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When Ochako dies, Bakugou feels it.
He feels it in the depths of his soul. It rushes over him like a terrible gust of wind or a rolling tide. He feels it all – the fear, the terror, the way her life slips away into oblivion until all that is left is a heavy emptiness weighing in the pit of his stomach. He feels the way it rips and roars and tears at her until there’s…nothing.
A voice that doesn’t sound like his echoes in the forest. “OCHAKO!” He turns around and rushes back to where he’d left her, his sword drawn and his arms and legs pumping, heart pounding and mind racing. Regret shifts and sieves into the marrow of his bones. He shouldn’t have left her, he thinks, he shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have! But it’s too late.
By the time he returns to her, she’s gone.
.
.
.
.
The day prior…
She remembers the ruins of the war that had torn across her father’s province like a hurricane. She remembers the blood-soaked streets. She remembers the smoking skeletal remains of burnt down homes, and beggars, uprooted from their homes and lined along the ashen streets with their cupped hands held out to the sky as if to catch rain that never came. But what they longed for wasn’t rain but food. What they begged for was rice to fill their stomachs and soup to warm their aching bodies.
Pain.
Her people looked at her in glassy-eyed pain; their mouths hanging open and gasping for some sort of respite as her carriage creaked by them. Their hollow gazes latched onto her and their cracked voices followed in her wake. “Food,” their gravely voices haunted her, “please…food,” and with each passing voice her hands would clench tight around the fabric of her kimono. She was their hime and yet she could do nothing for them. A part of her even felt that she was abandoning them but she had to remind herself that she was making this journey for them.
“Be strong, Ochako.” A familiar, firecracker voice comes from outside of her carriage and she looks outside the window to “hmph” at her travel companion.
“That’s Ochako-hime to you,” she corrects Bakugou but she can’t hide the smile curling across her lips. Bakugou always knew just what to say to make her feel better and the both of them knew she could use every ounce of courage for where they were going. They were on a covert assassination mission veiled as diplomacy. The plan was to visit the daimyo of the nearby province and request for a cease-fire to the war and for peace via a marriage alliance. Then, when his guard was down, they would kill him.
Bakugou snorts and looks away, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “Whatever.”
Her eyes follow him as he walks beside her carriage. From his bombastic, spiky blonde hair, to the sheathed katana swaying at his side, and all the way down to his wooden tabi sandals. His squared shoulders carry the colors of the sun as it dips below the horizon, painting him golden, and she wants nothing more than to drink him in with more than just her eyes.
“Come inside the carriage,” she finally says. There’s a flirty edge to her voice that compels Bakugou to look back at her, his crimson eyes flashing with a similar desire as he contemplates the invitation before he shakes his head and looks away with a “tch”.
“You both do remember that I’m here, right?”
A bodyless voice comes from the seat next to Ochako, it’s owner invisible to the eye.
An embarrassed blush spreads across Ochako’s apple cheeks at the question. “Of course, I remember.”
Hagakure Toru, the owner of the voice, lets out an incredulous hum. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
Ochako opens her mouth to interject but is interrupted as Bakugou knocks on the carriage.
“Stay sharp, guys,” Bakugou announces, “we’re here.”
The carriage lurches to a stop and Ochako lets out a shaky breath, anxiously folding and unfolding her hands as she tries to calm the erratic thumping of her heart. She casts a glance out the carriage window and lets out an awed breath at the towering gate standing overhead, its’ shadow falling over her and consuming her, reminding her of the choice she had made and the mission she had to see through.
The gates open with a drawn-out groan, dust flying as they swing open and a procession of kimono-clad women come out to greet her.
“Welcome Ochako-hime!” They declare and sink into respectful bows in unison. Bakugou lets out an audible snort and opens the carriage door for Ochako before stepping away, giving her ample room to exit.
She emerges and a wave of hushed silence sweeps over the procession as they behold the beauty of the hime from another land, a beauty they had only heard about through stories. One of the kimono-clad women steps forward, her cherry blossom pink skin a stark contrast to her dull-colored kimono.
“My name is Ashido Mina, and we all would like to welcome you to Tomura Castle.” She says before bowing once again.
Ochako’s cheeks lift with a shy smile. “Thank you. I’m grateful for the warm welcome.”
Mina then turns her attention to Bakugou. “And this is?”
He bristles under her gaze and Ochako interjects before he has a chance to say anything uncouth. “One of my father’s samurai, Bakugou-dono.”
Mina lets out an unimpressed “hm”, her eyes raking over Bakugou before she turns back to Ochako, the smile returning to her face.
“Well, how about we show you to where you will be staying and then you can make your introduction to the daimyo?”
The daimyo, Shigaraki Tomura, looks nothing as she had expected.
He had long, unkempt hair that was as a white as snow and corpse-like grey skin. His every motion was slow and languid, as if he couldn’t be bothered to muster up the energy to live. And yet, in his eyes was an acute sense of malice; one that kept her on her toes and reminded her not to let her guard down. This was the man that had brought ruin to her province and it was her job to make him pay.
“So, what is it that you’re here for?” His voice is tinged with disinterest as he shovels his food around with his chopsticks. “Are you trying to spy on me? Assassinate me? Which is it?”
Ochako is startled as his every word pierces her with pinpoint accuracy, laying her intentions bear. She could feel the blood run cold in her veins as her heart pounds and pounds against her chest. She hadn’t expected him to go on the offensive so soon but manages to keep her voice and composure steady as she respectfully bows her head and responds.
“How could you insinuate those things, Shigaraki-sama? I’m your humble servant sent here to express my father’s desires of an alliance through marriage.”
“Hm.” Shigaraki grunts incredulously. “Nice try but I’m not stupid.”
“Your humble servant would never dream of insinuating any such thing. But if I may ask,” Ochako starts, and the daimyo nods, permitting her to speak further. “If you have such suspicions of us, why would you accept us as your guests?”
For the first time since they’d met a smile grows across his chapped lips and a light flickers in his glassy eyes. “What’s there to be afraid of?” He jeers. “Is the wolf afraid of sheep or the elephant mindful of ants? You can come and go as much as you want. It doesn’t make a difference to me! In fact, let’s do this –!” He leans forward, now growing increasingly excited. “I’ll let you know in on a little secret just to make this a little more…interesting.”
His grin spreads wider, revealing the pearls of his teeth and Ochako can’t stop the chills from giggling down her spine.
“Two of your father’s retainers work for me. Can you guess who they are?”
A wave of nausea overtakes her at the newfound information. She was acquainted with her father’s retainers and the idea that any one of them was a traitor made her stomach drop.
Shigaraki, amused with her distress, lets out a cackling laugh. “I love it! This is fantastic! Do you want to guess or should I tell you? You know what? I’ll give you a hint!”
He holds up two fingers.
“Both of their names have a K in them.”
“He’s clearly fucking lying.” Bakugou spits out, and Ochako shushes him. They were currently in her room, huddled close in darkness so as to not draw any attention or suspicion. Ochako knew there were eyes and ears everywhere on the castle grounds and the safest place to meet was in her room.
“What does he have to gain from lying?” Ochako counters with a whisper, her breath warm against his skin. She is so close; he can feel the warm puff of her breath against his face and it sends his heart racing unlike any battle ever had or ever could. Her hand slides into his, fingers interlocking as she curls closer into him. Their heartbeats count the seconds – thump, thump, thump – before she finally speaks again, lifting her eyes to meet his. Her voice is a whisper, “I think it’s Kirishima-dono and Kaminari-dono.”
She can’t see his expression in the darkness but his grasp tightens around her hand at the accusation. Those two were his closest friends and it was hard to believe they would be disloyal.
“It can’t be,” he hisses, his voice low, “it has to be someone else.”
“Who else do you know in my dad’s inner circle that has a name with a K?” She counters. “It has to be those two and I need you to go back to my father and warn him.”
“Ochako—!” Bakugou starts but is quickly silenced as she leans into him and captures his lips in hers. He can feel something white-hot and sinful ignite in his veins but he is quick to suppress it and break the kiss.
“Ochako! I’m not fucking leaving you!” He seethes but stops as she settles her hands on the slope of his cheeks, her thumb rubbing comforting circles on his skin.
“You’re not leaving me,” she reminds him, her voice soft and sweet. “You’re always with me. You feel everything I feel and I feel everything you feel. Remember? We’re connected.”
She leans forward to capture his lips in hers and closes her eyes, sinking into the darkness that was him and her. This time he doesn’t resist her kiss and instead melts into her. She drowns in the wet heat of his mouth and shivers at the languid roll of his tongue over hers as he hums for more of her. His telltale scent fills her lungs: the smell of battle and war, of fire, smoke and nitroglycerin.
When he pulls back and breaks the kiss, she smiles at him; a gentle, reassuring smile before he surges back into her and kisses her once again. His lips trail along the milky column of her neck and she trembles underneath him as his hands…his hands…his hands skim at her collarbone…palm at her stomach…and travel along the length of her thigh. His hands that only knew how to mold fire and wield steel were gentle and careful as they explored and mapped out the dips and curves of her body. What she craved for was more of his fire, and more of his storm.
That night is only red.
The red of her lips.
The red of her blushing cheeks.
The red of his eyes that reflected her and her only.
The red of the blood that roared through his veins each time she kissed him. Each time she held him.
“I’ll go,” he eventually relents as she lay in his arms. He feels her nod against his chest before he wraps his arms tighter around her.
“I’ll go and then I promise I’ll come right back.”
The next morning Bakugou is gone as he had promised.
“Urgent business,” Ochako informs Shigaraki as kimono-clad women shuffle out and set down the trays of breakfast in front of the daimyo and her. He waves over the food taster who crouches down next to him and promptly tries out the food before shuffling back to her position. The minutes drag on as they wait for any signs of poison. This was Hagakure’s window of opportunity. Her quirk was invisibility and the plan was for her to sprinkle the poison into the daimyo’s food after the food taster had finished tasting. Ochako’s eyes dart around the room, anxious to know if Hagakure had fulfilled her part of the plan. Either way, she’d find out soon enough.
“Looks like you didn’t poison me today.” Shigaraki picks up his chopsticks and starts to eat once he’s satisfied with the food taster’s lack of reaction.
“I assure you; I have no such intentions.” Ochako picks up her own chopsticks before digging into the meal.
“It’s a shame that Bakugou-dono couldn’t join us. We had some plans for the both of you.”
Ochako coughs and then blinks once, twice, three times, as she tries to bring the world back into focus. Strange. There was a growing blurriness in the edge of her vision and the world was slowly starting to tilt and seesaw before her eyes. She swallows hard and struggles to keep her voice steady before speaking.
“What plans are those?”
“I wanted to go watch this kabuki performance.” Shigaraki’s voice grows increasingly distanced, as if she’s underwater and he’s calling out to her from the shore. “It’s about this foolish princess who thought she could save her land. It’s supposed to be tragic but stories like that always make me laugh.”
The rapid timpani drumming of her heart pounds in her ears and blood rushes through her veins as her body struggles in vain to keep her conscious. Slowly, she realizes that it was all a moot point.
She had been betrayed.
“What did you do?” She opens her mouth to speak but what comes out is a croak, the words caught in her chest. Her chopsticks clatter to the floor as she gasps and claws at her throat, tears growing in her eyes as she struggles for air.
“It’s really a comedy,” Shigaraki continues, unaffected. “Watching people who don’t know their place. People who act as if the world doesn’t revolve on the principle that there are weak people and strong people and the weak die so the strong can live. Don’t you agree, hime?”
She slumps to the ground, her entire body paralyzed. As much as she struggles to will herself to move – a toe, a finger, anything! – she remains helplessly immobile; chained down by phantom chains and phantom hands.
Fear seizes her. Helpless screams well up inside of her, bubble in the pit of her gut and rise up her throat like bile. Silence. Only silence. Her screams die in his throat and echo helplessly in the hollow chambers of her mind.
“Oh, I guess she didn’t like the food,” Ochako hears Shigaraki speak, his voice tinged with glee, and just as the darkness starts to swallow her vision, she hears a shrill cry and uproar, followed by the familiar clanging of metal on metal, and the cannon-fire boom of Bakugou’s quirk. She picks up his scent of fire and nitroglycerin before he bursts into the room. He is more than beautiful in her eyes – all sound and all fury, all hellfire and brimstone.
Rage incarnate.
“All of you want to die? FUCKING FINE BY ME!” His voice booms like thunder and cracks like lightning as he hacks and slashes and slices his way around the room until he is left with nothing but the silence. Blood pools at his feet as his chest rises and falls, rises and falls. He tries to feel something from Ochako. Any sign that she was alive but when he feels nothing, he lets out a primal roar. He was like a wounded animal, more beast than man, as he stumbles over to where Ochako lay, the sword dropping from his hand and clattering to the floor. He crumbles to his knees next to her and pulls her limp body into his trembling, blood-soaked arms.
When Ochako dies, Bakugou feels it.
He feels it and feels it and feels it until finally, he is numb and he feels nothing at all.