Ochaco had had a chest full of bubbles all morning because Deku was coming to see her. He was early, of course, and had come inside and gotten everyone’s attention, yet she was surprisingly unconcerned about the thousand questions waiting for her the moment he left. It wasn’t like yesterday, pretending she wasn’t bothered and nothing was going on. Deku had asked her to marry him, and so now, they were dating. The whole thing being out of order and out of nowhere, she hadn’t quite wrapped her head around it. Still, Ochaco calmed herself to focus on training, until Zip and Gunhead started talking, and her attention drifted across the room –
To where Deku stood absolutely still. His lips pressed tight, his stance alert. Sharp green eyes locked onto Ochaco with the calculating intensity of a leopard ready to pounce.
Her blood went cold.
Oh boy, she knew that look. It had been a while since she’d seen it in person, and she couldn’t remember when, if ever, it had been directed at her. She didn’t cause trouble or pick fights with anyone, especially not with Deku, so why was he looking at her like-like-like–? Did she have something on her face?
Quickly, she rubbed around her mouth for any breakfast leftovers that might have gotten stuck. Nope, there wasn’t any food. Maybe he was thinking about something else, and just happened to look at her? Like, she was at work, just doing her job. Surely. Right? Hairs rising on her neck like creeping spider legs, Ochaco willed herself to turn back to Fugu. “You ready?”
Before he answered, there was a shift in the room. Zip scrunched his nose towards the door. Gunhead cocked his head with a, “Hm?” At the sound of approaching footsteps, Ochaco dared to peek over her shoulder.
Deku joined them on the dojo floor. His expression had reset to friendly, directed past Ochaco to the intern, to whom he asked, “Would you like to throw me instead of her?”
She nearly choked. “What?”
“M-me?” Fugu stumbled back, a blue fingernail pointing to his gaping mouth. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“From what I saw a minute ago, I’m certain you can,” Deku said. “You don’t want to get too used to the same opponent, or you won’t be able to adapt under pressure.”
“How much do you weigh?” asked Gunhead.
“About 73 kilograms,” Deku said. “I should be more difficult to pick up than Uravity, enough for a challenge.”
Bewildered, Ochaco looked between the intern, her boss, and Deku. This was what Deku was thinking? Being the dummy wasn’t exactly an honor, and last time she checked, Deku didn’t work here. Yet he was entirely serious, talking to Fugu like they were the only ones in the room.
Practically speaking, would Fugu be able to throw him? Deku had barely been taller than Ochaco when they started school, until sometime their second year when a flood of growth hormones hit the boys. Even then, he was only average height. He did have more weight from muscle, but he’d never bulked up like say, Kirishima. Kirishima turned into a cement wall.
Gunhead cupped his elbow and tapped a finger on his mask, likely thinking the same thing. Fugu was kinda scrawny, but in the arena of tall, big, and bulky Pro-Heroes, Deku was on the light side.
“What do you say, Fugu?” Gunhead clapped brightly. “You’ve been practicing since yesterday. Time for something new.”
Fugu was rigid. “Okay.”
“Well then,” said Ochaco. Since her boss liked the idea, she offered Deku her place. “Go ahead.”
Deku nodded her way. “Thanks.”
He was like that sometimes, picking up on odd details or planning ten steps ahead, totally confident while no one else had a clue what he was thinking. Ochaco trusted him to have good ideas. Though, going by Fugu’s wide eyes, not everyone was all gung-ho on the exercise. Ochaco offered the intern a quick thumbs-up before leaving him with Deku.
She circled around the room to where Hatchet had joined Zip to observe. Both sidekicks watched with their arms crossed, at least as curious as she was.
Zip leaned towards Ochaco when she stepped up beside him, covering his mouth to ask an incredulous, “Is he coming to see you every day now?”
A traitorous heat pinched Ochaco’s cheeks, which she hoped didn’t show. Ah, right. For a moment, she forgot her coworkers had twice as much to be curious about. “No way. He’s got better things to do,” she said.
Luckily, Zip didn’t look away from Deku. “Huh. So, do you know what he’s doing?”
“Well actually,” Hatchet chimed in, only a fraction above a whisper. “I kinda suggested that he could talk to the kid to psyche him up, but I didn’t expect…”
“Is it really okay?” Fugu’s voice was tight. He made an indecipherable gesture that might have been a lazy ball toss or a reluctant good-bye. “For me to pick you up?”
Deku had his hands held out in non-aggression. “It’s fine. I used to do stuff like this all the time when I was in school.”
“Are you sure?”
“You practice throwing me like you would anyone else.”
Slowly, Ochaco tilted her head. “Psyche him up?” She wondered how that aligned with Deku’s death glare. Was he a psyche-you-up type of guy? With elementary school kids, for sure, he nailed the air-punching let’s-do-our-best! But fifteen was too old. He must have thought of something else. Maybe shock therapy, since Fugu was acting like he’d rather be hiding under a rock.
Stiff as a robot and focused firmly on the wall, Fugu pulled Deku’s arm over his shoulder. He tested his leverage, picking Deku up and setting him back down, then following Gunhead’s instructions, proceeded with a practice throw. It wasn’t so much a throw as a slow-motion lift, shift, and dump. Deku plopped on the mat and rolled right off to do it again.
Fugu bounced away, shaking his hands.
“Kid makes me nervous,” said Hatchet.
“It’s just practice. He’ll be fine,” said Ochaco. Yet, she pulled a hand up to her chest. Watch Fugu jump around for long enough, and his nerves spread by contagion. He had arrived for the internship last week and had jumped when spoken to and jumped when the air conditioner turned on. Ochaco initially thought cyan was his normal skin color – turned out it faded to beige when he calmed down – and she wondered how someone so nervous would handle a hero career.
With the second practice throw, Deku went up, over, and onto the mat. Fugu stepped back and bounced in place. Shaking his hands. Checking the clock. Breathing harder than the level of exertion demanded.
“Very good. Very good!” said Gunhead. “Let’s try it again in motion like you did with Uravity. Dodge the right hook and grab him. Remember, you want to use your opponent’s momentum against him.”
Between Gunhead and Deku, Fugu’s skin had taken on a pasty blue undertone, but he did as he was told. He was tense in front of the mat, like he thought the No. 1 Hero might actually punch him in the face. Gunhead confirmed that everyone was ready, and Deku went in for the mock attack. Even without Quirks involved, Fugu had to react fast. His eyes flashed in surprise at the narrowly avoided fist. He grabbed Deku’s arm and turned.
But then Ochaco saw it – one poorly placed step. Right foot too close. His lunge was off. He’d lose his balance. Deku was too heavy, came in with too much momentum – Zip and Hatchet joined her with an audible gasp. Both Fugu and Deku were going down.
Panicking, Fugu dropped Deku and threw his arms out to catch himself. Deku was faster. He grabbed the intern by the wrist, tucked in his flailing arms, and rolled. They landed on the mat, Fugu on top.
“Are you okay?!” said Deku.
Fugu scrambled to get off of and away from Deku. “Yes! I’m fine! I’m so sorry!”
“You can break your wrist sticking your hands out like that when you fall, even with a nice mat.”
“I know. Sorry. I screwed up.”
“It’s okay.”
“I only started learning the throws yesterday.”
“You had it perfect earlier.”
“Sorry!”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Your skin looks blue.”
“I’m blue? I’m so so so sorry!” Fugu’s words were running together. “It’s an effect of my Quirk if I’m nervous or stressed or need to pee or – Sorry! You probably definitely didn’t need to know that. I’m so sorry. I’m fine.”
Gunhead waited with a hand on his hip. Beside Ochaco, Hatchet covered his eyes. Her stomach sunk. Were they really going to do this until 9:30? Everyone at the agency had tried working with Fugu so he’d get some confidence, but there was only so much they could do. Deku stepping in was… He did have good ideas. Most of the time.
If Deku had heard what Fugu said, it didn’t show. Instead, he extended out a hand from where he still sat on the mat. Pick me up. A moment passed where Fugu stood petrified at the gesture. His skin was brilliantly blue now, no question that it was related to his Quirk. Deku waited, not looking away until the intern wiped his hands on his pants and pulled him up.
“Thanks,” said Deku. “You know, you don’t have to apologize. Just get up and do it again.”
“Sorry. I know I have to cut it out if I’m going to do the hero thing.”
“Really? I think if you’re going to get nervous, now’s the best time.”
Fugu jumped.
“You’re a first-year, right? I guarantee there’s not a hero out there who doesn’t get scared. If you don’t get nervous or push yourself while you’re still in school, you won’t be ready when you run into a real threat, and that’s when people get hurt,” said Deku. “Pay attention to how you react and learn to push through it. Practice until you can move without thinking. ”
Half-nod, half-bow, Fugu dipped his head.
“Can I ask you something?”
“I guess?”
“Why do you want to be a hero?” Deku asked.
The intern shifted, but at least he didn’t jump. “I… I don’t really have a good reason.”
“But you’ve got a reason, don’t you? Since you’re in a hero course.”
“It’s a good job. Everyone says so.”
“It is a good job, and there’s also plenty of good jobs outside of hero work. You don’t have to come up with a special reason or tell me, but it’s not easy and there’s a lot of competition. You have to really want to do this, more than anything else,” said Deku. “So, want to try again?”
Fugu nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“And you don’t need to use the restroom first, do you?”
“No! Sorry, I’m fine.”
Ochaco stifled a giggle, not to interrupt. Deku was fine. Though she’d hear over the phone when he was worried about this person or unsure of how to approach another, he did so much better than he thought. People looked up to him.
She felt for Fugu, though, with his ‘no good reason to be a hero.’ When she was fifteen, she’d told Deku something about wanting money. For sure, she stood by the absolute necessity of a solid income, but so much more drove her to this profession, wanting to help people and needing to prove herself, things she couldn’t have told anyone before she figured it out for herself.
Then again, Deku’s hero career was a huge exception. When nothing more than paperwork happened around the agency, Ochaco was inclined to say it was a good job. Money was the best part.
Fugu continued with his practice, skin still blue, but Deku had gotten him focused. Gunhead wanted him to try a hip throw, which was less visually impressive, but produced the same effect of dumping Deku on the mat. The way Deku got into it, it almost looked fun. Seeing him tossed on his back was a little funny, too, because who hadn’t watched and re-watched the videos of him online – villains that would have taken the entire Gunhead team to capture, Deku had immobilized in seconds.
Soon enough, the intern was able to throw a Deku-sized opponent, at least if said opponent wasn’t fighting back. Fugu even almost forgot the need to shake off his nerves, and then he jumped when Gunhead called to wrap things up, looking stunned at the clock.
“We’ll take a fifteen-minute break and head out for morning patrol,” said Gunhead.
Practice over, everyone shuffled around the room, stretching, grabbing water bottles, checking phones. Fugu told Deku thank you with more enthusiasm than he’d shown all week until Hatchet came over and shuffled him out. All the while, Ochaco couldn’t miss the glances that lingered on Deku and skirted over to her. She’d have to tell them something. The dojo usually stayed open during business hours, but today when all but her and Deku had left, Gunhead cheerfully shut the door behind him.
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