Chapter Text
“Get your hands off your ears. You need to memorize this sound.”
Ochako hesitated, and the girl next to her yanked her hands away. The muffled sound of screams became sharp, and Ochako flinched. The man across from her didn’t even look at her, just continued staring out the window with an unnerving smile.
“I told you she’s too soft! You should be sending me,” the other girl whined.
“And I told you, there wasn’t as good of an opening. There’s the signal, let’s go inside.”
They climbed out of the carriage one by one, Shigaraki first, then Ochako, then Toga. There was less screaming now, but something ominous still hung in the air as they approached. The perfectly manicured gardens and clear night sky stood in sharp contrast to the fire and blood Ochako smelled, and she shivered.
She tried to distract herself with her usual game. Something red…flowers, tidy in the window boxes. Orange…the hazy light on the other side of the manor. No point thinking about what that fire was burning. Yellow stars. Green hedges. Blue door…
It was usually a lovely manor. Huge, by her personal standards, but almost a hovel compared to the sketches she’d seen of the other lords’ manors. It was made of white stone and what felt like a thousand windows, with balconies at every second story window, draped in ivy and honeysuckle.
Now the windows were smashes, and some of the ivy was charred. Streaks of black smeared the white stone. It would only get worse. Ochako locked her eyes on the front door—a double door, blue with a beautiful stained glass inlay—and tried not to see anything else.
“Home sweet home! Luckily for you, you won’t have to spend much time here. Ashido is already on her way for ‘help’,” Shigaraki said, a sick smile across his face as he pushed the huge blue doors open. He scratched his neck feverishly. “Everything is going perfectly. Maybe even a little too perfectly.”
They stepped inside and Ochako tried not to gag. Bodies, everywhere. Maids, butlers, a guard…Ochako squeezed her eyes shut until she could only peek through her eyelids. She didn’t count them.
She knew almost everything there was to know about this house. The layout, the names and important dates of the Duke’s family, their family history, the gossip, the way they spent their money, the way they did their hair. Everything. She knew more about them than she did about herself.
Including, generally, how many people made up the staff of the Ururaka household. She also knew they were all dead or would be. That was the whole point of being here. Only two could survive this day, and one of them would be a fake.
It was what they had planned for her whole life.
They made their way upstairs, up a grand staircase so wide she could have done cartwheels across it. A chandelier made of more diamonds than she could have dreamed of twinkled above her. She had seen it in the sketches, of course. She had hoped to see it in person one day. But she didn’t dare open her eyes any further.
She wanted to go home. It was a miserable place, leaky and drafty and full of rats, and yet infinitely better than where she was now, chandelier be damned.
Poor chandelier hadn't done anything, though, so she mentally apologized to it. If only she could switch place with it. Better shattered than this.
They made their way to Lady Ochako’s room. Her room. She swallowed the bile in her throat. She had dreaded this for so long, but in some ways, it was a relief to be here finally.
They opened the door and Ochako retched. The smell of blood was so strong. And there she was, splayed out across the floor, almost unrecognizable. Ochako couldn't take her eyes off her. They could be twins, only this version of her was laying there in a fancier gown than Ochako had ever seen in real life. It was the whole point, she knew, but seeing it in person was alarming. This could have been her life.
“She needs more disfigurement. She can’t be recognized. And switch her clothes for something else…a maid’s dress, maybe. Not here!” Shigaraki scolded the thug, who stopped in his tracks, “There can’t be too much blood in here, or her survival will be questioned. Take this one out to the gardens.”
The thugs dragged the body out—Ochako looked away from the familiar brown hair, the pink cheeks, the now vacant brown eyes of the real Lady Ochako Ururaka—and they were alone again.
This could have been her life...well, now it would be.
Ochako looked around the room. If you ignored the puddle of blood, the room was beautiful. A huge four-poster bed, with a fluffy blue duvet and a thousand pillows. Shelves of crystal figurines. A stuffed animal taller than she was in the corner. A table devoted entirely to beauty products. Ochako ran her fingers over the jars and bottles, admiring them. She stopped at the one she was familiar with.
All her life, they had pretended this was her life. Pretended her hand me down shoes were beautiful leather, which someone else tied and not her--she could never risk calluses. She had memorized maps of the country, floor plans of every building Lady Ochako had ever visited, names of friends and acquaintances, rules of etiquette, everything to be the perfect copy of the Lady Ochako. They had taken her name away to sell the lie, taken her real birthday and real parents and replaced them with facts about a life that wasn't really hers. They had even drilled her on the names of these perfumes.
But she really owned this one. Mina had bought it for her with her own pocket money, and Ochako had hid it beneath the floorboards at home so Toga wouldn't steal it. Sometimes, she pulled it from its little hiding spot just to smell it and admire the cut glass bottle. It seemed so plain among all the other bottles now.
Toga was idly perusing the dresses in a nearby armoire, twirling a little knife on her finger. Ochako knew the real closet of dresses was through a door to the right of Toga, and these were old dresses that the lady probably never wore anymore, but she didn't correct her.
“Which one of these dresses do we get to cover in blood?” Toga said, too eagerly for Ochako’s taste.
“Pick one, it doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki said, “Help her get into it.”
“I am a lady, not a maid,” Toga whined, but Shigaraki just glared at her.
“You’re the one who insisted on coming, Lady Toga.”
Toga glared right back, but turned to Ochako with a huff. “Come on, Lady Ochako, let’s get this over with.”
Toga had grabbed something blue—the real Lady Ochako’s favorite color, Ochako thought regretfully—and together they managed to get all the laces tied and buttons fastened. Looking back, Ochako never could remember exactly what the dress looked like. It was a silent, miserable job that neither of them enjoyed. When they finally finished, Shigaraki gestured for the floor.
“Lay where she was and don’t get up until they arrive. You know what to do. Hagakure will keep in touch with Ashido, so watch for our messages in a few months. Don’t mess this up.”
Ochako nodded numbly, laying in the puddle of blood on the floor and grimacing as the already-cold liquid seeped into her dress. This was what hell felt like, she was sure of it. This was an altar to a devil, and she was the sacrifice.
Toga leaned over her with a wide smile. “One last thing,” she said, and she stuck one of her little knives into Ochako’s side. Ochako screamed, but Toga held a hand over her mouth until her screams died down. “We need authenticity, don’t we?” Toga asked, sickly-sweet as she watched Ochako struggle through the pain, “Can’t have a puddle of blood and no wounds. Besides, I’ve always wanted to stab you.”
“You want to stab everyone,” Ochako finally mustered, pressing her hands down on the wound as hard as she could, tears pricking her eyes.
“Ah, it speaks! And for that, you get another one,” Toga said gleefully.
Ochako didn’t see the next one coming. She hissed in pain as Toga stuck the knife between her ribs. Then everything went black.
The next few hours were hazy. Maybe they were days. She wasn’t sure. She vaguely remembered Mina screaming and thinking what a good actress she was. At least she wouldn’t be alone. She could always count on Mina. There was the shine of metal…was it armor? The Knights of Might had arrived, then, as planned. How nice. Everything going according to plan.
She hated this plan. She hated the pain in her side, the pang of breathing too deeply. She hated Shigaraki, she hated Toga, she hated all of them--
--but she knew what they could do. And she hated how afraid she was of that.
She thought about her parents briefly and wondered what they were doing, if they were better off now, if selling her away to replace this poor lady had been worth it. She couldn’t even remember their faces. She couldn’t remember what her name had been. She hoped it had all been worth it, and they were happy now.
She remembered crying. A mop of green hair, some warm broth…it was all so hazy, a mix of anger and fear and pain.
Ochako wondered if she could just not wake up. But she had never been that lucky.