Chapter Text
"You've got to save them all."
Uraraka Ochako, perhaps more well known as Uravity, had made a name for herself at only twenty-six. Despite being nothing more than a crisis aversion hero, she rose through the ranks, settling at the number eight spot.
"Faster! Help them!"
Currently in the middle of a major earthquake, the hero in question dodged haphazardly through falling debris. A large chunk of rock landed in front of her, having crumbled from the top of a building. She vaulted over it, eyes snapping back to the child she'd seen.
A small boy, younger than seven.
"D-dad! Please, someone," he sniffled, crumbling to his knees. "I'm lost!"
"I'm here, don't worry," Uraraka shouted, running towards him. He looked up at her, wiped his tears and stood up. "C'mon! I'll get you to your parents."
"Th-thank you!" He began running towards her, but tripped over the small chunk of building that fell in front of him. Skidding onto his knees, he caught himself on his hands, yelping in pain. A larger piece of building teetered above him, looking as if a breath would send it tumbling down onto the boy.
"Kid! Move!" Uraraka yelled, but it was too late.
The debris fell.
Time seemed to slow.
"Get there, Ochako. Faster."
She gritted her teeth, running as fast as her body would allow, yet still hardly making it before the cement chunk smashed into the ground. There was no time to pick up the boy and safely move him, so she dove towards him, one hand outstretched. Her quirk activated as she slammed into him, sending him flying a few feet before she released him.
He tumbled into the side of a building, but was only dazed, not dead.
"Ow! I– Ow!" He rubbed his back and shook his head lightly.
Uraraka slammed her fist into the ground, pain surging through her body. She felt sick to her stomach in a way that she hadn't since her earliest days of training. Sweat beaded on her forehead. From her stomach, Uraraka craned her head, eyes falling on a dark red patch beneath the cement she had rescued the boy from, her legs pinned beneath it. Her vision blurred in and out of focus.
"H-hey, kid? Walk until you find a hero, make sure you get to safety." Her hand fumbled for the communication device clipped to her shoulder. "This is," she paused, her head pounding, "Uravity. I-I'm hurt... bad. I need..."
Her vision spun, blackened edges clawing their way up towards the center as she tried to speak. Her throat was dry, aching, and swallowing did little to help. She wasn't sure if she'd gotten her message across before her head fell against the pavement.
.
.
.
Toga Himiko ducked behind a tree, narrowly dodging a bullet; it seemed to be the quirk of one of her pursuers. It dug into the bark, implanting itself inches away from her face. The forest she'd run into was dark, but that didn't bother her. Climbing nimbly up the tree, she began leaping through the branches.
"Men, stand down. Villain! Come out now! We don't want to hurt you!"
She recognized the voice as that of the 26-year-old, and newly declared number one hero, Deku. Peeking out through the leaves, she could hardly make out the shapes of her pursuers from this distance. Hopefully, they couldn't see her either.
For safety's sake, she climbed farther away, deeper into the forest until she couldn't bear to any longer. She dropped from the trees when her arms ached and chest heaved, about a quarter mile from where she'd started. She glared into the darkness upon hearing a slight crack, the sound one would expect a stick to make when stepped on. A flash of green from behind the rows of trees punctuated her last moments of freedom.
"Gotcha!" Deku shouted as he tackled her, locking the villain's arms behind her back. "You have the right–" His voice caught in his throat as he looked down at her. "Toga? Really?" He sounded surprised, like of all the people he expected to catch, she wasn't one of them—she thought, fleetingly, that that was probably true. She herself struggled to remember how long it'd been sometimes.
Toga looked back at him, her neck turned uncomfortably from her position on the ground. Against the moon, he looked ominous. His face was cast in hard shadow, a chilling contrast to his gentle tone. She was reminded of better times, looking at him—high school crushes and summer time training camps—but, like everything else seemed to in her hands, the memories fell apart. Bile filled her throat, dying faces and last words filled her mind's eye.
She said nothing in reply; didn't owe him one. Toga tried to free herself from his grasp, but hardly managed a motion. She'd been knocked forward, stomach to the ground, arms tightly held behind her. The knives strapped to her legs were far out of reach, blocked by the knees of the hero.
Deku, to his credit, spoke little at first. He pulled her from the ground far gentler than she expected, though maybe her expectations were skewed.
"Toga," he said, her name a disappointed sigh from his lips. "I wasn't expecting to ever see you again." What he meant was left unsaid, but Toga understood the jab at the last five years well enough.
"Shut up," she hissed. She ignored the stinging of tears in her eyes, ignored the pity on Deku's face. Instead of words, the sound of clicking pierced the air. She jerked, trying to get free one last time before the handcuffs were cinched in.
Deku pushed her forward lightly, uncharacteristically quiet. Toga didn't care that he was quiet, if anything she preferred it. She didn't need him saying anything to try to comfort her or lessen the gravity of the situation. Heroes always wanted to look to the future, pretend that the past didn't weigh on them—and hell, maybe it didn't—but not everyone was lucky enough to have that luxury.
When Deku broke the silence, they were almost at the line of police cars. Toga thought he planned it this way, waited until the last moment to say something so she couldn't object. As conniving as he was, it wasn't out of the question.
"Erebus," was the single word he muttered, their proximity the only reason she caught it.
Her eyes widened, teeth grinding together as she tried to turn around and look at him. "Don't you dare!"
Before Izuku could reply, cops had swarmed Toga, hands on her shoulders and arms, pulling her backwards, away from the hero. He watched silently, face still cast in that dark shadow, expression unreadable.
Toga wondered—as she glared out of the squad car window—how long it'd take them to quit.
.
.
.
"...raka?"
A pause.
"Uraraka? Can you hear me?"
Another pause.
Uraraka opened her eyes, wincing from the fluorescent lights that hung above her. They pierced her skull with bright beams, their low whine assaulting her ears. She felt slow, numb even, as she lifted her arm to rub her eyes.
"No, honey, don't move," the older woman spoke again. The same one who'd been speaking before she woke up. It was a nurse, dressed in baby blue scrubs. She placed a hand on Uraraka's arm, guiding it back down. "Use the other arm. We don't want you messing up everything that's keeping you alive right now."
The hero furrowed her brow, mind blanking on all the right words to use. "Huh?"
"That's the medicine. It's keeping you from feeling the pain, but you might feel foggy for a few hours," she explained. "It's perfectly normal."
"Alright." Uraraka closed her eyes halfway. "What happened again? There was... the rubble, right?"
"Yes, dear. It was... quite brutal, I'm told. I don't do field work anymore. Luckily, you'll be alright. The debris broke both your legs and fractured your hip. You should be able to make a good recovery... but your hero career..." the nurse trailed off, looking distant.
"What about it?" Uraraka cocked her head to the side, eyes open again. "You said I'll be alright."
"Look, honey, I'll be honest. I doubt they'll let you back into the field like this. You're with the C.A.A., aren't you? We've had plenty of your co-workers in here over the years. The C.A.A. aren't very fond of their heroes getting into situations like these. They might revoke your license," she said. A glare was settled on her face, disapproval heavy in her voice. "They gave you the whole spiel when you signed on the dotted line; I'll save my breath."
"Huh?" Uraraka tried to sit up, but the woman pushed her shoulder back down carefully.
"If you make it worse, you could easily never walk again. You got lucky, kid," the nurse scolded. "Once your brain clears up, we'll need you to do paperwork. There are multiple parties waiting to speak with you, and plenty of news anchors that we've shooed away. But for now, sleep."
"I can't sleep like this..." Uraraka shook her head. "I-I need to help! The evacuation! What–" She tried to sit up again.
"I understand you're freaking out, but it's all over. The evacuation went well. There were only four casualties, and seven wounded, including you. The other 1,200 are completely safe and unharmed. You've been out for three days. Now, lay down and sleep, or I'll have to make sure you do."
"I-I... I just can't be here. I'm not useful here... and three days is too many..!" Uraraka laid back down, the woman's hand guiding her. The adrenaline that powered her seemed to cut off instantly, like a sink faucet. Her eyes became heavy as she blankly watched the nurse turn a knob beside her bed.
"This'll put you out for a bit, so you can calm down and sleep." Her voice seemed far away, like she was shouting down a growing corridor.
"O...kay..." was the last thing Uraraka muttered before her eyes closed.