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There’s something peaceful about making ramen alone in the dark.
The way the kettle bubbles and steams, the tiny light saying the heat is on, the emptiness of the apartment with no bad news to be heard. The anticipation of adding a small amount of green onion as a special treat, the cut-up rings in a neat pile on the counter. How every sound is amplified, from the sticky tapping of feet against the tile flooring to the harsh spray of a summer thunderstorm outside. How it’s nice to not have questions about her applying to high schools and why she’s been so secretive.
She doesn’t have to show them her scholarship applications when she’s by herself or talk about what she’s going to do with her life while they sacrifice every aspect of theirs. Instead she just sits here, waiting, hoping, taking a chance on the small sliver of hope that is heroics.
The kettle clicks, and the red light fades away. Looks like the water is done. Carefully, she pours the scalding liquid into the styrofoam cup and sets her chopsticks on it once it hits the fill line. It smells like something vaguely regarded as chicken, so that’s better than last time. The rest of the water is put in a separate, Ryukyu-themed mug with a tea bag. Though, she isn’t sure if it’ll taste much. Can tea go bad? The date is only for a few months ago.
Booming thunder shakes the house. Ochako startles, and flinches, nearly dropping her mug if not for her quirk activating last second. For a moment, it almost sounded like her folks walked through the door. Though, it was unlikely. They’re supposed to be on the job in that other prefecture for the next week. It’s just her and the awful weather.
She retrieves her meal, setting herself down on the couch in front of the blank tv, stirring it quietly before having a slurp of noodles. Not bad. Cheaper than the one they had last time, too. Maybe she should stick to this for lunches from now on. The only thing is that they can’t buy in bulk, but that’s what haggling is for. So now she sits alone in silence, only hearing the slurps of al dente ramen and weak, over-steeped tea, with an empty one-and-a-half bedroom, one bathroom apartment with half the lightbulbs busted out and a crack up one of the walls from that earthquake last year that the landlord still hasn’t fixed to keep her company.
Truly, nothing better than this.
She goes to take another bite when something interrupts her: knocking. Three sharp knocks laid upon her front door. Salesman, most likely, but who would be selling out in this weather? Ochako would admire the tenacity if most weren’t just here to scam teenagers and the elderly. Perhaps she should just pretend that nobody was home?
She gets up, wandering over to the entryway, hearing another set of louder, more frantic knocks, like a fist banging on her door. Cautiously, she stays quiet, instead going for the peephole to see who was out there-
A gasp. Hasty hands fumbling with the lock, sliding the pin out and undoing the deadbolt. Ochako yanks the handle so hard the whole thing nearly comes off the hinges.
There, just outside and under the awning, is a girl soaked entirely to the bone, hair half done up in a bun on the side of her head, as if she was trying to make it look nice, the other side completely flattened to her face. Her cardigan is practically dripping wet, and as she shifts back and forth, her shoes make squishy sounds. And that isn’t even the most pressing matter- she has blood on her face, hands, and front of her shirt.
Ochako knows this girl. Himiko Toga, a year above her in an adjacent junior high school. She’s an outcast at her school, told off for apparently having a weird face. Ochako doesn’t see it, in fact she thinks her friend is quite pretty, but that’s beside the point. The point was that Toga was an observer- someone who hangs around people but never had any real companionship. That is until they met when Ochako was hiding in a tunnel on her way back from school, having tripped and, due to not activating her quirk in time, bashing a large cut open on her forehead. Toga apparently could smell the blood, and found her crying.
She was so concerned about her appearance back then- not wanting to be seen as the poor kid, and bloody clothes and a cut they couldn’t even bandage because they didn’t have any in the cupboards wouldn’t help her case. But Toga didn’t know, didn’t need to. She just kneeled down next to her, and asked a simple question:
“Can I have some of your blood?”
Understandably, this only freaked Uraraka out more, but after an explanation, it didn’t seem so bad. Toga’s quirk revolved around ingesting blood, and as a consequence, she gets cravings for it. Like some kind of iron-deficient vampire. Ochako thought it was a bit cool, to be honest. She promised to not take too much, and after agreeing and letting her swab some off, her new odd acquaintance put the cutest, glittery, pink bunny bandaid she had ever seen in her life on her forehead. Toga said it was because she looked like a bunny rabbit, and it suited her. From there, they made quick work of getting to know each other and would walk home every so often from class.
But today, Toga was here. At her house. She’s only visited a few times before, and judging by her clothes, may have gotten lost trying to find the right building, which only added to the urgency.
“Toga,” She breathes, “what happened? Are you hurt?” Quickly, she slides over a little to let the other in, watching as she takes off her shoes before pouring any leftover rainwater outside.
“… My parents kicked me out.” Himiko’s voice trembles, hands attempting and failing to unbutton her cardigan. Ochako helps her out of it, hands nimble and swift with each button before sliding the whole thing off. “I-I didn’t know where to go, so I came here. I’m sorry to intrude.”
“No, no! Don’t apologize. You’re always welcome here.” Uraraka makes a mental checklist of what to do. Check for injuries, make sure she isn’t cold, get her a shower, fresh clothes, maybe even a cup of warm water. “What do you mean, they kicked you out? Like for the night?”
“Like for good, ‘Chako.” She sniffles, reaching up to undo her bun, letting her hair fall down with a wet thwap. “I got in trouble at school, and they’re threatening to expel me. So I went home. They called me devil spawn. Again.” They’d had discussions about their families before. Toga’s had always been… rather neglectful with their only daughter from the sound of it. How could you bring a child into the world only to discard her when she needed help the most? How could anyone be that cruel? She’s heard about them being disgusted by Toga’s quirk, and while it’s unconventional, it’s not even that bad. To call a child horrible names to their face over something they can’t control…
“Your parents suck, senpai.” Is all she says in return on the subject. Moving on to more pressing matters-
“Is the blood yours?” Toga shakes her head no. “Then whose is it?”
“A boy. From my class.” She shrugs, walking over to the sink to squeeze her hair out over it. “He was cute. And I loved him a lot, so I…” Her hands shake, “I stabbed him. With one of those metal boba straws?” Her voice hikes up, guilty and shameful. She begins to pant, shaking her head. “I don’t know what happened, I just- drank his blood, you know? I wanted to be closer to him. How closer can you get than that? I wanted to be him. I wanted to be with him. It’s so confusing, and my body just… moved.” Next goes her shirt, which is wringed out as well.
“And you couldn’t just give him a card or a note instead?”
“I tried! I wrote a hundred notes in preparation, even tried making homemade chocolates! I just couldn’t get it right. Nothing conveyed how I felt. It wasn’t intense enough!” Himiko’s lip quivers, and then a sob escapes her lips. “I just- I loved him! So much! And it was eating me alive, not being able to show it. Not being able to soothe this pain in me. Blood helps, you know?”
Ochako wanders over, grabbing a towel from a nearby bathroom and setting it down on the couch. Her friend takes the offer and has a seat, letting it all pour out.
“When- When I taste blood, my quirk lets me wear their appearance for a while. Like a mask. But it isn’t just a disguise- I become that person. I feel like I am them- like I’m not myself anymore. I’m the person that I care about. I didn’t just want him to love me, I wanted to become him, and the best way to do that was… you know.” Her face contorts into a grimace. “I dunno why I feel this way. I guess I’ve always been really aggressive to cute stuff? Mom kept bringing up a time when I was little, I brought in a bird from outside. It was covered in blood, and dead, and I kept kissing it. She thought I was hideous.”
“Did you kill it?”
“I dunno. Does it matter? All it did was make my family think I belong in an asylum. Maybe I do.”
“Oh, Himiko…” Uraraka shakes her head, “No. You don’t belong in some asylum. You just…” How does she phrase it? “You have a lot of complicated feelings, and you don’t know how to show them to other people, we can work with that-“
“No!” Her sobs grow more desperate, and she curls her knees up to her chest. “You don’t get it! Ochako I-” Toga gags, hesitates, and then-
“I liked it!”
The room grows colder than usual. Thunder booms and shakes the apartment. Ochako can only stare in confusion. Her close friend morphs into something she doesn’t understand in her mind. Something tormented. Instead of passing judgement though, she sits, and rubs the other’s shivering side.
“I liked it when I drank his blood.” The older girl continues, “When I stabbed him, I felt closer than I ever had to anyone. There was a part of me that was empty, and the blood filled it. I felt… joy! Affection! Normal people things! I turned into him, and I was normal!” Soft golden eyes gaze upwards, pupils blown to the size of saucers.
“I felt like a person. Not some… curse or burden that nobody wants. I was him, and he was dripping in blood and he looked so cute like that, I- I felt free. Like something broke and can’t be fixed anymore.” She leans on her side, giving a defeated sigh. “And now everyone’s worst fear about me’s been confirmed. I’m a creepy monster. Some freak! A villain waiting for the right moment.”
“That’s not true-!” Uraraka takes her face in her hands, feeling tears bubble in the corners of her eyes. But she must stay strong, for the both of them. “You aren’t any of those things! Because if you were, you wouldn’t have come here! You wanted help, Toga, and you knew to come here because I would listen, because you trust and care about me, too!” She pulls her into a hug, squeezing as tight as she can to get the message across. “And you don’t wanna stab me, do you?”
There’s a long silence. A long, quiet silence with only their breathing, the occasional sniffle or ruffle of clothing. But there is no answer to that. Perhaps it is better that way.
Ochako walks Toga into the bathroom and flips on the lightswitch, the yellow burning brightness of the bulb enough to nearly blind both of them. She doesn’t lock the door, lets the light spill into the hallway and it makes the tiny space less tiny.
Himiko’s clothes sit in a puddle next to the bath, a mess of wrinkles and stains that will be lovingly washed away in a few hours. But for now, she must clean her friend’s mind of the thoughts that plague her.
It’s been ages since either of them has touched hot bath water, each with their own circumstances surrounding it. But now Himiko gets to at least have a moment of warmth here, shared with a confidant even if the water only goes up to her elbows. Even if that warmth does not pierce her wounded heart, it will surround her skin in a blanket of kindness.
She washes her hair in silence, taking caution to not get any strawberry-scented suds in her eyes. The grime and oils that are purged serve as a grounding reminder of what is being left behind. Then she leaves it to sit, to settle in and process, to give her compassion a chance to be absorbed into her scalp.
In the meantime, her hands go to between her shoulder blades, a noticeable bruise on her right side. Ochako thinks if she scrubs enough it, too, will come out in the bathwater. It is only when the hopeful idea passes that she rinses the shampoo away, moving in with the conditioner. There’s only a small bit left, but it’s worth it to repair any piece she can.
“Here,” Her voice, though barely a whisper sounds so loud in this room. She wishes that she could soften the blow. She hands her the bar of soap. “Can you…?” Do this herself, she means. The blonde girl in the tub nods, and takes her time scrubbing herself head to toe. It’s a meticulous process, but one that showed some progress.
“How do you love someone?” Toga asks, either to herself or to her friend, it’s hard to tell. “I keep trying and failing.”
“You want to be loved. That’s a thing a lot of people want.” She hums, resting her head on the edge of the bath. “Maybe that’s why you want to be people. You love them, so you know they’re capable of being loved.”
“You’re loved, ‘Chako. By lots of people. You have a pretty face, and you’re really nice to everyone, and everyone is nice to you. Your parents are kind.” The soap goes to rest in it’s little caddy, and her friend goes to rest next to her. “How do you do it? I tried acting like other girls, eat lots of sweets, like cute things, care about pointless gossip- doesn’t work. What do you do that makes it so easy?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did, then I could give you the answer.”
“You’re too nice. Sweeter than cake. Your blood that day tasted sweet, too. Like Sakura mochi.” Her eyes slide close, and Ochako begins the process of washing the conditioner out.
She gets her out once it’s done, letting the bath drain away all her sorrows as she meticulously dries her hair. It’s times like these that she wishes they had softer towels. Or a hairdryer, instead of an old comb. In her mind, she sees a vision of the future. Toga’s visiting a much nicer apartment with colorful walls and décor, and her parents are there, too, having dinner. She saves the fluffiest towels for her guests, and there’s hot water and hot food every night. What a life to-
“Ah!” Toga’s hair suspends itself in the air, as if she was swimming on dry land- a siren. She must have used her quirk by accident. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Her words are cut off by a sound- a giggle, different than her own. Ochakos’ laugh is airy, bubbly, like soda pop. Himiko sounds like red velvet cake batter- smooth and rich.
“You’re silly.” She notes, and her mouth curls in the sunrise of a genuine smile.
She dresses her friend in an old T-shirt and boxer shorts, taking care to ensure no holes in either.
“Sorry I can’t get you anything better.”
“Sorry I showed up unannounced.”
She makes a mental agreement to let Himiko sleep in her bed, lumpy as it may be, and to take the floor in her stead, but just as she gets ready to lay down-
“Stay.”
“Hm?” She hums from her spot on her rug.
“Will you stay with me?” Toga asks from her spot. “I can’t- I don’t feel safe alone. I don’t know if we’ll fit into the bed together, but…” Ochako is already climbing in before she can finish the sentence, trying to sleep on the outskirts so she has more space.
Of course, there’s the unspoken risk. Of being stabbed, or bitten in her sleep, or rolling off the bed, or even something far more dangerous- a soft drum in her heart making itself known at the worst possible time. But what is life- is being a hero- without any risk at all?
Under the covers, their hands meet in a tightly woven lock.
It is times like these that she wishes she had the thought to splurge on nail polish or nicely smelling hand lotion.
“You know, I think I love you,” Himiko confesses, raspy and tired, eyes focused on the ceiling, “And it scares me. I’ve known you for a short while, and yet, my heart feels the same pressure as before. I want to be you. I want to love you, and be loved by you. But I’m scared of messing it- what we have- up.”
“You won’t.”
“How can you know?” She turns her head to look at her.
“Because I’m still here, aren’t I?” Ochako answers, “And I’ll still be here tomorrow, and the day after that.”
“Oh.” She blinks. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t worry,” She gives Himiko’s hand a squeeze as they both drift off, heads resting against one another, “I will.”