It…helps to know that you're there for her when we can't be."
"But we do plan on going to U.A. as soon as this job is complete," added momma. "And staying through to graduation."
Ochako's eyes widened.
She had so many questions.
They were coming? Coming to U.A.?
How?
When would the job be completed?
When were they coming?
"Can we afford that?" she blurted instead. She slapped her free hand over her mouth, but the words had already been asked and the damage done.
"Dear," said momma, her tone taking on that stern quality that always stilled Ochako as a child. It stilled her now. When her momma next spoke, though, the edge had lessened and, in its place, her momma's natural warmth shone through. "There's a reason your daddy and I were working this contract so close to your birthday. With enough planning, the money from this job will be enough for the two of us to take a small vacation to cheer you on for the rest of the year. Don't worry, I already ran the numbers."
All was quiet for a moment.
"E-eeh?!" Ochako couldn't think. That was—to take a trip to Mustafa—that—! "Wh-what? How? T-that much? When did that happen!?"
"That is… well…" Her daddy coughed like he did whenever he had something to hide. Ochako narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to say something, but— "We can talk about it later, baby girl."
Ochako wanted to push it, but she knew better. Her daddy may be awful at hiding things, but he was also awfully persistent when he wanted to stay silent. Whatever it was, he would tell her eventually. If he said 'later', then it really did mean 'later'. She dropped it.
"Okay," she said. She wouldn't get information on their mysterious client, but she would get the information she came for. She took a breath and let it out.
She knew the who. Now she needed to know the how.
"I still need to talk to you guys about granddaddy and granddaddy's brother, though. I need to know what happened."
It was a moment before she was answered. In that moment, she held her breath, waiting anxiously for the answer she knew in her head would be coming.
"Okay, baby girl."
Ochako turned to her friends, loosed her hostage breath, and they looked back at her with expressions of equal determination. Nothing about this was happy, they all knew, but progress was progress. Any information would be helpful. She nodded to them. It was time to understand this disease just a little bit more.
Her daddy began.
"Your granddaddy and his brother were twins. Identical twins, actually. Back in the day when there weren't so many quirks around, they had the exact same one. Shared, actually. They were telepathic, but only with each other and only when they were close enough together. Your granddaddy used to tell me that they'd get up to all kinds of tricks and fun when they were younger."
Ochako nodded. From what she remembered of her granddaddy, it made sense. And… it made sense now why he'd always told her he was Quirkless. She'd been too little to understand at the time…
"Well, one day, your granddaddy met your grandmomma. It wasn't love at first sight the way your grandmomma told it. They were sixteen, and she used to tell me all the time not to be insufferable like my daddy when I met 'the right one'."
Here, Ochako couldn't help but chuckle. From her daddy's reaction on the other side of the phone, her momma had given him some sort of secret look.
It was nice to hear her daddy laugh a little bit. Even if it didn't last long, it was nice to hear.
"So he had a few years to be insufferable with her before the hanahaki hit. During that time, she got to know him and he calmed down a little bit. They found a balance that worked for them, and she eventually fell in love with him, too. They started dating before anyone ever heard about hanahaki.
"Your granddaddy's brother wasn't as lucky as that."
In her mind, Ochako had already known that the story of her granddaddy's brother couldn't have ended well. His striking absence from her memories and the few stories she had heard about him were a testament to that.
It still hurt to hear.
But she did need to hear it.
"What happened to granddaddy's brother?" asked she, a frown on her face. Her daddy sighed.
"Well, first off, your granddaddy's brother knew about the hanahaki from your granddaddy. You see, your granddaddy already had your grandmomma by the time they both turned eighteen. The first time he thought of grandmomma after that, he started throwing up white flowers."
Wait. White?
"It confused all of 'em for a while because grandaddy's brother didn't. Everything weird that happened to one of them tended to happen to both of them. This was the first time something happened to one of them and not the other. So granddaddy went up to the local doctor that day. Back then, everything was so new—quirks and hanahaki—that they weren't sure what it was. Everyone thought he was gonna die.
"Later that day, your grandmomma was trying to cheer up your granddaddy, and I guess that was the first time he'd heard her say 'I love you'. The flowers stopped after that. Your granddaddy and everyone told the doctor; they thought it was a miracle, and no one thought twice about it until your granddaddy's brother got it a few years later."
"Wait," said Ochako, trying to wrap her head around another new concept. Different colored flowers? Fine. But… years…? "Why didn't grandaddy's brother get it when he turned eighteen like granddaddy? Like me?"
The silence rang between them all for a moment. Sharp and pointed and, Ochako hated to say it, accusatory. Why did this unknown uncle of hers not share their curse? Hadn't he had hanahaki, too? Ochako's jaw was clicked shut after her outburst, its owner stubbornly demanding an answer.
"He hadn't found love yet." The simple answer carried with it a weight that might have been embarrassing yesterday. Today, right now, it was just a weight to carry. A heavy weight to carry.
The answer silenced her.
Her daddy continued. "My daddy told me that his brother fell in love when he was twenty-one. She was pretty and kind and loved making mischief. Evidently, she played a prank on him during her first day of work with him; he fell in love right there and starting spitting up purple flowers trying to introduce himself."
Ochako tried to imagine it. A faceless man trying desperately to impress an equally faceless woman. Everything about it was unfamiliar, right down to the oddly colored flowers. The image could have been funny if it weren't for the flowers. If it weren't for the phantom pains she felt of a foreign substance clawing its way out of your mouth. If it weren't for the not-too-distant memory of panic about something so new and so abrupt happening.
She winced in sympathy.
"What did he do?"
"Well, same thing your granddaddy did, at first. He went up to the doctor and told him what was happenin', but this time the doctor had a name for it. Hanahaki. He told your granddaddy's bother that it was some sorta love sickness that was still pretty new. Since there wasn't any surgery yet, the doctor told him that his only choice was to confess and pray she loved him back."
Ochako felt her heart fall for this stranger. He'd had one option less than herself, and she knew she was struggling with her limited options as it was. How much worse had he felt to only have one option open to him?
"Well, your granddaddy's brother didn't like the sound of that. He decided he was gonna do something else."
Wait. Something…else? Ochako's brows furrowed. What else was there to do?
"You see, your granddaddy and his brother were both the rebellious kind when they were younger. Your granddaddy cooled off a bit by the time this happened. He had a wife and a baby on the way, but his brother still had things he wanted to do. Instead of confessing, that night he wrote a list down. He wrote down all of his hopes and dreams. The next day, he went around doing all of it. Your granddaddy called it the three months of terror for the town they grew up in."
"Wait—why terror?" Ochako tilted her head. She knew better than anyone that learning that you had hanahaki could do horrible things to your mind. It had almost convinced her to give up on everything. At least twice. Had it turned her granddaddy's brother into a villain?
"Because no one really knew when they were next," laughed her daddy, swept away by memories that were not his own. Ochako blinked. That laughter… so… not a villain, then?
Oblivious to her confusion, her daddy kept going.
"The way your granddaddy told it, he dyed the public drinking water three times, spent two weeks putting empty flower pots on top of houses, created a statue that was bolted to the middle of an intersection, and graffitied the town sign so it said that the animal shelters had free cats. The shelters got a lot of business that week and no one ever got hurt, but your granddaddy said that the police station said it was the principle of the matter."
"The police got involved?" asked Ochako, stifling her giggles, partly relieved that her unfamiliar uncle wasn't a villain and partly because it was so funny. The idea of someone being so bold… It gave her a laugh.
It probably gave him a laugh, too. And a lot of people in the town. Had he been, in his own way, protecting the smiles of everyone around him, almost like her? With pranks?
Ochako felt her giggles subside, but a smile of wonder remained on her face. How similar were they, this great uncle and herself?
"Yeah," said her daddy. She could practically see his smile now, the result of an effort from a man long since gone. How many different ways, she thought, were there of protecting smiles? She felt more of a kinship with this distant uncle now than she ever had in the past. More than when her granddaddy once told her that he'd had a brother, long since gone. More than when her daddy asked her not to bring it up to granddaddy anymore. Now… this distant uncle felt more like a part of her family than a part of some distant and tragic past. "Your granddaddy even helped with a few of those pranks, but he'd married your grandmomma by that point, and they were expecting me any day, so he didn't help out with many of 'em…
Daddy always wished he'd been there for his brother's last prank…"
Ochako's heart sank. She'd known it was coming, but not so soon. Not after such a revelation… After feeling so connected to this lost family…
Still. She had to know. She had to ask.
"What…happened?"
Her daddy took a breath, and she knew he was steadying himself to tell what she already knew was the end of the story.
"Well, it was actually the day grandmomma went into labor. Granddaddy wasn't gonna leave her side, and his brother wasn't gonna ask him to. So he invited someone else to go with him instead. You see, over those few months, besides the flowers and all, your granddaddy's brother and the lady he fell in love with became fast friends. They both loved joking around and got along pretty well whenever he could hang around her without throwing up flowers. So he invited her to go with her up to the water tower. The way your granddaddy told it, they were planning on writing my name way up there in big letters. Some sort of 'welcome to living' gift for granddaddy and grandmomma, I guess.
"Now," said her daddy, his voice firm. "Don't any of you get any ideas, baby girl. Your granddaddy never blamed me for being born that night. The way he told it, his brother was gonna go up on that water tower no matter when I was born, and it was his way of saying that he was happy I was coming. I think daddy was actually pretty happy that his brother wanted to greet me the way he did. Said it was like I was carryin' a bit of him forward."
Ochako blinked at her phone before turning to her friends. Her confusion was settled when she saw Momo rubbing at her neck with shame and Tsu croak in understanding. Of course, her friends had never seen her granddaddy dote on her daddy and her while he was around. They might have thought that.
But Ochako knew better than that. She remembered gentle hands and soft laughter and being given a very large cookie to hide from her parents. She knew her granddaddy would have never, not for an instant, blamed her daddy for anything that wasn't his fault.
"I never thought he'd blame you, daddy. Granddaddy was never like that," assured Ochako. She heard her daddy sigh on the other side of the phone and understood just a little bit of his feelings. He must have really wanted her to understand that his daddy had always loved him, and she hoped she'd never done anything to make it seem like she would doubt that. Theirs, of course, had always been a family of love and support. It was what made an Uraraka an Uraraka. She knew this and knew it well.
And if granddaddy's brother had been an Uraraka like the rest of them, then under his pranks and fun, he must have known and felt that as well.
She wondered, then, what could have happened at the water tower that night.
"Now," continued her daddy, picking up the story now that he'd made his point. "Even though granddaddy was waiting for me at the hospital, he was also checking in with his brother. Every thirty minutes or so, the way he told it, through the night through their link. His brother and his friend had been working hard at the water tower for a few hours by the time grandmomma, after hours of labor, had me. Granddaddy told his brother about it and then went into the hospital room to welcome me into the world. He was just a few steps out of range.
"He got a phone call a few minutes later. The way your granddaddy told it, his brother's friend was in hysterics. Apparently, after he'd heard from my daddy about me, he'd asked her about families. Settling down and all that. She thought he was joking and laughed, apparently.
"Daddy guessed that that was enough to trigger it."
Ochako's eyes widened. It felt like her heart was beating too fast. It felt like her heart was going to stop.
Just that. Laughter. That was it.
"That was all it took?" asked Ochako. She looked at her hands. What could they do? What could she do against that? "Just… all she did was laugh. That doesn't sound like a rejection—it—"
"Baby girl," said her daddy, cutting in. "He'd had the disease for three months. No one before him had lasted for longer than two weeks."
Wait…
"So… he was the first?" Ochako narrowed her eyes, again trying to concentrate on this uncle she'd never met. What was he like? How did he make it so far? How did he push what had already been known and create a new opportunity? How did he make it so far and give her hope for three months? "How did he do it?"
How can I push it?
"Well," said her daddy. "On the side, it looked like your granddady's brother was keepin' tabs of his condition and sending information to the doctors. Writin' it down and such. The doctors thought he was only gonna last a couple of weeks. They kept tellin' him to tell her before it was too late. Nope. He was the first person to live three months past getting the disease. His journals helped the doctors figure out how he did it. Most of it is published now in big, fancy scientific journals, but the main thing is that he accepted how he felt and decided to pursue his own life goals. One of them was to confess eventually. Looked like practicing and pretending that she reciprocated helped, too."
Ochako blinked. But…
But that…
That was something she'd been doing…
Well, she hadn't accepted her emotions before…
"Most of his goals didn't pass a week or two," said her daddy, oblivious to her swirling thoughts. "He'd told daddy he was going to make a new list of goals after I was born, but he never did… the water tower was the last goal he had."
"So—" said Ochako, her mind whirling "—if he'd had more life goals. Do you think—?"
"There's no way of knowing that," said her momma. From her tone, Ochako could tell she had an inkling, at least, of where Ochako's mind had gone. "He fought his hardest against this, and he gave so much to his family and to his community in his last few months, but it wasn't something he could ignore. And he never tried to. If you can find 'em, read the journals. I'm sure they've got 'em online nowadays. You're a smart girl, Ochako; you'll know what to do."
Ochako stayed silent, processing the information. Her great uncle had set the path for her. Sure, he'd done it differently, but if… if, at the core of it all, he could do it…
"I understand," said Ochako. Both of her friends looked at her, questions in their eyes and guarded hope in their expressions. She smiled at them. "Thank you daddy; thank you momma. I'll see if I can find them."
Momo smiled at her, an encouraging thing that told her that, whatever she was planning, she would support her. Tsu nodded, a critical look on her face that told her that she wouldn't let her do what she needed to alone. Over the phone, she could almost hear her parents' silent and exchanged look of trepidation. She moved to reassure them.
She picked up the phone, took it off speaker phone, and held it closer to her ear. While she knew logically it wouldn't bring them any closer, she hoped that, somehow, her feelings would reach them.
"Momma, daddy, I love you guys so much," she said. Please don't worry about me. You've given me so much. I'll do what I can here. "I want you guys to know that, okay? No matter what, I'll make you guys so proud."
"Oh, baby girl," said her momma. Her daddy was probably crying again and trying not to worry her. He was probably asking her momma to speak for both of them. "We already are."
Ochako smiled. She'd almost made it through the entire conversation without crying.
…/…/…/
"Are you sure about this, kero?" asked Tsu. The three of them, after an entire day of crying and planning and researching her great-uncle's journals, were returning to Heights Alliance. "I thought you said you didn't want to ignore this."
"And I'm not," argued Ochako. There was an identifiable spring in her step and a look of fire in her eyes. She brought her fist up and clenched it in front of her, almost identical to how she prepared for battle. And, in a way, she was preparing for battle. But this time, it felt like a battle she could win. "After hearing about my great-uncle, I think this will work. I didn't think it would before, but I'm sure it will now."
"Well… it's certainly true that he was able to exceed the life expectancy of his time…" said Momo diplomatically, "But do you truly believe that just…" Momo gestured vaguely, and Ochako could sense that she wasn't willing to put the plan into words quite yet.
Ochako, however, was ready. More than ready, in fact. She marched boldly forward.
"My great-uncle was able to extend his life by about six hundred percent," said Ochako. "According to his journals and to all the scientific stuff we found, he did it by accepting his feelings and working towards his short-term goals. He hadn't found another specific goal before daddy was born, so there wasn't anything to help tie him to the future."
"That's true…" interjected Momo. "But… isn't this exactly what you were doing before? Ignoring your feelings so you can concentrate on your goals?"
"No," disagreed Ochako. "Well, yes— but—!"
She tore her eyes from the road in front of her to smile at her friend. Grey eyes were framed in concern, and Ochako sought to clear that away. "This time, I'm going to break it down into short-term goals. Ones, like my great-uncle, that I can achieve with a bit of extra work. I'm going to use those little goals to get to my long-term goals, which are gonna help tie me to the next goal. And this time…"
Ochako let herself smile brightly. This was the cinching piece. The part she could not forget. It was key to her survival.
"This time I won't lie to myself about how I feel."
Ochako nodded to herself. This was the biggest change she had to make, both for herself and for the future she wanted. And she would do it, too. She would. "I won't tell myself I don't love him anymore. And maybe I'll practice confessing. That's what my great-uncle did. Who knows, that may end up being one of my goals after my long-term goals? But that helped him, and it'll probably help me."
Silence reigned among them as they walked, and Ochako was grateful for it. She could feel her determination build upon itself. Brick by metaphorical brick. She could do this. She could do this. It wouldn't be so bad. It was something she could do.
"Ochako-chan…" Tsu's voice cut through her inner mantra. She turned and saw that her friend had stopped walking and was staring at her. Piercing her with those eyes that always seemed to know at least one thing more than she did. Ochako and Momo stopped as well, looking back at their friend with curious eyes. Tsu observed for a moment, looking for something, before nodding. Whatever she'd been searching for, Ochako hoped she'd found it. "Don't forget to rely on us. We'll always be around to help."
Ochako swelled, relief and happiness bubbling within her. She wasn't naive. She knew that her friends weren't thrilled with this plan. But it was what she had. It was what she could do and what she could handle. The fact that the offer was still there…
Ochako quickly walked the few steps between her and Tsu and threw her arms around her, engulfing her in a hug.
"Thank you, Tsu-chan." Ochako smiled, then to Momo, whose visible concern could not be chased away, even by Ochako's new confidence. Still, she tried. She released one arm and gestured to her friend, who, despite her uneasiness, quickly ran into the circle and was hugged as well. Ochako held on tightly. "Thank you, Momo-chan. I won't let you guys down. I promise."
The girls hugged her back just as tightly.
The three eventually made their way back to Heights Alliance, where they were greeted at the gate by most of their classmates, chaperoned solemnly by a watchful Aizawa. Iida held a cake in his stiff arms, Todoroki putting away a single heated finger from lighting the candles. Ojiro was stuffing a box of something into his pocket. Maybe candles? Ochako couldn't tell because Mina, Toru, and Jirou all crowded around the girls, demanding to know why they hadn't been invited along and playfully shoved to show there was no harm and no foul. Sato's cooking apron was a mess, and Aoyama looked as though he was about to positively beam 'Happy Birthday' into her soul. Koji stood with his bunny and quickly passed the creature off to Ochako, who beamed with delight at the creature's soft fur. Shoji and Tokoyami each wished her a happy birthday and Ochako could swear that she heard muffled screaming from inside a dome Shoji had made with his arms. Sero and Kaminari had told her not to worry about it, and Bakugo tsk'ed with the same irritation that seemed to follow him everywhere.
"Uraraka-san."
Ochako, with Mina hanging off one shoulder, a bunny in her hands, and cake to her side, turned to look at him. Even though he was carefully positioned to show everyone else that he was just as excited at their return as everyone else, she could see the worry. In his eyes, along the slope of his shoulders, even the way he held his own hands. He couldn't hide it well. Still, he smiled at her. For her, she knew.
The guilt in her soul eased. While she hadn't been sure when she'd texted him earlier, she was sure now. She smiled.
"Deku-kun," she said. Though he'd been looking at her before, she could feel his attention sharpen somehow. "Thank you. For your text."
I'll be okay, she wanted to say. And she hoped he would understand. I'll be okay. I mean it this time.
Ochako watched as the worry began to leave her best friend's eyes. She watched his shoulders drop, the tension leaving them. His hands still squirrelled in front of him, though.
"N-no problem!"
A warmth blossomed in her to see his reaction. His abashed face and his kind gestures. She felt his modest reaction warm her very soul even as Mina began to complain that Ochako hadn't read or responded to her texts and was she the first or not and Ochako were you listening?
She was, of course, but she was more preoccupied with the fact that the warmth Deku brought to her hadn't brought with it any of those cursed yellow flowers.
Day 0
Day 1
"Are you sure about this?" asked Recovery Girl. Her face yielded no emotions to Ochako, no hint if she was taking the correct path or not. But Ochako felt confident. With everything that had happened yesterday, finishing off the day with that sense of victory, she couldn't help but feel so.
"I'm sure."
Recovery Girl nodded, then took Ochako's file and placed it back with the other folders of class 3-A. When she had finished, she turned back to Ochako with a steady gaze. "You understand that this will not be easy. Imitating Uraraka's techniques won't necessarily guarantee you the future you're looking for."
Ochako looked down. Her hands were clenched atop her knees. The fact that they didn't shake gave her confidence. She lifted her head.
"Even so," she said, her voice unwavering, "if there's a chance. Even a small chance that I can achieve my goals on my terms, then I'll do anything to do that. To gain control over my life… I'll definitely go beyond for that!"
Ochako was determined. She refused to be talked out of her decision. Recovery Girl seemed to know this and merely sighed.
"The door is always open to you, Uraraka-chan. I can't stop you reckless children from making your own decisions, but I'll be here if you ever decide anything different."
It was a warning. A word of caution. Ochako knew it well, but she was grateful that caution was all she was receiving instead of a giant stop sign. Respectfully, she bowed her head. "Thank you, Recovery Girl."
The heroine was silent as Ochako left the room.
Day 5
"I can't believe you guys are serious about this…"
"I know! It's so unfair…"
Ochako stared dutifully at her essay as Mina and Toru grumbled. Unsatisfied with being ignored, the pinker of the two walked casually to her and then sat down beside her, leaning and leaning and leaning until all her weight was rested atop Ochako in what had to be an uncomfortable manner.
"Ochako-chaaaaaaaan," whined Mina. "Tell Momo-chan and Tsu-chan that it's unfaaair!"
"I don't think that'll help, Mina-chan," pointed out Toru before Ochako could say anything. "She's in on the conspiracy!"
"That's right," gasped Mina, slumping even further against Ochako's form. One pink forearm rested daintily across her forehead, and Ochako might have snorted at her friend's dramatics in any other situation. "Ochako-chan has betrayed us!"
"I never talked about it to begin with," defended Ochako, now forced aside from her work under Mina's weight. "'Sides, it's not that bad—"
"Not that bad!?" yelped Toru, squeezing beside Ochako with incredible speed. Her stealth training must have included that somehow… "How else are we going to talk about the fact that Jirou-chan is dat—eep!"
"That's enough, you guys!"
Ochako looked up to find the woman of the hour standing behind the couch, one earjack plugged into each gossipy girl. Her cheeks were dusted red, but her scowl was eternal. "The others are right. We can definitely go about our own romantic lives, but it's not cool to sit there and talk about others."
"Boo!" Mina jumped up, turning to Jirou quickly. "You used to help us with this, you know! What was it you used to say, a lighter sentence? Oh!" The frustration melted away in favor of a grin. "Is it because you started going out with—eep!"
"L-like I said, knock it off," pouted Jirou as she withdrew her earjacks, Mina and Toru rubbing their afflicted skin with matching pouts and equal amounts of grumbling.
Ochako sighed as she righted herself.
At least she didn't throw up any flowers. Still going strong.
Day 13
"And that is how you would use a cosine in this situation," explained Iida, his arm chopping as he attempted to help Ochako learn what she hadn't been able to understand.
And… honestly… still didn't understand.
Math was hard.
Ochako puzzled over the numbers, but none of them made sense to her. She sighed and looked at her friend, who was resting his chin upon his fingers, clearly in thought.
"Iida-kun?"
"Ah! My apologies, Uraraka-kun! It looks as though I have been unable to assist you!" said Iida, his head habitually sinking into a bow as he apologized. Ochako's hands flapped in front of her as she tried to wave away some of his formalities.
"Th-that's fine, Iida-kun! You don't need to bow, honest," stammered Ochako. She looked away from her friend and down at the dizzying amount of math and strange symbols on her paper with a frown. "I'm just sorry I wasn't able to understand it even after you tried to explain it to me."
It wasn't like she didn't want to get it. She did! It was one of her new short-term goals to get to her long-term goals! "Do better in classes so you look better to agencies!" She had to work hard for it! But…
"I wonder…" said Iida-kun from the seat in front of her, drawing Ochako's attention again. She curiously tilted her head. "Have you considered asking Midoriya-kun?"
Ochako gasped, planting a closed fist on an open palm, as Iida continued.
"His test scores have been consistently admirable, and he has that certain trait which I lack that allows him to explain concepts in an easy-to-understand manner. Perhaps you would benefit more from asking for his guidance in this subject?"
"That's a really good idea, Iida-kun!" The flowers hadn't been too much of an issue, honestly, and with the step of accepting her feelings and creating little goals, she'd actually had a couple of days where she hadn't spat any out at all! It felt like such a non-threatening issue at this point that she couldn't quite remember why she'd freaked out so badly after hearing about it. "I should go ask after class."
"Splendid!" said Iida, pleased to have helped his friend. Ochako turned her face to find him sitting in his seat at the opposite side of the classroom.
To be honest, he was actually using study hall for what it was meant to be used for. He always had, which was probably why he typically had such high grades. Normally, she would have used this time to daydream or think of new upgrades or text her friends, but her new goals had kept her from doing that.
And… it was a nice day today. The sunlight was still cold, as was typical of winter, but he managed to make it look warm somehow. The yellow danced with his green hair while he himself was bent over a notebook, pencil scratching away at the math problems she was having such difficulty with. It looked like he was flying through them, comfortable and confident as you please. It warmed Ochako's heart, to be honest, to see him moving through the paper with such precision. Was he really working on math problems? Or had he finished them? Was he working on his hero notes now? He looked so in his element that she wouldn't be surprised if he'd moved onto his favorite hobby…
Confess… a part of her whispered. Walk up to him and confess…
Part of accepting her feelings also meant more moments like this. Accepting her feelings as real also meant a bleed through into her reality. There were times where it felt like confessing wouldn't be a burden on either of them, but a confession of the truth. That nothing really had to change, just as long as she let him know. It felt… possible, almost…
A blush rose in her cheeks, though the past two weeks had been spent telling herself that it wasn't bad. No, it wasn't. She was going to confess. Eventually. That's what her great-uncle had said so often. Sometimes it was the knowledge that confession was going to happen that kept the flowers at bay.
Was it a lie?
She didn't know anymore.
All she knew was that it worked. She could watch him write with that focus that meant he was working towards something important, admire his tenacity and grit, and not hurt. She didn't have to shame herself into looking away—this time, she even had a question! She had all the reason in the world to look over at him and see him work hard and feel happy.
So… no, she wouldn't confess right now. Later, though. Later. She would confess later.
Something soft invaded her mouth, and her eyes widened. Wait. This wasn't… but…
"In fact," said Iida, his voice coming into sharp clarity now that Ochako's trance had been broken. "Would you or Midoriya-kun mind if I observed his tutoring style? It would be great training in order to further my own efforts in communication."
Ochako, suddenly daunted by the idea of going to speak with Deku on her own, smiled and nodded. Iida brightened considerably.
"Excellent! I hope to learn as much from this as you," said he with a determined look. Ochako's smile couldn't help but falter.
Math suddenly seem as important as it had been a few minutes ago.
