Chapter Text
1 year later
“Stop squirming, Ochako, there’s just one stray hair!”
Uraraka flinched as Pixie Bob plucked at her eyebrows, removing what was probably the fifteenth ‘stray hair’ she’d found since wrangling Uraraka into the stylist chair.
“You know, I didn’t help overthrow the Capitol just to continue to be subjected to its beauty standards,” she grumbled half-heartedly. Really, she wasn’t going to complain too much. Uraraka wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t appreciate her former stylists’ eagerness to make her look pretty, and she’d endured much worse than eyebrow plucking.
Besides, with everything that happened in the weeks following the fall of the Capitol, Uraraka had become well-acquainted with Pixie Bob’s nitpicking of her face and overall appearance. Bakugou and Todoroki were much less comfortable with their primping, but Uraraka wasn’t sure you ever got used to somebody like Hawks decorating your face.
They never did too much – the stylists were thankfully moving on from the trends of the Capitol, and towards a new world with a million different versions of beauty.
“You whine too much,” Pixie Bob tutted and Uraraka opened her eyes to flash her an innocent, doe-eyed look that no longer worked on them. “You’re lucky you’re naturally cute. I promise you the boys are having a much worse time than you right now. Imagine the shower Aizawa needs. They started hours ago.”
Uraraka had witnessed it firsthand. In the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just waking up and Uraraka waking up with it, she saw the commotion from her spot in the dewey grass – Kayama, wrestling Aizawa out of the hotel they were staying in, coaxing him with a whisper to not make this difficult for her.
Uraraka liked to be outside in the early mornings, mostly because she never could stay asleep long, and being surrounded by the grass, trees, and the soft symphony of the bugs and the frogs reminded her of the woods back in district twelve. On bad mornings, it reminded her of the arena, but she usually had Bakugou with her when the nightmares and flashbacks occurred.
The other reason she liked it was because of the peace – it was loud inside of Uraraka’s mind, but when she focused on the crickets and the early birds, she could turn off memories. This morning was not particularly peaceful, but at least she got to start things on a good note by not being on the receiving end of one of Aizawa’s most withering looks to date.
She knew it was half an act, though – Aizawa minded Kayama far less these days.
“How much do you wanna bet that Bun cries her eyes out?” Ragdoll trilled, bouncing from foot-to-foot in circles around the room. Her eyes shone through vivid makeup – reds and blues and yellows – a rainbow that she’d elegantly adorned herself with.
Pixie Bob scoffed, finally moving on from Uraraka’s poor eyebrows to her lips. “I haven’t seen that woman cry a single day of my life.”
“How do you not cry at your wedding though?” Ragdoll prodded. “Even someone as tough as Miruko is bound to get choked up.”
“I think you two are going to cry,” Uraraka contributed and Pixie Bob hushed her, mumbling about how she would ruin her lipstick if she kept running her mouth. Uraraka smiled on instinct.
Her smiles were more frequent than she would have expected a year ago, but today she had been smiling since she woke up. Today was a happy day. It was a marker – one year into a new life, a life of freedom, of equality. They were celebrating a love that bloomed in adversity, something Uraraka was all too familiar with, but never got to see through. Miruko and Hawks were evidence– that there could be a happy ending after it all.
They were perfect for each other – nobody in the world could deny it. Where Miruko was rough around the edges, not quick to trust but very quick to aggression, Hawks was careful and calm. He was calculating – it was why he had been absent from their final showdown with Chisaki; he had been working behind the scenes to rescue as many people as possible, always thinking ahead. He always kept his promises, too. Uraraka tried to be just like him in that aspect.
It was easier these days.
“Who do you think is going to be best dressed?” Ragdoll mused from the opposite corner of the room where her swaying had taken her. “My money is on our girl Ochako – who could look better?”
“Nejire,” Pixie Bob said sincerely. Uraraka didn’t let it sting.
“No,” Ragdoll stopped suddenly, eyes lighting up. “I bet it’ll be Midoriya. He looks like he has style and he’s so precious.”
“He doesn’t,” Uraraka burst her bubble quickly. No one had time to pay attention to style in district twelve – Uraraka was just grateful she had clothes at all, and the lack of fashion sense that came with poverty was apparent. Bakugou and Todoroki were always insisting that Uraraka and Midoriya make more of an effort – after all, they wouldn’t want for anything anymore. Mitsuki made them that promise when she came to see each of them in the hospital.
Uraraka tried to embrace it, but really, it was all Bakugou. She let him pick out a whole new wardrobe like she was a doll playing dress-up, and she hadn’t minded. She had no problem accepting the things that made Bakugou happy. Making him and Todoroki smile was her favorite game, and it got easier as the days turned to weeks and then months.
The smiles were genuine, and that’s what made them so satisfying. Bakugou and Todoroki both had such hard faces, with tired and cold eyes and an air of suffering that clung to them like a cape – but, when they smiled, it was like sunlight breaking through the cracks in their hardened exterior. When they smiled, it was like they were kids who lived normal lives.
Nothing about their lives was normal – not their past, and certainly not their present, but things didn’t have to be normal to work out.
“Did Kat look over his outfit? I told him to just pick it out for the poor kid, but you know how he gets about Midoriya. He can be such an asshole.” Pixie Bob rolled her eyes.
Bakugou had a tendency to pick on Midoriya, but it didn’t bother Midoirya at all. In fact, he gave it right back to him, and on more than one occasion, Uraraka had caught them sparring together in the backyard, both practicing quirks they were clumsy with – Midoriya’s from lack of experience, and Bakugou’s from loss. His arm had been replaced, and as promised, equipped with a canon that would mimic his quirk almost exactly, but there was a steep learning curve with it.
Uraraka flexed her fingers, gazing at the two little stubs that were placeholders for her missing pinkies. She didn’t want prosthetics; they wouldn’t bring her quirk back.
She wouldn’t complain though – she was lucky. Hawks would tell her that she was never allowed to feel sorry for herself and if she wanted to fly, all she had to do was ask.
Uraraka owed Hawks endlessly. She learned that not only did he save her father and countless others, but that when she was trying to reign in Todoroki, Hawks was swooping down and rescuing several rebels and peacekeepers alike from the flames. He kept going until his wings were too charred to continue, and then collapsed into Miruko’s arms. The way he told the story, Miruko was so enamored with his bravery that she proposed to him on the spot right before he passed out. Miruko always rolled her eyes heavily at his dramatic retelling, but she didn’t correct him, so Uraraka had to assume it was true.
“Sho has been working with him,” Uraraka said, realizing Ragdoll and Pixie Bob were waiting for her answer. Todoroki and Midoriya were working together on a lot of things – they were drawn to each other organically, as if the universe brought them together as two halves of the same whole. When Todoroki had his moments of relapse, usually in the not-quite morning hours, Midoriya was always the first to his room, as if he laid awake waiting to be needed.
It was strange, at first. Bakugou, Uraraka and Todoroki had been a team. Their decision to live together hadn’t even been a thought – when Bakugou ran it by Todoroki, he agreed immediately. They chose district one, in the end, because it had been their salvation and it was close enough to everybody they loved. Mitsuki helped them find their home in a quiet neighborhood with access to water, just like they had all wanted. Miruko and Hawks stayed in the Capitol because of the endless work to be done with rebuilding a nation. Nejire and Tamaki stayed as well, working closely with the rebellion and with the help of Mirio to begin repairing the extensive physical and emotional damage.
Uraraka expected Nejire and Tamaki’s wedding to be soon after this one, at the rate things were going.
Her parents chose to go back to district twelve, and it had tugged at Uraraka’s heart. There was temptation to go with them – to grab Midoriya and go back to their normal lives. They could finish school, go to the market and chat with Granny Chiyo, listen to Melissa play the violin – but it would be a make-believe life, and Uraraka knew if she did go back, she would have an unmendable hole in her heart. How could she go anywhere without Bakugou and Todoroki?
She saw her parents off at the train station. Gripping her mother’s hand was the little blonde girl that Uraraka had met in district one – Eri. According to her mother, she could heal, and she was going to mentor her. It brought her some comfort to know that her mother and father would not live in poverty in district twelve again. Her mother would be a nurse, and her father was elected as an ambassador for his district – a position that would put him in the Capitol many times a year, and he helpfully reminded Uraraka that district one and the Capitol were not a far distance.
She knew her parents would be okay without her. As morbid as it sounded, Uraraka knew that they had already reconciled the idea of living without her. In truth, this was a reality better than any of them could imagine. Despite the distance that now separated her and her parents, Uraraka could not be anything less than grateful. Besides, it helped to have her found family so close by.
Midoriya went back with them initially, but after a few weeks, he was knocking on Uraraka, Bakugou, and Todoroki’s front door, blurting out a request to move into their spare bedroom. Uraraka and Todoroki had said yes immediately, and Bakugou only acted put out for a moment before throwing an extra set of keys at his face before walking away muttering, “Fuckin’ Deku in here now – full fuckin’ house.”
“He’s so full of shit,” Todoroki had said as the door to Bakugou’s bedroom slammed shut. Uraraka and Midoriya had both agreed.
That was how she ended up in a house in district one with three of the people she never wanted to be away from. It seemed too good to be true, and the nightmares that woke her up every night proved that her brain couldn’t process that it really was over. When the nightmares came, Bakugou always seemed to find his way into her room, like he could sense her unease from across the hall. He would sit with her until she fell asleep, then silently creep out of the room.
It was a good arrangement. They all needed each other, and so they fell into a weird, domestic way of living. Bakugou cooked most of the meals, because apparently nobody else could be trusted. They had a chore chart. They took grocery trips together.
It was a normal that Uraraka never thought she would achieve.
They were back and forth to the Capitol a lot – Mitsuki needed them for things other than speeches, and as Bakugou said, they had to pay their bills somehow.
“Do we even need money?” Todoroki had fretted, still in the tender stages of his recovery.
“Fuck off. Of course we have to worry about money.” Bakugou had rolled his eyes. “Did they pay you to be in the goddamn Hunger Games?”
There was a lot of adjustment that led to normal – it wasn’t all just avoiding nightmares and catching their breath after they were surprised by something that made them remember. It was fitting themselves into society, building roles for themselves. When Uraraka was in district twelve, she figured she would go the path of her mother – get married, do odd jobs to get by, gather as much food as she could on her trips to the woods. She would take care of her family and Midoriya, and Granny Chiyo and all of the children who begged at the market. She never dared to have ambitions – a career of any sort was out of her league.
Now, Uraraka knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life helping people in any way she could. The parents who had lost children, children that had lost parents; those permanently broken from the Games or just from the war that the Capitol had waged on the districts for so many years – Uraraka wanted to speak to them all. She wanted to make them whole again.
She knew exactly where she wanted to start. When it came time for Shinso’s trial, Uraraka spoke on his behalf, and directly to him, conveying everything she had been holding in since she saw him walk out, trembling onto the stage.
She simplified it so that everybody would understand – their team forgave him, so wouldn’t everyone else consider it?
Shinso was released two days later with the stipulation that Aizawa would take care of him, since he had no family left and his extensive mental damage would make it dangerous for him to live alone. A week after that, the two of them moved in across the street.
Uraraka began to wonder if Mitsuki built that neighborhood just for them, so that they would never be far from each other.
After Shinso’s trial, he retreated into himself. She wasn’t sure if it was the shock of learning of his parents’ death in a courtroom, the guilt of what he had done to the rebels, or the constant turmoil that stormed his mind, but he never left the house. Aizawa eventually got tired of allowing it, and kicked him into their front yard, which happened to be right when Uraraka was sitting on her porch, drinking tea.
“Hey,” she’d called.
“Hey.” She still remembered the pang in her stomach when she heard the broken raspiness in his voice, like it was used so infrequently that it dried up. Shinso had Aizawa, but he was so often out of the house, working in the Capitol, that she knew he must be lonely.
Uraraka had patted the seat next to her on the porch, and as the last rays of sunlight faded behind the thick cover of trees that gated in their new home, Shinso joined her, and he told her everything.
Uraraka listened to the hushed promises that he never wanted to hurt them – that he was just so scared, and she held his hand when he swore he would spend the rest of his life making it up to them.
“You already did,” she had whispered. She told him that she didn’t care how long Shinso had planned to turn over information to the Capitol. Chisaki had threatened him and that was all the information she needed. She knew how it felt to have someone you loved threatened, and the pain Shinso had gone through was retribution enough.
Halfway through the conversation, Todoroki wandered out with a cup of hot chocolate in his hand and sat with them. Bakugou joined them not long after, grumbling about how they were disturbing his peace, and they continued their conversation.
It wasn’t hard to forgive Shinso. They all knew why he did it – the Capitol had excelled in many things, but what they did best was fear, and fear can make even the most morally sound people do terrible things.
After they had said their goodnights and before they had started heading their separate ways, Uraraka hesitated by the door. Bakugou had stopped Shinso, jabbing him in the chest with a finger, and saying threateningly, “I don’t owe you shit for what you did – the fact that you caused us a lot of fuckin’ inconvenience cancels out the fact that you called Chisaki off.” He had sighed heavily and stretched an arm behind his head before continuing, “But...fuckin’ thanks, for saving us both.”
Shinso opened up a lot more after that. He no longer shied away from visitors, and sometimes she would see him in the car with Aizawa, accompanying him on whatever errand he had to run that day.
“Done!” Pixie Bob declared, startling Uraraka from her reminisces as she stood back to admire her work. “Ragdoll, bring your fancy camera over here.”
“No photoshoots,” Uraraka whined but Ragdoll cut her off with a flash right in the face.
“Please, you’re like our child,” she said. “Our child is going off to a dance – that we get to go to too!”
“Save the photos for Miruko and Hawks,” she insisted. “You know how much they like to be in front of the camera.”
“It’s the Capitol in them,” Pixie Bob said. “Not even a rebellion can fully get rid of how much Bun loves to flaunt her assets for the camera, and I can’t blame her.”
One of Uraraka’s greatest joys in life came from Miruko. She thought she knew her stylist, but it turns out that she only knew the Miruko who was a leader of the rebellion. There were so many layers to her that Uraraka had yet to uncover, like the fact that she was a hobby powerlifter and could deadlift Katsuki at least ten times in a row, or that she could recite her favorite books from memory. Uraraka didn’t know how loud she could laugh when she really meant it, or how soft her smile could be when she let her guard down. Miruko may have decided to stay in the Capitol, but Uraraka didn’t have to miss her for long. She visited constantly, citing Bakugou’s cooking as her incentive, but Uraraka knew it was because she was checking on them.
One night, when Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya had retired to their rooms and Uraraka stayed behind at the kitchen table, Miruko told her where she came from. She talked about her home in district two and how her parents died when she was very young – in a terrible accident, or so the peacekeepers told her before they whisked her away to the Capitol. She knew it was a lie. Even as a child, Miruko understood that her parents were not willing participants of the Capitol’s system, but there was little she could do to avoid being thrown into the very center of that system.
Miruko was just like Kirishima. She was moved from family to family, passed amongst suitors, her time sold for the highest price. It didn’t break her – instead, she gave herself a new name, and spent all of her free time training. She was going to fight. She convinced whatever family she was in to let her go to the gyms, and she practiced defense tactics in the middle of the night, throwing punches into darkness. When she turned sixteen, she began to learn fashion, acting like a typical Capitol teen, but she had made her decision – this was her out. She would become a stylist, grow in the ranks, and then eventually, she would get to the top, all so she could take it all down, dismantle the system from within.
Meeting Mitsuki was divine timing, she swore. They were meant to find each other and to lead the rebellion, and with Mitsuki came a man named Keigo. He called himself Hawks, and just like Miruko, he had been stolen from his home. Just like Miruko, he never became numb to what the Capitol did to him, and just like Miruko, he had a plan to fight.
Uraraka had cried and launched herself at Miruko so hard that it knocked them both off-balance and they tumbled onto the ground, bringing a chair down with them and effectively sending their entire house into a panic. Once everything was calm again, Miruko kissed Uraraka on the forehead, and yanked Bakugou and Todoroki into a bone-crushing hug. She patted Midoriya’s head, and said to them all, sincerely, that she would’ve never achieved her dream without them.
“What was she being all sappy for?” Bakugou had muttered once Miruko was gone.
“We were just...talking about the past,” Uraraka had wiped a tear from her cheek and Bakugou had rolled his eyes and placed a hand on her head.
“Don’t do that shit before bed,” he had said. “Go to sleep – it’s late.”
Uraraka hadn’t gone to bed – she and Bakugou had stayed up for three more hours, whispering about Miruko’s story, about Hawks and Mitsuki, about themselves and about everybody they knew.
“It’s a miracle any of us survived this shit,” Bakugou had murmured, hugging his knees. “Rumi, Birdbrain, Kiri – they were treated like objects for years. I don’t know how they found it in them to care about shit. I wouldn’t care about anything – definitely wouldn’t be able to fuckin’ love anyone. I still don’t know if I can. Didn’t figure it out about Shitty Hair until it was already too late, and even then I don’t know if I could’ve done it right.”
Uraraka thought that Bakugou loved more sincerely than many people she knew. She thought of the way that he brushed the hair out of Todoroki’s eyes when he would have his breakdowns; the way he shielded Uraraka from every hit, always pushing her behind him; the way he cried for Camie and then let Nejire attack him in a hug later; the way he cooked three meals a day and ensured they were all eating enough, even on the days anxiety turned their stomachs to knots. Bakugou already showed love in his own ways, even if he didn’t admit it.
“Everybody loves differently,” Uraraka decided, like she was a wizened sage on the matter and not somebody who panicked at the thought of getting close to anyone ever again. “Some people love through words, and some people love through actions, but they love all the same.”
“How fuckin’ poetic,” Bakugou laughed. “You should write a damn book.”
Uraraka pushed him, attempting to throw him off the bed but only succeeding in making him sway a half-inch to the side. “I worry a lot too,” she admitted. “Although, I’m the opposite of you – I know I can love, but I think I love too easily, and I’m afraid I’ll lose somebody again.”
“Nobody’s going anywhere, Angel Face.”
Bakugou and Uraraka had developed a bit of a habit after that. Each night, before they went to bed, they talked – about everything they’d experienced together and about everything they lived through before they met each other. It was therapeutic. It kept them sane, and deterred the more aggressive nightmares.
Uraraka, Bakugou, and Todoroki started off as a trio – they were stuck to each other like glue after they escaped the arena, bonded together for the rest of their lives. They were inseparable in the weeks following the end of the rebellion, so much so that Miruko dubbed them a ‘throuple,’ but when Midoriya moved in across the hall from Todoroki, it didn’t take long for him to detach from Uraraka and Bakugou and form something new with Midoriya.
Although neither of them would admit to anything, it was only a matter of time.
The dynamic they had between the three of them probably wasn’t normal, and Uraraka was happy that Todoroki could find happiness in his relationship with Midoriya. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere – just down the hall, always just a quick knock away, but his separation left Uraraka with a dilemma she had been fighting to keep down for some time now.
Uraraka was a mishmash of emotions, though at the forefront was equal parts guilt and desire. She wanted to grow closer to Bakugou, to learn everything about him, revel in his comfort and be the one who stayed by his side. It felt wrong, though– and a heavy, iron sense of betrayal settled in her stomach every time she thought about the boy she fell in love with first.
Her mind fought itself daily – it felt like she was being disloyal to Awase, but wouldn’t he want her to be happy, too?
She knew he would, but that didn’t make it easier to stomach.
That left her and Bakugou to dance around each other, toeing a line between a necessary trust that was brought on by extraordinary circumstances, and something more real – actual love, not born of urgency, trauma and pain, but actual fondness.
Uraraka would love Awase for the rest of her life. She would see him in everything. When the leaves changed, she would think of the two of them, side-by-side and walking to the market in district twelve to visit Granny Chiyo, scarves pulled up to their faces. She would see him in the lakes of district four, thinking of the two of them attempting to navigate the waters together, since he’d always wanted to live by the water. She would see him in the mirror when she wore his bandana. She mourned the life they would never get to have, but Uraraka knew Awase, knew in her heart and soul that he would want her to live the best she could.
So when she felt the gravitational pull towards Bakugou grow even more intense – when the nights spent in each other’s rooms talking until they passed out together grew more frequent, when time apart took on physical pain, Uraraka leaned into it. She didn’t say anything to him, but she thought Bakugou knew too, and was figuring out in his own way.
She liked Bakugou, and eventually she would have to do something about it, but Uraraka didn’t mind waiting. They had all the time in the world, now.
“Oi.”
Uraraka startled as if her thoughts were being projected onto the wall in front of her. She somehow summoned Bakugou to the room, and that was where he stood now – hovering outside of the doorway, dressed in blue dress pants, a maroon shirt and a matching vest. His hair looked like there had been an attempt to tame it, but nothing ever really could. He looked thoroughly annoyed about everything, but it was all an act.
Uraraka wouldn’t take the bet that Miruko would cry, but she would bet on Bakugou.
“You ready yet?” He demanded.
“Ladies take a long time to get ready, Katsuki,” teased Ragdoll. “We want to be pretty for the boys.”
Bakugou’s face reddened and he tried to hide it with a violent cough. They picked up on it and giggled harder.
“Who did your hair, Kat?” Pixie Bob inquired, strutting over to him and adjusting his bow tie. “You look so cute.”
“I did it my fuckin’ self,” he muttered, clearly mortified by this whole exchange. From the moment they met him, giving Bakugou a hard time became the cats’ favorite thing to do. They loved to get a rise out of him, and really, Uraraka couldn’t blame them – he was still so reactive.
“Did you do Sho’s hair too?” Ragdoll asked.
“Fuck off.”
Judging by the deep flush on his cheeks, he totally did do Todoroki’s hair too, and probably Midoriya’s.
“I’m ready,” Uraraka hopped up from her chair and took one last look in the mirror. She smiled at her reflection – she was all soft curls and sparkles. She was so grateful to these silly stylists. They were her first introduction to the Capitol, and they proved that good, kind-hearted people existed there. The fact that they’d joined the rebellion was one of Uraraka’s small miracles. They meant more to her than they knew.
In the beginning, when the nightmares were much more frequent and Uraraka’s eyes were weighed down with permanent bags, the two swept her away and taught her how to apply foundation to hide the discoloration, and for good measure, gave her their favorite bottle.
Ragdoll wiped her eyes gently. “I can’t believe it’s finally here – it’s been so long since we’ve celebrated love like this, and for Birdy and Bun.”
“I can’t wait to get drunk,” Pixie Bob declared. “In honor of love.”
Uraraka laughed, and followed Bakugou out the door. Once they were back in the open air, he released a breath.
“This whole thing stresses me out,” he admitted. “Getting all dressed up and shit – it’s like we’re going for damn interviews.”
Bakugou never held much back, but in the past year, he had become even more open. In three hundred and sixty-five days, Uraraka felt like she had read the book of Katsuki Bakugou cover-to-cover. She had all of his tendencies memorized – from the way he ate cereal slowly, like he was savoring every single bite, to the way he always stopped by her and Todoroki’s doors at night to remind them to brush their teeth (but he only screamed it down the hall at Midoriya).
“It’s okay,” Uraraka said now, bumping her shoulder against Bakugou’s arm. “There’s no Present Mic in sight.”
“Thank Christ. He’s so damn exhausting.”
Uraraka agreed. Present Mic hadn’t been charged with crimes during the fall of the Capitol – really, few had. Mitsuki wanted to give everyone the chance to choose peace, to allow the rebellion to take over without any fuss, and the majority complied. Without a leader, they didn’t have much to stand for. If the people of Capitol were good at anything, it was being compliant. Present Mic actually signed a contract to work with Kayama at a radio station giving updates on the changes to society, and so by default, he ended up around Aizawa.
The three of them were an even weirder dynamic than Uraraka, Bakugou, and Todoroki, but as it went, they worked together perfectly.
Present Mic was nothing but kind to them, and Uraraka was finally coming around to him. Bakugou, however, needed more time.
Uraraka and Bakugou didn’t have to go far to reach the large space Miruko and Hawks had picked out for their venue. Everything was bright, and hills unfolded miles into the distance, painting the entire scene like a painting. In the center of it all was a makeshift arch draped with bright red lilies. Nejire, Tamaki, and Mirio had done the leg-work for setting up, bringing to life a vision that Miruko had shared with Uraraka weeks earlier.
“It’s this wide open field,” she had described with ferocity in her eyes, “And no matter how far you run, you never hit a barrier. It’s total and complete freedom, baby girl.”
The chairs set out for everyone were filling up, and she noted that they were also decorated with red cloth.
“Kirishima would’ve liked this wedding,” Uraraka said as she took everything in. The red, yes, he would’ve liked, but she knew he would be in his element at any social gathering – he was just that type of person that everyone was drawn to. Uraraka and Bakugou had developed a habit – they would say the names of those they lost as much as possible. It was a conscious habit – it kept them alive in the world they lost out on.
Uraraka still wore Awase’s headband, sometimes, if she was cleaning the bathroom and needed her bangs out of her face, or if she woke up from a bad dream and needed to feel a substitute for the comfort that Awase had always given her, but usually it stayed safely placed in the drawer next to her bed.
“He fuckin’ would’ve worn a red suit to this,” Bakugou barked out a laugh. “I would’ve had to physically wrestle him into something acceptable.”
“How did he become such a fashion disaster? He lived in the Capitol – known for its fashion!”
She was being sarcastic, and Bakugou rolled his eyes and murmured to himself, “Fuckin’ Crocs, for Christ’s sake.”
“He and Awase would’ve gotten along.”
“Yeah, and we would’ve suffered for it,” Bakugou huffed.
They slid into their seats next to Todoroki and Midoriya, and Uraraka gushed over how handsome they both looked, teasing them until their faces turned redder than the flowers surrounding them. Uraraka wanted to take every small joy she could, every single day. She wanted to draw smiles from everyone, wanted to fill their hearts with warmth, wanted to find something to be happy about even when despair started to creep back in.
Today, everything was vibrant. No clouds obstructed the sky, and the last time Uraraka had seen it so blue had been a few days after she got out of the hospital, when the Capitol threw a new celebration – a festival of freedom.
Mitsuki approached Uraraka, Bakugou, and Todoroki and requested they speak at the festival, insisting that there was no pressure, but that the new nation would love to see its heroes.
They were unsure, at first. Uraraka didn’t want to fall apart in front of thousands of people; Todoroki was still in recovery, and Bakugou still held a lot of feelings for those left in the Capitol, but when it came down to it, they decided they needed to tell the world about what scars the Hunger Games truly left.
It was both beautiful and entirely overwhelming. The streets were flooded in a rainbow of faces and upbeat music filled the air. Volunteers and vendors handed out food and drinks, while children got their faces painted. It was what a celebration should be – innocent, fun and free. They weren’t celebrating the deaths of children – they were celebrating their liberation.
Uraraka trembled as she told thousands upon thousands of people about Mina, about Tsuyu, about Kirishima, about Awase. When her voice died in her throat, Bakugou picked up where she left off, and Todoroki gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
They told the world about the tributes that they watched on TV – who they really were, and what they really meant to them. In the front of the crowd, she spotted Awase’s mother, standing next to her own, smiling up at her with tears in her eyes.
Bakugou spoke about those who had died with the rebellion, taking specific care to mention the ones who never made it to district one – Shindo and Tatami, who they’d found the next day, laid together under a blanket in a garden outside of the Presidential Mansion – as well as those who were part of the rebellion since day one – like Burnin’.
Uraraka ended the speech – pressured by Bakugou and Todoroki who insisted she was the best public speaker of all of them, even though Bakugou had just brought an entire crowd to tears. She took a deep breath, and just like she practiced, she started speaking like she was talking to a friend – she imagined Awase, remembered the days they spent trudging to the arena, planning out their fantasy future, and Uraraka told the world about it.
Afterwards, a woman with rose-colored skin and dark black eyes found Uraraka. She could’ve been Mina in twenty years – she even smiled the same. She thanked her for making sure her daughter died loved. Uraraka knew as she took in the colors and sights of the festival around them that Mina would’ve thrived.
Wherever she was – wherever all of them were – she hoped it was equally as vibrant.
Her attention was drawn back to the present as more and more guests took their seats, and Hawks sauntered down the aisle, casual as always, beside the full suit and tie and the fact that his hair was tamed with gel. He winked at Uraraka as he passed, and then turned to face the crowd, taking them all in with a smile.
Aizawa stood next to him, hair tied back in a neat bun, wearing a similar outfit to Hawks but with a purple tie that Uraraka was sure Kayama insisted on, judging by the matching dress she wore.
Miruko and Hawks weren’t necessarily the traditional type, so there were no bridesmaids or groomsmen, and Miruko practically sprinted down the aisle when the music began to play. She jumped into Hawks’ arms, throwing them into a crumpled heap on the floor. Aizawa sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and announced them married. Miruko hopped back to her feet, yanking Hawks up with her and planted a violent kiss on his lips. The crowd erupted, and Miruko pulled away, intertwining their fingers and lifting them to the air.
Hawks looked absolutely punch drunk, his eyes unfocused and filled with love.
“Was that the entire fuckin’ ceremony?” Bakugou hissed.
“It certainly wasn’t standard,” Todoroki agreed.
Uraraka had never been to a wedding, so she had nothing to compare it to, but she thought the ceremony was perfect, and as it turned out – she was the one who cried.
Although, she did catch Ragdoll and Pixie Bob on the way out discreetly wiping their eyes on their paw-print gloves.
The reception was just a short walk away and because spending exorbitant amounts of money on a wedding went against everything Miruko and Hawks stood for, it was nothing but a wooden dance floor and lanterns strung up in the treetops, dusting the early evening with a multi-colored glow. Placed out on trays was the labor of Bakugou’s love – with the help of his mother, Miruko, and Uraraka (before she had been unceremoniously kicked out of the kitchen), Bakugou handled the catering for the wedding.
Their kitchen had been a warzone. Midoriya tried to sneak in to get a sandwich for lunch and Bakugou threw a sponge at him. When Todoroki made the same attempt fifteen minutes later, Bakugou shoved the bread directly in his mouth. When Uraraka nearly set the house on fire with the microwave, she was banished.
They worked all day yesterday, and it showed. Everything would be incredible, because Bakugou would never do anything half-way.
As the music began to thump around them, and Midoriya dragged Todoroki off to dance with poor, unassuming Shinso, Uraraka sighed and smiled to herself, feeling fresh tears prickle at her eyes.
“You’re such a damn sap,” Bakugou commented idly, still by her side.
“You can’t tell me that you never think about it – everything that’s happened. We’ve been through so much, but now look. We have a family. This is our family.” She turned to him, and gave him her biggest smile. “You’re my family.”
Bakugou’s face softened. “You drinking champagne?”
“No!” She cried, indignant. “It’s just – all of this love. It’s proof, isn’t it? This is proof that we can heal. It’s gonna take our whole lives, I know, but we’ll be able to.”
“Yeah,” Bakugou whispered. The song switched to something slow, and Bakugou reached his hand out to Uraraka’s, threading their remaining fingers together. “We’re on a dance floor, so we probably shouldn’t just fuckin’ stand here.”
“Are you asking me to dance?” She teased.
“That’s what it fuckin’ sounds like, right?” He smirked, and then they were moving, following the slow, easy beat of the music. Uraraka couldn’t dance, but Bakugou led, and after a moment, he rested his chin on top of her head and kissed her hair. “You know I’ll always be your family, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” Uraraka did.
“And I’ll never leave you.”
“I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried, I know.”
“What a fuckin’ bittersweet life,” he muttered into her hair. “Got my whole life ripped away from me, but then I found you.”
“It’s bullshit, isn’t it?” Uraraka agreed. “How so much love can come from pain?”
“There you go with your poetry again.”
“I think you started it,” she giggled and shook him off of her. He raised an eyebrow at her, but kept up their lazy dance. “I think we’ll be okay, Katsuki. I really do. The odds are in our favor.”
Bakugou snorted and pushed her. She laughed loud and carefree as she teetered backwards on the heels Kayama forced her to wear before bending over to throw them off of her feet. Barefoot and wracked with delirious laughter, she launched herself into Katsuki’s arms. He grunted, but then lifted her up, squeezing tight.
Uraraka would have plenty of opportunities to fly, she was sure of it.