Chapter Text
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The alarm chimed before dawn, far too cheerful for how heavy Ochako’s body felt. She cracked one eye open, groaned, and rolled over, staring at the ceiling of her modest Tokyo apartment. Another day, another shift. She wasn’t the top hero, not even close—support work suited her better. Rescue ops, evacuation detail, making sure people were safe after the dust settled. That was what she told herself every time she pulled on the uniform hanging by her door.
She went through the motions—coffee, toast, hair tied back loosely. Her phone buzzed halfway through her mug, screen flashing with Mina’s name.
Mina: GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS ✨💖
Mina: CLASS 1-A REUNION!!!
Mina: 7PM, downtown. Don’t even THINK about ghosting us.
Ochako smiled despite herself, typing with one hand.
Ochako: I didn’t forget.
Mina: Uh huh. Outfit?
Ochako: …
Mina: Thought so 😏 I’ll swing by. We’re getting you something gorgeous.
True to her word, Mina showed up in a whirl of pink hair, perfume, and energy that filled the apartment. Kirishima leaned against the doorframe, grinning sheepishly.
“Car’s downstairs. You ladies good to go?” he asked.
“Not yet!” Mina declared, yanking open Ochako’s closet. “Seriously, you were about to show up in work clothes, weren’t you?”
Ochako sputtered, slightly levitating. “I—I was just going to—”
“Nope. We’re fixing this.”
By the time Mina was finished, Ochako stood in front of her mirror barely recognizing herself. The dress was simple but elegant, hugging her frame in ways she wasn’t used to. Her hair framed her face differently, softer, almost glowing under the lamp light.
“You look amazing,” Mina said, hands on her hips. “Bakugo’s gonna choke on his drink.”
Ochako’s head whipped around. “What??? why would you—”
“I’m just saying!” Mina laughed, grabbing her purse. “Let’s go.”
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The venue was already buzzing by the time they arrived, laughter and voices spilling out into the evening air. Ochako’s nerves twisted in her stomach as she walked between Mina and Kirishima, the warmth of their presence grounding her.
Inside, fairy lights draped the hall. Music hummed softly. Familiar faces turned, old classmates waving, calling her name. She smiled, shy but genuine, her chest tight with something she couldn’t quite name.
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(Bakugo’s POV)
The first thing he noticed wasn’t the crowd or the noise. It was her.
Ochako stepped into the hall like she didn’t belong there, like she hadn’t realized every head turned in her direction. He froze with a drink in his hand, heart slamming harder than he wanted to admit.
She’s different. Stronger. Damn it, she’s practically glowing.
His jaw clenched, lips tightening into a scowl. He hated how easily the sight of her pulled at him, how his chest tightened like old scars aching in bad weather.
Don’t be an idiot. You’ve got nothing to say to her. Not anymore.
Still, when her gaze flicked toward him—brief, almost accidental—he couldn’t look away.
(Ochako’s POV)
The warmth of the room was almost overwhelming. Voices she hadn’t heard in years, laughter that carried her straight back to dorm hallways and shared late-night snacks. And then—him.
Her eyes landed on Bakugo, unbidden. He stood across the room, shoulders broad, hair the same wild mess, expression unreadable under the low lights.
Of course he’s here. Of course he looks like that.
Her heart stuttered painfully against her ribs, and she turned too quickly, pretending to focus on Mina’s chatter.
Don’t think about him Ochako. Don’t.
But the weight of his stare lingered, heavy as ever.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Just the silence of a glance across the years—sharp, fleeting, unspoken.
Then the noise of the reunion swallowed it whole.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to narrow down to a thread between their eyes—thin, fragile, unsteady. Years collapsed in the space of a heartbeat, dragging with them memories neither had asked to recall.
Bakugo’s fingers tightened around his glass until his knuckles whitened. Why the hell are you looking at me like that? Like nothing’s changed. Like everything has. Tch—don’t be stupid. Don’t start now.
Ochako’s breath caught, chest aching in a way that felt both familiar and unwanted. He hasn’t changed at all. Or maybe he has, and I’m just too afraid to see it. Don’t look too long. Don’t let him know.
The reunion faded behind her, the buzz of laughter and clinking glasses now just a memory as Uraraka stepped onto the quiet Tokyo streets. The night air was crisp, carrying faint scents of grilled street food and the lingering perfume of her classmates, but Ochako barely noticed. Mina chattered nonstop beside her, energy still buzzing from the evening’s festivities, but Ochako’s mind was trapped on that single glance. Bakugo. The way his eyes had lingered, the tension stretching across the years in one heartbeat, and the unspoken words that hovered between them like a storm on pause.
“You’ve been quiet all night,” Mina remarked, nudging her shoulder with playful insistence. “Spill. Don’t tell me you were standing there staring at him the entire time.”
Ochako froze mid-step, her cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” she said, though her fingers twisted the strap of her purse almost violently. The uneven glow of the streetlamps cast long shadows across the sidewalk, stretching her figure beside Mina’s, a reflection of the unease coiling in her chest.
Mina raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and gave a knowing smirk. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s totally fine. You’re shaking slightly. Don’t tell me it’s just the cold.”
“I’m not shaking,” Ochako insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. She avoided Mina’s gaze and focused instead on the soft halo of light spilling from the streetlamps. Her mind replayed Bakugo’s frozen expression—the scowl that masked the storm behind his eyes, the way his posture had stiffened as if the world had stopped for a moment. Ochako could still feel the tightness in her chest and the ache of unspoken words that left her breath short.
Mina’s voice pulled her back. “Yeah, okay. I get it. He’s…him. And you’re…well you. Drama magnet meets heart-on-sleeve hero. Classic.” She laughed softly, teasing, but there was warmth in her tone that made Ochako smile despite herself.
Ochako tried to shake off the memory, focusing on the casual banter Mina offered—the way Kirishima had grinned at them earlier, the laughter of classmates around the hall—but her thoughts kept drifting. Every reflective shop window, every passing car light seemed to hold his gaze, sharp and unwavering. She could picture him standing somewhere in the city, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes daring her to acknowledge the weight between them.
“Do you think he even noticed?” Ochako asked quietly, her voice nearly swallowed by the hum of the city.
Mina tilted her head, studying her with exaggerated scrutiny. “Noticed what? You? Him staring? Ochako, honey, he definitely noticed. He never misses a thing.”
Ochako’s stomach twisted, a mixture of anticipation and dread. The streets felt emptier now, quieter—as if the world itself had shrunk around the memory of that fleeting glance. Shadows stretched longer, and even the distant neon lights seemed to pulse in rhythm with her thoughts. Each step felt heavier, each breath tighter, a reminder of everything she had tried to forget.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted softly. “I can’t start something that ended before it started—before it even had a chance.”
Mina fell silent for a moment, letting the words settle into the night. Then she nudged Ochako gently. “You don’t have to do anything right now. Just breathe. You saw him. You’re human. That’s all. Don’t make it more complicated than it is.”
Ochako nodded slowly, inhaling the night air and letting her pulse settle slightly. The tension that had coiled in her chest all evening loosened a little, replaced with the quiet ache of longing she wasn’t ready to name.
They continued walking side by side, Mina’s chatter gradually filling the spaces between Ochako’s racing thoughts. Yet no matter how hard she focused on the mundane, the lingering thread of heat and weight in her chest remained. The reunion, the glance, the years compressed into one heartbeat, followed her down the quiet streets, an invisible presence that refused to fade. Every flicker of light and distant murmur of traffic echoed it, a reminder that some things didn’t simply disappear.
The glances stretched into something dangerous, unspoken words pressing against their throats, neither of them daring to break the silence. Around them, laughter swelled, voices clashed, music rose. Like a tide swallowing the shore, the noise of the reunion surged back in—drowning the moment, burying it before it could become anything more.
The world moved on, leaving them suspended in the space between what was and what could never be said.