willynilly | IC Contact

Mm... he told me some stuff. I'm sure it was a lot worse than he described, but it helped me understand him a little better.

[A world of sand, where water and food was scarce, where people were always fighting... it seemed terrible, and it explained so much about his personality and behaviour.]

...I grew up kinda poor, y'know. Had days where we didn't eat nothin'. When I was little, I thought... going hungry for a whole day was the worst feeling in the world.

[There's a click as she slides the blade a little bit out of the sheath, a tiny glimmer of metal in the dark of the cubby hole. It's clean, but it could have a hundred stories- where did it come from? Was it from home, or here? Had he used it? Had this ever been a way to defend someone, to stave off actual starvation?]

I didn't... know any better.

[She could've been more sympathetic. She could have asked.]

[aizawa doesn't interrupt, just listening. the school collects background information on students of course, and included in that is household income but only as far as when it becomes necessary to provide financial assistance to students who might need the help, which doesn't tend to be often.

but that's not what uraraka's getting at. he can hear it in her voice, in the way it doesn't waver with tears or sympathy. there's a weight to it, something that drags it down to the bottom of her register. guilt, maybe.

or shame.]

He wouldn't have wanted you to dwell on that part of his life. [aizawa didn't know max well, but there's an understanding between them that hadn't needed any discussion. as adults, maybe. as men. as people who've cared for others, had children rely on them for guidance, for survival.]

I know.

[Easier said than done, but in truth, she doesn't know that part of his life well enough to dwell on it. Which is the problem just as much as it's probably a good thing. Despite all the terrible things that have happened here, she's well aware that she's still awfully sheltered.]

I just... I don't understand. This place must've been better, right? I mean, it's horrible sometimes, and we're still held captive, but there's food and water for everyone, it's usually safe and there's people we can trust... and he was always getting into trouble, so it had to be good for the drama. If they had to send someone back, why did it have to be him?

[And she means it, she does- she's worried sick about him and the awful state of the world he came from. But there's that helpless, selfish whisper, too.

Why not me?]

[aizawa sighs again, turning to rest his head back against the wall instead of trying to get a look at her face. she's tucked too far into the cubby, anyway.]

Maybe for this reaction now.

[he shrugs his shoulders helplessly, resting his arms atop his knees.]

It's difficult to tell when to accept things as they are, and when to challenge them. That goes doubly so for a place like this.

[She curls up a bit more tightly, the knife clicking back into place as she hugs it to her chest. This reaction, huh... she'd wondered that, too. Surely it would count as "drama", this ache in her chest, the lonely knowledge that there's no way to tell when she'll see her family, her friends, her home again. No way to know if the people she cares about here will be around tomorrow. If they'll be safe.]

I'm... trying to be patient. To think it through. Sometimes I just wanna scream and cry, but that'll just give them what they want, right? Or- or maybe if I'm really annoying, or if I just sit around and do nothing for days, or if I destroy stuff and make it expensive for them...

[She buries her head in her arms, her voice muffled.]

I don't know what they want me to do...!

[something about not being able to see her, about the darkness of the storage bay or about the quiet hum of the ship around them lends itself to the isolation of it all. they're just a few dozen people, trapped on a handful of ships, drifting around so far from home that it would take them generations upon generations just to make it back. so far removed from home, it may as well not exist at all.

aizawa clasps a wrist in his hand, closing his eyes.]

...is the name Breakpoint Dash familiar to you? [he won't be surprised if uraraka doesn't recognize it- in fact, he's betting on her only having a vague recollection of the name, at best.]

[She pauses to think for a moment or so, because it feels like it should ring a bell, but all that comes to mind is a vague familiarity, not even an image. Finally, she shakes her head.

Deku'd probably know.]

I can't remember them.

[even midoriya would have a hard time digging up information on this hero.] I'm not surprised. They were a professional hero for only six weeks.

[before she assumes the worst-] They didn't die, but they ended up having to retire early for medical reasons. They collapsed from the stress.

...From... the stress?

[It's rare to hear something like that- for a long time now, things have been so peaceful that most heroes retire because they've made enough fame and fortune to satisfy their needs, or because they want to try something new, or because they're too old to fight crime anymore. Of course, with the way things are these days, and with All Might having retired... yeah, suddenly it's easy to imagine.

She's still just a student, and even she's feeling the stress sometimes.]

Six weeks is so short, though...

It is. [Breakpoint is an extreme example, but that's part of the point.] They were the top of their class. Graduated with offers from nearly every hero office in Tokyo. And six weeks after debuting as a solo hero, they had to announce their retirement.

It was the pressure of trying to guess at expectations, of trying to hold up a completely impossible and arbitrary set of standards. [see what he's saying?]

[....

Yeah, she gets it. And it's probably as much of an answer as she should expect; something like this doesn't really have an answer, and it would be unfair to expect that of him. On the other hand, it isn't especially reassuring, either.

Quietly she shifts her position to be facing out of the cubby instead of hidden away inside of it, the knife resting on her lap, legs dangling.]

So... what, I just go back to pretending everything's fine like before? Live here, like nothing's changed...

I didn't say that. [turns a little, so he can see the edge of her face and she, his. he's not speaking to her as a teacher now; more as a mentor. as someone who's walked the path she'll eventually have to walk, just like the rest of her classmates will.] Concern yourself with you. The surest way to defeat an enemy you can't even reach, let alone anticipate, is to flourish. Get stronger. And take care of yourself.

Take care of yourself...

[It sounds so simple. Deceptively so.]

Is that really enough?

[Is that really all?]

Of course not.

[this time he really looks at her; turns his body so he's leaning in front of her little cubby hole, crouching forward.]

But that's step zero in a very involved, very complicated cycle, and it's a difficult one to remember. One that heroes with decades of experience on you constantly forget.

[reaches over and taps his knuckles to her shoulder. holds them there, for a moment.]

You tackle the basics, first and foremost. For the next four weeks I want to see you eating well, sleeping well, and working out. Then we'll move on.

What? But- my training!

[She leans out, half-stepping away from the cubby, her eyes wide and unhappy.]

I need to get stronger, I can't just slack off! I'm already so far behind!

[doesn't move, except to lean back to avoid bumping foreheads with her when she shifts.]

Why do you think you're behind?

It's kind of obvious, isn't it? Everyone else is so much better at- well, everything. And terrible things keep happening here... I don't want to be the one to drag people down. Especially if- if something else happens...

[It was easier to stick to her limits and grow at a reasonable - sometimes even lazy - pace when she was home, surrounded by peers who were learning the ropes the same way she was. Here? It's not like that. It's mostly adults, and danger and responsibilities for adults keep getting thrown at them.

She wants to be strong enough to keep alive they people she cares about, next time.]

Terrible things will happen, regardless of your skill. [he doesn't say it unkindly.] Nobody could stop that meteor or save everyone; nobody. Nobody could save those residents of that terraformed planet.

You can't look at every tragedy as a personal failure, Uraraka. It simply isn't feasible; you'll just cripple yourself with unnecessarily overburdened purpose.

[She knows he's trying to help her, and that he's being as gentle as he can, but even so- the words sting.]

It... shouldn't be a burden... isn't it good, to want to get stronger now so I can do better next time? Isn't that why we've worked so much harder back home?

[Villain attacks there, worldly disasters here- if they're going to face them against their will anyway, they ought to be prepared.]

There's nothing wrong with wanting to improve, or wanting to save people or become more capable. [sighs through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair in thought.] ...look at it this way: if you improve for the sake of saving others, but then you end up being unable to save someone again, does that just mean you haven't improved enough?

...No... I don't think I'm capable of saving everyone. That's too unrealistic.

[And arrogant. Even All Might doesn't have a perfect record of that, and he's basically the greatest hero ever.]

You know how I got into UA, right?

I do. [reaches around his knees to clasp his wrist]

Mm... then you probably know I ranked third. Out of everyone in 1st year, I was so close to the top at the starting point. I thought, this is my big chance! I'll do great, I'm already there! But since that day I've been no better than average, sometimes even barely passing. If it hadn't been for my rescue points, that's probably where I'd have started out, too.

[She tucks her legs up under herself, fiddling with the dagger again.]

I've been thinking about that- how the rescue points counted for so much more than the villain points. More than half of my score was just from saving one person. That means I could have shown my ability to be a hero if I'd focused on what's really important. So... I want to do better than just one. I want to be more than just mediocre.

[aizawa gives her his undivided attention through all of that; he can remember the entrance exam like it was just yesterday. he remembers seeing some of the students who'd passed and thinking that it might have been better if they hadn't, but ochako hadn't been one of them. even before the first day of class, he hadn't thought she would make a poor hero.

maybe he's going about this the wrong way. not in telling her to take care of herself, but...maybe the focus is off.

so he reaches over and sets a hand atop her head, a mimic of that day down on the planet, a burning rock hovering above them and her, clutching his scarves, desperate to stay.]

You've already surpassed mediocrity. By miles.

[It's such an achingly familiar gesture - both because of when it happened last time, and because she's again reminded of her father and missing him like burning - that she almost breaks down then and there. The struggle in her expression is obvious, the way she drops her gaze, the way she bites her lip. There's a sheen of wet beneath her eyes.

She doesn't pull away, though. It hurts, but it's a good feeling, too.]

You think so...?

IC Contact | Drift Fleet

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